THIRTY-THREE: the Missing Hour

He was certain this was real life, not the pensieve.

He was... relatively certain.

He looked up to find his own confusion mirrored in Snape’s eyes. For a moment, they stared incredulously at one another.

“Bloody hell!” Severus suddenly swore angrily. “Again!” He gazed with utmost loathing at the closed door.

“Wait,” Harry said. “What?”

Snape’s lips thinned, however, and he immediately took off down the hallway, Harry in tow.

“Sir,” Harry managed diffidently. When Snape didn’t reply, his tone hardened. “Snape.”

“Not now, Potter, wait until we’ve got some wards, haven’t you any discretion?”

Snape marched down the hall and up a flight of stairs, then turned a left, moving towards the western wing of the castle. Harry was wondering where they were headed and beginning to make guesses, all of which were shattered when Professor Lupin opened his door sleepily. Harry peered in behind the man and recognized the fireplace he had fallen through to escape the Chamber of Secrets.

“Mmmgh?” Lupin murmured inquiringly.

Snape barged past him, Harry a step behind, shooting an apologetic glance at his tired Professor.

“Snape?” Lupin muttered peevishly, running a hand through disheveled hair. “Snape, it’s past ten in the evening. It’s past ten in the evening three days before the full moon, Snape.” He suddenly noted Harry, and blinked in surprise, looking slightly more awake and alert. “Uh oh,” he managed succinctly.

“Silencio Perispherico,” Snape spat in reply, waving his wand in a circle around the room. “Sophia Terminalis!” he added.

“What...?” Harry wondered. Meanwhile, he was wondering where the time had gone. How can it be ten o’ clock? Didn’t my detention start at seven-something?

“Circle of Silence,” Remus translated. “Keeps others from hearing us. Wisdom of the End. Alerts us if and when anyone steps close enough to breach and subsequently break the wards. Even a small, bastard Animagus,” he tacked on darkly. “Severus, what is it?”

Snape went into a cold, measured recitation of all that had gone on so far. “I believe that, with the Headmaster’s aid, I discovered the truth. Unfortunately, both Harry and myself were subsequently Obliviated.”

“What?” Remus murmured, looking startled, eyes childishly wide beneath a mess of disheveled hair. “Oh – oh my.” He stood, distractedly, and moved to his small kitchen, retrieving a plate of chocolate cookies and three cups of tea.

For a moment, Severus stared at him silently. Then, “this is your idea of aid?”

Remus offered him a dazzling smile. “Yes.”

Harry took a cookie. “Thanks, Professor.”

Remus turned the smile onto Harry, then took a cookie himself, munching on it thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. “Well, hasn’t it occurred to you that perhaps the Headmaster knows best?” Remus supplied, once they had eaten at least one cookie and several sips of tea each. “You even apparently think so, Severus, or at least Harry does. Harry resists Imperio and Obliviate as well, so he must have agreed to it.”

“How d’you know that?” Harry wondered. His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t ever tried to Obliviate me, have you?”

Lupin blinked at him in surprise. “Well – no. It’s just that the two curses are quite related. Your father could resist both, and your mother resisted Obliviate so well that it was literally useless against her. I imagine you’re much the same.”

Snape looked like he was choking on his cookie – probably remembering something nasty about his father, his mother, or both, Harry decided, and declined to comment.

“Regardless, it seems that the Headmaster has decided it is best for neither of you to remember, and you agreed,” Remus emphasized. “Don’t the both of you trust him? More importantly, don’t you trust yourselves?”

Snape’s shoulders slumped under the question, his dark eyes scanning the brown carpet of Remus’s private rooms. After a moment, he sighed. “I trust Albus more than any other man living,” he conceded. “But...” He smiled at Remus, a smile Harry had never seen before on his professor’s face: it looked almost self-depreciating. “...well, I don’t really trust anyone, I suppose,” he finished with a shrug. He frowned. “Besides, I would certainly like to come to my own conclusion, without the Headmaster’s... interference. If, after that, I decide that I do not wish to recall, or that it is unwise to do so, then I shall remove that memory. Not before.”

Harry realized that he felt the same way, and nodded silently. Dumbledore was such an excellent manipulator that he could probably convince Harry of anything; and the man had said himself that he would do absolutely anything in order to win the war. Harry had to know if he would have agreed on his own. There was even the terrifying possibility that Dumbledore had developed a stronger Obliviate the same way that Voldemort had apparently improved on Legilimens, although that thought was so horrifying that Harry’s mind skittered rapidly away.

He found himself torn between Draco and Hermione’s ideas: either the ends justified the means – or not. If Draco was right and they did, he ought to simply trust in Dumbledore’s authority and wisdom, both of which Harry knew for certain he had. If Hermione was right, then Dumbledore’s very methods made him incorrect, and he was bound to extricate the memories kept from him no matter the consequence.

Harry realized he was frightened, that he was longing for Draco and Hermione and Ron as well, wishing they could argue it out so that he could listen and decide after hearing it from all angles.

I ought to write to Draco, he decided suddenly, nodding to himself while Remus and Snape argued on.

“Very well,” Remus finally agreed. “If you are set on discovering this, I will help you.”

Snape frowned at him. “Even though it would probably mean your job?”

