The Man Who Knew Almost Nothing

Chapter Twenty

The morning after

Morning light was beginning to pour into the ballroom. The air was still hazy with smoke from the attack. Remus Lupin rubbed his eyes as he walked into the room where many wizards and witches were still being attended or else waiting for a loved one to return from the search for the last of the Dark Lord’s minions. Those who had escaped the ballroom had been caught and turned over to the Ministry. They would be filling cells in Azkaban prison before sunset. As his weary eyes surveyed the damage, the havoc they had created, it was a small comfort.

His eyes finally rested upon Sirius, Harry, and Gilderoy. Remus smiled softly, sadly. They had survived, but even from a distance he could see the deep lines upon his dear Sirius’s face. The youth of the previous evening had been trampled by anger, fear, and anguish. He had failed to protect his charge yet again. Harry was sleeping in his arms, at peace and mostly unharmed by the look of it. Gilderoy was lying nearby. Asleep too, he presumed.

He walked across the glass strewn floor to join them, exhausted from a difficult night.

“How goes it, Padfoot?” asked Remus, using his old nickname from their days as school boys and friends.

Sirius shook his head and looked meaningfully at the young man asleep in his arms.

“We should have warned him that they were still out there,” said Sirius.

“We thought they were fewer in number and disillusioned by the defeat of their master. No one wanted to worry him needlessly,” said Remus.

“They could have come for him at anytime. He could have been ...”

“But he wasn’t. They chose to make their final stand here.”

“We were lucky,” said Sirius.

“It doesn’t happen often.”

“You caught them though. Tell me you caught every last one of them.”

“We did. Those that didn’t die here last night.”

“Remus, I can drive a muggle car. I want to take them home. You wouldn’t mind guarding them for a moment?”

“Not at all. Go and get Harry’s car. He deserves to recuperate in his own bed. I’ll help you in any way I can,” said Remus, taking Harry from Sirius’s arms as he stood.

“Thanks, Moony.”

The next thing that Harry knew, he was being buckled into the passenger seat of his car. He looked up sleepily, shivering in the cold morning air. Their cloaks had all been lost in the confusion. Sirius smoothed his hair and hushed him as he began to ask a question.

“Home, Harry. I’m taking you home,” he told him.

“Gilderoy?” he questioned.

Sirius’s eyes looked over Harry’s shoulder, and Harry followed his gaze. Professor Lupin was just carrying Gilderoy out of the ballroom. They had decided that a Mobilicorpus spell would have been too frightening for Gilderoy to endure in his altered state of consciousness. Madam Pomfrey had insisted that he was not injured and would ‘snap out of it’ in due time. Remus gently deposited Gilderoy in the back seat before climbing in himself.

“I want to see you home safely,” said Remus, patting Harry’s shoulder as Sirius got behind the wheel.

“He isn’t any better?” asked Harry.

“No, not yet,” said Sirius.

“But don’t worry. He will be just fine ... in time,” said Remus.

Harry felt only half awake until the arrived back at the Little Burrow. Sirius helped him out of the car and left him on the couch inside while he went back to fetch Gilderoy. Harry watched them carrying Gilderoy into the bedroom and felt his heart begin to pound. He was on his feet in an instant and stumbling into the bedroom. Sirius and Remus moved out of Harry’s way as he walked over to the bed.

“You might want to get him out of those clothes. There are bits of glass and the scent of Dark magic on them, not to mention the blood,” said Remus.

“Do you want any help, Harry?” asked Sirius, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“No, I can take care of him now. Thanks for everything, for getting us home especially,” said Harry.

Remus made a dismissive gesture as he said, “It was the least we could do, Harry.” “And Sirius was going this way,” he added with a chuckle.

“We have some things to discuss, Harry. Join us in the sitting room when you’ve attended to Gilderoy,” said Sirius as they stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

Harry sat down on the bed with Gilderoy and softly sighed.

“I am so sorry that this had to happen on our first real night out together. I’m sorry it happened at all,” he said quietly.

He lifted one of Gilderoy’s arms and slipped it out of the sleeve of his robe. The other sleeve required some pulling and tugging. Gilderoy whimpered softly as Harry removed the robe.

“I know. I know,” Harry said, hushing him softly as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “I just have to get you undressed. Glass shards. Blood. Not nice to sleep in,” he said.

As he pulled one arm from the sleeve, Harry kissed his wrist and forearm softly. He could feel Gilderoy relax. His eyes were no longer unfocused, but there was a peculiar vacant expression in his blue eyes. Harry shivered as he looked into them, wondering if that haunted, vacant look would ever go away.

Harry gently stripped him down to his underclothes, pausing to kiss and comfort him as needed. He draped a blanket around him and tucked him in carefully. Unimpeded by the layers of clothing, Gilderoy was trembling, but Harry could tell that it wasn’t from the cold.

“You don’t have to be afraid. You’re home now. Everything is going to be all right,” Harry told him, caressing his cheek and his forehead.

He sat there for a long time before he became aware of voices, Sirius and Remus, talking in the parlor.

