The Portkey Solution

Chapter 17 - Memory Lane

Dressed in clean school robes, stowing his wand in his pocket, Harry felt as if things were finally clicking back into place. He grabbed his bag and headed down to the common room behind Ron. Hermione and Ginny were waiting for them.

He saw Staci in the Great Hall, to his happy surprise. She was sitting with the twins, apparently getting an update from their plans for the joke shop. He stopped behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and smiled. "Hi, there! I tried to visit you in the infirmary this morning but you'd already left for Gryffindor. How are you feeling?"

"Much better. It's good to be back." He sat down next to her, looking at all of them through narrowed eyes.

He started with Staci. "So, how did you find out you were an Animagus?"

She blew out a sharp little breath, ruefully remembering something. "We were at the beach, down in South Carolina. We were supposed to be getting ready for lunch, but I'd slipped back out to swim some more. I hadn't gotten my fill and didn't see why I needed my parents along since I was a good swimmer. I found out just how different the ocean is from a lake when I got caught in an undertow. I got sucked down and couldn't get out of it to surface.

"I don't remember exactly how it happened. Just a feeling of desperation, panic, and then it happened. I was a dolphin, and able to swim out of the current safely."

Ron let out a low whistle and Hermione asked, "How old were you?"

"Eight. From what I understand, if a wizard or witch is a natural-born Animagus, it tends to show up around puberty, so I was a little early. But it wasn't that much of a surprise; Mom's side of the family is full of Animagi."

Harry nodded. He turned to Ginny. "When was the first time we kissed?"

Ginny choked and spat pumpkin juice so violently that she spattered Fred across the table from her. "We WHAT?" Staci passed a napkin to Fred as Ginny wiped her own chin and glared. "We never did! You know that!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "He's been doing that to us up in the dormitory all morning. Working spells, asking questions like that. Seamus almost hexed him into next week when Harry asked him the same thing."

Harry had the grace to blush a little in the face of the raucous laughter around him. When they calmed down, he explained, "That was one of the ways I was able to break down the illusions: asking question after question and seeing if the answers matched my memories or not. For the most part, they didn't when I quizzed my parents." He didn't mention the hours he'd spent over the weekend, in the Hospital Wing, powering through memory after memory and looking for the kind of blank spaces he'd experienced while imprisoned. "Staci, have you heard from Sirius? Or anyone else?"

She shook her head. "Not since yesterday morning. I'm going to call Dad now. I want to try and see if cell phones work from the top of the Astronomy Tower. If not, it's back beyond Hogsmeade as usual." She drained her teacup and left, ruffling Harry's hair on the way.

As they were finishing their meal, Neville came in with rosy cheeks. Hermione looked at him curiously. "Been out already, Neville?"

He nodded. "Herbology's cancelled this morning. Professor Sprout was trying to move a crate of Bubotubers and the bottom came out. She's covered in boils from the knees down and went to the Hospital Wing."

Ron grinned. "That gives us the morning free until Care of Magical Creatures! We could--"

Hermione interrupted him in a severe tone, remembering how painful undiluted Bubotuber pus was. "We can brew the memory potion for Snape. It has to be presented to him before Christmas hols begin, and it'll probably take several days to prepare."

Harry blinked. "We're ready to brew it?"

Neville nodded eagerly. "Don't you remember? We were waiting for the Purple Rieshi to come in, and it did, on Saturday. So we have all the ingredients now."

Harry thought for a moment; he did remember getting Staci to contact the Patterson office in Hong Kong for help in locating the rare mushrooms, after their first two tries through Diagon Alley merchants failed. All they could come up with were dried samples, not fresh, and Hermione was convinced that the extra water used to reconstitute them would dilute the herbs.

No problems remembering that, once he'd thought for a moment. The only gap in his memories remained the day he'd gone to meet Sirius. And Neville's potion was designed to help restore lost memories...

Hermione glanced up at the teachers' table. "Snape is still there, talking to Professor Sinistra. Shall we ask for a time to present our potion?"

Neville paled slightly in surprise. "Now?"

