Amortentia

Part 23

Light. John saw light through the thin slit between his eyelid and his face, light. Hope. Life. He took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. He was blinded for a second, the light of the sun making everything look white. It took a bit, but he saw five faces floating through the light, connecting to bodies, connecting to the floor, and then to the surrounding area. He was in the hospital wing, but he had no idea how he got there. He had no idea what he was doing, why he was at Hogwarts. Had something happened? Something bad? Had he attacked someone last full moon? He couldn’t remember his last memory, but he knew it wasn’t at Hogwarts; it was at home, he could have sworn he had just gotten home from Hogwarts, and now he was back, lying in a bed in the hospital wing. He recognized four of the five faces; lighten by joy to see him wake up. Greg, Sara, and Mike were looking down at him with smiles on their faces, but they looked older, taller, and more mature. Mike had new glasses; Sara was wearing makeup, which she had never done before. The fourth was McGonagall, beaming down at him, but even she looked older. The fifth person in the room was a man he had never seen before, young, by the looks of him, with dark curly hair and pale skin. He had bright green eyes that reflected the light shining through the room, extremely noticeable, but John wondered who he was and what he was doing at his hospital bedside.
“What’s going on, what happened?” John asked. All of their smiled faded, as if they were expecting this, something had happened. “Did the train crash? How did I get here?” John asked a bit more desperately, he wanted to know what was going on.
“John, just relax.” The mysterious man said, his voice soft, caring. John couldn’t relax, a million questions bouncing around in his head. He looked around, looking if anyone else was in the hospital beds. He saw two of the beds had curtains pulled around them, as if the occupants were too horrible to look at.
“Who are you?” John asked the man. At that moment all of the sparkle in his eyes was gone, all of the fading smiles turned into strait expressions, as if John had said something horribly wrong. The man’s face radiated pure sadness, John could tell he was trying to look normal, as if the question hadn’t bothered him, but it obviously had.
“Professor Holmes, just making sure you were okay.” The man said, holding out a hand to shake. John didn’t shake his hand, he just stared at it with confusion. McGonagall squeaked with emotion and walked swiftly out of the room, her heels clicking off of the stone floor. He watched her go, wondering what in the world is going on.
“Greg, Mike, Sara, what happened?” John asked. They looked at Professor Holmes, as if asking for permission, they probably rehearsed this a million times. Holmes nodded shortly.
“John, you were hit with a memory charm.” Greg said. A memory charm. Where in the world was he to have been hit with a memory charm? And why didn’t he lose all of his memories, he’s read about patients like this, but he hadn’t gone completely insane, forgetting who he was and everything about the world.
“It was, blocked, but not enough.” Mike said, closing him mouth quickly, as if he kept talking he’d say something wrong.
“Wait, this is seventh year?” John asked. Sara wiped a tear from her cheek, trying to be inconspicuous about it, but John caught her.  Greg nodded, staying as calm as he could.
“Did I make the quidditch team?” John asked. He couldn’t live with himself if he hadn’t made the team, he was seeker, the most important role of them all, but there was always a chance that he didn’t make the team for some unknown reason.
“John, you’re the captain.” Mike said. Suddenly the world at the moment didn’t seem too bad, he smiled with relief, he was captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, he would uphold the position of his early heroes, the leaders of such an amazing sport.
“Are tryouts over?” He asked.
“Yes.” Sara croaked, wiping another tear.
“John, what do you last remember?” Professor Holmes asked. John wracked his brain, trying to remember, but it was all a bit of a blur.
“That last clear thing I remember is getting off of the train at nine and three quarters, ready for summer.” John said.
“And you don’t remember anything else from this year?” Greg asked.
“No, nothing, I didn’t even know there was a this year.” John admitted. “What month is it?”
“It’s still September.” Greg said. They were all looking at him expectantly, as if he was supposed to know something from last year that he doesn’t, something important. Professor Holmes just looked at him with an expression he hadn’t seen before. He wondered why the professor didn’t just leave, McGonagall had, and couldn’t John have time without adult supervision?
“Is there anything I should remember, did I get a girlfriend or something?” John asked hopefully. Sara’s tears came down more frequently; she was doing a terrible job of covering them up too.
“No, you didn’t get a girlfriend.” Mike answered, but they all looked at him as if they weren’t done with the topic.
“What, did I get a boyfriend?” John asked as a bit of a joke.
