Their gazes were making him feel increasingly uncomfortable at he sat in the cramped cluttered kitchen. He swallowed nervously as the thought that they probably expected something of him entered his head.
"Your house is really spectacular," he commented to the plump, rosy-cheeked woman who sat opposite him. She smiled kindly in return before her husband began to give him a detailed account of how it was constructed, including the magical properties it held. He guessed that the conversation was mostly to cover the awkwardness.
His eyes kept drifting to the man, who was roughly his own age, standing forlornly beside the shimmering kitchen sink. He had flaring red hair, fading freckles and eyes that told him that he was being surveyed suspiciously. From the introductions he had received earlier he remembered the man's name being Ron.
It seemed that even after four hours in this strange crooked house people were still undoubtedly unsure of him. He could not judge them for it as the feeling was mutual. Why he had agreed to come with Hermione to The Burrow, he still did not know. He had basically just given up his life as he had lived it, but then he reasoned that he technically was not sacrificing much. Nothing was tying him to that world anymore yet it seemed that he had many ties with this world.
"Would you like some tea dear?" the woman he had complimented asked with a pleasant warming smile.
"Actually I would really like to know exactly who you people are. I mean...do you all belong to the Order?" His question was met with a series of head nods. "And is that the extent of my relationship with you?"
"We were best mates in school," said the red-haired man instantly. "You, me and Hermione hung around at school. I also helped with the Horcruxes. As you know...this is my parent's house," he said indicating the man and woman he had already talked to. "You dated my sister for a year...luckily she isn't here now," he added when he saw Jonathon's eyes widen in horror. "I have five brothers but I think I was always closer to you," he admitted before retreating into silence.
"I was a friend of your parents and taught you for a year at Hogwarts. This is my wife Tonks," a tired looking man called Lupin said gesturing to a blue-haired woman with a heart shaped face. "I have a six year old son, Teddy. You're his godfather."
Jonathon didn't know what he felt at these words, shame or guilt for not being around but it was hardly his fault. In fact the idea was ridiculous; these were the people who had made the decision that would take him away from them. Anger once again seeped into his heart but he ignored it, knowing that it would get him nowhere. He was also astounded at the information that he was a godfather; no one in their right mind would allow him to take custody of a child in his current life.
The others introduced themselves as Aurors, whose occupation entailed hunting and catching Dark Wizards. Jonathon was interested to learn from Ron that he had at one point in his life wanted nothing more than to be an Auror.
He also noted how there was a stark contrast in the way these people treated him than Hermione Granger had. It was the fact that they referred to him as if he was Harry Potter, even without his memories, he was still a best mate, a friend's son, a godfather, and a surrogate son. Hermione had treated him as if he was Jonathon Smith, no longer her best friend; this made him feel as if she wasn't expecting anything from him which eased his anxiety slightly.
His eyes drifted across the many faces in front of him to lock with hers. She gave him tight smile which he couldn't read before helping Mrs. Weasley make tea. They conversed further into the night until it had reached nearly three o'clock in the morning and Jonathon glimpsed light outside the minuscule windows.
They talked about Hogwarts, where he learned Hermione Granger worked as a Professor and an imposing person he had met earlier, Minerva McGonagall worked as Headmistress. Ron seemed to warm to him and he retold many of the trials and tribulations they faced whilst attending Hogwarts.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion but Jonathon just accepted it all. Last week if someone had even mentioned monstrous trolls, giant spiders, enormous snakes, dragons or giants he would have just laughed them off but now he found it easy to hear of these mythical creatures and believe it. He had witnessed many counts of magic since it had been revealed he was once a wizard and the familiarity it conjured within him also eased the astonishment.
The atmosphere in the small kitchen became friendly and comforting as the discomfort drifted away. Jonathon found himself almost instantly liking all the characters he had met. Their peculiar clothing may have indicated that they were a bit strange, odd even, but he found warmth between these people he had never encountered himself before.
Where he had lived and where he had worked was always among dodgy crooks, criminals, and hostile people but now he found himself faced with a supportive group of people. He knew he needed more time to get his head around the whole ordeal but knew time would sort itself out as usual.