“I can’t leave now, Moony. I only just moved in. And what’s more, Harry ... and Gilderoy, they need someone older and stronger around after last night.”

“I didn’t say that you should pick up and leave today. Just ... when everything is normal again. The loneliness is killing me.”

“Remus, you know I’m trying. I just want it to be right.”

“Maybe it is right. Or maybe it’s as right as it will ever be. Last evening, you were Padfoot again. You were ...”

“I know it, but things happen. Life happens. I do love you. You have to know that. I just ... I want it to be ...”

“Perfect? Life is never perfect, Sirius. Look at those two in there.”

“I know. Poor Gilderoy.”

“Poor Gilderoy? He’ll be fine. Don’t you mean ‘poor Harry’, Sirius?”

“You haven’t seen it then.”

“What? What haven’t I seen?” There was a hint of worry in Remus’s voice.

“The duel took a lot out of him.”

“Sirius, you can’t be saying what I think you are. That he’s dying?”

“Not dying. Just ... worn beyond his years. Diminished.”

“It’s the same thing isn’t it?”

“Not quite. Harry has a lot of life left in him. But it kills me to see anything happen to the boy, anything that might steal a few of those precious years from him.”

“A heavy burden, Padfoot.”

“Will you be saying good-bye before you leave?”

“I had better,” said Remus.

A moment later there was a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” Harry called, glancing down at Gilderoy. He thought he could see sorrow in his staring eyes. Had he overheard the conversation as well or was he too cut off from the world around him to hear and understand?

Remus opened the door slowly and smiled as he looked at Harry and Gilderoy.

“I must return to the school. There are things to be done and students to look after. I imagine the hospital wing will be full of students who got special permission to attend last night’s festivities. There were quite a few of them there,” said Remus.

“And you will help look after them then?” asked Harry.

“I always try to take care of my students. Sometimes I’m more successful than others,” he said.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Remus. That’s Sirius’ area of expertise.”

“I know you have enough on your plate, Harry, but take care of him too, would you?” Remus asked quietly.

“You know I will,” answered Harry.

“And let me know how Gilderoy is doing too.”

“Of course.”

Harry sat next to Gilderoy, gently rubbing his back and feeling the trembling slowly give way to calm as the morning wore on into the afternoon. He could hear the sound of Sirius snoring softly in the sitting room. He had been too exhausted to reach his bedroom, or else he wanted to remain close enough to keep watch on Harry and Gilderoy. Harry sighed as he ran his fingers through Gilderoy’s hair.

“Please, speak to me, Gilderoy. Tell me what I can do to help you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m ... remembering,” he whispered.

“You’re remembering?” questioned Harry, surprised to hear him speak at all and by what he had said.

“Terrible things, Harry,” Gilderoy said, deliberately turning his head away from him. He couldn’t bear to look at Harry.

“Tell me what you remember.”

“I cast spells ... on people ... that ... I don’t know. I think I hurt them,” said Gilderoy. His shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Harry shook his head. He felt certain that it was the terror, the Dark magic, the violence of the night before that had unlocked some of Gilderoy’s memories. Of all the memories to come back to him, why the worst ones? How could he explain that it was the memory charms that he had cast on others that he was remembering?

“Gilderoy, you never hurt anyone. You altered memories. Nothing more,” said Harry, trying to soothe him.

“Last night I ...”

“Saved our lives, Gilderoy. You saved us both,” Harry told him.

“It was all so terrible. What happened at the ball. These memories. Harry ...” he choked.

Harry recognized the sound and quickly summoned a small trash can from the bathroom, holding it out for Gilderoy as he dry heaved. He hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours.

Harry hushed him and settled the blankets back around him. Brushing strands of blond hair from his sweat dampened forehead, he leaned down and kissed the lines of worry upon his face, lines that had not been there the day before.

“Harry, you know all the things I did. How can you possibly love me?” Gilderoy asked as tears slid down his face.

“Because I can see the good in you, the kindness, the foolishness, the gentle and loving person that you didn’t always have the chance to be. I didn’t fall in love with the man who did those bad things. I fell in love with you,” Harry told him patiently.

“But I was that person,” sobbed Gilderoy.

“Are you now?”

“I ... don’t know.”

“Take it from me. You have changed. I promise that you have, Gilderoy.”

Gilderoy wiped his eyes and pulled Harry into his arms, and softly said, “Harry, I hope I can live up to your faith in me.”

“I know you will. You haven’t let me down yet,” said Harry, squeezing the back of his neck and kissing him before letting him go.

Standing in the doorway, awakened by their conversation, Sirius left them alone, his soft footsteps unnoticed. He shook his head. The road ahead would not be easy for either of them. If the memory charm was breaking, who could say what its effects would be. Nightmares? Possibly illness and despair that could not be thwarted by kind words alone. And Harry was fragile too. Harry was strong and yet still breakable. And Gilderoy was proving to be both help and hindrance. Harry needed love, affection, comfort, all the things that Gilderoy could provide. But he certainly could do without the worry and anxiety and the fear.

“Life is never perfect,” murmured Sirius as he went to putter about in the kitchen. What Remus had said was all too true.

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