“No, they’re just seeing what you remember.” Professor Holmes answered, his soft voice sounding a little bit annoyed. He glared at Sara, she was about to answer, but now she showed no signs of saying anything. “Mr. Watson needs to be left alone; he needs to get his strength back.” Holmes decided. John’s friends looked at him as if they couldn’t believe their ears.
“He’s been sleeping all night and into this morning!” Greg defended.
“Mr. Lestrade, you don’t get an input in this, last I checked you aren’t a professor.” Holmes said.
“Neither are you, you’re just an assistant!” Sara pointed out.
“Five points from Gryffindor, and if you don’t get out of here, it will be double that amount.” Holmes hissed, glaring at them. John looked at his friends in surprise; they’d never talk to a professor like that, not even an assistant professor! His brain hurt trying to retrieve the information he had lost, but there seemed to be a huge gap, emptied out by a spell. Obviously something important happened, something that would make McGonagall leave the room with tears in her eyes and make Sara cry too. So, obviously relationship, but with who? The only girl in the room was Sara, but, no, John would never go out with his best friend, would he? He didn’t have a chance to ask though, his friends scrambled out of the room, leaving him alone with Professor Holmes, who didn’t show any signs of going anywhere.
“You don’t remember anything then, at all?” Holmes asked.
“I already told you I don’t remember!” John defended, wishing he’d just leave. Holmes looked down at him with a gaze that made John feel uncomfortable, like he was reading his empty mind or something. He just stood there, looking at John, who was starting to get cross, why did he make his friends leave, but wouldn’t leave himself, John had no idea who he was and he was acting like they were family or something, like he had the rights to be there. “You told my friends to leave, why are you still here?” John asked, a little harsher than he should have. Professor Holmes nodded, and without a word, swept out of the room. As soon as the door closed and John was completely alone, he reclined his head into his pillows and sighed. He was so bloody confused, who would ever cast a memory charm on him? Last he checked he didn’t have enemies, and the most dangerous thing he’s done was sneak out of the common room at night, but he got caught by Nearly Headless Nick. There was a bouquet of flowers on the bedside table, without a card or anything telling him who they were from, but they roses with small blue flowers mixed in, forget me not’s. John rolled his eyes, was that supposed to be a pun or something? The two curtained beds looked very suspicious right now, had other people gotten their memories wiped? Or worse?  He didn’t hear any movement from them, which wasn’t a very good sign. He looked around, looking for anyone that might be watching. Madam Pomfrey wasn’t anywhere that he could see, so quietly he slipped out of his bed, realizing he had blue and white stripped pajamas on, with white socks, shielding his feet from the cold wooden floor. He looked around again, worried someone might be watching, but curiosity got the best of him. John tiptoed over to the nearest bed, and ever so cautiously pulled on the gap in the curtain. A blond girl was lying in the bed, looked completely normal; the only thing was that she seemed to be made of stone. Her arms were raised, he fingers clasping around an object long gone, but they stayed there and didn’t move. John pushed the curtain back, scrambling to his own bed in horror. What in the world had caused that poor girl a fate like that? Who was strong enough in magic to do something like that to her anyway? Certainly not a student or at least one John knew. He buried himself under his covers, worried that someone might come in and turns him to stone also. Even though he didn’t remember it, his seventh year seemed pretty interesting. John couldn’t believe that he was quidditch captain though, and he already went through tryouts so that stress was over. He wondered who this year’s biggest competition was, probably Slytherin, again. The door opened, and to his relief and horror, Dumbledore came in. He, at least, might know what to do. Accompanying him were Snape, McGonagall, and once again, Professor Holmes, who looked much less intimidating now that there were three major professors, including the headmaster. They came over to his bedside, Holmes, once again, standing the closest, which made John want to move away from him.
“Welcome to seventh year John.” Dumbledore said with a smile.
“What happened?” John asked, wanting a straight answer for once.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you, you’d never believe me if I did anyway.” Dumbledore said with a kind smile.
“I’ll believe you, please, I hate not remembering.”
“What part of no don’t you remember Watson?” Snape hissed, making Holmes glare at him as if he had offended him personally. John tried not to get mad, even though he couldn’t do anything about Snape’s rudeness anyway.
“Is it true that I’m the quidditch captain?” John asked hopefully. McGonagall nodded, making John smile despite everything.
“The memory charm was blocked mostly, so thankfully you didn’t forget everything, just a year of your life.” Dumbledore started.
“Who blocked it?” John asked.
