Chapter 8

No one spoke for a moment after Harry finished reading and softly closed the book. Ginny, at his side, drew her knees up closer to her chest and looked pointedly at the closed book in Harry's lap.

"We'll read more a little later, Ginny," Harry said after a moment. "This is my friend Severus. He and his daughter Anna are joining us for dinner today."

Ginny's eyes moved over to Severus as he spoke. "Pleased to meet you."

"Hi," she replied. Her voice was soft and tentative but not childlike at all.

"May I ask you some questions, Ginny?" asked Severus. His voice was calm and friendly, his demeanor professional. Ginny looked momentarily puzzled. She glanced at Harry.

"It's OK," Harry told her, picking up her hand and holding it in his own comfortingly.

"I thought we could talk about your family," said Severus smoothly. "I've just met them for the first time today."

"OK," she said, continuing to look at him but not offering anything more.

Severus studiously avoided looking at Harry, focusing instead of the near 40-year-old woman sitting before him.

"Do you have brothers and sisters?" he asked. "There are quite a few people here at the Burrow."

"Brothers," she answered, quite definitively. "I have six brothers." Severus could now hear the slur in her voice, as if her mouth couldn't quite form the words perfectly.

Severus smiled. "Six? That's quite a collection. What are their names?"

Ginny smiled slightly before she answered, but did not appear to hesitate or pause to think. "Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Ron," she recited.

Severus reached to his left and plucked a framed photograph from the desk. The photo depicted the Weasley children more than 30 years ago. They were sitting around a picnic table in the backyard, eating ice cream and waving merrily at the camera. Severus scooted his chair forward a bit and held the photograph out so that both he and Ginny could see it.

"Can you show me who is who in this picture?" he asked. He smiled as he pointed to the only girl in the photograph—a red-headed imp of six or seven with pigtails and dirt smudges on her face.

Ginny reached out her hand and brushed her thumb across the girl. "That's me," she offered. "Ginny." She looked expectantly at Severus, waiting for him to continue. He obliged, pointing next to a skinny boy with short hair and horn-rimmed eyeglasses.

"Percy," she supplied. "He's a prat."

Severus raised an eyebrow as Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to smother his laughter.

"Well, he is," she said. "The twins always say so."

Severus pointed next to the largest boy in the picture. He was sitting in the middle of the back bench of the table, separating the twins.

"Bill," said Ginny. "He's got an earring."

Severus looked more closely at the photo. Bill didn't appear to have an earring in the picture, but he didn't call that out. Instead, he pointed to the smallest boy.

"Ron," said Ginny. She brushed her thumb over Ron's smiling freckled face.

"And these?" said Severus, indicating the identical boys on either side of Bill.

"Fred and George, the twins," said Ginny. She moved her finger to the boy on Bill's right who had vanilla ice cream in his hair. "That one's Fred."

Harry, Severus noted, had a pained smile on his face.

"Then who's this last one?" asked Severus, indicating the boy at the end of the table who resembled the twins closely.

"That's Charlie," said Ginny. She studied him more closely. "He works with dragons."

"What does Percy do?" asked Severus, moving his finger back to the only pristinely neat child in the photo. "You said Charlie works with dragons…"

Ginny opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, a confused look coming over her face. She looked again at Harry, seeking an answer. Harry looked across at Severus.

"Does Percy have a job, Ginny?" persisted Severus.

"He works with Dad," Ginny said at last, after a moment of silent deliberation.

"Where do they work?" asked Severus. Harry realized Severus was really good at this. He really felt that he was inside a polite conversation and not a voyeur on a consultation.

"At the Ministry," Ginny answered, then added, in a smaller voice, "of Magic."

Severus replaced the photo and picked up another. This one was obviously much more recent. The Weasley children—hardly children anymore—were pictured standing together in a line, arms around each other's shoulders. Brooms were piled up at their feet. Every once in a while, a stray child would wander into the photo and then quickly dart out again.

"This one is interesting," said Severus, studying the photo for a moment before turning it to share it with Ginny. "Do you know the people in this photo?"

Ginny's eyes focused on the photo. She looked unsure and, as was her habit, looked to Harry for help. He shrugged, clearly understanding that it wouldn't help things for him to provide assistance. She quickly looked back at Severus and the photo, then reached out her hand and pointed to the only woman in the picture.

"I think that's me," she said, studying the photo closely. Photo Ginny had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing Holyhead Harpies Quidditch Robes. Severus thought the picture could not be more than three or four years old.

