Chapter 3 Gotcha

A week later, Harry's POV

'This isn't as easy as I thought,' the miserable boy mused as he stuffed more newspaper in his boots, in hopes to prevent more blisters and ward off the chill. That and there was a small hole in the bottom of the right one that needed padding. It had been a week for him and living on the streets was harder than he had assumed.

A few weird things happened over the course of the week, like he didn't freeze to death in the night. As a matter of fact, he always woke warm and toasty. He looked for wires in his robe but didn't find any. He brushed it off as modern technology that he just didn't know. There was another time when he saw a man with a lot of money. He remembered thinking that he could do with a bit of it, and seconds later there was a small pile of bills on the street. He snatched them up and reckoned the man dropped them. He hemmed and hawed over whether to return it, until he saw the man kick a stray dog.

'Fuck him,' he thought and bought something for him and the dog to eat. The dog ate his meal and ran off, which was too bad, he could use a companion. He did catch sight of a snowy owl, but the bird just sat and watched him at night. She even chased off a few unsavory men. However, he could never get her to come closer.

There were a few more incidences that he couldn't explain, but they were minor, so he just brushed them off.

As he huddled behind a bin, he recalled meeting an older boy two days into this adventure, who gave him a bit of advice. "Don't trust the adults, yeah. They just want to shove you in a home and forget about you. As long as they don't have to look at you, they're happy. It's that way in 'loving' homes too. You'll grow up one day and be the same way. But right now, you're just a kid, so don't trust them." The boy had said all this very sincerely, right before he hit Harry in the stomach and searched his empty pockets. "Right, I'm eighteen, so that makes me an adult. Ta." And with that he sauntered away.

Harry learned pretty valuable lessons from that. Or at least he thought he did. One thing he did know, after asking a few adults for handouts and getting shoved away, was that the young man was right. As long as he was out of sight, they were happy.

When the wind blew through his hair, Harry shivered and came out of his trip down his short memory lane. He was forever thankful that he had his robes and boots. He had to fight many times just to keep them. He had already lost his new glasses and had the man in the gold store exchange his copper coins to get a new pair. But, like the last two pairs, they were gone when he woke. It was only the fact that these boots laced up mid-calf that they didn't get stolen in the night. He always woke when nimble fingers tried to unlace them. His face and chest were still bruised from the last two scuffles. Thank God they were steel-toed; it made defending himself much easier. That and that snowy owl chased off a few. He would be forever thankful to her for that. Too bad she never came near. He just wondered what an owl was doing in downtown London. Whatever the reason he was happy she was there.

He was also thankful that there were public restrooms for bathing or he'd be a bigger mess than he was now. As it was his robe was torn and dirty and his uniform was not much better. But, he couldn't take the chance in washing them, or his hair, because he had no way to dry them in this freezing weather.

Now, he was hungry. He had a feeling that he had been in this type of situation before, dirty and starved, but he couldn't remember. That was very frustrating. He wanted to know, but his entire life was a complete blank. He could remember things he had heard, things he had read, seen on the telly, how to talk, how to walk, basically now to function as a human; but, everything else was a complete blank.

He didn't think he had felt so helpless in his life, but without his memory he couldn't be sure. It was all a feeling, and he didn't like it. As it was he had to hide from his aggressors and in the last week, he got very good at that. For not only were the local street rats mad that he was hanging about, but there were people in robes and funny clothes looking for him. He thought he saw the greasy-haired man once, but he never really got a good look at him, that night had been very blurry. Plus, without his glasses he wasn't sure.

The bin he was huddled against was outside a pub called the Leaky Cauldron, and for some reason the locals never raided it. It kept him pretty well fed, because most of the stuff that was thrown away was wrapped, like it was just waiting for someone to tip the bin and eat.