Ron nodded. "If we only send a message, he's bound to 'lose' it." They all got up from the table and approached Snape.

He looked even more dour than usual in his stark black, next to the Astronomy professor's spangled blue robes. The students waited for her to pause in her chatter, then Hermione spoke. "Excuse us, Professor Snape?"

He continued to look at Sinistra, showing no sign of having heard Hermione. Sinistra glanced at them, then back at Snape, uncertainly. "Professor?"

He looked down at them, making his disdain obvious. In a tone that could cut diamonds, he replied, "Yes, what is it?"

"We're ready to present our Potions project--"

"Four o'clock, Friday week." he interrupted.

Hermione opened her mouth to object, perhaps to ask for an earlier time or to protest his manner, but Harry seized her arm and steered her away as he answered, "We'll be there."

As they left the Great Hall, Ron asked, "So, who's going to be our tester?"

Before Harry had a chance to say anything, Neville spoke. "I want to. It was my idea."

Hermione replied, "I thought I'd like to try it. I've wondered sometimes whether the Ministry of Magic Obliviates Muggle-born children and their families if the child does something very big, magically speaking."

"Actually, I think it should be me," Harry interjected. "The purpose of this potion is to restore lost memories. I know I'm missing several hours of the Saturday before last. So we'd have a definite target in determining whether or not it works. With all of you, we'd only be firing randomly in the dark."

Neville looked ready to argue, but Hermione stopped him, laying a hand on his arm. "Harry's got a point. If we can prove it works by testing it on him, then the rest of us can have a go after."

Ron nodded in agreement, and Neville twisted his mouth sourly, seeing he was outvoted. "All right, then. Let's get it started."

*****

They arrived at the Potions classroom at three-thirty on their appointed day and found it empty. Hermione carefully set up the small cauldron with the prepared potion over a gentle flame while the three boys laid out the ingredients to demonstrate making the brew. Snape stalked in as Neville was rehearsing from Hermione's notes a second time.

Snape glanced over the preparations with his usual sneer, but hesitated when he saw the bowl of mushrooms. "Fresh Rieshi? For a class project? How much did that set you back, Potter?"

"We have connections," Ron replied loftily, tapping Harry's foot with his under the desk to keep him from snapping back. But it wasn't necessary; since he would be the one actually drinking the potion for the demonstration, Harry felt justified in letting the others take the lead. That way he would offer no excuses for Snape to dock points or perhaps lower their grade.

Neville began explaining the reason for including each ingredient: mandrake for its all-around restorative powers, mugwort and gingko biloba to wake the brain, Jobberknoll feathers to stimulate memories, murtlap tentacles to repair any physical damage ...and finally the Purple Rieshi, to open the heart, according to Taoist principles.

They showed how they had prepared each ingredient and how they had determined the order in which to add them. At this point Hermione had taken Neville's place in narrating, and explained that they had decided to try letting the brew steep for a week. Harry would try the fresh potion first, and if nothing happened, he would try the week-old solution as well. Harry thought he might be imagining things, but Snape appeared to start nodding in approval once or twice, before catching himself.

Neville dipped some of the potion into a glass and handed it to Harry with some trepidation. It was a thin, grey liquid and looked singularly unappetizing. Harry saw Snape curl his lip in a sneer, and he bolted the entire glass. It was sour, but he'd tasted worse.

His vision darkened. He heard Hermione gasp, "Catch him!" before everything went black. Then he was swept away for a moment, caught up in a powerful surge of images that soon settled into one razor-sharp memory:

He was trudging up the little path into the hills. He was going to the cave; Sirius would be waiting for him. He still felt like his mind was full of cobwebs, but the brisk breeze seemed to be helping.

He had a strong sense of being followed, but he could see no one at all. He continued up the path for a few moments, then spun around with his wand out as he felt the presence again.

"Harry?"

He dropped his arm, annoyed. "What are you doing here?" It was just about the last person he wanted to talk to, other than a Slytherin...maybe.

"What I've been ordered to do, Harry."