"Ahh," he said. "So, you play Quidditch, eh? Who are these others?"

Ginny stared intently at the photo for several moments then finally sighed. "I don't know them," she said. She pointed at the adult Percy in the photo. Like Arthur, Percy was balding and wore glasses. "He looks like Dad."

"He does indeed," commented Severus. He pretended to study the picture with Ginny then said. "I think these are your brothers, Ginny. Which one is Ron?"

Ginny's eyes strayed over to the first photo they had examined, then back to the one Severus held. She moved her hand over the photo, pausing to look intently at each face before finally pointing to Ron. He was standing next to Ginny, at the end of the line, with his broom in one hand and the other hand around her shoulder.

Severus leaned in. "He's the tallest of the lot, isn't he?" he said. "Now which one is Charlie?"

This time, Ginny's finger moved more confidently to Charlie. Charlie still had a full head of hair and looked much the same as he had at Hogwarts.

She identified Percy correctly next, then moved on to choose Bill at Severus' prompt. Her eyes lingered a long time on Bill, glancing over at the younger picture more than once as she studied the more recent photo.

"He's hurt," she said finally, tracing the lines left by Fenrir Greyback on Bill's face.

"Who's this last one?" asked Severus, distracting her from Bill. He really didn't want to have to explain that her brother had been attacked by a werewolf.

Ginny smiled as she looked at the last sibling pictured. "George," she said. "He looks happy."

Harry, Severus noted, was now staring at him, a hundred questions in his eyes. Severus acknowledged him with a small shake of his head and continued working with Ginny. He picked up one more photo from the writing desk. Harry saw the photo he chose and opened his mouth as if to protest. Severus silenced him by speaking first.

"This one is quite nice. It looks like three children about to go on a trip." He looked down at the photo of Harry and Ginny's children. The boys stood on either side of Lily, posed on a train platform with a scarlet engine behind them. Severus' own eyes narrowed as he studied the photo. Of course he recognized the children—he had just seen them again, after all. But something else in the picture struck him and he knew that a buried memory was trying to surface. Now was not the time, however. He willed the burgeoning memory away.

Ginny took the photo when he handed it to her. She held it in her lap and regarded it with apparent interest. This time, she was less tentative.

"That's Harry," she said, pointing to Albus. "I'm in the middle." This time, she pointed to her daughter Lily. She paused when she needed a name for James. "We're with a friend," she said at last, then added "We're on Platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross Station and that's the Hogwarts Express." The slur in her voice was more pronounced when she attempted long sentences.

Severus furrowed his brow and looked again at the photo. He was familiar with Kings Cross Station. It was his and Anna's typical departure station when they traveled to Yorkshire or other parts north.

"9 ¾?" he repeated, looking from the photo to Harry. He was convinced he would remember that particular platform number—if it existed. Still, there was something familiar about the number, something that hadn't yet fully connected in his head.

"Students travel to Hogwarts on the Hogwarts Express—the train you see there in the background," explained Harry. "They leave from a hidden platform which you access through the barrier between…"

"Platforms 9 and 10, I assume?" asked Severus with a wry smile.

Molly Weasley chose that moment to appear. "We're setting up for dinner now," she said. "Is this a good time for you two to go help with the tables outside?"

"Of course," answered Severus. He stood up and faced Ginny. "It was nice talking with you, Ginny." He nodded his head and waited while Harry kissed his wife on the cheek and squeezed her hand. They walked silently, side-by-side, from the room then out the front door. Harry was bristling with questions, but the first one he asked, when they were outside watching Ron, Bill and George direct the hoard of children in arranging the tables, surprised Severus greatly.

"You don't remember the Hogwarts Express, do you? You looked absolutely flummoxed when Ginny mentioned Platform 9 ¾."

Severus rolled his eyes. "9 ¾? Really, Harry? Wouldn't 9 ½ be more appropriate for a platform that is between two others? And why would the Wizarding World use Muggle train stations to begin with? I really would like to know who came up with that one."

Harry shrugged, amused. He'd never really given it a second thought, really. He'd first heard about Platform 9 ¾ when he was just 11 years old, and had grown up with it as not only a reality in his life, but the bright spot on the horizon during those interminable summers at the Dursleys.

"Well, we can't expect you to remember everything when you've only got one memory back, right?" Harry glanced up at the commotion before them. Their help apparently wasn't needed. The men had the children doing all of the work, from moving tables to arranging chairs to covering the tables with yellow tablecloths and placing condiments and silverware.

