Chapter 54: Separation
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 54: Separation
The compartment had gone very still after Harry's question.
Harry stared at Draco as his mind raced through countless thoughts. The name continued to echo in his head..."Pansy"...but it meant nothing. It was like a word in a foreign language, familiar in shape but empty of meaning, a hollow echo that stirred no memory, no face, no voice.
"What do you mean by 'Who is Pansy?'" Draco asked, his voice rising with disbelief. "What are you talking about, Harry?"
Harry shook his head slowly, a cold dread settling in his stomach. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice hollow. "I don't remember who that is. Is she… from our class?"
Draco's face went pale, and his grey eyes widened with something that looked like fear. "How can you not remember her? You have to remember. She was our friend. We spent the whole year together. She sat with us at breakfast, she helped us with Potions, she-" He stopped, his voice cracking. "She was there, Harry. She was always there. She had dark hair and sharp eyes, and she never let anyone push her around. She was our loyal friend..."
Harry shook his head again, his brow furrowed in concentration. He tried to picture the girl Draco described... dark hair, sharp eyes, but the image wouldn't form. It was like trying to see through frosted glass, like reaching for something that was just out of grasp.
"That's… that's not possible," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I would remember someone like that. I would remember a friend. I would remember her name at least."
Crabbe stood up abruptly, his fists clenched at his sides. His usually placid face was twisted with anger and concern. "This isn't right. Someone did something to him. I can feel it in my gut."
Zabini nodded slowly, his dark eyes fixed on Harry with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. "I agree. This isn't natural. It looks like Potter truly doesn't remember Parkinson. There's a clear gap in his memory. That is not something accidental. There are spells for that."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine. 'Spells for that?. Did someone use a spell on me?. Is that why I have been feeling strange the whole summer?'
Draco's jaw tightened. "Harry, before the summer ended, you gave me something for safekeeping. You said it was very important."
"What is it?" Harry asked. "What did I give you?"
Draco shook his head. "It was a sealed package. I don't know what's inside. I never opened it, because you asked me not to. You said it was important, that it contained things you couldn't risk losing."
Harry frowned, his mind churning. "I don't remember giving you anything… but I believe you. I don't know why, but I do. I trust you."
"I was going to give it back to you once we arrived at Hogwarts. Maybe then you will-"
Before Draco could finish what he was about to say, the compartment door slid open with a sharp hiss.
Two older students stood in the doorway, both wearing silver prefect badges that gleamed in the dim light of the corridor.
One was a tall, dark-haired boy with a sharp, angular face and cold eyes. He carried himself with the confidence of someone who was used to being obeyed.
The other was a girl with a severe expression and a clipboard clutched to her chest, her dark hair pulled back so tightly it looked painful.
"Harry Potter?" the girl asked, her voice crisp and businesslike.
Harry's stomach shrank. "Yes?"
"You are to accompany us," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Professor McGonagall's orders."
Harry blinked, his confusion deepening. "But… why? What's this about? Am I in trouble?"
The girl's expression did not change. "We are not at liberty to discuss the details in front of other students. Please come with us."
Harry glanced at Draco, who was staring at the prefects with barely concealed fury. "You can't just take him," Draco said, his voice sharp. "He hasn't done anything wrong. You have no right."
The dark-haired boy stepped forward, his hand resting on his wand in a clear warning. "The High Inquisitor's orders are absolute, Mister Malfoy. I suggest you do not interfere. It would be unwise to make this more difficult than it needs to be."
Draco opened his mouth to argue, but Harry held up a hand. "It's okay," he said, though it wasn't. "I'll go with them. I'm sure it's nothing."
He stood up, his legs unsteady. "I'll see you at Hogwarts," he said, his voice tight.
Draco's eyes were filled with worry. "Be careful, Harry. Something is very wrong. Listen to your instincts. Don't trust anyone blindly."
Harry grabbed his bag and followed the prefects out of the compartment, trying to hide how nervous he was feeling.
The corridor was crowded with students, but they parted as the prefects passed, their eyes following Harry with curiosity and suspicion.
He felt like a prisoner being led to his cell.
The prefects led him to a compartment near the front of the train. It was larger than the others, with plush velvet seats and a small polished table. A sign on the door read: PREFECTS ONLY.
"Wait here," the girl said. "You will be escorted to the Professor's Office when we arrive. Do not leave this compartment."
Harry sat down, his hands clenched in his lap. The leather seat felt cold, and the faint smell of fresh ink and wood polish filled the air. "I don't understand," he said, his voice strained. "Why couldn't I stay with my friends for the rest of the train ride? It's not like I can see the Professor before we arrive at the school."
The prefects exchanged a glance. Something passed between them... a flicker of uncertainty, quickly suppressed.
"We were told to keep you away from the other students," the dark-haired boy said flatly. "That is all. We were given specific instructions to separate you from your companions."
