“It is one thing to read of pain. It is another to remember it. Another to watch it. And another to heal it. However, it is something entirely different to feel pain, and know that it will never go away.”

-Harry Potter as quoted by Cynaephra Alstance

“Miss Alstance?” Harry asked as he entered the dark research room at St. Mungo’s Magical Disease Center. It was musty, shadowed and cluttered, covered with relics, talismans, fetishes and scrolls, and in the corner sat a woman with grayed brown hair who was bent over a table, muttering to herself. Harry stepped closer, repeating himself. She jumped, flustered and jittery.

“Oh s-s-sir, I-I-I-I didn’t he-hear you come i-i-i-i-in.” Her eyes were bright and smiling and her face was that of a young woman despite her aged locks. Her stutter was strong—much stronger than Quirrel’s had been—but she was absolutely unfazed by it. “Wh-who are you? You se-se-se-seem to know m-me.”

Harry paused.

He was disguised already. No one could recognize him here, but he was wary of strangers and more so of inquisitive ones. Eventually he decided to favor the truth.

“I’m your benefactor. I thought it might be well for me to check your progress.” Cynaephra then lost all ability to speak as she bubbled her thanks and appreciation. His hand was repeatedly shaken, and he could do nothing except wait for her to calm herself.

When she finally did, she managed to restrain her stutter and asked, “Are you still an-an-anonymous?”

“Yes, Ms Alstance, I am. It is more for your safety than for mine. However, it is necessary.”

“Your sp-spell work was a b-b-bit sloppy. Your eye-eye-eyelashes are st-still black. M-m-may I?” She inquired, gesturing with his wand. Harry allowed her, and a moment later the feel of a snowflake melting on his eyes sank through his skin, then dissipated. Without looking, he knew the small hole in his disguise had been filled.

He should never have made the mistake; the cost of being caught was too great. Yet, emotionally and physically exhausted, it had slipped his mind. Now that the papers had restarted their onslaught of libel, everywhere Harry turned, he found a new list of his atrocities and at the top of each of them was the murder of his former friend’s family. Anyone there should have repudiated the story, but selective memory had convinced them that he had been at fault and that he had had nothing to do with the near-miraculous survival of Mr. Granger.

Harry shook his head, dispelling his woes. “Ms Alstance, would you terribly mind showing me your progress? I need something to lift my spirits.”

“Of course, j-ju-j-just let m-me take a p-p-p-potion.” The woman lifted a dusty vial from amid the dusty tomes and added a last ingredient before drinking it. “There we go. Now I can explain.” At Harry’s baffled blinking, she continued, “The potion is related to the polyjuice potion. It only lasts for an hour, spoils easily and is more difficult to make than wolfsbane. I think that you might be worth the effort though, young man.

“Come with me, it’s much easier to explain all this if we’re next to a patient instead of trying to go through it theoretically.”

“Actually, I’m not sure that—”

Cynaephra gestured and Harry was silenced—magically. “Not a word out of you sir. Whether you are the reason I can continue my work or not, that potion is too expensive for me to take a second dose, and I have quite a bit to cover.” She stared at him askance. “If you’ll be quiet I’ll take off the spell.” Harry decided not to mention that he could break the spell with ease, and nodded. The spell vanished and Harry followed her across the courtyard to the largest Mungo’s building. Both of the secretaries they passed assumed he was her guest, which he was, and did not bother to ask for his already forged ID. His private researcher had been babbling as they walked, nearly desperate to go through everything before she ran out of time.

“Now following the Bohrstrain model, it can be concluded that the human mind is mutable in every sense. However, because of this flexibility, it is very difficult to cause permanent mental damage. After all, if a mind naturally accepts change then there is no reason to believe that any affect cannot be undone. Sir you….I’m sorry but is there a pseudonym I can use in place of the truth?”

“Oh, certainly…” Harry rapidly recalled the name printed on his falsified ID. “Christopher McCallen. Is that sufficient Ms Alstance?”

“Of course Mr. McCallen, now where was I?”

“Mental flexibility.”

“Oh yes. The mind is changeable in every sense. What I told you in my letter, that the Cruciatus creates an overflow of chemicals and dissolves the brain creating a vegetative state is wrong, and I couldn’t be happier about that. It doesn’t dissolve the brain, it merely locks it down. It brings the mind away from reality and leaves it there. Assuming Bohrstrain was right, then they aren’t lost, merely misplaced. It explains the occasional recognition of former friends and relations; the mind moves closer to reality again.”

“How is it repaired?” Harry asked quietly, hoping he would not receive a tirade for interrupting.

“I’m not entirely certain yet Mr. McCallen. I had been researching memory modifications, but the texts have vanished which is not surprising since the librarian is incompetent and the library is next to the home of a kleptomaniac. What I had found though leads me to suggest that a neural relaxant combined with the work of a strong Legilems could help lead the mind back. Unfortunately it has been established that their minds having gone so long in disuse that they are beginning to atrophy.

“We will have to repair that before we can address the other issues. No one knows how though. Oh, here we are.” Harry followed her into the darkened chamber, and approached the Longbottoms. “I have yet to find a strong enough Legilems to read them. The two who work here regularly are visiting a hospital in France, and I’m still not certain that they would be strong enough for this. It’s no matter though. I’m not certain what I’m looking for yet.” She continued, listing possible Healers with whom she wished to conference and techniques she wished to employ.

