“It was him, Mum,” Ginny told her mother quietly the next morning at breakfast.
Molly Weasley laid a comforting hand on her grown daughter’s shoulder and spoke as gently as possible. “I know you want Harry back, dear - we all do. But the dead simply don’t come back to life.”
“He’s - not - dead,” Ginny ground out through clenched teeth. “He was in this house last night. Brian and Lily met him, only they didn’t know who he was, of course. But even he didn’t know who he was. I mean, he knew his name, but he had no idea who I was, and he acted like I was mad when I tried to tell him.”
“Well, dear, even if it was Harry, you must understand how difficult it would be for him to accept the idea of being the father of fourteen-year-old twins.”
Ginny grabbed her mother by the chin and forced her head around until they were looking one another in the eye. Then she spoke very softly and very clearly. “Listen closely, mother, because I’m not going to tell you this again. Harry Potter was in this house last night. I let him get away, but that doesn’t mean I won’t find him again. My husband is alive, and I don’t care if it takes the rest of my worthless life, I WILL make my family whole again.”
She stood and opened the back door. “I’m going to see Hermione. I’ll be back later,” she called over her shoulder as an afterthought. Then she stepped out into the garden and Disapparated.
“Did I just hear Mum down here?” Brian asked as he entered the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“She just left to go see your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione,” his grandmother answered.
“What was she on about last night?” Lily asked as she sat down across from her brother. “That bloke that claimed he was from the Minister’s office was here, and she sent us to bed. But a few minutes later, I heard her screaming Dad’s name like her life depended on it. She hasn’t done that for a long time.”
“Lily, dear,” her grandmother said hesitantly, “your mother’s a bit confused at the moment. You see, she insists that the man who brought you home last night was your father.”
Lily dropped her fork. “Was it really Daddy?” she whispered, suddenly sounding very much like a little girl.
“Don’t be stupid, Lily,” Brian answered. “You know Mum; she gets crazy sometimes when she’s missing Dad.”
“But if she really thinks it was him-”
“Dad’s dead, Lily!” Brian snapped.
“Brian Potter!” Molly shouted. “You apologize to your sister this instant.”
“Sorry,” Brian mumbled insincerely.
Lily just glared at him with tear-filled eyes. “Why are you so quick to write him off?” she whispered. “Haven’t you ever wanted a father?”
“Quick to write him off?” he answered disbelievingly. “Open your eyes, Lily; he hasn’t been seen since before we were born. And if I had to choose between a dead father who would have loved us, and one who’s alive but abandoned us for fifteen years, I’d rather he was dead.”
Lily shot up out of her seat and slapped her brother across the face. When she spoke, her voice shook with suppressed rage. “Never let me catch you saying that about Dad again.”
“That’s quite enough from both of you,” Molly snapped. “Now I don’t want to hear another word about any of this, especially in front of your mother. I never should have mentioned it to you in the first place.”
“I’m glad you did, Gran,” Lily whispered as she sank back into her chair and began pushing the food around her plate.
Brian just rolled his eyes as he gingerly fingered the growing welt on his cheek.
Immediately after appearing in the village of Hogsmeade, Ginny rushed to the home of her brother and sister-in-law and began pounding on the door. Thankfully, it was a Sunday, so they were both likely to be home.
Ginny’s older brother, Ron, answered the door in his dressing gown, his three-year-old son, Tom, in his arms. Every time she heard Tom’s name, Ginny had to stifle a giggle as she remembered how Ron had argued against the name, insisting that he would never name his child after Voldemort. Hermione had insisted that she liked the name anyway, however, and as usual, she got her way.
“What’s up, Gin?” Ron asked in a sleepy voice.
“I have news,” Ginny said. “Is Hermione home?”
“Course she is; you know how she likes to sleep in on Sundays. Step inside and I’ll go wake her for you.”
Ginny followed her brother into his cozy living room and sat down to wait for Hermione. After only a few minutes, Ron and Hermione returned, both still clad in dressing gowns.
“How are you, Ginny?” Hermione asked as she sat next to her husband on the sofa.
“I’m not really sure,” Ginny replied. “That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Go on...” Hermione prompted.
“I saw Harry last night,” Ginny said quickly. Tears began leaking from her eyes and she swiped at them furiously. “He came to the Burrow, but he didn’t even know who I was. He told me-” she drew a shuddering breath, “-he told me he was never married and that I’m not his wife.” She broke down in sobs.