Then a wand was being raised at him and he tried to cast a Shield Charm. But the other person had the advantage. Why on earth would he attack?

"Stupefy!" He collapsed into the grass.

Harry's eyes flew open. He was on the floor of the dungeon, his head in Hermione's lap. Ron and Neville were kneeling on either side of him, with worried faces. Snape stood at his feet, looking interested in spite of himself.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Neville asked, helping him to sit up.

Harry nodded, looking down so he wouldn't meet Ron's eyes.

"Well, Potter? Did you remember who attacked you?" Snape's voice dripped with doubt.

He nodded again. "But I don't understand how it could be."

"Who was it, Harry?" Hermione urged.

"It was . . . it was Percy." Harry forced himself to look at his friend.

Ron's face drained of colour, leaving livid red freckles on his ashen skin.

*****

The memory restorative had an aftereffect of keeping the drinker caught up in the memories they'd just relived. The fourth or fifth time Harry jumped and put a hand to his chest, feeling the impact of the Stunner in his memory, Snape had insisted he drink a Calming Concoction before informing them that he would dock their grade accordingly unless they found a way to eliminate the side effects before Christmas.

They sat around their usual table for Potions, waiting for the Calming Concoction to work. Ron had progressed from a seething silence to grumbling "Impossible!" under his breath.

Hermione was thinking hard, her forehead furrowed deeply. Neville was torn between the hope that his potion was a success and concern for Harry and Ron. Snape lurked in his storage cupboard, and they were acutely aware of his presence.

"It's not possible," Ron spoke aloud this time. "There's no way Percy would join the Death Eaters. He'd have to admit they've regrouped, when he's been denying it for months!"

"I know, Ron. I agree that it doesn't make sense. But I saw what I saw. It was Percy."

"It wasn't."

"It was!"

"Hang on!" Hermione interrupted before the argument could degenerate further. "We don't know who all the Death Eaters are--"

"Hermione, Percy is not a Death Eater!"

"I know that, Ron! But what if someone else from the Ministry is?"

He paused in mid-breath, suddenly paying closer attention to her.

"What if they managed to get a bit of Percy's hair for a Polyjuice Potion?" Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper, remembering her raid of Snape's cupboard three years ago. "Or...what if someone Percy trusts used the Imperius Curse on him?"

Harry nodded. "I reckon it's the Imperius. He said, 'what I've been ordered to do'. I think they used him so if I did remember, I wouldn't be able to name another one of them."

Ron looked from one to the other, Harry with a determined expression and Hermione silently pleading. He sighed heavily. "We've got to owl Dad right away."

*****

Neville watched the three of them go and they didn't miss him, as wrapped up as they were in the latest problem in their lives. Snape was still in his cupboard, shifting something around and muttering in a rhythm, probably taking inventory.

Seizing his chance, Neville took an empty flask from the shelves along the walls and filled it with the fresh memory-restoring potion. He capped the bottle and tucked it into his bag, then slipped out of the classroom.

*****

They had gone to the Owlery and sent Pig on his way with a note from Ron to his father when Harry realized Neville wasn't with them.

"Where d'you reckon Neville went?"

Ron shrugged and Hermione looked around. "He stayed in the Potions classroom, I think."

"Why would he do that?" Ron countered. "He and Snape get along like Jarveys and gnomes."

"I've no idea, Ron," Hermione said tartly. "He probably felt like he'd be intruding on us if he came with us."

"That's rubbish," Harry said. "We all worked on this potion together and he's got just as much right to know its results as anyone. Let's go find him."

*****

Neville sat on his bed in the dormitory and set the flask on his bedside table. He stared at it for several minutes, deep in thought. Then as if he'd finally made a decision he'd been wrestling with, he blew his breath out in a huff and went to the table that held a jug of water, a basin, and several mugs. He took one and poured some of the memory potion into it, taking about twice as much as Harry had done. He carried it back to his bed and sat down, swinging his legs up so that he would land comfortably on his pillow if he passed out as well.

"Cheers," he said to no one, and drank it all in a gulp.