"Quite a production," said Severus. He watched his daughter working with Lily Potter arranging wooden salt and pepper shakers at the ends of each table. Anna certainly stood out in this crowd with her pale skin and dark hair. Even though all of the children wore Muggle type clothing, Anna's stood out in its formality. Still, she looked remarkably comfortable amid the crowd. Severus wondered at that. She'd grown up with no family except for him, no regular contacts except her nanny, the classmates at her private school and one or two elderly neighbors.

"It's always a production here," responded Harry. They watched the proceedings for a moment more before Harry spoke again. "Did you learn anything from your conversation with Ginny?"

Severus watched Bill drop a levitated tablecloth on top of three children, leaving them screeching and scrambling. "I learned quite a lot." He leaned back against the house as Anna and Lily spotted them and made a dash in their direction. "Can you wait until after dinner to discuss my thoughts and answer some more questions? We'll need more time than we have now."

"Of course," said Harry, catching Lily around the waist as she raced up to him. He lifted her up to his shoulder and carried her upside down back into the yard. Anna skidded to a halt in front of Severus and bit her lip, looking wistfully back at her new friend rough-housing with her father. She turned back toward Severus, who sighed dramatically then held out his arms. With a very uncharacteristic squeal of delight, Anna launched herself at her father who hefted her up to his shoulders and followed Harry into the yard.

Dinner with the Weasleys was followed by Quidditch with the Weasleys. Severus wondered how anyone got anything productive done with all the talking, commotion and physical activity. He felt like his head had done nothing but swivel to and fro during dinner, his attention moving from a conversation between Ron and George on the merits of boxer shorts for increased fertility (looking around him, Severus surmised that all the Weasley men wore boxers and not briefs) to an argument among the older children on who would be on which Quidditch team during the after-dinner game (Severus got the idea that they thought he'd be playing and neither side seemed to want him on their team). He was drawn into a conversation with Arthur, who was seated directly across from him, on Muggle technology and spent a good fifteen minutes trying to explain the concept of the internet. After dinner, he had barely bitten into an amazingly good apple tart when the call for Quidditch arose and at least half of the assembled started pushing chairs back and scrambling for their brooms.

Severus had only a very vague familiarity with the game, his memories of his wizarding life only beginning to make gossamer spider web-like connections in the middle of a forty-year period and apparently not yet synced to the sporting side of Wizarding life. Of course, he could well imagine, given his predilections as a Muggle, that sports would not have interested him much, at least not as an adult.

He watched with interest as the teams were chosen. There seemed to be twice as many children as adults in the fray, but they were soon divided up and someone spelled one team's shirts red and the other team's blue. Harry, Ron & Angelina seemed to be teamed up against Teddy, George and Bill. Each of them had a contingent of children, though it appeared the age cut-off was Hogwarts age, as neither Hugo nor Lily were allowed to play and Lily, especially, was in a pout because of it. Someone lugged out a beat-up equipment box and the non-players were forced to pick up their chairs and their unfinished pie and move to the pitch to watch the action.

Not that Severus minded. His brain was working double-time now as he sat with Anna wedged in the vee of his legs, both of their heads tilted back and up. At the same time that one half of his mind protested the impossibility of soaring above the earth on a broom, the other half very easily followed the quaffle and ducked with the players as the bludgers whizzed past. The children were already good flyers, and it was evident the adults had been at it for many years. Severus' eyes were drawn more often to Harry than to any of the others. He flew above the fray looking for the golden snitch, and Severus inexplicably found himself able to explain the game—that part of it, anyway—to his daughter. Bill, the other team's seeker, criss-crossed Harry's path—it was obvious that his strategy was to shadow Harry and hope for better speed in the end. How he could, Severus didn't know. Harry did not look like the sort of player that could ever be caught. It was difficult, indeed, to tell where Harry ended and the broom began.

A cloud passed overhead, darkening the early evening sky only for a moment, but Severus felt a chill roll down his spine. He had a brief flash of a body falling from a broom, but it was soon gone, and he shook his head and pulled his daughter more tightly back against his chest, watching the flyers overhead still securely on their brooms. The desire to soar above the earth welled up in him once again, stronger this time than when he stood on the steps of Hogwarts, but he pushed it down, knowing this was not the time to explore that particular yearning.

"Do you fly?" He turned to face Neville, who was sitting beside him with Frankie on his lap—standing on his lap, that is, pointing at the Quidditch players and jumping up and down. It looked a bit painful.

