Book of Memories

Chapter 5: MICHELLE AND THANTANOS

The very next morning, Sirius was eating breakfast on the floor, propped up against the bed, apparently waiting for Harry to wake up.

"Get something to eat and come back here," he said, quickly swallowing the last of his toast. "And get your aunt and uncle too. I want them to hear what you have to say." He licked his fingers and waited patiently.

Harry couldn't scratch away the sudden realization as he walked downstairs that Sirius was making a full replacement for James. He didn't show the feeling that stirred inside him, the feeling that Sirius, as he always had, would make everything better. Only last year, when he was worried that Sirius would get caught coming back north after Harry had blabbed about his scar hurting, did Harry come to the conclusion that he needn't worry about Sirius. After all, Harry had enough worrying to do without his godfather in the picture.

"Good morning," said Aunt Petunia, only a little brighter than she had last summer. It almost took Harry by surprise but then he had to keep in mind it would take a lot of conditioning for them to accept him as more than unwanted garbage.

"Sirius wants you two upstairs," said Harry as he sliced a bagel in two and buttered it. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't reply. The sound of quick chewing indicated Dudley wanted to get out as soon as possible. "He wants to talk to me and he wants you two to listen."

Harry turned around to see Uncle Vernon slice off a big piece of his pancakes and swallow it whole. Uncle Vernon then proceeded to grunt. Harry grinned behind their backs and relished in the thought that Sirius seemed to have taken control of the house. He took out a plate from the cabinet and put the bagel on top of it. As he grabbed something to drink and headed back upstairs, two chairs flew passed him.

Everyone except Dudley was all crammed in the room and no one was talking. Sirius had summoned the chairs from the kitchen. Harry took a big bite out of his bagel and Sirius was the first to speak.

"You ought to hear what's bothering him," said Sirius, looking suspiciously at the Dursleys. Whether they didn't care or didn't want to defy Sirius, both of them kept their mouths shut. Harry didn't take it to be fear, Sirius was never forceful or angry with them. They just seemed to accept him which, by itself, was very surprising. "What was it you didn't want to tell me last night?" Sirius looked very eager for Harry's reply.

Harry sat nervously on top of his bed. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were in chairs against the wall by the door. It was a very odd situation to say the least. He had never, ever talked to the Dursleys about his troubles owing to the fact that they would think it laughable. Or would they? He always assumed the answer was yes but never managed to find out if his assumption was true. Maybe there was light at the end of the tunnel.

"Remember when I used Cruciatus on Thantanos, he fell to the ground, I revived him and then he ran off before he said anything?"

No, whoever was holding the light just put it out. Both of the Dursleys flinched at the words "Cruciatus" and "revived."

"Go on," said Sirius now leaning forward, hanging on Harry's every word.

"I had a dream about it," said Harry brightly. His mood suddenly changed for the worse at the thought of the dream and became sulky. "The thing on the back of his neck, Hermione said it was changing. I didn't look at it. Then when he got back up he said to help him, that Voldemort's not dead and he knows I'm staying here with you." He took a nervous, huge, bite from his bagel and began to chew quickly. It was rather more than he could stuff in his mouth all at once.

"How does he know that?" said Sirius. "It was just a dream!"

"The same nutter," began Uncle Vernon, looking back and forth between Harry and Sirius, "that killed Lily and James is after him?" It sounded much more like a forced question than something he wanted to say but Harry appreciated the concern, however slight, all the same. Sirius shook his head deeply.

"Four years and you don't know anything," he growled.

Uncle Vernon's great flush face became the usual purple but it didn't look like he was going to burst out with anything just yet. Harry grinned slightly and finished chewing.

"The same nutter only wanted Harry dead, not his parents," Sirius said, "but I don't know why. We thought it was because Harry was a descendant of a group of old wizards with that thing you might remember, the Mark of Ancients? Well we removed it from Harry, and Voldemort, well..."

"I don't know why they bother me so much," Harry said, "but Thantanos was very sure in saying Voldemort... will kill me this time."

Aunt Petunia let out a muffled gasp of horror, clasping a hand to her mouth.

"But why would he still want me dead when it's gone?" asked Harry. The question left Sirius scratching his head, ending the conversation. They all finished their breakfast quietly.

Life continued as normal and the only effect this conversation had was making Harry feel less nervous, which, granted, was worth at least something. He and Sirius made frequent trips every other day to the Weasley paddock to keep Harry in practice for the upcoming game of Fire Quidditch. Harry could tell that Ron was working him extra hard and it was evident that Sirius had told Ron about his worries. It worked very well.

