"You will stay right where you are, young man," Poppy Pomfrey stated as she waved her wand to check to make sure he was uninjured from his flight. Seeing he was fine, she went back to the Headmaster, to make sure his injuries were healing.
"Why should I?" he demanded as he watched her walk away, and if he could've moved his arms, he would've folded them. Just who the fuck did these people think they were tying him down like a criminal. When he got out of here there was no way he was coming back.
"Well," Hermione started as she sat on the foot of his bed, making him want to kick her off for sticking him to it, "for one, you're safe here. Two, you get three meals a day, a bed to sleep in and it's already paid for. Three, you have to stay and compete in the tournament or you will lose your magic," she finished counting each on her fingers, hoping he would listen to reason. If he had been living on the streets these things should appeal to him. She felt bad for immobilizing him, but he needed to be here where people could protect him. She shuttered at the thought that a Death Eater could have found him when he was gone.
"That is the third time someone has mention this tournament," Harry said, trying to get his hands free. Maybe if he could get them talking he could break free like he had before. "What is it and why do I have to compete? I don't give a rat's ass about 'magic'," he finished, causing the three women to look at one another. That's not good.
"The Tri-wizard Tournament is a competition between the three most premier magic schools in Europe. The Goblet of Fire picks a champion from each school. This year there was an age limit of seventeen, but for some reason, four people were picked and you were one of them," Hermione hurriedly explained.
"Did I do something as stupid as enter myself?" he asked, trying to call up his telekinetic powers to break the bonds holding his arms. So far they only seemed to work when he was threatened in some way, but right now they were silent.
"I don't believe so. I saw your face when your name was called, you were completely shocked. I think that might be one of the reasons you've lost your memories," she said thoughtfully. "Though retrograde amnesia is usually caused by a blow to the head," she said, looking at the nurse, who was fussing over Dumbledore.
"I don't believe that was the cause," the nurse said, "but that is all I can divulge. Patient confidentiality," she stated firmly and went back to tending Albus, who was starting to come around.
Hermione nodded at that and gave a confused look to her friend, and asked, "What do you remember?"
"I remember waking up in a cold alley, then the week on the streets of London. People talking about wizards and magic, there was even mention of goblins," he said, closing his eyes trying to see if he could get past that wall, and then he let out a frustrated sigh when that was all he could recall.
"Wait, did you not tell me that you remembered a 'creepy man' yelling at you and making you run away?" the Transfiguration Teacher asked, looking startled.
Harry shrugged, "If I did, I don't remember it now," he said, then worried that his loss of memory was getting worse.
"Poppy, did you leave Severus alone with Mr. Potter at any time?" the old woman asked, looking at the nurse.
"Only for a second, surely not long enough to do any damage," Pomfrey replied.
"You mean someone else messed with my mind? Just what kind of fucked up school are you running here?" Harry yelled and started his struggles anew.
"Language," came the reprimand of three female voices.
"Fuck you," the trapped boy snarled.
"Harry, calm down, we don't know for sure if anyone took that memory or if it's part of your… condition," Hermione said, knowing full well amnesia didn't work that way.
"I'll bloody well calm down when people stop messing with my mind in the madhouse."
"Mr. Potter, where are your glasses and wand?" McGonagall inquired, hoping to quiet the boy down and change the subject until Albus could contribute.
He saw right through her ploy, but sagged on the bed and answered. "Well, my glasses got stolen three times. I couldn't really sit on them to prevent that. And if you mean the stick that was in my pockets, well, I threw it away, didn't I? I mean, how was I to know it was some sort of super tricorder," he said sheepishly, trying to remember which alley he threw it away in.
"Oh, Harry," the bushy-haired girl moaned as she put her head in her hands.
.....
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