Draco blinked at Harry. "What do you mean 'who am I'? What's wrong with you? You're acting pretty funny today."

Harry looked at him blankly. "Well…I'm sorry. It's just that…I don't seem to remember anything. I mean, I know my name, and I know this is Hogwarts and that I'm a wizard…but everything else is a blank. That's not right, is it?"

Draco's heart lurched. "You're kidding, right? Don't kid about this, Harry."

Harry seemed a little concerned but not as alarmed as he should have been. He shook his head. "No. I don't think I'm kidding." He looked as if he was thinking about that and then nodded with certainty. "Nope. I'm not kidding. I don't remember. Not a thing."

Draco grabbed his shoulders. "What-but-Harry! You don't remember-me?"

Harry concentrated his stare at Draco and then shook his head. "Nope. Sorry. Should I?"

"Well, yes! I'm Draco. I'm…" But should he really say? If Harry was struck by some sort of Obliviate he couldn't just tell him that he was Harry's husband. That might confuse him even more. "We're going to the hospital wing. Now!"

"Draco. That's an odd name."

Draco yanked him to the door and soon they were rushing down the corridor and up several flights of steps. "The hospital wing," said Harry conversationally. "I recognize the way. That's odd, isn't it? That I should know that and not you. Draco, did you say?"

Draco swallowed a sob of panic. "Yeah. Draco."

"The name grows on me. My name's Harry. Did you know that?"

"Yes." He hurried.

"Harry James Potter. I wonder who 'James' was."

They got to the hospital and Draco slammed through the doors. "Poppy! POPPY! I need you! Hurry!"

Madam Pomfrey came running. She looked them over and not spotting any blood was obviously annoyed. "Whatever is the matter, Mr. Malfoy?"

"It's Harry," he gasped. "He…he can't seem to remember anything."

"That's not true," said Harry. "I remember my name, and yours since you just told me, and-" He thought for a moment. "That's about it. Weird, isn't it?"

"Oh my," said Pomfrey.

"Should we send for the Headmaster?"

"He has been called away." Pomfrey maneuvered Harry toward a hospital bed and sat him down. "Do you remember meeting anyone, Mr. Potter? Drinking anything?"

"No. I didn't meet anyone. Just this chap-with the funny name," he said as a whispered aside to the Healer.

"Mr. Malfoy? Can you enlighten me?"

"I have no idea," he said, voice shaky. "He was acting funny today and then he just came into our room and asked me who I was."

She moved her wand over him. Harry watched it fascinated. "Did he know you earlier?"

"Yes. There were no problems this morning."

"And last night?"

"No… Wait, let me think. At dinner he seemed a bit off."

"Very strange. If an Obliviate was used it would affect him right away and take most every memory unless he was given a new one. It seems he was slowly losing his memory which would seem to indicate a potion, but I see nothing here."

"Can't you do something?"

"This is beyond my abilities, I'm afraid. He needs to go to St. Mungo's."

Cold panic seized Draco's heart and he felt a numbness overtake his body. "I'll take him."

"Very well. I'll alert them that you're coming. I'll take care of informing the deputy Headmistress."

* * *

Draco apparated to St. Mungo's, holding Harry tightly against him. There was a bit of an uproar when they were recognized at the front desk, but they were soon ushered into a private area and the head Healer talked quietly with them.

He stepped away from Harry and gestured for Draco to follow him. Quietly, he said, "We should keep him here overnight and run some tests."

Draco had gone numb. He'd never had to deal with anything of the kind before and wasn't prepared now. "Okay," he said, voice hollow. "If you think so. But the moment you know something, I want an owl. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. In the meantime, is there anything we should know? Anything we should prepare for?"

"Well, he's forgotten magic, apparently, so I don't think you have to worry about any errant spells. But should he remember be warned; he's three times as powerful than he was."

"So it's really true."

"Yes. And so am I." Draco lowered his voice and stepped closer. "And if you hurt him in any way or make him worse, you will have me to contend with. You know who I am. This is no idle threat!"