"They didn't tell you why?"
"No," the female prefect responded. Her voice was softer now, almost apologetic. "But when the Chief Inquisitor tells you to do something, you don't question it. I'm sure Professor McGonagall had a good reason for this. Now, it's best to just wait and watch your behaviour. Don't cause any trouble, and this will be over soon."
Harry crossed his arms and looked away from the prefects, feeling a surge of frustration. It had become clear that they had no idea what this was all about. They were merely following orders, like obedient soldiers.
He wasn't going to get any answers from them.
'What is happening to me?' he wondered, staring out the rain-streaked window. 'Why don't I remember Pansy? Why don't I remember the letters? Why do I feel like I'm walking through a thick grey fog that is clouding my mind?'
The minutes stretched into hours. Harry stared out the window, watching the countryside roll past...green fields, dark forests, the occasional glimpse of a distant village, but he didn't pay attention to the landscape.
His mind was elsewhere, trying to grasp at thoughts that slipped away like smoke, like dreams upon waking.
When the train finally pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Harry was the first to disembark.
The prefects flanked him, their hands resting on their wands, their eyes scanning the crowd of students and families with professional vigilance.
"Follow us," the girl said. "Do not wander."
Harry was starting to feel like one of those criminals in a 'Most Wanted' list, who had just been apprehended by the authorities.
'What have I done to deserve this treatment?'
Suddenly, the fact that he had been escorted to the station by an Auror Agent was starting to make more sense.
The Chief Inquisitor was keeping an eye on him, but he still didn't know why.
'Did I get into some serious trouble during my first year?' he wondered. 'Why can't I remember anything important happening?'
He thought he had a very normal first year. Other than getting into a few arguments with Ron Weasley, nothing really stood out. So why was he being treated like a menace?
For the time being, he did as he was told and followed the prefects' instructions. His trunk was levitated behind him by one of the prefects.
They walked through the crowd of students, past the excited chatter and laughter, past the carriages and the thestrals, and up the winding path towards the castle.
The Hogwarts Express had barely finished unloading when Harry was ushered through the great oak doors and into the entrance hall.
The castle was eerily quiet, since the other students were still making their way to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony.
Their distant voices echoed from the upper floors, muffled by stone walls.
But Harry was not going to the Great Hall.
"This way," the dark-haired boy said, gesturing towards a staircase on the left.
They climbed to the third floor, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. Harry's heart pounded with each step, a growing sense of unease settling in his chest.
They stopped before a familiar oak door. Harry's stomach tightened.
He recognised this door...it was the entrance to McGonagall's office. Which was strange, because he didn't recall ever being here.
'Why do I recognise this door?' he wondered, a chill running down his spine. He had an eerie feeling when looking at it, like a half-remembered dream that he couldn't quite grasp.
The girl knocked twice, then opened the door. "Harry Potter is here, Professor," she announced.
"Come in," came the stern voice of Professor McGonagall.
Harry stepped inside.
The office was just what he expected to find. A large room, filled with bookshelves and papers, with the faint scent of parchment and old wood.
Everything was neat and elegantly decorated, from the polished desk to the silver instruments on the shelves.
But Harry barely paid attention to the office itself. His eyes were fixed on the two figures seated behind the desk.
Professor McGonagall sat in her chair, her expression stern and unreadable. Her dark hair was pulled back in its severe bun, and her spectacles sat low on her nose. She looked at Harry with an intensity that made him feel like a specimen under a microscope.
But it was the man beside her who made Harry's blood run cold.
Albus Dumbledore sat in a high-backed chair, his white beard flowing down his chest, his robes a deep purple that seemed to shimmer in the candlelight.
His half-moon spectacles sat low on his nose, and his blue eyes were fixed on Harry with an intensity that made his skin crawl.
Harry felt a wave of inexplicable fear wash over him. His heart began to pound, and his palms grew sweaty.
He didn't know why...the Headmaster always seemed like a kind old grandfather to him. The kind of wizard that Harry wanted to become one day.
So why did he suddenly feel like this when looking at him?
Something about him felt wrong. Something deep in Harry's instincts was screaming at him to run away from this person, to put as much distance between them as possible.
'Why am I so afraid of him?' It made no sense.
"Thank you, prefects," McGonagall said, her voice cutting through Harry's thoughts. "You may go."
The prefects nodded and left without saying a word, closing the door behind them with a soft click.
Harry stood alone in the office, his hands trembling at his sides.
"Please, sit down, Mister Potter," Dumbledore said, his voice warm and grandfatherly. "We have some important things to talk about."
Harry forced himself to move, to sit in the chair opposite them. "W-what do we have to talk about? Have I done something wrong?" He had barely arrived at school, and he was already in trouble?
The Headmaster shook his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. "It is not something like that. But we must discuss your future here at Hogwarts."
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