“But you forgot everything that happened to you this year, so you’ll need a bit of help catching up on your classes. Your friends and teachers have been informed, and I assume since its top secret the whole school knows.” Dumbledore said, his attempt at humor not helping at all.
“Did I do anything more than classes and quidditch?” John asked. McGonagall glanced at Professor Holmes out of the corner of her eye for some reason, and she was no better at hiding her tears than Sara. John knew why Dumbledore and McGonagall, but he had no idea why Snape and Holmes were here.
“No, nothing more.” Dumbledore said. John nodded, but he still didn’t believe them something had obviously happened, there were paralyzed students.
“Who cast the memory charm?” John asked.
“We don’t know.” Dumbledore said.
“How don’t you know, if there was someone there to protect me how didn’t they see the person that cast it?” he asked, annoyed at them, he could handle the information, it wasn’t as if he would go all crazy if they told him who was there. It had to have been either one of his friends or the staff, he only wanted a name.
“The spell came out of nowhere, according to witnesses there was no one there.” Dumbledore went on.
“There were witnesses then? Where did this happen?” John asked.
“I assume you’ve been asked many times if you remember anything at all, but I’m going to ask you again, any sliver of information is useful, anything that could remind you of what happened.” Dumbledore said seriously. John tried his absolute best to dig up anything in his mind that could prove useful, but he found nothing. He shook his head in annoyance.
“I am truly sorry for everything that happened Mr. Watson, but I’m sure you’ll jump back into your old life soon enough.” Dumbledore said with an encouraging smile.
“Professor, am I in some type of danger?” John asked as he was turning to leave. He paused, turning back to face John.
“It depends who cast it, but it is possible.” Dumbledore said, and with that he left the room. The three other professors followed him out, like puppies following their master. They all seemed very tense, like John was in trouble or something, and he could’ve sworn Professor Holmes’s eyes were red, as if he had been crying. Madam Pomfrey came out of the back door, from her office or something, carrying a fresh set of Gryffindor robes, probably John’s.
“You’re free to go, just change into your robes and go up to your common room.” She said, laying the robes on his bedside table and pulling back the curtains around his bed. Once he heard her footsteps walking away, John got out of his bed and changed into his Gryffindor robes. He found his wand, which was on the table as well, and tucked it safely in his pocket. He pushed the curtains away and left the hospital wing for the corridor. It looked familiar, yet mysterious, it seemed darker, and every shadow that moved was an attacker come to finish him off. When he made it to the Gryffindor common room he stood outside the fat lady, wracking his brain to remember the password. The one from last year was Hound, but he knew that wouldn’t work this year.
“Don’t worry dear, I know what’s going on.” She said, and the portrait hole swung open, letting him into the cozy little room. It was empty; everyone was at class, except for his three friends, which were sitting in the armchairs in front of the crackling fire.
“Welcome back John!” Greg exclaimed, the first to see his arrival.
“Hey guys.” John muttered, looking around the common room for anything that changed. He went over to the notice board first, where there was an old flyer to Hogsmeade, it had been on a Saturday.
“What’s the date?” John asked.
“It’s September 18th.” Sara said. The Hogsmeade trip had happened on the 16th, so that meant it was Monday.
“Did I have fun at Hogsmeade?” John asked them. The three looked at each other for a split second, as if they were reminding each other of something.
“Ya, you did.” Mike assured.
“That’s good.” John decided. He looked again; there was a parchment piece of paper hanging with names for the new quidditch team. The handwriting was his, but he had no idea when he had done this. The team was pretty much the same, except for the extras. There was nothing else on the board of any interest, so he went over to the armchairs, taking an available one and staring into the fire.
“What happened to me?” John muttered.
“Nothing happened to you.” Greg said a little too quickly.
“I got my bloody memory wiped; of course something happened to me!” John hissed.
“Other than that of course.” Sara agreed. John sighed, he was so confused and he was starting to get a headache, the strain on his brain was getting worse and worse.
“Anything happen in the school?” John asked.
“Nothing.” Greg assured, but John knew he was lying, stone students aren’t nothing.
“How long was I out?”
“All night and into this morning.” Mike answered.
“Where you guys there all night?” John asked.
“We needed to sleep too mate!” Greg defended.
“What if I woke up then, I’d be panicking!” John defended.
“There was someone there, and Madam Pomfrey was made sure to watch over you.” Sara said.
“Who was it?” John asked.
“Madam Pomfrey.” Mike said quickly.
“Who was watching over me I mean?” John demanded.