Hermione moved to kneel in front of Ginny’s chair. “It’s all right, Ginny,” she soothed. “You know Harry would never really say those things. It was only a nightmare.”
“No!” Ginny shouted, jerking away. “It was not a nightmare. It was real. I fainted when I saw him, and he was still there when I woke up. He found the twins making trouble in the village and brought them home, but he insisted that he wasn’t my husband.”
Ron and Hermione shared a worried glance. “Are you sure it wasn’t just somebody who looks a lot like Harry?” Hermione asked tentatively.
“Of course I’m sure!” Ginny shouted. Calming her voice somewhat, she added, “He had Harry’s eyes, Hermione. And he had the scars. Not just the lightning bolt, but the ones on his hand that spell out ‘I must not tell lies’. He understood the twins when they were speaking Parseltongue, for Merlin’s sake; they came running into the house terrified that they’d been followed home by a Dark wizard!”
Ron got to his feet. “You know what, Ginny? I’ve had about enough of this. Every few years you show up at our house trying to convince us that you’ve seen Harry somewhere. You tell your kids that their father’s dead, but you’ve never really accepted it yourself. He’s dead, Ginny. Either Snape killed him that night or he fell through the veil after Voldemort.” Tears were now streaming down Ron’s face, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Harry was my best friend, Ginny, and I miss him every day, but he’s gone. He’s not coming back. Not ever.”
Ginny slowly got to her feet and stood toe-to-toe with her brother. She glared at him for a moment and then, with no warning whatsoever, punched him squarely in the jaw, sending him stumbling back a step. “If I ever hear you say that my husband is dead again, you’ll be getting a lot worse than a fist to the jaw,” she hissed in an icy cold voice. Then she turned and stormed from the room with Hermione running after her.
“Ginny!” Hermione called. “Ginny, wait!”
Ginny spun around, drawing her wand and leveling it at her friend’s face in one fluid motion. “I haven’t used the Bat-Bogey Hex in a long time, Hermione, but right now I am sorely tempted.”
“I believe you, Ginny,” Hermione said softly.
“What?” She lowered her wand a fraction of an inch.
“I said I believe you. Ron was out of line and he knows it.” She took a deep breath. “If you say it was Harry, that’s good enough for me. It was Harry.”
“You really believe me?” Ginny asked weakly as she lowered her wand completely.
Hermione only nodded and rushed forward to wrap her arms around her sister-in-law. “Now we just have to figure out what happened to him,” she whispered.
Ginny nodded and pulled out of the embrace. “What do you think could have happened to him?” she asked. “Where has he been all this time? Why can’t he remember me?”
Hermione’s eyes suddenly lit up with realization. “I think I just figured it out,” she whispered. “I can’t believe I never thought of this before, but- Snape didn’t turn Harry into a Portkey, Ginny - that would’ve been impossible. He turned Harry’s robe into a Portkey! It all makes sense, don’t you see? As soon as the Portkey was created, it was activated because Harry was already touching it and it wasn’t on a timer. That means that the first spell Snape hit him with must have been a Memory Charm that made him forget all of us. He must’ve been trying to get around the Unbreakable Vow by sending Harry off somewhere where he’d get killed, but Harry managed to get away somehow.”
“We should go look for him,” Ginny exclaimed, tugging on Hermione’s arm. “He’s probably staying somewhere in Ottery St. Catchpole.”
Hermione shook her head firmly. “He needs to figure some of this out for himself, Ginny. You know what he’s like; if you try to force him, he’ll just resist that much more. The best thing to do is just make sure you’re there waiting when he comes back.”
“When he comes back?” Ginny asked dubiously.
Hermione placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Ginny, you and I both know that Harry can’t resist a good mystery, especially when it involves his past. Remember the lengths he used to go to, to try and find out about his parents?” Ginny nodded. “This is the same sort of thing. In fact, I can almost guarantee you that Harry was up all night brooding and replaying your conversation over and over in his mind. Today he’ll start trying to verify your story, looking for evidence other than just your word.”
“You really think so?” Ginny asked, her voice full of hope.
“I’m sure of it.”