At one point, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny were throwing various things around all at once for Harry to catch. They had to be reminded that not only was the Fire Quidditch Snitch faster but it was covered in knives. Fred threw up a knife at some point (much to the screaming of Mrs. Weasley). At first, Harry handily cut himself on the blade but the second, third and fourth time around he managed to catch it by the handle.

Many days passed without incident and Harry had all but forgotten again about days past. When flying on the Dragonback on the way home, not only did it provide another rush to keep Harry awake, it was a very good way of getting the sweat off of him. He couldn't remember Wood working him so hard. All was for the better, anything to keep his mind off Voldemort and onto beating the United States again.

One fairly cool but very wet day in the middle of July, the phone rang and for the second time in his life, it was for Harry. Sirius was in Diagon Alley and the Dursleys were sure to be as nasty as possible without Harry babbling to his godfather.

"HARRY!" roared Uncle Vernon to Harry from across the house. "GET THE PHONE!" Harry put down Fire Quidditch: A Cold Past, A Hot Future, having just read the gruesome account of one Spiked Snitch that saw fit to dig itself into a Seeker's chest in 1866, and scrambled over to pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Harry!"

"Ron! You learned how to use a telephone properly!"

"Hermione called our house and made me practice..."

"At least you aren't shouting. My uncle gave me a good yelling -"

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. So what're you calling about?"

"Fire Quidditch!" shouted Ron happily. "The game is on your birthday!" Harry took a minute to ponder the consequences. Yes, he assured himself, someone was going to embarrass him.

"Was that on purpose?"

"Mr. Bagman said it would be a great birthday present and he has a strong feeling England is going to win again. Oh and wear the Order of Merlin necklace to the game. Dad said that Bagman wants to see at least one person wear it."

"Great way to take the pressure off my back," said Harry sharply.

"Don't worry about it!" Ron assured him. "You were great last year and now you have a faster broom than any of them!" Harry couldn't help but smile on this reminder.

"It only took Sirius and I an hour to get to your house riding at full speed. First time I thought he was going to jump off. He doesn't like it though, makes him sick," added Harry chortling.

"Okay, great. See you tomorrow then?"

"After lunch."

Ron paused.

"This is where you say 'good-bye'."

"Good-bye," said Ron.

"Bye."

Harry hung the phone up, grinning ear to ear. He pictured it clearly in his head (this time not falling one hundred feet and passing out): the England players holding the humungous Fire Quidditch trophy, thousands of hands pressing in on him from every direction, screaming his name. Then he remembered last year during the Triwizard Tournament that he pictured the same thing and the ending wasn't nearly what he hoped for... But there was light. He had won a Fire Quidditch game before and so he put the bad thought out of his mind and into the garbage can along with his half-eaten breakfast.

July thirty first neared closer and Ron's practice sessions had become something of a juggling show. Harry had started calling him Oliver, to many mixed feelings of Ron. Under Mr. Weasley's suggestion, Harry was to fly the Dragonback, hidden under the invisibility cloak of course, up and down their street as fast as he could go and do all the tricks he ever learned and to try new things.

The result of such sessions was doing figure eights around Muggles outside and catching owls, among other birds. Nothing they could find, Mr. Weasley kept mentioning, was not nearly as fast as the Fire Quidditch Snitch. It outstripped a Firebolt which kept Harry wondering what would prevent a Dragonback from keeping up with it -- unless it was bewitched to fly just a little faster than the Seeker chasing it... On second thought, this seemed very likely because otherwise, he would end up catching it in under ten minutes. Or was it? He would have to wait to find out.

Monday, two days before Harry's birthday, was a strange day to say the least.

Harry awoke alone in his room, once again cursing the sun in his eye. He opened Hedwig's cage and she immediately perched herself on his shoulder. The two of them crept downstairs, expecting to see Sirius at least in the kitchen but it was empty except a note floating above the table. It read simply:

Gone out shopping. Be back later. Have something to eat.

Sirius

Okay, he had the house to himself. Harry tried to grab the note but it escaped his fingers and directed itself to the garbage. A loud television indicated Dudley was lurking somewhere in the house. What to do?

In the mean time, the grumbling in Harry's stomach gave him a mental note to get something to eat. Having never actually tasted the thing Uncle Vernon called pancakes, he took the box out of the refrigerator and checked the directions.