"Never really developed a taste for it," answered Neville. "I fell off a broom and broke my arm the first week of school first year." He didn't mention riding to London on a thestral, but then again, Severus' question had been rather vague.

"I suppose that would make anyone more cautious," answered Severus. Frankie whooped as Harry went into a dive, catching the snitch a moment later and ending the game.

Game over, the families started packing up to leave. Harry waited until only Ron and Hermione were left before returning to the subject of Ginny. They were all sitting at the kitchen table again while the children pulled out the Weasley's ancient gobstones and taught Anna how to play.

"Severus, you said that you learned quite a lot when you spoke with Ginny earlier," he said. He had the air of someone who was trying very hard to be patient without really succeeding. "Could you elaborate?"

All eyes turned to Severus then, the eyes of the injured woman's parents, brother, husband and friend. This was a group, he thought, that was accustomed to hearing bad news. Not one of them looked overly hopeful.

"From my observations—and please note that I am not a medical doctor—she appears to have a type of frontal lobe injury that prevents new memories from being made or retained. She has also lost access to the more recent memories of her life. However, she shows the capability of using deductive reasoning to make new connections…"

"Why don't you back up and tell everyone how you figured this out," suggested Harry, looking from one confused face to the other.

Severus leaned back in his chair. "My apologies. I forget that you are not familiar with my methodologies. I typically use photographs with patients exhibiting memory loss—patients often are more at ease when they have something other than a doctor or therapist to concentrate on. Photographs are evocative—even if the patient doesn't recognize the people or the places depicted, they can often identify with what is happening in the photo."

He paused for a breath and took a drink of the coffee Molly had served everyone as they gathered at the table.

"He started with the picture of Ginny with all her brothers—the one taken before she and Ron started at Hogwarts," offered Harry.

"I asked her to name her siblings first," said Severus.

"And she named them correctly, in order," said Harry. The others didn't look surprised.

"But presented with the photograph, she correctly identified each person, providing some details that weren't evident in the photo. For example, she supplied that Bill has an earring, that Charlie works with dragons and that Percy is, well," he looked around apologetically, "a prat."

Ron, who was taking a drink of coffee, spluttered and spit. Molly looked at him disapprovingly but Arthur hid a smile behind his hand.

"I then presented Ginny with a photo of herself with her brothers taken only a few years ago," continued Severus. "She identified herself after some scrutiny, but was unable to identify any of the others, though she did point out one brother and say that he looked like 'Dad.' However, when I told her that the photograph was of herself and her brothers, and named each in turn, she was able, with some difficulty, to identify each one. She cross-referenced the original childhood photo several times. Her ability to succeed in this effort shows that there are perfectly functional areas of her brain using deduction, reasoning and other skills."

"What does this mean, Severus?" asked Arthur. "Are you saying that Ginny can be helped?"

"Helped, absolutely. Cured?" He shook his head. "I doubt that she will return to the same woman she was before the accident. However, the brain is a miraculous and mysterious organ. One never knows what is possible."

"What about the last picture?" asked Harry. "She seemed so sure with that one, even though she got it all wrong."

"That was the most telling of all," said Severus. "I showed her a photo of her own children, at King's Cross, getting ready to go to Hogwarts. She immediately identified Albus as Harry and Lily as herself. She was unable to provide a name for James and told me that she and Harry were 'with a friend.' Furthermore, she identified where they were—on platform 9 ¾."

"Al and Lily do look a lot like Harry and Ginny," said Hermione. "That makes sense."

"Her deduction showed a type of problem-solving," Severus stated. "She supplied 'friend' for James, a logical deduction given that they were on their way to school. She clearly remembers the train, and Hogwarts. But she doesn't remember being a wife and mother, or having adult siblings. The brain damage has a temporal nature to it—certain memories are intact, memories or knowledge gained up to a specific time in her life—probably when she was still young, perhaps not even a teenager yet. But it's more than amnesia, as you already know. An amnesiac—such as myself—is able to form new memories. If that were the case, Ginny would be able to learn that she has children, and a husband, and nieces and nephews. She wouldn't be puzzled by the presence of familiar-looking adults and children in the house."

"We try to keep her away from the commotion," admitted Molly. "It upsets her."

"It upsets her because her brain is struggling to make sense of it all," said Severus. "If her memories of adulthood are gone, she may not have the emotional capacity to understand what her mind is showing her."

"That's why we thought she'd do so much better here than at home," said Harry. "She didn't seem to remember anything at home—none of the rooms, or the furniture, and certainly not the children."

"Does she still do magic?" asked Severus.