Draco didn't know what he looked like but it was enough to terrify the Healer. He took a step back with widened eyes. "No, Mr. Malfoy. Harry Potter will receive the absolute best attention this hospital can provide. Be assured of that."

"He had better."

Draco gave him one last warning glare before he stepped over to Harry. "I have to go now," he said to him. He wanted to take him in his arms, kiss him, but he didn't know how Harry would take that. "Do whatever they tell you, okay? I'll be back again tomorrow."

Harry shrugged. "This is really nice of you."

"Yeah. Think nothing of it."

"Bye, then."

"Bye, Harry." Draco Apparated away and landed in the entrance hall just as McGonagall rushed past. Startled, she whipped around and stared. "Mr. Malfoy! How-how were you able to do that?"

"Minerva, I'm not really in the mood to go into that right now."

She took him by the arm and ushered him into the nearest classroom. She closed the door and warded it and then sat Draco down. "Tell me about Harry," she said.

Draco rubbed his face with his dry palm. "We don't know how it happened, but Harry seems to have lost his memory. He knows who and what he is and knows about Hogwarts, but he can't remember any spells and he doesn't remember…doesn't remember-" Suddenly, it came crashing in on Draco. He couldn't stop the sob that welled up, nor the tears that abruptly ran freely down his face. "He doesn't remember me!" McGonagall didn't hesitate and took him in her arms, rocking him back and forth as he wept. "Why can't he remember, Minerva? Who did this to him?" he whimpered.

"We'll find out. There must be something that can be done. Now buck up, Draco." She braced his shoulders and set him upright. "And tell me what they said at St. Mungo's."

Draco squared his shoulders and wiped his face. McGonagall transfigured a quill into a handkerchief and handed it to him. He took it gratefully and blew his nose. "Well, they said they'd have to do some tests. But Poppy didn't seem to think it was an Obliviate. He lost his memories gradually. But why everything but his name, that he's a wizard, and about Hogwarts?"

"A very specific spell, perhaps," she said thoughtfully. "Are you aware of any potion that could be so discriminating?"

"I can't think of any off hand. But that's a good idea. I'll research it."

"But not tonight, Draco. May I suggest you get some sleep?"

"I don't think I can, Minerva."

"Then take a potion. I insist."

She didn't say it to be polite. He knew she meant it as an order. He stood and took his leave of her and made the long walk back to the tower rooms.

He walked inside and suddenly it felt so empty. There were plenty of times when Harry was working late elsewhere in the castle, but tonight, because Draco knew he wouldn't be on the premises, it felt particularly lonely. He stood in the centre of the room, staring at the glowing coals in the hearth and waved a hand at it. "Incendiare!" The coals whooshed with a burst of flames. Something needed to warm the cold, empty rooms.

He glanced at the kitchen and stalked toward the bottle of firewhiskey he knew was there. She did tell him to take a potion and this one was as good as any. He grabbed it, yanked out the cork, and didn't bother with a glass. He stumbled toward the settee and sat and drank for a bit until he felt too uncomfortable there alone. The desk with its parchments and quills called to him and he sat down to compose a letter to Ron and Hermione. Without even thinking about it, he automatically apparated in the Owlry and gave the letter to his eagle owl. The large bird opened its wings and flapped out of the tower. Draco watched it go. It disappeared quickly in the dark. One of the owls squealed at him and he turned, seeing Hedwig. He went over to her and stroked the downy feathers of her chest. She nibbled at his finger. "Sorry, girl. He's not here. Don't worry. He'll come back to us soon."

Draco hoped with all his heart that this would be so.

* * *

Draco rose very early. Two messages were awaiting him. One was from McGonagall excusing him from his classes and the second was from the Weasleys saying they would meet him at St. Mungo's.

Draco wasted no time Apparating there, and paced outside the head Healer's office. When the man finally arrived he paled upon seeing Draco. Draco rushed him and grabbed his robe. "Well?"

"Please, Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco looked down at his clutching hands and released him. "Sorry. How is he?"

"He is much the same, Mr. Malfoy," he said, skirting him. "He has not forgotten anything else. But he is no better."

"Well, do you know why this happened?"