He fell back on the bed, not even hearing the mug shatter as it hit the floor. He was caught up in a flood of memories, realizing as they went on and on that he was travelling back years, not days as Harry had done. Finally, after he'd lost complete track of time, the vision took hold:

It was dark.

It was night, and he wasn't in his bed. He'd heard voices, Mummy and Daddy and others talking, shouting. He'd tried to hide under his blankets, but when Mummy had screamed, he sat up, more scared of not knowing what was happening. He'd seized his teddy and crept through the dark hall to the stairs.

He could look through the banisters, and he could see everything.

Mummy and Daddy were on the floor of the parlour, writhing around and moaning. Four people in black robes and hoods surrounded them, wands out. Every few seconds, one of the people would jab their wand and say "Crucio!" and Mummy or Daddy would scream again.

The biggest of the four turned to the one next to him and spoke.

"This is a waste of time, Bella. They obviously don't know where our master is, or Longbottom would have told us before we started on his wife."

A woman's voice sounded, cold and harsh. "No, my dear, they know. They just need a bit more...persuasion." She looked around the room, and suddenly her dark, hooded eyes landed on him. He tried to run, screaming for Mummy and Daddy, but another figure ran up the stairs and had him before he could get back to his room. The towering figure with the face of a boy carried him downstairs and dropped him in front of the woman.

Mummy opened her eyes and saw him, and wailed, "NO! Leave him alone! I swear we don't know where--"

"Imperio!" Mummy quieted and the witch handed her her wand.

Daddy rolled over and tried to sit up. "Don't touch my son!"

The witch laughed, and he clutched his teddy more tightly. Laughter was supposed to be warm and funny, not scary and icy. She took Mummy's elbow.

"Use the Cruciatus on your son. You may stop when your husband has told us what we need to know."

Mummy seemed to be trying to raise and lower her wand at the same time, and she had tears on her face. Then he wasn't aware of anything but PAIN!

He could hear screams, but whether they were his or his parents', he couldn't tell. Every part of his body felt like it was being pulled apart. When it stopped and he could breathe again, he wasn't even aware that he was on the floor, curled into a ball.

The witch raised her wand again, but this time Daddy sprang at her. He heard mingled shouts, "Stupefy!", "Crucio!" and "Imperio!" and then silence. He opened his eyes.

Mummy and Daddy were both on the floor again, but this time they weren't moving. They weren't asleep, since their eyes were open, but they stared instead of really looking at anything. The people in hoods were murmuring among themselves, stealing glances at his parents and at him.

Then there were new sounds, shouts and clamouring outside, and the people in hoods ran for the window to look. Before they could Disapparate, spells flew in, breaking the window and all four people collapsed. He crawled over and shook Daddy by the shoulder. "Daddy?" Daddy didn't move. He didn't even blink.

He touched Mummy's face, rubbing her cheek in the way she always rubbed his to wake him in the mornings, just before she called him her best boy ever. "Mummy?" She didn't move either. He began to cry, still shivering from what had happened to him, and pushed harder at her face. Her head lolled over and she didn't respond.

"Neville? Oh, no! Keep Edwina out!" Someone turned him around, and it was Grunkie Algie, Granmummy's brother. He stared at Mummy and Daddy, then back at him, looking white and scared.

Then Granmummy was there as well, and she hugged him hard while she argued about something with her brother. Neville didn't pay attention--he couldn't stop looking at his parents nor could he stop crying.

Finally Grunkie Algie stopped protesting and pulled out his wand. "I'm sorry about this, duckie." Granmummy set him down and stepped away for a moment and Grunkie Algie pointed his wand at him. The tip trembled and his voice shook. "Obliviate."

He struggled to shout at his grand-uncle to stop, not to take away his memories. It wasn't right of them to do it. He was the only one who knew what had happened to his parents and if he didn't remember, he couldn't help them...

"Neville! Wake up!" Someone was shaking him. He moaned and opened his eyes, squinting against the bright sunshine pouring through the windows.

Harry and Hermione were on either side of him. Ron was in their doorway, glancing down the stairs every few seconds.