'Maybe, the guy thinks he's helping the poor or something,' Harry thought as he stood and started rummaging through the tossed-out food. He had just opened a bag of day old pastries and was bringing one to his mouth, when…

"Mr. Potter! Stop sorting through the rubbish at once," came the voice of a very stern older lady, dressed in a very strange combination of clothes. She was dressed in a smart woman's business suit that wouldn't be out of place in the 1940's, and a witch's traveling cloak. "What on earth are you doing, child? Do not eat that," the woman ordered, her voice laced with shock and demand.

Harry took one look at her attire, dropped the pastry and ran. He ducked by her and sprinted down the street, weaving his way through the adults that were shopping. He ran and ran but didn't hear anyone come after him.

McGonagall huffed, turned into a cat and followed. She dashed through the people milling the roads and tailed him into an alley about ten blocks down.

"Whew, she didn't give chase," Harry mumbled to himself as he wiped the sweat off his brow, disgusted that such a short sprint caused him to perspire. For some reason he felt he should be able to run much further and faster.

"That will be quite enough of that, young man," McGonagall said from behind him as she morphed back into herself.

Quick as a wink, the young teen twirled, picked up a discarded bottle and smashed it on the wall. He had seen someone do that once and had always wanted to try. "Who are you? And what do you want?" he demanded, brandishing his new weapon.

"This is not a time for jokes, Mr. Potter," she snapped, taking her wand out, and with a flick the jagged glass went flying into the wall. It smashed further on compact, rendering it useless. "Now I have no idea why you ran away; however, if it is the tournament then I am sure that something can be done to help you. Come along," she ordered as if he was just going to do what she said.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. You're one of those mad scientists," Harry stated, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Isn't it bad enough one of you caused me to lose my memory, now you can't leave me in peace!" he yelled, his face turning red with anger, as he looked at the stick and wondered if it was like the tricorder he had seen on the telly, only better since it could move things. 'Just how advanced are these guys?' he wondered, not taking his eyes off the stick. Cursing the fact that he threw his away.

"Whatever are you blathering about, child? What is a scientist? And why are you accusing me of being mad? I assure you, my mind is intact," she asked and then it registered what else he had said. "How did you lose your memory?" she gasped as she clutched her chest with her free hand.

"I wouldn't really remember that, would I?" the boy spat, then seeing she was worried he softened. Oh, he was still going to try and escape, but she seems to really care, so he answered what he could. "All I know is that a week ago, I woke up to some creepy man yelling at me, and a hologram of a man in bloody robes. The real man was threatening me, so I ran," Harry stated with a shrug of his shoulder. He shuddered as he recalled vials of strange things, the horsemen, and the giant. But, he refrained from telling her that.

"Do you know the man's name?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at the thought that Severus knew there was something wrong with the child and didn't say anything.

"No, and I couldn't see him very well," he confessed with a shake of his head. "My mind was all muddled and my vision was blurry. I remember he was tall with dark hair and a long nose, that's it," our hero hesitated, a bit put out that he couldn't identify the crazy scientist.

'Well, that could be Severus, but it is not enough to accuse him of anything. Perhaps Albus can get the memory,' she thought and with a nod she lifted her wand in case he tried to run again. "I am going to need you to come with me, Mr. Potter," McGonagall stated primly.

"Again, why the fuck should I go anywhere with you? I have no clue as to who you are," the teen demanded, slipping his feet into a position that would make it easier to run.

"I would like for you to get some medical help," she tried to appeal to his basic need. "If you come back to Hogwarts then Madam Pomfrey will see if she can get your memory back." She was sure the Poppy could help; perhaps the child hit his head or something easy to cure.

"What the hell is a… hogwarts?" he asked, inching to her right, where there was space to break free.

"It is the premier school for witchcraft and wizardry," was the haughty reply.

"Right, magic, what is with you people? Are you a cult or something? This is the third time I've heard someone mention wizards," he stated as he looked at her like she was completely barmy.

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, we are not a… cult. However, this is not the venue to be discussing this. Come with me, or I will take you forcefully. For your own good," she said with a bit of steel in her voice. There was no way she was leaving anyone with amnesia on the streets of Muggle London, especially not the hero of the wizarding world.