"A curse of some kind, but we are not certain as to the specifics."

"Not a potion?"

"We are fairly certain that it was not a potion."

"'Fairly certain'?" He was aware that his voice had raised an octave but there wasn't much he could do about it.

The wizard positioned himself safely behind his desk. His hand curled around his wand which he kept close to his chest. "Let us say that we would be incredibly surprised if it turned out to be a potion."

Draco panted. Not a potion. But a potion might cure. "What is your advice then? What's the next step?"

The wizard backed even further from Draco and shook his head. "I have little advice to offer at the moment. If we only knew the nature of this curse, we might be able to understand its components and reverse it, but since we have not seen anything similar to this before, there seems little we can do."

"Wait a minute. Are you saying that this is it? You can't help?"

"At the moment, Mr. Malfoy, we are at a loss."

"What are you planning to do? Will he be able to recover his memory?"

"As I was saying, Mr. Malfoy, we do not have a course of action. And as far as we can tell, the memory loss does appear to be…well, permanent. I'm sorry."

"You're telling me that the savior of the Wizarding world has permanently lost not only his memory BUT ALL HIS KNOWLEDGE OF SPELLS AND CHARMS? IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE TELLING ME?"

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, hands raised in appeasement. "Please understand-"

"Understand? Understand? You're JOKING!"

The room began to tremble. Books slid from their shelves. The Healer looked around the room nervously. "We can only do so much, Mr. Malfoy. Be glad that the damage went only so far. He still knows who he is."

"A lot of good that does him!"

"And he does not seem too distressed. Usually curses such as this cause a great deal of confusion and dislocation. This most certainly causes anxiety in most patients. Mr. Potter does not appear to be under any undue stress."

"Oh that's fine! I'm so glad to hear it!"

With a loud crack, the desk snapped and split in two. The Healer jumped back. "Mr. Malfoy!"

The door burst open and Draco was swallowed up in an embrace and a cloud of bushy brown hair. Someone else was clutching his shoulder in comfort. The room stopped trembling and settled down. Draco allowed Hermione to hold him. The feeling was of some comfort at any rate.

"So what's going on here?" said Ron sternly. He eyed the Healer now cowering in the corner.

"You're…you're Ron Weasley," he said, voice cracking.

"How. Is. Harry?" he demanded impatiently.

"He can't do anything for him," said Draco. The anger and fear that seemed to propel him earlier had sucked all his strength away. He slumped against Hermione. She clutched his arm and helped him to a chair. Draco sunk into it gratefully. "He's lost his memory. He doesn't remember anything but his own name."

Hermione crouched next to him. "He doesn't remember-" The impact of the thing reached her face and her eyes glistened with tears. "Oh Draco. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right, mate," said Ron. Draco had never seen him so in charge before. So this is what Harry had seen in Weasley all those years ago. "We'll get to the bottom of this and fix it. Let's go see him."

Draco nodded and stood. He glanced sheepishly as the Healer still cringing in the corner of his office and at the damage he had caused to his broken desk. Draco waved his wand and the desk cleaved back together. "Sorry about that." He blinked at the repaired desk, and then followed Ron and Hermione out the door. A witch led them down a corridor to a private room and they pushed open the door. Harry was sitting up in a chair not looking at anything in particular. He looked perfectly normal. He smiled on seeing Draco and then his smile faded when he noticed Ron and Hermione. He stood.

"Harry," said Draco. "Look who's come. It's Ron and Hermione Weasley. Do you recognize them?"

Harry didn't have to think about it. "No, sorry. Nice to meet you, though," and he stuck out his hand for each of them to shake.

Hermione and Ron took turns shaking Harry's hand. "We're going back to Hogwarts now and we'll work out how to get your memory back," Draco continued stiffly.

Harry grinned. "Oh that's awfully nice of you. I can't think why you'd be so caring. You must be my best mate."

"Yeah. Something like that."

They walked quietly to the atrium where there was a large fireplace for them to floo. Draco was certain McGonagall's office floo would be open to them. Hermione held Draco back as Ron helped Harry toward the fireplace. She whispered a quick, "Didn't you tell him?"