Harry Potter spent all night pacing the floor of his motel room in Ottery St. Catchpole, stewing over his encounter with the family of redheads. The woman - Ginny, she had called herself - had definitely known some things about him that she shouldn’t have. Her knowledge of the scar on the inside of his elbow bothered him the most. Not only did no one ever see it because he always wore long sleeves to hide his wand, he had never even noticed it. On the other hand, Harry wasn’t one to minutely search his body for old scars, and someone had seen the wand despite his best efforts to keep it hidden. Everett Martin, the man who had ‘hand-picked’ him for this particular assignment, had known about the wand, which meant he might know about the scar as well. Perhaps this was some sort of test that had been arranged by his employer. Yes, that had to be it.
With that thought on his brain, he was able to calm down enough to formulate a plan. Ginny claimed to be his wife. If that were the case, then he would have had a wedding band, which he knew he did not. Just to be sure, though, he decided to pay a visit to the old farmer who had plucked him from a wheat field so many years ago. It was only right for him to at least go and thank the old man anyway, regardless of whether or not he got any information out of the visit. After that, he could start searching for marriage records from fifteen years prior. If he really was married to that woman, then the record would probably be with one of the local churches.
As that thought crossed his mind, realization slapped him hard in the face: a part of him believed Ginny’s story. Part of him probably even wanted it to be true. He would be a father, a husband - part of a family for the first time in his life.
Just as quickly, however, reality set in. He didn’t know anything about that woman or her children. He didn’t even know for sure that they were really hers. They could have all been hired by the P.M.’s office to test his sanity. Or they could be exactly who they claimed to be. As the sun rose on Sunday morning, Harry discovered that he still wasn’t a bit sleepy. He settled his account at the front desk, grabbed a quick breakfast, and sped away from Ottery St. Catchpole in the direction of the home of an old wheat farmer.
By the time he arrived, it was evening, and his lack of sleep the previous night was beginning to catch up with him. Tiredly wiping his eyes, he strode to the door of the little cottage and rapped smartly on it with his fist. He heard shuffling feet on the other side, and after a moment, the door opened a crack.
“Who’s there?” asked an old man’s voice.
“My name’s Harry Potter,” Harry replied. “Are you Marcus Williams?”
“Aye,” answered the old man.
“I believe you pulled me out of your wheat field about fifteen years ago,” Harry said.
Recognition dawned in the old man’s eyes, and he threw the door open wide, exclaiming, “Come in, my boy, come in!” He turned and shouted down the hallway, “Janet, the lightning boy’s come to pay us a visit.”
Harry chuckled at the nickname and followed Mr. Williams into a small sitting room. They were soon joined by a short, white-haired old lady who Harry assumed to be Mr. Williams’ wife, Janet.
“It’s so good to see you up and about,” gushed Mrs. Williams. “We still talk about the day we found you from time to time, don’t we Marcus?” Mr. Williams nodded in agreement.
“I really want to thank you for rescuing me that day,” Harry said, suddenly feeling very ungrateful for not having come by to thank them years ago. “You saved my life.”
Mr. Williams shrugged it off. “Anyone would’ve done the same,” he said. “So, what have you been up to, lad?”
“I’m working for the Prime Minister’s office,” Harry said proudly. “I was just hired a few days ago.”
Mr. Williams let out a low whistle. “Would you look at that,” he muttered.
“And did you ever find your wife?” Mrs. Williams asked suddenly.
“What?” Harry asked, startled.
“Well, you were wearing a wedding band when we took you to the hospital,” she replied. “I remember lying awake at night on several occasions, just hoping she’d be able to find you. That would be an awful situation to be in, wouldn’t it? Just not knowing....”
Harry nodded mutely. He hadn’t even needed to ask about the ring; Mrs. Williams had just known.
“Did you find her?” she asked again.
“I don’t know,” Harry muttered, more to himself than to her. After shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he said, “I never knew I was married until this week. My ring must have disappeared at some point while I was recovering.
Mrs. Williams gasped. “That’s right! That was when they were having problems with that thief in the hospital, don’t you remember, Marcus?” Her husband just looked at her blankly, and she let out an exasperated sigh. “My sister had a heart attack at a dinner party in town a few weeks after Marcus found you,” she explained to Harry. “When they rushed her to the hospital, she was wearing a beautiful emerald necklace and a diamond ring, but when she woke up the next morning, both were missing. They caught the thief eventually - it was one of the night janitors, if I remember right - but none of the jewelry was ever recovered. That’s probably what happened to your ring.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Probably,” he muttered.
He spent another half hour chatting amicably with Mr. and Mrs. Williams before pleading exhaustion and departing for the nearest town, where he collapsed on a bed in a cheap motel.