“I don’t have a job, Severus, how many times must I explain it to you? For someone so blatantly hard-headed, you certainly seem to have a hard time with this particular concept. People hate me for what I am. They fear me. I won’t remain long at this post, although,” – and here his face transformed – “although I like it here very much. I like teaching, and Hogwarts, and even you. But that certainly won’t change the fact that I’ll leave at the end of the year. You’ll see. I’m not risking myself very much at all by helping you. In fact, if it is this debacle that forces my hand, I’ll be somewhat grateful. It will mean I have left doing something worthwhile instead of because of an idiotic mistake... like last time,” he finished, golden brown eyes stealing over to Harry with an apologetic twist to his lips.

“Don’t play martyr on my account,” Snape dissuaded him flatly.

“I don’t play it for you, it’s my natural state,” Remus quipped blandly. “In any case, your next step ought to be finding out exactly where Harry was for the missing time period. Once you do that, it ought to be easy to solve the rest.”

“Harry’s family says that he was not with them,” Snape muttered.

“But they could very well be lying,” Harry interjected. “It’s something of a hobby for them, at least where I’m involved.”

Snape eyed him, but said nothing.

“Could you check?” Lupin inquired. “Check more carefully – perhaps contact a friend you typically see over the summer?”

A friend, Harry thought, his heart sinking. Right. A friend from Privet Drive.

“Surely there is someone–” Snape began, examining his blank look.

Harry felt a depression grip him. Sure, he’d spent most of his teen years at Hogwarts, but it was still incredibly depressing that he hadn’t made a single connection to anyone... not in fifteen years at Privet Drive... there wasn’t a single person who –

“Oh,” Harry said aloud. “Oh, uhm... I think there might be one person who’d tell me the truth.” He realized he was about to write two letters instead of one.

Dear Draco, he began, then tossed that out. Draco wasn’t his ‘dear’ anything, and the Slytherin would probably howl with laughter if he realized Harry had written that at all. He began again.

Draco,

I’m sorry about what happened in the corridor with your mother, and we all hope you’re not in too much trouble. (Believe it or not, that includes Ron.) Just tell her that the really old wizarding families always associated with Muggles

Harry paused, crumpled the parchment up in his hands and tossed it in the wastebasket again. This was turning out to be harder than he’d thought.

Draco,

I’m sorry to bother you at home

Now he sounded like a solicitor.

Ever wondered if you were being manipulated? Lately I’ve had cause to think I have been, for a long time now. I guess it’s a question of trust in the end. Someone I’ve trusted for ages looks like they might be taking advantage of me. I thought of you and H right away and your argument about the ends and the means. Do you really think that if I believe in what someone wants to accomplish, I ought to let that person do anything in order to get there?

Feeling v. confused right now, and sort of wishing you were still around to bully me into sensibility.

Another thing I have been meaning to ask you about was the contents of this book I found. Maybe you’ve read it before; it’s a wizarding story and no one I know recognizes it. I’ll include a copy.

Let me know you’re doing all right.

-H

Harry examined it with surprise, realizing it sounded just about right; it also sounded vague enough so that he could be certain that no one who intercepted the letter would automatically understand its contents. Since he never referred to his name or Draco’s, there was a good chance that no one would know who it was to, or from. Smiling, he bent down to a new sheet of parchment and began his second missive, which was quite a bit easier to pin down.

Dudley,

Sorry to send this the usual way, but there isn’t exactly a post service here besides Hedwig.

I have a very strange question for you. Do you recall how long I was there over the summer? No, I haven’t gone completely off – or not any more, in any case – but there’s something odd going on and I intend on finding out what it is.

Please reply by tying your note onto Hedwig’s foot. Feed her a scrap of something if you can. (Are you still on that diet? Don’t know how well she’d take to a wilted bit of lettuce.)

Thanks again for all your help over the summer. I managed to finish all my assignments and everything. Hope things are well with you.

-Harry

Harry went up to the Owlery, where Hedwig moved to light on his shoulder, nipping his finger in loving concern. He had not been to visit her in awhile, and so he spent the next few minutes stroking her warm head and clucking affectionately to her under his breath, reminding her quietly that she was the most lovely thing he had ever seen.

She preened under his attention, and Harry had a feeling that if owls could smile, she would be grinning.

“Here we are, Hed,” he told her, wrapping Dudley’s letter around her leg with a bit of white ribbon he had transfigured from a spare scrap of parchment. “To Dudley, all right?”

And if owls could start in scandalized amazement, Hedwig would have done that, too.

“Come now,” he told her. “He’s been nicer, lately, and we need his help. Although, feel free to bite him, hard, if he gives you any trouble.”

Settling her feathers with dignity, she jumped onto the sill and took off, winging her way elegantly north.

Harry selected another owl, a school owl, for Draco’s missive; he could not be certain that his bird would not be recognized, and he was quite sure that if she were, Draco would be in even worse trouble than before. He drew another bit of white ribbon from his pocket and tied this second letter, along with a painstakingly copied version of the Morn Brother/ Evening Brother tale, to the nameless owl’s leg and told it Malfoy Manor in his firmest voice.

The owl offered him a dubious glance before leaping onto the sill and launching itself into the cold, late-September air.

And Harry set himself to wait, rather impatiently, for replies.