A hard knot formed in his stomach. "No. How could I?"

"You'll have to tell him, Draco."

"And what good would that do?"

"Well for one, you are legally responsible for him. He'll have to know."

"Yeah," he conceded. "I guess so."

They entered the hearth one by one. Once the Weasleys had gone, Draco took hold of Harry's arm. He took a handful of floo powder and threw it down. "Hogwarts!"

They spun within the cool flames, jerked to a halt in McGonagall's hearth, and stepped out into her office. She stood with her hands folded over her green robes and ticked her head. "Minerva," said Draco. "Where is Dumbledore?"

"He is still away, I am afraid, and cannot be reached. Be assured, Draco, that I will inform him the moment I can."

Harry looked at her curiously. "Oh," said Draco. "Harry, this is Minerva McGonagall, the deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor house. You…remember Gryffindor, don't you?"

"Oh yes. I'm a Gryffindor. But I'm afraid I don't remember you, ma'am. Sorry." He shook her hand. "Everyone has such strange names here," he whispered to Draco. At least Draco consoled himself with the fact that Harry seemed to feel most comfortable with him.

Draco, Ron, and Hermione walked back to their apartments with Harry and they sat together in the DADA study. "And you say Harry started acting peculiar the night before," said Hermione, her forehead wrinkled in thought.

"Yeah. Saturday night, really. He seemed a little vague on things."

"So it follows that something happened Saturday. Were there any unusual visitors that day?"

"No one, as far as I know."

"Was Harry doing anything unusual?"

Draco jumped to his feet. "I've already racked my brain, Hermione! I can't think of anything unusual or different that may have happened! I just can't think of anything!"

She rose and patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Draco. We will get to the bottom of it. We'll stay until we do."

"What do you mean? You two have your own lives and jobs."

Ron stood up and met Draco across the room. "The Ministry has standing orders that if Harry needs us, we go. No questions asked."

Shocked, Draco stared at the both of them.

Hermione shrugged. "Those are the perks when you have an Order of Merlin, first class." Draco knew all three of them had one. Well deserved, he admitted. "And that goes for you, too," Hermione added softly. "If you're in trouble, we go."

"Part of the family now, mate," said Ron with a weak smile.

Draco's heart thumped in his chest. He had no idea. These three were certainly closer than he ever imagined. And now he was included. He didn't know if he was more flattered or appalled by it.

"Well," said Hermione, a determined look stiffening her features. "I think I'll go to the library and do a little research."

"And I'll do a little asking around," said Ron.

"What about me?" said Draco, a little at a loss at being left alone now that they were determined to help.

Hermione looked over at Harry who was peacefully gazing out the window. She lowered her voice. "You should stay with him. Maybe start teaching him some spells."

"Yeah. That…that's a good idea." Something to do. That's what Draco needed. He watched the Weasleys go with regret and then pivoted, looking at Harry.

He was glad that Harry seemed unconcerned at his memory loss but this in itself was a little disturbing. What else had he lost in the process?

"Harry," said Draco, approaching him.

Harry perked up and looked at Draco. "Hi. I see the others have gone."

"Yes. I thought that maybe you'd like to learn a few spells. You've got a lot of catching up to do to relearn your magic."

"Am I a student here?"

"Actually…you're a teacher."

"Really? Brilliant! What do I teach?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Something flickered across Harry's face and Draco moved closer. "Does that…do you remember anything?"

"Just…someone. A face. Someone with a turban."

A turban? Draco couldn't remember anyone-but wait. "Quirrell?"

Harry seemed to turn that name over in his mind but then slowly shook his head. "I don't remember a name. Just a feeling. An…evil feeling. Can that be right?"

"Yeah. That's very right. But best not think about that right now." It couldn't possibly be. Voldemort was dead. He was really dead. Draco had seen him die with his own eyes. There couldn't possibly be a way for him to reach from the grave to harm Harry now, could there? With no soul left, Voldemort didn't even exist anymore.

Did he?


On to Chapter Four
"Process"

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"Artifacts"

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