Harry got one arm under Neville and shoved him to a sitting position. Hermione held a cup of water to his lips, but he pushed it away. "Geroff. Leave me alone!"

Harry sat on the bed, trying to look Neville in the face. "You took some of the potion, didn't you?"

"So what if I did?" Neville snapped.

"We've been trying to wake you for over ten minutes, Neville. That's 'so what'," Hermione replied sternly. "We were about to send Ron for Madame Pomfrey."

"I don't need Madame Pomfrey. I need Professor Dumbledore." He trembled, feeling the ghost of the Cruciatus sweep over him.

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, puzzled, and Ron came over to the bed. Harry asked, "Why Dumbledore?"

"Because he'll know if my parents can be helped. I remembered. I remembered what happened to them."

Harry froze for a second. "You saw? You were there?"

Neville nodded. "I heard the attack and got out of bed. The Death Eaters saw me and brought me down where they were torturing Mum and Dad." Hermione gasped and Ron grew pale. "They used the Imperius on Mum. They forced Dad to watch and made her use the Cruciatus on me." He shuddered at the memory of the pain racing through his body. "He tried to stop them, and the Death Eaters hit them with lots of spells at the same time. My parents took the Cruciatus and the Imperius together." He started shaking again and he knew, just knew the tears were coming.

Hermione reached over and hugged him, and that did it. Neville began to shudder, trying to at least keep from howling sobs as the newly-restored memories assaulted him, his anger at Gran for making Great-Uncle Algie Obliviate him, and the fresh and rapidly growing hope that his parents might be saved. He could feel Harry's hand on his back and Ron patting his leg. After a few minutes, the storm abated and Neville pulled away from them. Hermione handed him a handkerchief and he tried to collect himself.

Ron swallowed hard and joked feebly to break the mood, "So, what now? Does someone tell them it's safe to wake up?"

Hermione snorted, wiping away the tears from her own face, but Harry suddenly looked thoughtful. "Can you walk, Neville?"

He stood up, fighting not to show it when a fresh wave of pain coursed through him, and Harry nodded. "Come on, then."

"Where?" Ron asked.

"Dumbledore's office, of course." He smiled at Neville, who grinned back.

*****

Unfortunately, Dumbledore was nowhere to be found. All Professor McGonagall would tell them was that he'd been called away on urgent business, and she shooed them off.

Neville chafed with impatience and anger at Dumbledore as Hermione dragged them to the Great Hall for dinner. None of them ate very much: Ron was trying to console Neville, who continued to seethe through dinner, while Hermione watched Harry, who was almost silent through it all, his eyes far away as he thought. After dinner, both Harry and Neville retired almost immediately, leaving Ron and Hermione in the common room, looking up the stairs after them.

When they got up the next morning, the fifth-year Gryffindor boys' dormitory was subdued for a Saturday. Seamus and Dean kept glancing at the others, sensing the turmoil going on silently between the others. Neville was still angry and impatient, Harry was too withdrawn to be aware of the rest of the boys, and Ron was watching them both closely.

In the Great Hall, Seamus and Dean got into conversation with Lee Jordan. Hermione came over to sit next to Neville and Harry and Ron took seats across from them.

Hermione leaned forward to ask Harry, "Have you looked to see if Dumbledore is back?"

Harry shook his head. "He's nowhere on the Map. We'll have to wait." He glanced at Neville questioningly, but Neville shook his head.

"No, not McGonagall. She'll want to wait for Dumbledore." The bitterness in Neville's voice cut across the table, and Ginny gave them a startled look from a few seats down before resuming her conversation with Colin Creevey.

Before they could start discussing other options, the sound of hoots and hisses echoed overhead as the morning post arrived. Hermione caught her copy of the Daily Prophet and began leafing through it. The Longbottom owl swooped down and dropped a roll of parchment next to Neville's plate. He unrolled it and began reading unenthusiastically, then his focus sharpened and he dropped his toast to read more closely.

"Neville?" Harry asked.