"Oh, heavens no!" answered Molly. "They told us at St. Mungo's to take her wand…"

"Actually, Severus, she does accidental magic frequently," said Harry. "But yes, I've taken her wand. It's at home, put away until she needs it again."

"She may need it now," said Severus. His mind was a whirl of possibilities as he tried to link everything he knew about the brain from his Muggle career with everything he knew—or remembered, anyway—about magic, which was pitifully little at this early date. Yet he felt, no—he knew—that the key lay somewhere in the middle, that Magic might be the ingredient needed to bridge the separate but functional pieces of a damaged brain. Magic…could it speed up the agonizingly slow neural regeneration process?

He looked up at his dumbfounded audience. Only Hermione looked as if she half-understood.

"Like our experience this morning, Severus?" she asked. "At the lake?"

"Exactly," he answered. "I lived without intentionally using magic for 20 years. I had no memory of magic, or of spells or incantations. Yet when Hermione taught me two spells—and this was before the first memory was restored this afternoon—I was able to perform them with ease. My brain may not have recalled the words or the intent of the spells but the knowledge—the ability—remained. I had learned and used those spells in the past, and that knowledge remained even though I was unable to access it."

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not following you, Severus," said Arthur. "Are you saying that doing magic may help Ginny heal somehow?"

Severus paused. Just what was he saying? "Honestly, I don't know," he answered. "However, based on my experiences and my knowledge of brain physiology and chemistry, I think that there is more danger and potential harm in Ginny not doing magic than in her doing it. Persons with brain damage need to utilize their brains in every potential capacity. It is obvious that Ginny is capable of doing magic—she would not be doing accidental magic if she were not. Re-teaching her the incantations for simple, harmless spells may inspire restorative brain activity."

"He's right," put in Hermione. "How about some simple household charms?"

"But the healers…" began Molly.

"The healers were worried that Ginny would be dangerous with her wand," cut in Harry. "They didn't suggest that Ginny re-learn the spells she's already learned. I think what Severus is saying is that the knowledge is already there—even if she can't access it—and learning the words again may open up access to parts of her brain she isn't using right now."

"Parts of her brain that may unlock more recent memories," said Hermione.

"Perhaps," said Severus cautiously. "But that is not a given, nor even a short-term likelihood. The idea is to encourage as much learning and brain activity—on all levels—as possible." He paused and looked across the table to Molly. "Do you do any needlework, Molly? Or gardening?"

Ron laughed. "You must not remember the famous Weasley sweaters."

Molly shot her youngest son a friendly glare. "I knit, Severus. And yes, we keep a garden here too."

"Ginny needs to be involved in normal activities around the home. I would start with cleaning and gardening, then move into cooking and knitting. Did she ever know how to knit?"

Both Ron and Harry choked back laughs.

"What is so amusing?" asked Severus, glaring at the two men.

"Ginny had six older brothers," supplied Arthur. "She was a tomboy through and through—I don't think she ever picked up knitting needles, except perhaps to use in pretend play as a child."

"We used Mum's knitting needles as wands," said Ron, smiling.

"Knitting will require hand/eye coordination as well as fine motor skills," said Severus. "The same can be said of the other activities. However, she needs to be encouraged to learn, not just follow directions. She should learn how to make a certain dish and be responsible for that dish in the future, for example."

Severus sensed a certain reluctance or hesitation in the group around the table. He caught Harry and Hermione exchanging looks. Molly bit her lip and Arthur looked at the table, still gripping his coffee cup. Finally, Harry spoke.

"Listen, Severus, we appreciate your suggestions—really. It's just that we can't see Ginny actually being successful at these things. She's a bit…well…unstable….emotionally. She becomes frustrated incredibly easily, then cries, or gets angry—and that's when the accidental magic happens. It was just too much for the kids to handle so we stopped trying months ago."

Severus sighed. So Wizards and Muggles were not too different in the long run. They all gave up too easily, thinking they were helping the injured party ultimately, or protecting themselves or their loved one. He looked pointedly at Molly and Arthur.

"I understand that it was frightening for the children—too much for them to handle. My question is—is it too much for you?"

Molly looked over at her husband, who had finally released his death grip on his coffee mug.

"Arthur?" she asked, her voice low.

