Ravenna C. Tan: Amnesia 1 (Draco/Harry, PG through NC-17)
Title: Amnesia, Pt 1 of 6
Author: ravenna_c_tan
Rating: PG (this segment)
Prompt Set: 50.1
Prompt: #4 "Blank"
Word Count: 1265 (this segment)
Summary: Harry's mind went blank. Part 1 of 6, completed.
Warnings: None in this part.
Beta-reader: miraba
Notes: A six-part fic, each one for a different prompt in my 100quills prompt table.
My mind went blank. I say "went" because I knew that wondering who I was and what I was doing was somehow not normal. But that was what I was doing, the moment after my mind went blank.
I started to assimilate information. I was on my knees, in the middle of a circle of ancient stones, alone. Either the sun was about to rise or it had just set. I could see clearly in the partial light. Tall stones loomed above me. My right hand hurt. I examined it. It was a bit scorched and sooty, the palm raw and blistered. The left seemed fine.
I was wearing a red sweatshirt, blue jeans, and white trainers. I didn't seem to be in immediate danger. I climbed shakily to my feet.
My ears were ringing. Then a man stepped out from behind one of the stones, a man with a deep voice, a dark face. "Harry?" he said, as if addressing me.
So I was Harry. "Yeah?"
"Are you all right?"
"Uh... My hand hurts."
"Do you still have your wand?"
"My what?" I looked around at my feet. Then I knelt down, because I couldn't see the ground very well, and there was a pair of glasses there. I tried them on, and now the ground was much easier to see. "What does it look like?"
There was a moment of silence and I could hear other voices, other people joining him. Then his voice again. "It's a pointed piece of wood, about a foot long."
I checked again. "Nope, sorry."
"I can't cross the circle," he said, then. "I'm going to levitate you out of there."
What happened next made my stomach drop into my shoes, as I suddenly began to float upward and then toward him. I could see him better now, a tall black man in dark robes that stopped midway down his calves. He was holding a pointed stick--a wand--and as he moved it, I moved. As my feet touched the ground he flicked it--my weight returned.
"Thanks," I said. The expectant look on his face told me he thought I would say more. "Um, what just happened?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing. Harry, your scar is gone." He was looking at my hair.
I pushed it back from my eyes with my uninjured hand. "My what? I'm sorry, I just don't remember anything before a few minutes ago." I held out my hand. "Could my.... wand have caught fire?"
Several others began talking then, all of them at once, and I put my hands over my ears. Too much sound, too much information. The group of them went into a flurry of action then, and the next thing I knew my hand had stopped hurting, and everyone seemed to be feeling a mix of triumph and concern. The concern mostly had to do with me. I was right--I was supposed to know more than I did.
They took me to a place called St. Mungo's, which I was supposed to know, and I met a bunch of people there I was supposed to know, and it was all a bit overwhelming. I was there for several days. At the end of the third or fourth day, I decided everything was going to be all right. This despite the hospital people fussing incessantly, and despite the fact that my memory had neither returned nor improved much. Kingsley, the one who had levitated me out of the circle, came to see me quite a few times over the next week, as did other people whose names I had to learn because they seemed important, though I kept forgetting some of them. I found it hard to believe I had ever remembered that many names before.
One day they brought me a wand for my own, and I wouldn't let it go. By then my hand had healed, and there was just something comforting about having the wood in my hand. They even let me sleep with it in my hand. Apparently my attachment to holding it was a good sign that my magic was still there.
Magic. Maybe that was how I remembered all those names.
Two days after that, they sent me home because, they said, there was nothing to do but wait. "Sometimes the lost memory just floods back, given the right trigger," one of the mediwizards said. "So make sure he goes to familiar surroundings and interacts with familiar people in familiar ways." Kingsley took me home himself, by Apparition, which was something I apparently knew how to do myself but couldn't quite remember.
