Harry Potter and No Trace Of You

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The healer arrived with another witch in tow.

"This is Potions Matron Bowen," he said, gesturing towards the lavender-garbed witch. "She personally oversaw the preparations."

"Mr. Potter," she said, reaching out to shake his hand. "It's an honor to meet you." She held his gaze for a long beat, her hand tight around his.

"Uh, nice to meet you too," he said, confused why meeting him would be an honor.

She didn't immediately let go of his hand, eyes studying his face. Harry gently tugged his hand back away.

She let go. "Let's see if we can clear this all up for you then. Okay, Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah," Harry said, feeling anxious and unsettled.

Stepping into the next room, the Matron returned with a bubbling cup that smelled faintly of burnt toast. She handed it to Harry. "Best all in one go, Mr. Potter."

"Sure," he said. He glanced at Ginny standing next to him. He lifted it to her in a small salute. "Here goes nothing." He downed it in three disgusting gulps.

His first thought was that it tasted bloody awful, the second that nothing at all seemed to be happening.

And then something did.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. His body stiffened, breath catching in his throat, his eyes rolling towards Ginny.

"Harry?" she asked, face paling. She reached for him. "Harry!"

He felt his body start to convulse, and then darkness swept in from all sides, wiping everything away.

Harry groaned as he came to, his entire body aching, his head pounding in a way that was becoming annoyingly familiar.

"Harry?"

He cracked his eyes open only to wince against the painfully bright light.

He heard someone murmur an incantation, the ambient light dimming. He risked opening his eyes again, peering up at Ginny sitting next to his bed.

Déjà vu, he thought.

"Everything still in there?" she asked, clearly terrified under the horrible attempt at humor.

"You're my sister Clarabelle, right?" he said.

For a moment she looked absolutely horrified and Harry couldn't keep his lips from twitching.

"Fuck, Harry," she said, hand pressed to her chest. "Don't do that to me."

He smiled, closing his eyes against the ridiculous riot of pain in his head. "Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"What about..."

He shook his head. "I still don't remember anything from before the hospital. The first time."

"Oh, well," she said, trying and failing to cover up her disappointment. "Just so long as they haven't scrambled your brain any worse."

"What happened?" he asked. "I assume I wasn't actually sat on by a giant."

"You had a seizure," she said, her hand sliding across his forehead. "It went on forever."

Her skin was cool against his and he closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. "Fuck," he muttered. "I feel awful."

"Will you take some pain potion?" she asked.

He peered up at her. "You're staying?"

"Of course," she said, like she was gearing herself up for a fight.

"Then I'll take it," he agreed.

"Okay," she said, smiling weakly.

He stayed the next day for observation, but most of it passed in a haze of pain potions. He woke late the next afternoon feeling slightly more human. Ginny, for her part, looked exhausted and he felt guilty for making her stay.

At least she'd consented to lie down on a neighboring bed for a rest. She'd no more than dozed off when the Potions Matron reappeared.

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter," she said.

Ginny swung her feet back to the floor, glaring at the Matron. "Have you figured out what happened?"

"I have triple checked the potion. No mistake was made."

"Clearly one was!" Ginny snapped.

"Mrs. Potter. The brain is not a simple organ. It's not like waving a wand about and mending a broken bone!"

Ginny's mouth opened in outrage and Harry reached out, grabbing her sleeve.

"Ginny," he said.

She looked at him, shifting closer to the bed and taking a deep breath.

"So what's next?" he asked.

"To be frank, Mr. Potter, I don't feel comfortable making another attempt."

"So that's it?" Ginny asked. "You're giving up?"

The Matron regarded her with a cool gaze. "There is always a chance that the levels will drop on their own. Eventually."

"Eventually?"

"Let me ask you something, Mrs. Potter. Is it worth getting your husband's memories back if it means his life?"

Ginny reeled back, and for a moment, Harry had the distinct impression that she might strike the Matron.

Instead, she turned abruptly on her heel and strode out of the room, the door slamming behind her.

In the ensuing silence, the Matron casually touched her hair as if checking that argument hadn't disrupted her pristine appearance. "Please let me know if you have any more questions, Mr. Potter."

He shook his head, leaning back in the bed and dragging his hands over his face.