"When will we able to do this...er...memory thing?" he asked apprehensively. McGonagall had gone through the entire procedure with him but had not yet told him when it would be.
"Maybe a week or it could be tomorrow. Nobody can be sure. We'll have to do some digging to find more knowledge on the subject," growled Moody, his electric blue eye zooming frenetically around the room. "There is a lot of preparation involved and we have to ensure your safety."
After Jonathon gave a particularly loud yawn Molly encouraged the idea that they should go to bed. "You'll sleep in Ron's old room H...er...Jonathon," she corrected. There was an awkward silence which was broken by Ron who decided to show him up to his old room considering he had no idea where to go.
"Goodnight," he commented clearly following Ron to the zigzagging staircase. They all bade him goodnight in return as he climbed the staircase passing by three floors before he found himself in a compact room, with a sloping ceiling and misshapen double bed that took up much of the space offered.
"This bedroom used to be bright orange, believe me you'll prefer it this way," Ron grinned while perching himself at the end of the bed. "Used to be a single bed, we had to keep taking out a camp bed when you came to stay but after awhile it was basically out all the time," he mused to himself. Another impenetrable silence descended between them, Jonathon remained in the tight doorway surveying the room further. Several times Ron attempted to break the silence until finally he got the courage to ask what he had been thinking all night.
"You seem to be very accepting of all this," he posed gesturing with an arm wave.
Jonathon took a few moments before answering. "I'm not leaving much behind. Don't misunderstand me, I am really pissed about what you guys did, but I don't know you guys. I feel like," he paused, trying to express himself correctly "life for the past six years has just been a stop-gap between Harry Potter losing his memory and then getting it back. It annoys me, infuriates me to be honest but...I still have to get my head around it."
"But you're technically just committing suicide..." Ron mused aloud, an expression of amazement on his features.
"I suppose being a murder suspect does funny things to you," Jonathon replied grinning. His grin faltered. "I don't have any other choice than to accept what is happening. If I lose it...If I rant and shout and hurt you people, where would I go? I don't know anyone willing to take me into their home, yet your parents don't know me and they're just letting me stay. Either you are all just nuts or Harry Potter is the kind of guy who you are willing to put up with Jonathon Smith, a wanted murderer, for."
"It's a bit of both," chuckled Ron before returning to his sober expression. "Did you really murder that police-man?"
"No, not directly anyway." Jonathon relayed exactly what had happened with the police-man. When he had finished he found Ron smiling at him.
"There are similarities between you and Harry. You're brave, you even being here is enough to indicate that."
"If I'm sleeping here, where will you be sleeping?" Jonathon asked looking for a shift in subject matter.
"Oh, I don't live here anymore. I live on the other side of the village with my girlfriend and daughter," Ron said, standing to his feet.
"Your daughter?" Jonathon asked before he could stop himself. He thought that it was a pretty young age to have a child; he could never picture himself with a family at only twenty three years of age.
"Yeah," Ron smiled wistfully. "Her name is Lara, she's only two. Her birthday was just the other night. Actually I better make way, Luna, my girlfriend, will be extremely worried...I hope," he added as an afterthought. He held out his hand and Jonathon shook it awkwardly but was grateful for the gesture.
"Night," he mumbled while Ron climbed down the staircase. When Ron's measured footsteps could no longer be heard, Jonathon moved into the centre of the room, his movements still unsure. His body was aching from tiredness and his mind, though running continually, was grinding to a halt. With the bed in eyesight sleep was beginning to overcome him.
He had no change of clothes so he just stripped down to his boxers and turned off the light. Sitting idly on the side of the bed, he let sleep enter every morsel of his body until he could no longer stay awake and clamoured under the sheet falling instantly asleep.
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"Do you want to stay the night Hermione?" asked Mrs. Weasley as she watched Shaklebolt's enormous figure disappear down the garden.
Hermione wandered over to the sink, wondering whether or not she should accept Molly's invitation. On one hand she could not wait to escape from the tense atmosphere but on the other she knew that Molly was filled with a maternal anxiety for Harry's well-being, something which Hermione knew her presence could alleviate.