"Listen," Kingsley was telling me as he made a pot of tea in what was supposedly my kitchen, though he seemed very familiar with it. "You're a fighter, Harry. You've suffered worse. You'll get through this."
"I expect I will," I said, sitting down at the table and looking around. "Until I do, though, can you fill me in on where we are and what's going on?"
Mistake. By the end of what he said, I barely remembered the address was number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The important bits seemed to be: I was part of a secret society that was fighting Evil. Check. The house, which was my house, was also where the secret society met. Check. So various people who I should know would be popping in and out. Check. I'd worry about their names as the need arose. Meanwhile, Kingsley was only going to stick around until someone else came. They didn't want me on my own too long, in case I ran into some spell or something I couldn't deal with.
I asked him to show me my bedroom, which he did, and then I told him I'd like to take a nap. He said he'd be in the next room and just to yell if I needed anything.
I did want to take a nap, but as soon as he closed the door, I wanted to try something. I hadn't wanted to in the hospital, where there were always people watching, but now that I was alone in what was my own room, I held my wand in my hand. They had told me it was holly with a dragon heartstring, similar to my old one. All I knew was I liked the feel of it in my hand. On top of the dresser was a pile of parchment and a quill. I pointed my wand at the quill. Could I make it move? Come on, up. Up.
The quill fell off the dresser as if blown by a draught of wind. Kingsley had said they would try to start teaching me magic tomorrow, but some part of me had to try it first. I picked the quill up and put it on the pile of parchment again.
The blank parchment seemed to be mocking me. It was like my mind had once been a book, and now all I had was a pile of blank pages. I aimed my wand at the quill again. This time, I punctuated my thought with a stab of the wand.
Come on!
This time the parchment burst into flames. I quickly smothered it by throwing the spare blanket over the entire pile. I listened carefully... there was no sign that Kingsley had noticed anything. My hand was shaking now. I was pleased. I had proved I could do magic. My memory might have gone up in smoke, but I was still Harry, of that I was sure.
--
Next Segment's prompt: "Who?" Harry has forgotten everything. Including someone very important in his life. Click here to continue to "Who?"
Author: ravenna_c_tan
Rating: PG (this segment)
Prompt Set: 50.1
Prompt: #4 "Blank"
Word Count: 1265 (this segment)
Summary: Harry's mind went blank. Part 1 of 6, completed.
Warnings: None in this part.
Beta-reader: miraba
Notes: A six-part fic, each one for a different prompt in my 100quills prompt table.
My mind went blank. I say "went" because I knew that wondering who I was and what I was doing was somehow not normal. But that was what I was doing, the moment after my mind went blank.
I started to assimilate information. I was on my knees, in the middle of a circle of ancient stones, alone. Either the sun was about to rise or it had just set. I could see clearly in the partial light. Tall stones loomed above me. My right hand hurt. I examined it. It was a bit scorched and sooty, the palm raw and blistered. The left seemed fine.
I was wearing a red sweatshirt, blue jeans, and white trainers. I didn't seem to be in immediate danger. I climbed shakily to my feet.
My ears were ringing. Then a man stepped out from behind one of the stones, a man with a deep voice, a dark face. "Harry?" he said, as if addressing me.
So I was Harry. "Yeah?"
"Are you all right?"
"Uh... My hand hurts."
"Do you still have your wand?"
"My what?" I looked around at my feet. Then I knelt down, because I couldn't see the ground very well, and there was a pair of glasses there. I tried them on, and now the ground was much easier to see. "What does it look like?"
There was a moment of silence and I could hear other voices, other people joining him. Then his voice again. "It's a pointed piece of wood, about a foot long."
I checked again. "Nope, sorry."
"I can't cross the circle," he said, then. "I'm going to levitate you out of there."
What happened next made my stomach drop into my shoes, as I suddenly began to float upward and then toward him. I could see him better now, a tall black man in dark robes that stopped midway down his calves. He was holding a pointed stick--a wand--and as he moved it, I moved. As my feet touched the ground he flicked it--my weight returned.
