Obliviate

Obliviate - Chapter Six

He felt reality fold in upon itself around him and for the third (and what James fervently hoped would be the last) time that night, the ground dropped out from beneath him again. Unlike the last two times, when James regained his senses, he was staring up at the sky and into Luna's concerned face. Dimly he realized that he was lying on his back - he must have fallen over. He sat up weakly but an oppressive sensation of vertigo made his head swim and he leaned back down on the pleasantly stationary grass.

"Harry, you should try and stay still," suggested Luna. She was frowning and her eyes looked down at him with worry and sympathy. A sigh escaped her lips and she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I... I shouldn't have told you so soon."

He closed his eyes and his mouth curled into a grimace of pain brought about by the nauseating dizziness he was feeling at the moment and also by the feeling of emptiness and suffering he felt in his heart. He wished he could blame it all on the Screaming Banshee he'd had, but unfortunately for him, things weren't so simple. It was as if he was finally waking up from an impossibly long dream and someone was turning the lights on in his head, one by one; each flip of a switch illuminated the dusty, nearly forgotten memories in his mind and he remembered....

"They were killed by Voldemort," he stated tonelessly. Even without opening his eyes he could tell that Luna was regarding him with a surprised expression. "Weren't they?"

"Y-you remember now...?"

He started to shake his head, felt a wave of nausea sweep over his stomach, and thought better of it.

"Not all of it," he replied truthfully, staring beyond Luna's face and up at the sky. "Just bits and pieces...."

Indeed, he was finally able to recall the faces of his friends.... He remembered the love he used to receive from the Weasleys, a love he'd never received from the despicable Dursleys, who were the only survivors of his shattered family. Then he remembered meeting his godfather, Sirius.... He remembered saving Hermione from the troll in his first year at Hogwarts - oh, Hogwarts! Fleeting phantom memories of feasts long ago danced across his tongue and he could almost see the faces of his dorm mates as if they were standing before him - Seamus, Dean, and Neville... poor Neville, who had bravely followed him to the Ministry of Magic and endured the Cruciatus for them all... and there was Luna, too - eccentric, Loony Luna Lovegood - but what he remembered about her best was her fierce loyalty and the simple love with which she embraced every single day of her life.

And standing tall behind his friends were the professors who had been such an important part of his time at Hogwarts: Hagrid, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. He could hear Hagrid's booming laugh and he smiled at the memory of Grawp, his half brother, reaching towards Hermione calling out, "Hermy!" Then a chill ran through his body and the hair stood up on the back of his neck as he vividly recalled the challenges and the horrible tragedy he'd witnessed at the end Triwizard Tournament....

Suddenly there were images, sensations, and emotions sailing throughout his mind, all of them focusing on the spirited, red-headed girl Ginny. The sheer exhilaration and the feeling of love, which had been so new and fresh and exciting and breathtakingly gorgeous and so addictive all at once....

"So what do you remember then?" queried Luna, interrupting his reverie.

"I..."

The sights and sounds and smells of Diagon Alley, his first visit to Hogsmeade, riding on a broom stick for the very first time - Bernie Botts' Every Flavor Jelly Beans, Chocolate Frogs, chasing after the Golden Snitch - Dumbledore's Army, Cho Chang, the Marauder's Map....

Things were coming back to him quickly and in no specific order, but one memory stood out beyond the rest. Rather, it wasn't really a memory or a feeling he was recalling, but instead it was something else, like an unquestioned fact from his past life.

He blinked once and pulled his gaze away from the twinkling stars to look at Luna.

"I remember," he said in a whisper. Then his voice became louder and more forceful, "I remember who I am now. I really am Harry Potter, aren't I?" He sighed once, feeling as if an overwhelmingly heavy weight was pressing down on his chest. "And they're really gone...." he finished quietly.

There was a strange gleam in Luna's eyes - perhaps it was from light reflected off the millions of stars hanging above them or maybe it was from unshed tears, but he felt something emanating from her....

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but Harry suddenly pushed himself into an upright position. Not feeling disoriented at all, he boldly rose to his feet and looked back down at Luna, who was still sitting on the ground.

"I have to go," he declared, keeping his jaw firmly set in place and stoically refusing to allow the sudden anxiety and apprehension he felt show on face. "Now."

Luna silently nodded once and stood up, beckoning for him to follow her. Several moments later, they Apparated into the living room of Harry's flat.

"Thanks, Luna," he said softly, taking care to not make eye contact with her since he noticed that she still had that inscrutable look in her eyes. "Good night."

