A/N- Hello one and all! Remember this story? Well, this chapter is long overdue, and I can only apologise for the ridiculous wait and beg for your forgiveness and continued support. I'll admit, I got a little bit side-tracked by all my other stories (and there are a lot of them now!) and as a result, I sort of lost a lot of my enthusiasm for this story. I'm back now though, and hopefully with a chapter you'll all like. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise probably doesn't belong to me. Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. The song lyrics belong to the people who wrote them.

Chapter 23: Long Road to Recovery

Slip inside the eye of your mind.

Don't you know you might find,

A better place to play.

You said that you've never been,

But all the things that you've seen,

They slowly fade away.

'Don't Look Back In Anger', Oasis

It was the smell of bacon that eventually woke him.

With a heavy sigh, Remus rolled over in his bed and blinked rapidly, trying to brush away the fogginess of sleep. With everything that had been going on, Remus had gone to bed very late the night before, and even then it had taken a long time for him to finally drop off to sleep, his mind a whirling pool of anger after Harry's revelations had sunk in.

He was tired – exhausted really – and not just from lack of sleep. Remus was tired of it all.

He rubbed a hand across his face, but it did little to stop the anger from coming. Harry had been tortured at Hogwarts, and they had all missed it. He had been abused, repeatedly and consistently, in the castle in which so many people – himself included – had found acceptance and safety.

For Lupin, hearing about it last night from Harry himself- especially after everything else that had happened to the boy recently - had created a fury within him that was proving difficult to suppress.

Because of course, it wasn't simply the matter of the scar on Harry's hand. The simple truth was that Harry had suffered in his short life, much more than he should have. And the thing that was affecting Lupin more than the fact Harry had suffered – more than anything else in the world - was the undeniable fact that no one had done anything to stop it.

No one had saved him.

Harry, a young boy who had already lost his parents, had been left to handle everything alone; and that included not only the blood quill, but also the Dursleys, Voldemort, Fudge...

As Lupin lay in his bed, staring desolately up at the white, speckled ceiling of his temporary room, he couldn't help but think that the list was far too long for a sixteen year old boy. That it was far too long for anyone…

Harry had always been alone, and if Lupin was truthful with himself, he was angry not only with Harry's tormentors, but with himself as well. Because like everyone else, he had not been there for the boy either. He had arrived too late as well. In fact, until very recently, he hadn't even been there at all.

Blinking back tears of frustration, Lupin finally pulled himself wearily out of his bed and began to get dressed, his tired mind far less ready to face the day that he would have liked.

Once he was as ready as he was ever going to be, Lupin shook himself slightly, both physically and mentally, as he moved to his door. He felt a strange combination of weary and angry, but he had to be there for Harry now, because as much as he hated it, he knew that the suffering was not over for his charge. Harry was scared, overwhelmed and reluctant to trust them. Not only that, but if – no when Harry's memories returned, Remus had a feeling that Harry was going to have to re-live them.

Remus sighed again and ran a hand through his untidy hair. He didn't know a lot about Harry's life sadly, but he knew enough from Dumbledore to be certain that it would not be easy for the boy to experience.

Pushing his somewhat desolate ponderings aside, Lupin finally opened his bedroom door, his mind already running through the challenges that he had Harry would no doubt face today.

Before he could even move an inch down the stairs though, his sensitive nose was once again hit rather forcibly with the smell of bacon - salty, greasy and mouth-watering to his Werewolf senses.

It confused him for a moment, his busy mind taking a while to catch up with his senses. Then he remembered that it was the smell of bacon that had woken him up in the first place, and he began to get a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It couldn't be…

Almost on auto-pilot, Lupin walked quietly down the stairs, keeping a careful hand on the wand he kept in his pocket despite Moody's warnings about the many terrible consequences of such a lax practice. The hum of magic reassured him, and it was with slightly more confidence that he finally made his way into the small kitchen of Shell Cottage, his nose instinctively following the wonderful smell of breakfast until his eyes caught sight of the source.