Harry didn't bother to reply. He made a break for it as he dashed to her right, but before he even got two steps he was hit with a red light and fell to the ground.

The old woman huffed, waved her wand and levitated him; with another flick, she had him in a standing position. She grabbed his arm and twisted and with a 'crack' the alley was empty. She and the boy reappeared at the gates of Hogwarts. With a lifting of her wand, he was floating behind her. The first person she ran into was Snape, who was just about to go on his scheduled hunt, which meant he was on his way to the Leaky Cauldron for a pint.

"Ah, Severus, I have found the lad, there is no need for you to search," Minerva stated, giving him a sidelong glance as she made her way to the Hospital Wing. She still had no proof, but he might be the reason they were in this mess to begin with. She wouldn't put it past the man, he did hate everything to do with young Mr. Potter.

"Did he say where he had been and why he left?" the very concerned man asked as he turned to walk besides her. Oh, he wasn't alarmed for Potter, only what the dunderhead had told the old cat.

"He did mention memory loss, and that he might have had a run-in with someone who fits your description," she confessed, narrowing her eyes at the Head of Slytherin.

"I assure you, madam, I did not see the child after he left the antechamber on the night he ran. I am very troubled about the memory loss," he stated as they walked along the corridor. "I wonder if it was the shock of someone meaning him harm again." His voice dripped with faux anxiety.

'Well that is a different tune,' the Transfiguration Teacher mused. 'Perhaps, Albus is correct and he is seeing the light.' She looked the man up and down and didn't see any duplicity. "I will take your word, Severus. However, if I find you have lied to me, then you will see why mother lions are so feared," she said as they made it the double-doors of the medical wing.

"Of that I have no doubt," grumbled Snape as he walked with her, trying to figure out how to get the memory of the dungeon from the boy's mind. It would ruin all his plans if the boy were to let it be known that he was the one who ran him off. Potter couldn't prove that he had anything to do with his amnesia, but he could inform people that Snape was the last person he saw, and that would not be in the Potion Master's best interest.

"Poppy, I have a patient for you," the Deputy Headmistress called as she floated Harry to one of the beds.

"Oh, thank Merlin you found him. Can you give me any clue as to what is wrong with him?" the nurse asked as she bustled into the room. She waved her wand and did a diagnostic spell, but could find nothing wrong but for some bruising, a few small lacerations, and the blisters on his feet. A little underfed, but nothing life threatening.

"He was eating out of a dumpster and tried to run, so I had to stun him. He did not mention much, only that he has lost his memory," McGonagall reported, moving out of the way and letting the matron do her work. "I will leave him in your hands, Poppy. I must go and inform Albus that he is back," she said, and went out the doors.

"Oh dear… amnesia… well there is little I can do about that…. I don't see a head injury… I will do a further diagnosis when he wakes… better to let him wake on his own… oh dear, blisters," Poppy mumbled to herself as she went over her report. Then she turned to the Potions Master. "Watch over him for me for a minute, Severus, I have to get a salve from the storeroom," Poppy said, thinking of the damages to the poor boy's face and torso.

"Of course," Snape said sharply with a curt nod, like it was anything but okay. Internally he was wringing his hands with glee, he would get a few moments alone with the stupid child. Madam Pomfrey hustled to the storeroom and no sooner had the door closed, when the dark-robed man whipped out his wand, opened the boy's eyes and Obliviated the memory of the night he ran. The only thing the teen would remember is waking in an alley, cold and scared. He made a mental note to purge his wand the moment he was alone. He quickly put his wand away and stood sneering at the comatose boy.

The nurse came back out with a jar of medical cream and asked, "Did he stir?"

"No," was the succinct answer. "I must go, I have a potion brewing. It was bad enough that I had to leave it in stasis to look for the brat, now that he is back I must tend to it," he made his excuse and left. The second he was out of the wing, he was casting cleaning and repairing charms at the walls. After about thirty he stopped, that would be enough. He almost had a bounce in his step as he hurried to the dungeons. He still needed to talk to the Grey Lady, but he did foresee a problem with that. Then that ghost would leave him in peace.