Harry listened halfheartedly, concentrating on the risks of the gambit he wished to make. Weighed against the other option, allowing the Longbottoms to continue to wallow in their desolate state, Harry knew he had to help. The risks would have to be considered acceptable.

“Ms. Alstance.”

“Mr. McCallen.”

“Ms. Alstance, I don’t want to interrupt you. This is truly fascinating to me. It is also uplifting to know that there are some good things in the world, but there is something I should tell you.”

“There is no need for you to reveal your identity. If you—”

“Ms. Alstance, if you please. I am not about to compromise my anonymity; however, you mentioned that you lacked a powerful legilems to continue your research. While I am not the most adept in the world, I am far from a tyro in the field. If it would help your research, I can run whatever tests you need. Now.” Harry was certain that the woman would swoon right then. Her mouth bobbed like a fish out of water, and she clutched the back of a chair.

“Sir…if you would…I mean that…let me fetch my notes.” She left with room with an alacrity he had not expected in a woman of her age.

Four hours later, when Harry stumbled back from the control of his connection, he was panting and shaking. His mind was twitching and he collapsed onto a neighboring bed with a pained gasp. Cynaephra folded at his feet.

“Th-th-th-thank you. I’ll n-need a f-f-few days to w-work, but, I-I-I…th-thank y-y-you.”

“Not a problem.” He whispered. “I have to go. I’ll send my owl in a week’s time. I hope you are as successful as I imagine you could be.” He forced himself to his feet, and as soon as he left the room he apparated to the Shrieking Shack where he dropped to the darkness.

>=====<

He woke up the next day, and two days after that three healers volunteered to assist Ms. Alstance. Her anonymous sponsor was hailed as a hero of the Ministry and was begged to come forward. No one answered the call.

>=====<

The Dark Lord hissed a final question to the young man before him. The man acknowledged that he understood his assignment, and began to rise. A harsh spell later he writhed on the ground, promising the world and more.

“If you fail, boy…” The Dark Lord left the threat open, ending the Cruciatus with a spike of pain.

Lucius Malfoy watched his son scrabbling at the floor, and did nothing to interrupt his misery. Draco was left in a heap on the floor, still muttering his vows. The Dark Lord gave a slight gesture to the Weasley girl, and a larger to the rest of the room.

The Weasley had proven to be a useful slave to their cause. Her dedication to Draco was absolute, and her dedication to their Lord even more so. She was ruthless, cruel and capable of destructive spells none of the Death Eater’s had expected. For her willingness to obey the command of her Lord she had grown in his ranks and become nearly as trusted as Bellatrix had been. For that reason she was being permitted to tend to her lover before she had her private meeting. Many of the Death Eater’s whispered about what happened in her increasingly common meetings, but none dared to say a word to her face; the power she wielded was undeniable.

Lucius followed the others to the meeting, secretly proud of what his son had been trusted to do.

>=====<

Harry woke to the sight of the Weasley twins inches above his face, singing Christmas carols. Both of them were unconscious before he could recognize them. As he enneverated them, he noticed Bill and Charlie standing in the corner, laughing at their brothers’ misfortunes.

“What have you learned from this?” Harry asked in a tone identical to Professor McGonagall’s reprimands.

“Never to wake you—”

“—with Christmas—”

“—carols.”

“That’s a start.” Harry grinned half-heartedly. “Has the Order found anything new?”

Charlie shook his head. “They have nothing. They’re so desperate they actually considered contacting you, which is an incredibly bad sign since they also had a discussion on how to capture and hold you until the final battle.” Charlie abruptly silenced his brothers and continued, “I’ve been asked to join the Death Eaters, and I accepted. We need the information. These three will try to kill me as soon as I release them, but I’m hoping you’ll understand where this is coming from Harry. It would be rather unpleasant for you to kill me by accident on one of your attacks. Do you understand why I accepted?”

Harry stared into Charlie’s eyes, using his exhausted legillemency skills to probe the dragon-master’s mind. After a few moments, Harry sighed. “I think you’re completely insane, but I’ll see what I can do to protect you. Be careful.”

“Thank you Harry. Er…could you have a word with these three? I don’t trust them not to bludgeon me for this.”

Nodding, Harry turned to the other Weasleys. “He has my protection on this….mission. He isn’t joining the Death Eater’s; he’s spying on them. If you do anything to him…well…” Harry smiled sadistically and the three boys remembered why Voldemort’s forces had failed in their recent attacks. Without schooling or any training that they could remember, Harry Potter was holding back a force double what it had been in the first war—all by himself.

The boys were released from their silence, but remained in the same state until Harry began to inform them of what he had done since their last meeting. Most of it was already known, but the last piece was what Harry stressed.

“Voldemort has a new fighter.”

“He gets more of those every day.” Bill interrupted with a harsh look at his brother.

“No, he gets more servants every day. This one is a fighter. It isn’t the werewolves yet, but whoever it is has been well trained. They’re rather small, which makes me think he may have found a replacement for Bellatrix. She—I think it’s a woman—is ruthless. I’ve yet to fight her, but I’ve seen her handiwork. It’s…”

“Less than pretty.” Fred offered. “We’ve seen it too.”

“Good. If you get any word on who she is, I need it immediately. She’s too dangerous, too smart.” Harry laughed, “The world is full of idiots and geniuses. Unfortunately, all of the latter are on the other team.”