Harry was standing with his back to Lupin, dressed in jeans and a simple t-shirt, and diligently attending to the greasy bacon in the frying pan. The young boy showed no signs of his recent torture, moving easily around the small room as he searched unfamiliar cupboards for various pots and pans, vaguely whistling a tune whilst he did so.

Still a little dazed, Lupin glanced down at his watch. It was only six thirty in the morning. Most teenagers wouldn't rise until the afternoon at the earliest, taking as long as they could to laze about and do as they wished. It was almost unheard of for a teenager to be up at the crack of dawn, and for Harry to be cooking breakfast of all things…

But of course, Lupin reminded himself, Harry wasn't a teenager anymore. Yes, his body was one of sixteen year old, but Harry's mind, the part that truly mattered, was currently stuck at ten years old. He was a child.

Which was even stranger when he thought about it. It was really, really strange…

Walking quietly over the set table, Lupin cleared his throat loudly, hoping not to startle Harry who had not yet noticed his presence. The boy jumped though, nearly dropping the bacon as he transferred it to two plates to join what looked like perfectly cooked eggs. He spun his head around so fast that Lupin was sure that he would do himself an injury, but he seemed to suffer no pain, and instead embarrassment clouded his expression as he realised who had startled him in the first place.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled as he turned back to attend to the sausages still sizzling in the pan.

Remus paused, his thoughts blank as he stared at the boy as he continued to make breakfast with a swiftness that suggested that it was not his first time. But how in Merlin's name could he remember? Surely, he hadn't been cooking as young as ten…?

"Harry," began Lupin carefully. "What are you doing?"

Harry merely looked at Lupin as if he was being stupid, although there wasn't any malice or accusation in his expression. In fact, he seemed almost...nervous. Lupin could feel the tension practically leaking from the boy.

"I'm cooking breakfast," he muttered.

"I can see that," Lupin said patiently. "Why?"

"Why not?" Harry shrugged, his expression wary as he served the two plates and sat himself at the table. Lupin noticed that there was considerably less food on Harry's plate than on his own.

In all honesty, Lupin didn't have an answer quite as to why Harry shouldn't be making breakfast, since he was obviously quite adept at the skill, but a small tendril of apprehension began to rise in him.

Out of the corner of his eye though, Lupin noticed Harry giving him another wary look, and so instead of obsessing over what undeniably felt wrong, he sat down with a smile on his face, desperate to put the boy at ease. Keeping the smile fixed, Lupin picked up a fork and spooned some eggs into his mouth. His first instincts had been right; they were cooked to perfection.

"When did you learn to cook?" Lupin asked curiously. Harry seemed pleased to see him enjoying the food, so much so that he had yet to take his own bite.

"My Aunt taught me," Harry said with another shrug, his eyes fixed firmly on his food as he expertly avoided the question. Lupin had spent enough time around James, though, to not be fooled quite that easily. It was eerie how similar the two were sometimes.

"When?" Lupin repeated, although he made sure that his tone was still kind.

Harry simply shrugged again, his mouth firmly sealed, and returned his attention to his food as he finally began to start eating.

Awkwardness followed, and the silence in the room soon became oppressive, only broken up by the clattering of their cutlery against their plates as the pair continued to eat. Lupin was a patient man though, and he would not force Harry to talk if he didn't want to. He had been hoping to build up a rapport with Harry, much like he had been able to establish before Fudge had become involved, but he knew he couldn't rush it. Harry had to set the pace.

It was difficult though, that much was clear to Lupin. Something was clearly bothering the boy. He was quiet, uncertain and despondent. Hating himself, but knowing it wasn't Harry's fault that he didn't feel comfortable around him yet, Lupin swallowed deeply and reluctantly pushed away his previous enquires. For now at least.

Clearing his throat slightly, Lupin spoke, his voice uncertain as he looked over to his young charge.

"So," he began, changing the subject. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Fine," Harry answered quietly, his gaze never leaving the plate of mostly uneaten food. Lupin didn't need to look Harry in the eyes to know that he was lying.