Neville looked up at them. "Gran says the St. Mungo's staff wants to bring in a new Healer to look at Mum and Dad. Someone from a facility in the United States. They expect him in a week."

"Tha's good, in'it?" Ron spoke around a mouthful of sausage.

Neville looked down at the parchment again. "I...it...something doesn't feel right. Why now? Why didn't this Healer Victor try earlier?"

Harry's head snapped up from his plate even as Hermione offered, "Maybe he's just recently finished training--"

"Victor?" Harry interrupted in a tense voice.

Neville nodded. "That's the name. Gran says he's invented a device to help restore damaged minds..." he trailed off, seeing the expression on Harry's face and the sudden recognition in Ron's. "What?"

Ron began to speak, but Harry forestalled him. "Do you think you can convince your Gran to wait?"

"I'd rather tutor Crabbe and Goyle to pass Transfiguration," Neville replied. "What is it?"

"Not here," Ron said, getting up from the table.

They went to the Owlery, after using the Marauder's Map to ascertain which areas of the castle were empty. Neville was fascinated by it, checking different areas and reporting who was where as they walked. Once in the Owlery, Ron stood guard with the map at the doors while Harry explained to Neville about meeting Victor in Washington and the abduction. Hermione sat beside Harry, holding his hand and squeezing when he faltered in describing what had been done to him.

"So Healer Victor and Hugo Victor may not be the same person, but I don't think we can risk it. Do you think your grandmother would believe me?"

"I...I don't know. She believed it when I told her You-Know-Who was back, even sent owls to the Ministry complaining that Fudge wasn't doing enough. But this...this is about my dad. She doesn't see things right when it's my dad."

They sat silently for a few minutes, each pondering what to do next. Harry was so lost in thought that he jumped when Hedwig landed in front of him, a letter tied to her leg.

It was from Staci. Harry knew it from the Muggle envelope and the flowy print of her handwriting. He removed it and scratched the feathers around Hedwig's neck while he read the note:

Harry, I know this is really short notice, but the family is gathering in San Francisco for Thanksgiving this year and Gramps wants to meet you. It would be next Wednesday through Sunday. We can arrange a direct Portkey for you after your classes Wednesday. We could tour some of the West Coast over the weekend and have you back Sunday night. Try calling from the Astronomy Tower once you know--the reception is terrible, but you can just get through. Or send Hedwig to the Hogsmeade office and they'll pass the message on to me.

Hope you can come.

Love, Staci

Harry read the note a second time, an idea taking shape in his head. "Is the hallway clear, Ron?"

Ron glanced at the Map. "Yeah."

"All right. This is what we're going to try."

*****

They split up at the main entrance. Ron and Hermione headed for Gryffindor Tower while Harry led Neville to Professor McGonagall's office. She was at her desk, working through a sheaf of parchments.

"And what are you two doing here?" She peered at them over her glasses.

"I wanted to show you this, Professor. My family--the Pattersons, that is--have invited me to California for Thanksgiving."

"Thanksgiving?"

"It's an American holiday, a Muggle one. End of November. It means missing classes Thursday and Friday, but I'd like to go. And I'd like to take Neville with me."

McGonagall read the letter twice, debating. Then she glanced at Neville, who had no trouble giving her a look full of pleading hope. Harry thought she'd been about to say no, but she softened.

"I think Professor Dumbledore would be willing to approve such a request." She read over the note Harry handed her. "Mind you two spend at least some of your time with your books!"

"Yes, ma'am!" they said together, grinning at each other.

"Let Miss Patterson know we'll have you ready to go at five o'clock Wednesday, although it means missing your Astronomy lesson for the week as well as your other classes. I suppose she'll send one of those mirror-circles she uses for Portkeys?"

Harry had a few spare discs in his trunk. "I expect so, Professor."

"Very well. Off with you both, then. Neville, when you've received permission from your grandmother, please leave the letter here on my desk."

*****

Dear Staci,

I appreciate the invitation, but I think I should stay here. I'm still working to catch up on my schoolwork from the time I missed before, and as all the teachers keep reminding us, the O.W.L.s are coming. We'll have over two weeks at Christmas to make the grand tours.