"You can take Ginny's room, she's staying the night at Hogwarts with Neville," Arthur added with a pointed eyebrow lift. The cluttered kitchen was empty except for them. Lupin had been taken home by Tonks, Shaklebolt and Moody had apparated to the Ministry in an attempt to pull up anything they could find on the memory inducing programme accompanied by McGonagall.
"I suppose I better be heading as well," Ron interjected entering the room.
"What are you going to tell Luna?" Hermione inquired apprehensively. The next few weeks, perhaps months would be filled with painful confessions as secrets were revealed to loved ones. She knew how difficult it had been for Ron not to tell Luna the whole truth about Harry Potter, to keep such a huge secret from such an honest genuine person.
"Hmm...I really have no idea," Ron said pensively. "I suppose the truth would be the best option. She'd never tell anybody, not until we need her to anyway."
He hugged Hermione and his father, before giving his mother a kiss on the cheek and disappearing out the door, vanishing into the consuming darkness. With a quick flick of her wand the numerous coloured mugs surrounding the sink began to dry themselves. She leaned back against the scrubbed counter and gave an exhausted sigh. "So will you please accept our invitation to stay the night?"
"Yes...I think I should. I'm too tired to even try to Apparate or Floo," she yawned before adopting a serious expression. "What do we do tomorrow?"
Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure. I have to go to work, I'm afraid it will be just you and Molly here in the morning. The others will also have to show up to work, we don't want to create suspicion in the Ministry. Especially since Penwell's succeeded in becoming Minister of Magic. He's already introduced extremely strict measures into Ministry employment safety. You need to pass about four security checks to gain access to the elevators," he shook his head disappointedly.
Since Lord Voldemort's defeat the Ministry had been fragile and weak, with nearly three successive Ministers in six years. That was until six months ago when Ivan Penwell appeared on the scene. His conservative view of wizardry and hatred of Dark Wizards made him enormously popular with the majority of wizarding families but with others they were reminded of earlier failures, such as Bartimeus Crouch. Ron always said that Penwell reminded him of Percy during the war.
"I'm going up to grab a few hours." Molly followed suit soon later. By the time Hermione climbed up the stairs there was a faint light on the horizon. Ginny's room had not altered much since Hogwarts, the colours mainly pink and purple, the floorboards still creaked underfoot, the mirrored desk in one corner and stand alone wardrobe in the other. She removed her robes before crawling under the covers. It took her another few minutes before she finally drifted into her disturbing dreams.
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He stirred slightly before shooting up from the bed. It took a minute before he remembered everything that had occurred the day before. It felt like an age ago, as if everything that had happened had happened in another lifetime. He rubbed his face with both hands, cradling his head as it gave a dull throb, classic signs of a headache.
He felt apprehensive about going downstairs; entering a world he knew little of. Pulling on his clothes from the day before, he wished he had a change of underwear.
He felt relatively rested after sleeping just five hours. Taking a shuddering breath he opened the door and made his way down the zigzagging stairwell.
On entering the small kitchen he found it deserted. The sun was streaming through the tiny windows giving the tiny room
a heavenly glow. His thoughts were broken by a loud scuffling and squawking emanating through from the garden.
"Devilish chickens," grumbled Molly as she entered through the open doorway, pausing momentarily when she laid eyes on Jonathon.
"Oh, good morning dear. Did you sleep okay?" She seemed genuinely interested.
"Yeah, it was fine," he answered looking around nervously.
"I'll whip up some breakfast. Oh," she stopped in thought. "There are some clothes of Ron's upstairs in a closet on the second floor. He's much taller than you but I'm sure they'll fit you fine." She smiled expectantly and he gave her a nervous grin.
"Er…thanks." He wondered whether he should just go get changed now but wanted to talk to her first. "Mrs. Weasley…I…"
"Please call me Molly," she asked as she sent a frying pan zooming through the air to land on the stove which immediately heated up. Sausages and bacon followed the frying pan's course and the room was filled with the sound of sizzling.