"Harry…"

"I…er…I had some weird dreams," Harry told him after a moment's hesitation, his eyes fixed downwards. "About trolls, and dragons, and strange mermaid things. There was even a three-headed dog…"

"Oh," Lupin said with a deep frown. "Well that certainly is unusual. Did you –?"

"I…er…I don't really want to talk about it anymore," Harry interrupted, finally lifting his gaze. "Please. I don't even know why I mentioned it. I just…they were weird dreams, that's all."

"Okay," Lupin replied with a nod. He had a feeling he wouldn't get anywhere by pushing it at the moment. "That's…okay. Look, we can talk later, when you're ready."

Harry shot him a look that said he'd never be ready but he still managed to mutter a short yet sincere, "Thank you."

"And you feel okay?" Lupin continued awkwardly after a few moments. He really didn't want to press the boy in such a fragile state, but he had to know that at least.

"I'm fine," Harry said, as he put down his fork. "Can I go?"

Harry pulled himself up out of the chair without waiting for a response, his body tense and nervous, looking for all the world like he would flee at the first sign of pressure. Lupin's instincts were screaming at him to let Harry go, and he'd long ago learned to trust them.

Lupin managed to muster up a smile. "Of course you can, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry replied, immediately turning to the door.

"Oh, and Harry?" Lupin began, catching Harry just before he left.

"Yes?" Harry asked warily.

"Professor Dumbledore will be calling round later on," Remus told him quietly, causing Harry to pause in the doorway. "He'll want to speak with you, if you're up to it."

Harry turned around, brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

This time it was Lupin's turn to be confused. "Because he cares about you, Harry. We all do."

"Oh."

The silence between them became more awkward and considerably more oppressive, so Lupin decided to put them both out of their misery.

"I'll call you when he arrives," he said quietly, gesturing to the doorway again. "If you still want to go up to your room for a bit, that is."

"Okay," Harry replied, clearly grateful for the opportunity to escape. "Thanks."

"It's fine, Harry," Lupin said sadly. "You're not a prisoner here. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

That earned him a small smile from the boy, and Lupin's heart lifted slightly, even as Harry fled from the room. As soon as he was alone, however, Lupin felt the worry begin to creep back in.

As of yet, there had been no change in Harry's condition, and truthfully, it terrified Lupin. The only thing that was helping him keep a level head at all was that he was not the only one worried about Harry. He wasn't even the most worried. That particular honour fell to Albus.

As long as Albus was still trying to find a solution, Lupin could handle it.

Lupin had witnessed Albus do incredible things; things no one else on the face of the earth would be able to achieve. If anyone could fix this, Albus could.

Albus would know what to do.

Albus didn't know what to do.

Albus sighed as he stood outside the front door of the cottage, the sea breeze rustling through his beard as he took time to pause and gather his scattered thoughts.

He knew that Remus was expecting him to turn up at the cottage with a solution to their problem well in hand. The trouble was, Albus Dumbledore, great 'Protector of the Light', had nothing. Not even one iota of an idea that would come close to helping Harry in his current state.

He and Madame Pomfrey had been working around the clock to find a cure for the memory loss, but every avenue they tried seemed to turn into a dead end. They had worked their way through every possible scenario, every potion and spell known to mankind, and yet still they had not yet come up with anything that could reverse the damage done to Harry's mind.

Obviously Dumbledore had no intention of ending his efforts, but it certainly wouldn't be an easy task. In fact, he had a rather unpleasant feeling that they would all be relying on the resilience of a young, scared, teenage boy. Of course, with any normal boy, that would be an impossible task altogether, but with Harry…

Dumbledore shook himself as he finally raised an aged hand to knock on the front door, unable to delay his arrival any longer. Like Harry, he couldn't give up, no matter how difficult the task at hand. He wouldn't give up…

"Professor!" exclaimed Lupin as he gestured for the Headmaster to enter the cottage. "You're early."