Pour half a cup of mix into pan provided.

One half cup per full pancake.

Heat until bottom is brown.

Flip and repeat.

Simple enough. Harry poured one full cup of the glop, measuring with the cup inside the box, one half each into a plastic pancake-shaped pan attached to the side of the box and threw it onto the stove. He turned it on high and walked into the living room, turning on the television.

Someone trying to hit a white ball with a wooden stick then running like mad around a diamond... boring... bunch of people running around trying to throw an orange ball into hoops... even more boring... morning news... more boring still...

Just then, something soft, small and brown hit Harry on the side of the head. Hedwig scowled. Harry looked over the side of the couch and saw --

"Hello, Pig," he said, trying to detain the madly hooting owl. He grabbed Ron's owl between his index finger and thumb and pulled off the note attached to the leg.

Harry,

Have to get to our house just after dinner today at the latest and we leave immediately tomorrow morning. Hermione was right, there's going to be a bigger turnout this time. Bigger than the Quidditch World Cup last year. We think about three hundred thousand will turn up. The stadium seats about half a million but we don't reckon that many will show up. I do reckon it's mostly to see you play. No pressure!

It's in the same place as the last game and we're going to take a Portkey at Stoatshead Hill again. Bagman figured if it worked twice so far, it'll work again and they didn't have any time to plan anything else. They're using all wizards to manage the camping arrangements. Dad said the entire Ministry of Magic is taking off to be there. That cow Rita Skeeter will be too.

Oh well. Can't wait! See you later.

PS: Hermione's Head Girl. I knew that was coming.

Ron

A woman on the channel five morning news began a new story.

"What is this?" she began. "Is it the Great Reminder? Hundreds of people report that, when they get near the moor located next to the lake by the old church, they suddenly forget what they were doing there and remember an appointment they were late for. Is this the work of aliens? Is it a new Area Fifty One?"

Harry giggled at the news cast and went back into the kitchen to check on the pancakes. He flipped them over and went back to flipping through television channels.

It wasn't until a few hours before dinner did the Dursleys and Sirius get home. Harry went back downstairs from his room and immediately showed Sirius Ron's letter. The Dursleys were being very, very quiet and Harry couldn't tell if he liked their talking more; even if it was just grunts and barks, it was something. Harry took to thinking this was their way of expressing concern about tomorrow. Sirius, unfortunately, was very quiet too and this began to make Harry feel anxious about it.

There appeared to be just one problem.

"You two ARE going," said Sirius sternly and looking at Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia in the eye as he finished the last bite of dinner. "I don't know if you can go by Floo Powder. It's never been tried with Muggles."

"What about Disapparating?" asked Harry.

"Takes quite a bit of powerful magic to Disapparate and take someone with yourself. Didn't you learn anything from the mark of ancients?" Sirius grinned. Harry went into the living room and slumped onto the couch. "Besides, there's the issue of the anti-Muggle charms," Sirius added. He put a finger to his chin and scratched it thoughtfully, sitting next to Harry.

"Could always try stuffing them onto the Dragonback. You can Disapparate, we'll meet you there."

"Good idea. I'll just enlarge it."

And that was what they did, much to the detestment of Uncle Vernon having to ride a high speed broomstick hidden under an invisibility cloak. He did seem to enjoy the pure speed. Harry turned around to see the look on his face when his hands slipped back when accelerating. Flying at three hundred miles per hour was a far cry from going ten while sitting in morning and afternoon rush hour. Neither of them were showing anything besides a look of discomfort.

They arrived at the Weasley home in just over forty minutes (Harry pressed himself perfectly flat against the Dragonback, peeking up to see if they weren't headed for any tall objects... or birds).

"Everyone's getting stuffed in my room again," said Ron, "and Percy wants his room to himself again. Ever since they made him head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation he's become even more boring to be around. Oh and Sirius is already here."

Having already eaten and feeling fully confident, Harry fell asleep along with everyone else. Bill, Percy and Charlie would be Apparating. The Dursleys took comfort in sleeping on beds Sirius conjured in the living room.

The very next morning, Harry was awoken by something tickling his ear.

Harry shook his head and Pigwidgeon fell to the floor, hooting incessantly. Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, Sirius were just waking up too. Mrs. Weasley was standing in the door way holding up her wand threateningly, a piece of toast stuck in her mouth.