"Molly…I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here," he said quickly. She turned her back on the stove to give him a sincere look.
"I have no idea what this must be like for you," she replied her voice warm and comforting. "But…don't ever doubt that you won't be welcome in my home…"
"You might not get Harry back, I could be Jonathon with Harry's memories," he felt a need to make her understand while his eyesight continually shifted towards the magical frying pan.
She gave a watery smile, strode over to stand in front him, placed both her hands on his and said. "Jonathon is welcome in my heart just as Harry always was." She wrapped her arms around him for a few moments before moving back over to the crackling stove. "I'm afraid you can't go anywhere for the next few days. Even though you look quite different…" she examined him over her shoulder for an instant "you still might be recognised."
They talked whilst she cooked, she told him some more minor details about Harry, and soon enough Jonathon was beginning to have a good idea of the kind of character Harry Potter was. It was Mrs. Weasley who informed him of the first time she met him, which led to Jonathon learning of the Dursleys.
"So I actually grew up in the 'muggle' world," he said, tentatively using the term hoping it was the correct context.
"Yes, I suppose so. Though you didn't really grow up until you were about fifteen," she responded playfully. "This is nearly done," she continued indicating the breakfast. "Why don't you go freshen up? We won't eat until Hermione comes down, I'm sure she won't be long."
"She stayed the night?" he questioned with raised eyebrows, surprised. "I thought she lived at Hogwarts."
"Yes but I was uneasy about being alone in the house with you," she confessed with a smile. Jonathon chuckled before heading up the stairs in search of the clothes Molly had directed him to. After finding them he went in search of the bathroom discovering it on the first floor. The jeans were worn and slightly too long while the shirt was far too big, but they were much better than the clammy grimy clothes he had worn through the chaos of yesterday. On his way out of the bathroom he bumped into Hermione Granger.
She looked at him startled and he guessed she had only dragged herself out of bed.
"Sorry," she said, becoming aware that she was clothed only in a shirt, thankfully one of her longer ones.
He battled with himself but failed in trying to stop his eyes drifting to her bare legs. After a pointed cough his eyes returned to her bemused ones. "No, it was my mistake...erm...I...Molly," he gestured towards the staircase "she...er...breakfast is ready," he finally managed to choke out. He nodded his head fiercely as if convincing himself that he had covered the situation.
"It's alright," she responded not making eye contact. She brushed past him on her hurried way into the bathroom and he again sensed familiarity stir in the pit of his stomach.
The door crashing shut behind him brought him back to reality.
Breakfast passed by uneventfully but still Jonathon learned more about Harry Potter.
"Harry saved you from a troll," he repeated astonished. "When he was eleven years old."
"Yeah, pretty much. He had help from Ron of course," Hermione grinned. "That was more or less when we actually became friends."
They were clearing the table away for Mrs. Weasley, who had been called to a meeting of The Order of The Phoenix which Hermione had declined for obvious reasons. "I'll just tell them that I had Hogwarts business. Anyway the recent attacks across Britain will be the main agenda. Ron will fill me in when he gets here later."
"Well that's pretty much the whole story, isn't it?"
Hermione twisted around to see him. "What do you mean?"
"The tale of Harry Potter. The Dursleys, Hogwarts, the War and the End." His voice was low almost indistinct against the chirping birds outside.
"Harry was always much more than what the press and the history books said about him." The firmness in her voice was assuring.
"You're the only one who truly understands that I'm not Harry Potter," he said. A vacuum of silence descended between them. They stared wordlessly across the kitchen table until Jonathon's gaze turned to the open window. A tawny owl swooped down and perched itself on the chipped windowsill.
Jonathon looked at Hermione expectantly.
"Wizards use owls to stay in contact," she responded whilst removing the envelope from the owl's spindly leg. Her eyes scanned its contents and she noiselessly scribbled a reply on the other side of the parchment retying it to the owl. It flapped around before soaring out through the doorway.
"Who was that from?" There was a pool of dread forming in his stomach.
"The Order." She replied slowly. "They believe they have all the information concerning the memory inducing programme."
"How long do I have left?"
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