“Madam Pomfrey was watching over you, just in case you woke up.” Greg said, his tone of voice marking the end of that topic. John rolled his eyes; there was something important he was missing.
“Who is that Professor, Holmes or something right?” John asked.
“He’s new, assistant potions professor, and the best part is he’s only a year older than us!” Sara said happily.
“Why is that the best part?” John asked.
“Isn’t he cute?” Sara asked forcefully. John looked at her like she had gone mad, which she probably had.
“How in the world would I know? He’s a guy!” John defended; disgusted that Sara would even imply that he would have a crush on a male professor.
“All the girls love him.” Greg said, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t seem annoyed about that, he seemed impatient.
 “Why should I care? Why was he even there anyway?” John asked.
“Because he was watching over you, professor supervision.” Mike said obviously.
“McGonagall was there too.” John pointed out.
“Well, she had just gotten there.”
“So why didn’t he just leave?”
“Because you were waking up!” Sara pointed out. John groaned again, of course, but why would he care, he didn’t seem to get along with the students very well, if he was the assistant potions professor he was trapped in a room with Snape all day, he must get nasty too.
“So, is there anything I can know?” John asked annoyingly.
“Dumbledore told us not to tell you anything that happened for some reason, he said you can figure it out on your own.” Sara said.
“Why do I have to figure it out on my own?”
“We have no idea, Dumbledore’s instructions.” Mike shrugged.
“Oh, who cares?” John exclaimed.
“We don’t want to get in trouble.” Greg muttered.
“That’s never stopped you before!” John exclaimed.
“Well, it is now.”
“You people are unbearable!” John exclaimed.
“It’s for your own good!” Sara defended.
“I don’t need my own good, I need answers!”
“John, just relax, it doesn’t matter what happened before, just what happens from here on.” Greg said. John breathed a little bit, calming himself down the best he could. He wasn’t going to give up trying to find out what was going on though.
“What did I miss in class?” John asked. They went on and on about the things they had done during the little bit of year he had missed. When they were done, John’s brain was fried, he didn’t know how to do any of that stuff, and had no idea how he was supposed to reteach himself more goblin rebellions for History of Magic.
“How am I doing in potions?” John asked.
“Well, you’re doing a lot better, you’ve gone down for extra help a couple of times, and it really helped a lot.” Sara said.
“So now I have to do all of this plus extra potions and be quidditch captain?” John asked with disbelief.
“If you can.” Mike nodded.
“I have to be trapped in a dungeon with Snape for two hours?” he groaned. “Why would my past self ever do that voluntarily?”
“It’s actually not Snape, it’s Professor Holmes.” Greg pointed out.
“So I have to be stuck in a dungeon with all of the girl’s dream boy, not much better.”
“Better than Snape.” Sara pointed out.
“Holmes is the only person right now I have no memory of, is he strict, is he nice?” John asked.
“He’s very nice, you were actually enjoying potions for a little bit.”
“I’m not going to believe that.” John laughed; enjoying potions was as likely as him falling in love with Professor Holmes.
“Whatever you say…” Mike sighed. John’s headache was getting worse and worse, he just wanted to know what in the world was going on.
“Let’s go flying.” He decided.
“What?” Greg asked.
“I said let’s go flying, you people obviously have the day off, and I want to go flying.” John decided. They all looked at him with surprise, but they looked more relieved than nervous, at least some of John was still there.
“Fine with me.” Greg decided. The others agreed, and the four of them went up to the dorms to find their brooms and robes. John went into the sixth year dorm accidently, he had forgotten that he belonged up at the seventh year. He looked around, not knowing where his bed was or where everything was. Greg showed him his bed, pointed out his trunk, and gave him his broom from under the bed. When he was dressed in his old quidditch robes he noticed a paper cup on the windowsill, filled with roses that were slightly wilting.
“What are those?” John asked, pointing to the flowers. They were obviously his; they were right next to his bed.
“Roses.” Greg said obviously.
“Who gave them to me?” John asked.
“When you were in the hospital wing your parents sent them.”
“Then why they weren’t down at the hospital wing, why are they up here sitting in a paper cup?” John asked.
“Because they would brighten up your room.”
“Why are they wilted?” John asked, throwing questions at Greg as fast as he could, hoping he’d crack and tell John what really happened.
“Are we going flying or not?” Mike asked.
“Ya, we are.” Greg said, walking as fast as he could out of the dorm and to the common room. John cast one last look at the roses, grabbed his broom, and followed his friends out of the room.