"Get up," she barked. "Eat breakfast, get dressed and do it as fast as you can't. We have to leave!" Ron sat up groaning. Fred pulled his covers over his head. George went back to sleep. Hermione sprang to her feet.

"Come on!" barked Hermione, mimicking Mrs. Weasley very well, Harry thought. Ginny walked in and over to Harry, who had also pulled the covers over himself, poked him in the ribs and ran away before anyone knew who did it.

"I'm up," said Harry hoarsely. "I'm up." He rolled over, not having enough sleep and fell onto the floor but scampered to his feet before anyone knew what happened. He put on his glasses and necklace and opened the window. It was still dark out. He then tore the covers off everyone. Sirius let out a moan that sounded more like a dog than a human then flipped his legs over the edge and sat upright, yawning.

"Doesn't let us get much sleep, that woman, does she," he said.

"Come on," said Ron groggily. "All players need to get there early for pre-game practice."

The Dursleys were already awake and eating in the kitchen. They didn't appear to be bothered so much by magic but that was probably because it stared them in the face wherever they went. If they were still horrified, the muscles in their face probably lost the will to stay in that shape.

When Harry stepped into the kitchen, Ginny tried her best not to knock her cereal bowl on the floor. Much like the previous year in getting ready for the Quidditch World Cup, everyone had some food in one of their hands and something else (another piece of food, a newspaper, paper, a sock or other clothing, Pigwidgeon...) in the other.

When Harry finally managed to pull on England's Quidditch robes (which, thankfully, were the same ones he wore for Gryffindor, saving him the trouble of getting new ones) the proper way (he accidentally put on the cloak backwards, then flipped the shirt inside out) and everyone was finally dressed and ready to go, they were off.

Silence filled the air as the ten of them walked quietly up the silent streets, the sun beginning to rise over their still-yawning heads. The air was warm this time around but too warm as beads of sweat broke out on the back of everyone's neck. Harry was being cooked beneath the heavy robes and a big, long coat given to him by Mr. Weasley to hide his unmuggle-like clothing. His Dragonback was tucked inside.

Harry made sure to check for rabbit holes as they climbed the hill, waiting breathlessly to reach the top to get to the Portkeys. His own legs became weightless hinges, attached by nails to a stinging upper torso.

"Hey there, Harry!" someone shouted from behind a tree. Aunt Petunia jumped.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry, summoning the last of the energy from two pieces of toast in his legs and running over. Hagrid, unlike the everyone else, looked fully rested and was enjoying himself.

"Yeh can pull off that ruddy coat. Yer sweatin' like a pig." Harry happily pulled the coat off himself, handing it to Mr. Weasley and also pulled the cloak off, slinging it over his shoulder. "There aren' any Muggles aroun' here." He looked up to everyone else. "The Portkey is that crumpled newspaper over by that brown thing with five fingers." Harry recognized it as a baseball glove.

All of them now grabbed the newspaper, Mr. Weasley furtively checking his watch every two seconds.

"Ah ha!" he said and immediately Harry knew what he was ah-haing about. A hook behind his navel jerked him forward and he stumbled, almost falling onto the ground. His feet lifted off the ground, everyone's shoulders banging into his own, flying forward fast, his fingers clamped onto the newspaper. When the stream of colors and howling wind died down, only himself, Hagrid and Mr. Weasley were still standing.

Harry helped Ron and Hermione to their feet, Hagrid pulling everyone else up. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia quickly brushed themselves off, staring all around the moor. In front of them stood a small witch sitting on a chair next to a box. Mr. Weasley handed her the newspaper and she tossed it into the box.

Hagrid kept watch on the Dursleys who were looking all over, half nervous, half surveying their odd surroundings as they all walked forward under Mr. Weasley's lead. In a half hour's time, Albus Dumbledore, Percy Weasley and Ludo Bagman stood at the head of a small line of wizards and witches.

"Good morning, everyone," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

"No chances this year," said Bagman, "none at all. Last year's episode was enough. You'll see Rita Skeeter frolicking around, she's our biggest worry."

Hermione's face screwed up in anger but she kept the comment trying to burst from her lips to herself.

"Brought Muggles with you, have you?" asked Dumbledore when Mr. Weasley finally got the head of the line. Aunt Petunia smiled half-pleasantly at him. "The anti-Muggle field was modified just last night. It won't affect them but every other Muggle will still walk away."