"Thanks," I said. The expectant look on his face told me he thought I would say more. "Um, what just happened?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing. Harry, your scar is gone." He was looking at my hair.
I pushed it back from my eyes with my uninjured hand. "My what? I'm sorry, I just don't remember anything before a few minutes ago." I held out my hand. "Could my.... wand have caught fire?"
Several others began talking then, all of them at once, and I put my hands over my ears. Too much sound, too much information. The group of them went into a flurry of action then, and the next thing I knew my hand had stopped hurting, and everyone seemed to be feeling a mix of triumph and concern. The concern mostly had to do with me. I was right--I was supposed to know more than I did.
They took me to a place called St. Mungo's, which I was supposed to know, and I met a bunch of people there I was supposed to know, and it was all a bit overwhelming. I was there for several days. At the end of the third or fourth day, I decided everything was going to be all right. This despite the hospital people fussing incessantly, and despite the fact that my memory had neither returned nor improved much. Kingsley, the one who had levitated me out of the circle, came to see me quite a few times over the next week, as did other people whose names I had to learn because they seemed important, though I kept forgetting some of them. I found it hard to believe I had ever remembered that many names before.
One day they brought me a wand for my own, and I wouldn't let it go. By then my hand had healed, and there was just something comforting about having the wood in my hand. They even let me sleep with it in my hand. Apparently my attachment to holding it was a good sign that my magic was still there.
Magic. Maybe that was how I remembered all those names.
Two days after that, they sent me home because, they said, there was nothing to do but wait. "Sometimes the lost memory just floods back, given the right trigger," one of the mediwizards said. "So make sure he goes to familiar surroundings and interacts with familiar people in familiar ways." Kingsley took me home himself, by Apparition, which was something I apparently knew how to do myself but couldn't quite remember.
"Listen," Kingsley was telling me as he made a pot of tea in what was supposedly my kitchen, though he seemed very familiar with it. "You're a fighter, Harry. You've suffered worse. You'll get through this."
"I expect I will," I said, sitting down at the table and looking around. "Until I do, though, can you fill me in on where we are and what's going on?"
Mistake. By the end of what he said, I barely remembered the address was number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The important bits seemed to be: I was part of a secret society that was fighting Evil. Check. The house, which was my house, was also where the secret society met. Check. So various people who I should know would be popping in and out. Check. I'd worry about their names as the need arose. Meanwhile, Kingsley was only going to stick around until someone else came. They didn't want me on my own too long, in case I ran into some spell or something I couldn't deal with.
I asked him to show me my bedroom, which he did, and then I told him I'd like to take a nap. He said he'd be in the next room and just to yell if I needed anything.
I did want to take a nap, but as soon as he closed the door, I wanted to try something. I hadn't wanted to in the hospital, where there were always people watching, but now that I was alone in what was my own room, I held my wand in my hand. They had told me it was holly with a dragon heartstring, similar to my old one. All I knew was I liked the feel of it in my hand. On top of the dresser was a pile of parchment and a quill. I pointed my wand at the quill. Could I make it move? Come on, up. Up.
The quill fell off the dresser as if blown by a draught of wind. Kingsley had said they would try to start teaching me magic tomorrow, but some part of me had to try it first. I picked the quill up and put it on the pile of parchment again.
The blank parchment seemed to be mocking me. It was like my mind had once been a book, and now all I had was a pile of blank pages. I aimed my wand at the quill again. This time, I punctuated my thought with a stab of the wand.
Come on!
This time the parchment burst into flames. I quickly smothered it by throwing the spare blanket over the entire pile. I listened carefully... there was no sign that Kingsley had noticed anything. My hand was shaking now. I was pleased. I had proved I could do magic. My memory might have gone up in smoke, but I was still Harry, of that I was sure.
--
Next Segment's prompt: "Who?" Harry has forgotten everything. Including someone very important in his life. Click here to continue to "Who?"