"If Severus believes it will help her…"

"I do, Arthur," answered Severus. "Ultimately it will help, though again, I am not promising a cure or a return to the Ginny you knew previously. And it may very well get worse before it gets better…"

"Molly, Arthur," Harry spoke up. He seemed resigned to another round of effort, and equally sure, Severus thought, that it would fail. "You don't need to try this if it's too upsetting. It certainly isn't what you signed up for when you offered to bring Ginny back here. I can talk to Minerva about finding a different Defense professor and move Ginny back home…"

"No," said Severus. "I recommend that Ginny stay here. She seems to have a certain comfort level here, a familiarity with her childhood home. Your help would be appreciated, Harry, perhaps after school a day or two a week, or on the weekends."

Harry leaned back in his chair, hiding his relief, and Severus launched into his next questions.

"I'd like to read her complete case file, if that is possible. And I must ask—what are you giving her now, in the way of medications?"

"Potions," Harry supplied for Molly, who looked confused.

"Well, a standard calming draught, three times a day," answered Molly. "And a sleeping potion as well. She's a very fitful sleeper since the accident."

"Calming draught?" he questioned, furrowing his eyes. He felt like he should remember that one.

"Like Valium," supplied Hermione.

"She should be weaned off of it as soon as possible," said Severus. "Use it only when needed, not as a matter of course. Same with the sleeping potion."

They discussed Ginny's treatment plan for a while longer. Severus requested a pen and was provided ink and a quill. He picked up the quill and found that it fit in his hand much the same way his wand had. Writing with it was much less of a challenge than he had supposed it would be, though he made a rather large blot and was oddly embarrassed by it. He made a list of instructions for Ginny, and arranged to return in a week to check on progress and issues.

"It is possible that by then I will have access to more of my memories from my Wizarding years," he said as he prepared to floo back to Harry's Hogsmeade cottage with Harry and the children. Harry would side-along apparate him back to Surrey from there and Anna would spend the night with Lily at Harry's. "I am hoping that my apparent skill with potion making will manifest itself soon. I am anxious to combine what I know of Muggle science with magical potions and healing."

Five minutes later, they were all in the cozy cottage Harry had recently purchased in Hogsmeade. Harry gave the children instructions to get ready for bed and after ensuring that they were in their rooms and unarmed, grasped Severus wrist and apparated back to his home in Surrey.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do," said Harry as he prepared to go home. He had already made arrangements to return in the morning to test out the floo connection that Angelina had promised to have set up by that time. "And I'll start gathering up the paperwork—there are quite a lot of reports about her injury and treatment—most of it conflicting." He watched Severus sink down into his leather couch facing the television. Severus picked up a remote control and pointed it at the stereo. He pressed a button, then shook the device and pressed it again. When nothing happened, he walked over to the stereo and touched the power button, only to jump back and stick his finger in his mouth.

"Umm, Severus…" said Harry, working to hide his smile. "Now that your magic is coming back…"

"What?" Severus rounded on Harry. He had taken the batteries out of the remote control and was digging in a drawer for new ones. "Magic interferes with electronics, right? Is that what you're about to tell me?"

"Well, yes, actually…."

"Then how do wizards listen to music? Surely you have recorded music in the wizarding world!"

"We have the wireless," said Harry. "And Victrolas.."

"Victrolas!" Severus dropped the remote and the batteries. The pieces bounced and rolled across the hardwood floor. One battery stopped right in front of Harry's left shoe. He bent to pick it up, tempted to save it for Arthur.

"Calm down, Severus!" Harry said, beginning to laugh. "I'm just pulling your chain a bit. Most wizards can use technology when they're not all gathered in the same place—it's the high magic levels that create the problem. Once your magic calms down a bit, and I'm not here with you, you should be able to use most of your electric and electronic devices."

"Fine, I'll just read then," said Severus. He flicked on a lamp. The bulb promptly exploded.

Harry quickly conjured an oil lamp, which he placed on the table next to Severus. He lit it with a silent "Lumos" and the soft glow illuminated the room. Severus gazed at the lamp, at the dancing flames reflected on the wall, and then back at Harry.

"I'm beginning to think Muggles have overly-complicated their lives," he said. He reached first for a black leather-encased device on the coffee table then stopped himself, shook his head and picked up a hard-cover book instead.

"I'll be back at nine, Severus," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Severus. He had already opened his book and had scooted closer to the end of the sofa near the lamp.

"Blow it out before you go to bed," instructed Harry. He turned on the spot and disappeared with a soft crack.

Severus closed the book and sighed. He took out his wand and pointed it at the lamp.

"Nox," he whispered.

He was left in total darkness as the lamp extinguished itself, along with every other light in his home.

He closed his eyes, stretched out his feet and within minutes was asleep on the sofa.