"Yes, yes, good," said Mr. Weasley brightly. "So then, where are your tents?" Dumbledore plunged a hand inside a small box next to him, pulled out a black sphere, no bigger than a tennis ball and handed it to Mr. Weasley. Harry stared at it.

"Er," said Harry and the Dursleys in unison.

"That's a wizard's compass," said Hermione. "There's a white dot on it, which you can't see right now. It points in the direction we need to go."

Indeed, Harry examined the front of it and a small white dot beckoned them onward. Without Muggles, Harry guessed, they could use whatever method they needed to to make their jobs easier. Along the way, Harry couldn't recognize anyone roaming the landscape. Saying it was more crowded than the Quidditch World Cup was an understatement: it was packed, inch to inch, with tents and people. Several kids had miniature models of Dragonbacks and plenty of eyes followed Harry as he passed.

The compass led them into a place that resembled their previous place of residence for the Quidditch World Cup. At the very top, stood the white dot, indicating they were in the correct spot. A small sign stuck out of the ground with "Potter" written on it. Mr. Weasley threw the compass at it and both vanished upon contact. The wood nearby stood a grisly reminder of what happened two years ago: the Dark Mark, Voldemort's sign, had been conjured, sending the wizards and witches staying into hysterics.

"Ah, here it is," said Mr. Weasley, pointing his finger at a miniature tent on the ground. He pointed his wand at it and said, "Engorgio," causing the thing to sprout up and split into two equal sized tents. Harry walked nonchalantly inside and watched the mouth on Uncle Vernon's face open wider than it ever had, even when he was screaming at Harry.

The tent had three bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom and none of this bothered anyone but the Dursleys. One tent was for the boys, the other, for girls. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley directed Aunt Petunia into her tent, immediately engaging in questions Harry could only make out a few words of ("How... TENT!... inside...").

Before anyone could say anything, a wizard in robes exactly like Harry's parked himself just outside Harry's tent.

"Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"Yes," said Harry.

"Cyrus Stone," he said, beaming, "team manager for England. Would you please follow me?"

"See you later," Harry called back as he stepped outside.

"Heard about your exploits in the Triwizard Tournament," said Stone as he led Harry towards the forest (the Fire Quidditch field was on the other side), Harry felt himself go pinkish. "Whole team was hoping you'd come again. Been practicing, I hope?"

"Yes. A lot. The team captain for Gryffindor at Hogwarts has been helping me," said Harry, thinking of Ron.

"Ah yes, heard lots about that Ronald Weasley. Led Gryffindor to several great victories, didn't he? I've been keeping up on Hogwarts' Quidditch games. Best there are. So," he said, clearing his throat, "yes... I'm just going to introduce you to the rest of the team and we'll be practicing with normal Quidditch balls for a few hours. In which case, that reminds me. I forgot to tell you to get your broom." Stone stopped dead. Harry grinned.

"Accio Dragonback!" he shouted, holding out his wand in the direction of their tent. Within a second, the Dragonback came flying into view and stopped midair in front of Harry. Stone grinned with delight and continued walking through the forest. They reached the other end, staring out at the huge Fire Quidditch field. It lay four times as long and twice as wide as a regular Quidditch field. This was mostly to accommodate the pure speed of the players and balls as they zoomed around.

Harry recognized all the faces immediately and they all ran over to him. He turned towards two people he never expected to see again, Thantanos and Michelle. Michelle's long black hair fluttered in the wind, frayed at the ends. Harry could clearly see the tattoo on the back of Thantanos' neck when he turned. The smiles on their faces confirmed the suspicion they had something to tell him but he couldn't calm the unsettling feeling in his stomach that, while they had looked sorry, when all was said and done, they tried to kill him... Harry had many questions for them once the three had a chance to be alone. Accept them for now, he told himself, until you can prove they're all bad.

"Michelle and Thantanos Brev," said Cyrus Stone, "our Beaters. Oliver Wood is our Keeper. The others I'm sure you know as well. Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell are the Chasers." Harry's grin grew even bigger. Apart from a worry over Thantanos and Michelle, it was Quidditch at Hogwarts all over again. Angelina, Alicia and Katie had always been superb Chasers and Oliver had been an excellent Keeper.

"This here's the first team ever to have all it's players under the age of thirty," said Stone. "Remarkable, really. All of you I know are superb at what you do." He began to look overexcited at his own words and Harry thought that at any minute he would be jumping up and down, clapping his hands. "No doubts we're going to win this one!" He did clap his hands but there was no jumping.