Have fun in San Francisco and tell everyone I said hello!

Love from Harry

They recruited Dean Thomas, who agreed to keep the secret and forged a letter for McGonagall, using Neville's last letter from his Gran as a guide. Then he, Ron and Neville got Seamus out of the dormitory with a promise of Exploding Snap, leaving it free for Harry and Hermione to work. He made the Portkey he intended to use with Neville and two one-way Portkeys to behind Hagrid's hut for emergencies, with Hermione watching and ready to help if he made a mistake. They brainstormed and made lists of everything Harry and Neville might need, and Hermione gave Harry the stash of Muggle money she kept on hand at her parents' insistence.

*****

On the Wednesday, Harry and Neville met Professor McGonagall in her office. They wore their school cloaks, which hid the Muggle clothes they'd Engorged slightly. They had their satchels and Hermione had Transfigured their trunks into duffle bags. She watched as Harry shook a disc partway from its sleeve. He and Neville shouldered their bags and looked at their teacher expectantly.

She sniffed slightly. "Have a good trip, and I'll see you back here in my office Sunday evening at eight o'clock. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," they answered automatically, and then Harry gave the count.

"Three...two...one!" The boys each laid a finger on the exposed disc at the same time and the now quite-familiar sensation of being reeled in like a fish overwhelmed Harry.

*****

The Portkey dropped them exactly where it was supposed to: on the rooftop in Diagon Alley where Harry had scouted for Voldemort during the battle. He put away the disc and quickly dug out warm jackets to replace their school cloaks. Neville tap-danced to test the Silencing Charm he had put on their shoes back in their dormitory. It held.

He looked at Neville and nodded. "Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

They walked across the roof, away from Diagon Alley, and jumped silently over the narrow gap to the next one. Slowly, they worked their way across several buildings until they were a good distance away, then found a fire escape on a modern building full of flats to get to the street.

Harry studied the street signs and pulled Neville to the south. "There should be a Tube stop on the next street. From there we can find a place to spend the night."

After some quiet debate on the ride, they decided on small and anonymous accommodations and got off at King's Cross. They slipped into an empty men's lav and carefully took ten drops each of the Aging Potion Hermione had made.

Two young men of about twenty emerged from the lav and headed for the street, easily blending in with the throng of commuters. They paused a moment, looking between two small, slightly seedy hotels, then the bespectacled man pulled out a pound coin and flipped it. They headed for the hotel that had been indicated and found it quite easy to pay in ready money for a room for the next two nights.

They carried their own bags up to the room and shut the door behind them, sliding the tarnished brass bolt into place. The man with a boyish round face looked at his companion and began to laugh. The one wearing glasses looked at him, smiling but slightly puzzled. "What?"

"You, Harry! You did that perfectly! How'd you learn so much about Muggles?"

"I grew up with them, you prat. I've seen enough television to know how to check into a hotel. The real problem was finding one that wouldn't ask for identification."

"Well, we made it here. Now what?"

"Now we see how much money we have left, go get some dinner, and come back and sleep. We need to be at St. Mungo's early if we're going to be done before your gran gets there."

*****

They found a small Thai restaurant in the next street that was suitably dark and dingy. They took a corner table and had the entire area to themselves. Neville had never had Thai food before and looked helplessly at the menu for a minute.

"Pad this, pad that...what do they all mean?"

With all the authority that his single meal at Ivy's Café gave him, Harry explained. "They're all dishes with rice or noodles. 'Pad' is for noodles. The ones that come with rice start with 'khao'. Great stuff. D'you like chicken or beef or shrimp?"

"Beef."

Harry studied the menu. "How about broccoli? Scrambled eggs?"

"Yes and yes, but together?" Neville gave Harry a dubious look.

"I think you'll like the pad see-yew, then. It's usually not too spicy."

"And what are you having, then?"

Harry glanced over the menu again. "Kang panang. It's a curry. And we'll have satays to start."