Poppy just nodded as he left and tended to her patient, rubbing the cream over his bruises. When she was done with his face, she waved her wand and switched his clothes to hospital pajamas and removed his boots. She tutted at the sores on his feet and proceeded to treat them. When she finished her healing, she called one of the house elves to come and clean the uniform and repair the boots. She then placed the little bit she found in his pockets on the nightstand. There wasn't much, a bit of string, a paperclip, and for some reason a bell. She shook her head at the bobs-and-ends and went about her duties.

There was a small commotion at the door when the Headmaster and his Deputy came into the ward. Albus looked over the small pile of belongings. "Oh dear, this is not good, not good at all. Poppy did you see his wand?" he asked the healer.

"No," she answered.

"Can you wake him? It is imperative that I talk to him," the old man asked as he conjured a chair right next to the head of the bed.

"Well, it is better that he wakes on his own. How important is it?" the nurse asked, not liking the idea of waking the child, but knowing that it wouldn't really hurt the boy.

"Very," the Headmaster stated, his eyes glued to the sleeping teen.

"Very well," Poppy huffed, waved her wand and woke him.

Harry shot up and fell out of the bed. He stood, backed away and looked around the room. It was an infirmary. There was a déjà vu feeling that he had been here before. "Where the bloody hell am I? And why the fuck did you bring me here?" he demanded, whirling on the old woman who had knocked him out. "Do you always kidnap people off the street? Or am I a special case?" he sneered his question at her.

She opened her mouth to answer, but only got out, "Mr. Potter…"

"Oh, my dear boy, you are a very special case indeed," came the answer from the old man behind him.

"Right," Harry said, spinning around and folding his arms across his chest. "What could you possibly need with someone who doesn't remember who he is?" He looked at the bearded man in front of him and immediately didn't like him.

"We have ways of recovering memories. If you would just consent to letting me look into your mind, I can find what you have lost," Dumbledore said in a placating tone as he made calming gestures with his hands. He was positive that this would all be over in a very short time and the look of distrust on the boy's face would turn back into the worship that had been there before.

"You want me," he pointed to his chest, "to let you," he waved in the old man's direction, "rummage through my head? Are you barking mad? That's not even possible," Harry accused as he backed away from the adults, skirting around the beds that lined the walls.

"Well, yes, I can reverse whatever made you lose your memories," the old man stated as if it was the only answer. "It will not hurt a bit, my boy. And it will only take a minute to have you right as rain," he said with a gentle smile.

"No," came the forceful rejoinder as Harry inched closer to the door, ready to make a break for it.

"I am so sorry, my boy, but you leave me with little choice," Dumbledore sadly stated as he raised his wand, causing Harry to turn and run.

The teen made it to the door when suddenly he couldn't move. He arms were forced to his sides, and his legs snapped together. He was still awake, but he was frozen. If his eyes could have widened, they would have when the floor rushed up to meet him. The pain in his nose when it met the stones was great, and he would not forgive the old man for doing… whatever it was he just did.

"Albus, really, was that necessary?" the old woman retorted as she rushed to the boy's side.

"I must do all I can to make sure he remembers. It is vital for him to understand his place in our society," the old man defended his actions as he levitated the teen back to his bed. "He is an icon in the wizarding world, and it will not do for him to shun us," Albus declared as he stood over Harry, who was mentally glaring at the man.

Harry had no idea what they were talking about, all he knew was that the old man's eyes twinkled and then he felt someone in his mind.

He felt violated.

He pushed and pushed with his thoughts, until the bastard went flying to a wall. He expanded this feeling, until the binding holding him broke. With that Harry got off the bed and ran to the doors. He got to the doors unmolested, since the two women were tending the old man. He looked right and left and choose right. He ran to the end of the hall and turned left, then he hurried down the stairs at the end of that hall. He saw his way out and ran; shoving people out of his way, and was almost to the double-doors, when he heard a young female voice say, "Harry! Wait!"