"Now," he said looking at the field, "there's a box by the near hoops with the Quaffle, Bludgers and Snitch inside it. You can handle it on your own, I'm sure. I must go speak with the United State's team captain over a small affair. I will be back in about an hour." Stone trotted off happily back towards the forest and disappeared from sight.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team reunion commenced immediately.

"Harry!" shrieked Wood. "Haven't seen you in a year! How ya been!" Harry could tell by the tone of his voice he hadn't heard a word of what happened the previous year but didn't have the heart to tell him as he was in a very good mood. Suddenly, Wood jumped.

"What?" asked Harry and then instantly he knew what Oliver was looking at. It wasn't his scar, Wood's eyes were too low. "Oh, this." The Order of Merlin necklace was just visible, glittering brightly in the light. He pulled it out from underneath his robes, grinning and showed Oliver the plaque. "Got it just last term." Then he remembered the consequences under which he had obtained it. Oddly, a feeling of ease swept over him as he held it in his fingers. He briefly explained the episode to Oliver, who sat, his face white, through the entire talk. Everyone else looked to have heard about it from somewhere else.

The seven of them recollected their past experiences (Oliver continued to stare at the necklace, to which Harry then tucked back inside his robes) and Harry noticed that no one else seemed to be bothered by Michelle and Thantanos. It was when an odd silence broke the conversation that Harry had to ask,

"You lot aren't at all bothered by these two?" pointing at Michelle and Thantanos.

"I suppose we ought to tell him," said Michelle. She looked directly at Harry, shot both eyes at Thantanos then looked back at Harry, curling her head sideways. A weak smile played across her face.

"Tell me what?" asked Harry, now slightly annoyed, but he kept that out of his voice. They had waited all this time, not even by owl, to explain what he's been wondering for several months?

At that moment, Angelina, Alicia, Katie and Oliver had set off towards the Quidditch field leaving the three of them in peace to speak.

"Our real last name is Quirrell," Michelle began, glancing at everyone. This came as a shock to Harry, noted by his raised eyebrows. He had known one Quirrell. "You remember Professor Quirrell, Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher during your first year? Vol- You-Know-Who told us you killed our dad for no reason, tortured him incessantly, when he came to our house. We already had no mom, she fled when dad told her he was a wizard a month before I got my letter."

Thoughts started to swirl in Harry's head. Another family torn apart by Muggle versus Wizard relationships. Just as Voldemort must have been thinking, Michelle and Thantanos sought revenge. Harry's shoulders became tense as he bared himself for the coming story.

"Before we had any time to think it over, he had given us some of your blood so we would have the mark of ancients, too. We tried to resist but we fell under a permanent Imperius within a few days' time. Both of us tried hard to fight it off. A permanent Imperius due to a mark of ancients is an order of magnitude stronger and harder to fight off." Michelle looked slightly pained at the next words she was going to say.

"The story about me being your sister... I- I had a weak Love Charm directed towards you. Voldemort was able to read our minds all year and through the Imperius, we tricked the spirits of your parents, and everyone else, into believing the same story with Memory Charms.

"When you hit my brother with that insanely strong Crucio, it broke him out of it temporarily. I wiped his memory of that so he wouldn't break free again. I had been fighting it off all year."

She looked rather unhappy with herself. Harry couldn't hide the feelings of confusion and anger. And yet, they weren't acting on their own free will just as so many others had not been... or so said.

"I don't trust you yet," were the words that came tumbling from Harry's mouth before he could stop them.

"We told everyone what happened immediately after you disappeared," said Thantanos. "Dumbledore immediately removed the mark of ancients from us."

In the back of his mind, Harry knew that Dumbledore would trust them as he had trusted Snape and quickly settled the matter with himself.

"All right," he said, eyeing Michelle and Thantanos. "But your dad was killed by Voldemort, not me."

"When we spilled our story to Dumbledore," said Michelle, "he told us our dad's story."

Harry's shoulders finally relaxed. He would have to accept it. Besides, Dumbledore would no doubt be involved if he knew the two of them were on the Fire Quidditch team and being in contact with Ludo Bagman and Madam Hooch, he would certainly know right away. Moreover, he would find out they were there as soon as the game started anyway... If Dumbledore wanted to do something, he would not waste any time. Harry would just have to watch himself during practice, that's all.