She stood still for a moment, unmoving, and Harry thought for an instant that she wasn't going to leave. Then-

"Good night, Harry," she murmured.

Luna raised her wand and then Disapparated with a sharp crack. Harry was left standing in the middle of the room with his head slightly bowed as he mulled over all that he had learned that night. Although his mind was full of old memories bouncing about, they still had yet to fall into place and the constantly shifting images were giving him a pounding headache. He miserably rubbed his temples as he made his way into the kitchen and helped himself to a glass of water.

I remember so much - my friends, my family. My life. But there's something missing, something's not quite right....

In one gulp, he finished his glass of water and threw it into the sink in frustration, where it cracked and shattered into dozens of wet shards of glass.

How did I end up here?

The question nagged at him, burning a hole in his brain, and feeding his exhaustion. Unable to help himself, he yawned and glanced at the clock on the wall which told him it was four o'clock in the morning. While it was important to know how his life as a Muggle had started, it was equally important to get a good night's rest so he could reflect upon things with a sharper mind in the morning. He wearily wandered over to his bedroom and collapsed atop his bed, letting his fatigue wash over him and pull him into the realm of dreams....

* * *

Back at her house, Luna decided to leave the never ending nightscape of her room and venture around for a bit. While her room had always been the same ever since she could remember, the rest of the house had not. Only in recent years had The Quibbler become popular enough for her father to be able to afford permanent magical expansions, and Luna hadn't explored the house to its fullest extent yet.

It was ironic in a way, because she'd seen so many things and explored so much of the world except her own home.

When the war ended in her seventh year at Hogwarts, she'd politely refused taking a job working with her father and decided to really live her life and journey outside of Britain. For two years she'd explored the magical community, traveling to the nearby countries of France and Germany and then to places as far away as New Zealand and Brazil. Her travels had even included a visit to Atlantis - although the Muggles believed the city to be a mere myth, the metropolis was still very much alive and well, having been hidden centuries ago beneath hundreds of kilometers of ocean water. All in all, it was an easy trip for a wizard to take, especially if one had a Portkey handy.

Luna held her breath as she crept silently down a long, wooden hallway - she didn't want to disturb any of the portraits. Some of the new ones her father had bought were quite strange and prone to pulling unfortunate passersby into lengthy and uncomfortable conversations.

Her worldly journey had succeeded admirably in opening up her eyes not only to the dozens of intriguing foreign cultures she'd immersed herself in, but it had also given her a newfound awareness of herself. One thing that every single place had in common was the presence of people, and as she (quite modestly) admitted to her father, her two years spent wandering the world had given her a better idea of how to interact with everyone else.

She stopped in front of a mirror on the wall to fix her hair and she noticed she was wearing a small frown.

"What's the matter, dear?" asked the mirror in a matronly voice.

"Nothing," she lied easily before walking past the enchanted decoration in search of less conversational furniture.

Luna knew what was wrong, however. It was Harry. She just felt bad that she'd been the one to break the bad news to him about his friends. Luna was so proud of how well she could deal with people now, but she had fallen flat on her face when dealing with Harry. The only thing she'd managed to do in the short time she'd spent with him so far was to make him feel... well, horrible. She could only imagine what he must be feeling now.... He had always been so close to Ginny and Hermione and Ron....

"Hey, what about me?" she muttered to herself, joking half-heartedly. Certainly she'd been a friend of Harry's as well, but she hadn't ever been as close to him as the others had been... which brought her to her second problem:

She had a crush on Harry. And it wasn't going away anytime soon.

Like many girls of the same age growing up in the wizarding world, she'd had an innocent, idealistic crush on the legendary Boy-Who-Lived in her early teens, which had grown into something more mature as she became older. When she finally met him, her attraction for him had become something tangible and realistic, and interestingly enough, he didn't seem any less ideal than she'd ever imagined, so she kept waiting, hoping, wishing, dreaming....

But then Ginny Weasley had walked into the picture and her aspirations were thrown out the window. Luna had done the only thing she could do: she'd just settled back and watched the epic, theatrical romance unfold between the two of them. Who was she to barge in and take that romance away from either one of her friends? It would have been selfish and wrong - so she'd never said anything. Over the last two years she spent at Hogwarts, she'd watched with equal parts joy and sorrow as Harry and Ginny became closer with every passing day.

Then one morning the word was out that Ginny had been kidnapped by Death Eaters while Harry was off hunting Horcruxes. Yet before the true horror of that news could really sink in, headlines in the papers the following day were all screaming, "Lord Voldemort is dead! The war is over!"