Neville looked so impressed that Harry couldn't keep a straight face. Chuckling, he said, "Neville, I'm not that good! My travel experience has been one whirlwind trip to Washington so far. But trust me, I had Thai food there and it was delicious."

Luckily, for all its dinginess, the restaurant had a good cook and their meal was tasty. As they ate, they began trading stories. Neville described some of the most creative attempts by his Uncle Algie to scare some magic out of him. Harry shared the instances where his magic had just erupted in front of his Muggle relatives, and they found the irony amusing.

As they finished cups of tea sweetened with coconut milk, Neville fell into a quiet mood. Harry let him be while he stirred up the layer of milk from the bottom of the cup, until his tea was pale and tooth-achingly sweet.

Finally, Neville voiced his thoughts. "Harry, would you ever use an Unforgivable?"

Harry blinked at that. "Er...I don't know."

"If it was a situation where nothing else would work. No other spell would to the job. It had to be an Unforgivable. Would you do it?"

Harry thought for a moment. He wondered what he might have done if he'd been able to act once the enchanted Triwizard Cup had dumped him into Voldemort's hands. If he'd been able to pull himself together from the shock of Cedric's murder, from his own injuries, would he have cursed Wormtail? Or Voldemort, in his weak and helpless state? Then his all-too-vivid imagination began racing.

"If it were the only way to save someone's life. If Voldemort had Hermione or Ron and was about to kill them..." he trailed off.

"So you do think it's justified, when there's no other way?"

Harry wondered what this was all about. He remembered Neville's reaction to the demonstration they'd had last year of the Unforgivables, how upset he'd been at seeing the Cruciatus performed. Neville was watching him intently, waiting on his answer.

"Yeah, I suppose I do. If there's no other way and you have to act, to do something, or see people get hurt and killed, the yes, I think it's justified."

Neville relaxed slightly, and Harry was distracted momentarily with paying for the meal. Once they were outside and walking back to the hotel, Neville had started asking about things like the lampposts, the merchandise in shop windows, and the parked cars. He continued his questions and chatter until they were back in their room and getting ready for sleep, giving Harry no chance to continue the more serious conversation.

*****

Once he was sure Neville had gone to sleep, Harry got out a pad of paper and a biro and dragged a chair to the window so he could write by the streetlamps. He weighed his words carefully, stopping several times and scratching out whole sentences. Finally he had to stop and be satisfied with what he'd written. He copied the letter onto a clean sheet of paper:

Staci,

I know you said I could tell you anything, that I could ask for anything and be heard. I know I promised you that I would always come to you first if I had something I felt I had to act on. But we promise things and we don't know what's going to happen next. And then something happens that we didn't plan on, and we have no choice but to break the promises.

For what it's worth, I'm sorry I broke my promise to you. But I had to--this time it wasn't about me, it wasn't about me being the one to take down Voldemort or try to save my friends. It's about someone else and having to move too fast to consult anyone first. Dumbledore and Sirius were unreachable, you and everyone else were in California, and there were no other adults I trusted to listen to us and believe us without a lot of convincing.

I'm writing this from a hotel in London near King's Cross. I'm with Neville Longbottom. We learnt what happened to his parents, who are kept in St. Mungo's Hospital because they were attacked by Death Eaters thirteen years ago and driven insane by it. Only they aren't insane: Neville's memory potion works and he remembered witnessing the attack. They got hit with a lot of spells at once, including Unforgivables. We were going to wait for Dumbledore and get permission for Neville to talk to the Healers, but Neville got a letter from his gran saying a new Healer was coming from America to try and help them.

Name of Victor. We don't know for sure that it is Hugo Victor, but we can't take the chance.

When you get this, try to come to St. Mungo's first. I have my mobile phone and the tracking ring Dumbledore gave me, so one way or the other you should be able to find me quickly.

I'm sorry, Staci. I really am.

Harry

He sealed the letter in an envelope and wrote Staci's name across it. He had led Neville to King's Cross because he knew that a Patterson's office was nearby. He could drop the message off and trust it to get to her quickly; that way, if things went wrong at the hospital, she would be on her way.