It was a bittersweet victory, however. Details were so few and far between to the point of being nonexistent but all of the newspapers agreed - Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Ginny Weasley were all dead. Murdered by Voldemort in one last parting shot at Harry. She remembered the media had had an absolute field day with the multiple tragedies all occurring simultaneously.

In the midst of all the celebration, everyone wanted to know, "Where is Harry Potter?" He had never been declared dead by the Ministry and when asked about his whereabouts, Albus Dumbledore only ever gave the cryptic reply of, "He is somewhere safe." Personally, Luna had always wondered where Harry could have been hiding, but she'd never thought to consider that he'd been sent into exile, to live as a Muggle. It was the perfect hiding spot... but had he been sent here willingly? She resolved to get to the bottom of that mystery. However, in the meantime, there were more pressing matters at hand for her to deal with....

Two years later, the enigmatic Harry Potter had entered her life once again. He was distraught and vulnerable and so, so available.... Luna felt guilty for thinking of him that way, but her feelings had always been there, lying just beneath the surface, refused, suppressed and hidden for so long.... And now that he was here and within arms' reach, could she trust herself enough to hold back and simply remain nothing more than his loyal friend? Could she restrain herself enough to stay at his side and offer him sympathy and a supportive shoulder to cry on?

Did she have the willpower to continue denying herself what she'd always wanted?

She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger and bit her lip. No matter what course of action she decided to take, things were about to become very interesting....

* * *

"James?"

Someone was calling out to him. The voice was very faint, as if it was coming through to him from a great distance and there was a soft, insistent tapping sound echoing around his head as well. Both noises were steadily growing louder in volume....

"JAMES!"

With a jolt, his eyes snapped open and he jumped up, only to feel himself falling through the air and colliding with a stubborn, stiff surface.... A moment later, his sleepy mind put together the pieces and realized that he'd fallen out of bed. And what was that sound...?

"JAMES! I know you're in there!"

Whose voice was that? It sounded awfully familiar.... With a grimace, he stumbled to his feet and staggered towards the door. Even if it killed him, he was going to find out who was so anxious to see him. However, his effort to make it to the door was met with unexpected resistance - his head felt like it wanted to be on the floor and his legs felt like they desperately wanted to go in opposite directions. Oh, that was right, he'd been drinking last night. Of course, a hangover. A stupid, bloody hangover.

Then before he could stop himself, he saw the ground sailing up at his face again and he managed to let out a surprised, "Oh!" before he toppled over and did a face plant onto the carpet. He rolled over and he noticed from his position on the ground he had an excellent view of the ceiling, which appeared to be spinning in gleeful circles above his head. Damn it, what had been in that Screaming Banshee last night?

"J-just a minute!" he called out.

Somehow he was able to concentrate enough to regain his center of balance, put on a new shirt, and scramble over to the door, where he hoped his visitor would still be waiting. When he reached his front door, he fumbled with the lock for a second and then swung the door wide open-

"James," Nora said brightly, smiling at him.

"...Nora?" he asked, blinking groggily at the bright sunlight rudely invading the privacy of his home.

"It's me," she added helpfully.

"NORA?" he repeated, blinking again, really seeing her for the first time.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

"How did-"

"Church directory," she responded quickly, her voice raising in pitch slightly. Harry did remember filling out an information card.... Nora gulped and her eyes darted around nervously, not daring to meet his. "I- well, I just wanted to see you, and...."

"I thought you didn't want to see me," he answered quietly, not moving from the doorway. "And you told me not to come to your church anymore," he stated flatly, searching her face for any indication of what she could be thinking.

"James," she breathed, her eyes pleading with him. "Please, may I come in?"

He regarded her coolly for a moment. Standing here at his front door desperate to see him was Nora O'Connor, the sweet and beautiful creature who had been so instrumental in nursing him back to health and whose warm care and tenderness had made him smile so many times... yet he still felt a little burned by the fact that she had shot him down so quickly when he had met her before. But life had a funny way of playing out sometimes and now here he was, with the power to exact revenge upon her by turning his back on her.

His hand tightened on the doorknob and he hesitated. The door wavered slightly in his grip.

What was he thinking? This is what he wanted, wasn't it? Therefore he should extend every courtesy he could to his dear Nora.

A few moments ticked by and then he finally nodded.

"Sure," he said easily, hiding his excitement by pretending to yawn. "You can help yourself to anything in the kitchen, but if you'll excuse me, I need a quick shower...."

Her face lit up and he hurried away as she stepped inside. The last thing he saw of her before he retreated into the privacy of his bedroom was her dazzling smile and those smoldering eyes....

Just what had he gotten himself into?