"Am I?" Dumbledore replied with a benign smile. "I hadn't realised. I do hope I'm not intruding…"

"Harry's in his room," Lupin replied, his voice low and tinged with no small amount of concern. The other man looked tired, worn out by it all. Dumbledore felt his concern grow greater still with each second that passed. "He…we had a rather difficult night last night."

"I'll make us some fresh tea then, shall I?" Dumbledore said, his own concern rising once again. "And then you can tell me all about it."

As he followed Lupin into the small kitchen, Dumbledore tried not to let his own apprehension show. The upcoming recovery would not be an easy road for Harry to travel, that much was clear. The only comfort Dumbledore had – and it was a comfort he was practically clinging to at present – was that Harry, no matter what happened, would not have to travel that road alone.

No matter what happened now, Harry would never have to be alone again.

Harry picked nervously at a loose thread on his jeans as he perched down on the bottom stair, trying to strain his ears as much as he could without actually moving closer to the kitchen. He didn't exactly want to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help himself.

When he'd heard the Headmaster arrive, Harry had seen it as the perfect opportunity to finally get some information. Even now he felt a little guilty for going behind Remus' back, but even though he liked the kind, patient man, he couldn't help but sense that he was keeping something from him. And Harry had long ago learned to trust his instincts…

Which was precisely why he was now sat at the bottom of the stairs, straining his ears to try and listen to the conversation going on in the kitchen between Dumbledore and Remus. A conversation almost solely centred around him…

"I'm worried about him, Headmaster…" he heard Lupin say, his voice a little muffled, but still clear enough for Harry to make out every word.

"As am I," Dumbledore replied gravely. "The dreams he's been having…you know what they mean, of course?"

Harry's ears pricked up.

"Yes," Lupin replied. "His memories. They're starting to come back."

Memories? Memories of dragons and three-headed dogs…? Harry shook his head. They couldn't be memories; they were only dreams, weren't they…?

"The memories are not coming back in their entirety though, I suspect," Dumbledore continued, and Harry turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. "I imagine Harry didn't understand them?"

"Not at all," Lupin confirmed. "He believed them to be dreams, nothing more."

"Ah."

"Perhaps that's for the best though," Lupin mused quietly. "Surely it would be too much for him to take all at once. It would be enough to drive anyone mad with it all…"

"Alas, as troubling as these memories are, believing them to be dreams will not make them any less real," Dumbledore said, "I fear keeping Harry in the dark in this regard may do more harm than good in the long run."

Lupin sighed. "I suppose so."

"And this scar…" Dumbledore continued, masterfully changing the subject. "On his hand. You say it spelled out the words "I shall not tell lies"?"

"Yes, it did," confirmed Lupin. Harry turned his hand over and stared at the words in question, brow furrowed. Unlike Remus' reaction the day before, Dumbledore didn't seem all that surprised.

"Did Harry say anything about it?"

"He didn't know how he'd got it," Lupin replied, and Harry could hear the sadness in his voice even if he couldn't see it. "He was a little upset about that."

"Quite understandable," Dumbledore replied.

"Have you gotten any closer to finding a solution to Harry's memory loss?" Lupin asked, and Harry sat up straighter, straining his ears even more.

"Nothing conclusive," Dumbledore replied vaguely. "A few ideas, here and there. Nothing more."

"Oh."

"There is one thing I would like to try today," Dumbledore continued. "If Harry is agreeable, of course."

"Shall I go and get him then, Headmaster?" Remus asked quietly, and Harry could hear him stand up from the kitchen table.

"I do not believe that will be necessary, Remus," Dumbledore said. Harry felt a strange sense of foreboding…

"Albus…?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Harry, would you be so kind as to join us in the kitchen?"

Harry's face flushed, but he knew there wouldn't be any point in running back up the stairs. Clearly the Headmaster was a powerful wizard. Harry got the impression that there wasn't much that ever slipped past the old man's notice.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered as he dutifully opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. His cheeks still felt warm, but he was reassured by the fact that neither Lupin nor Dumbledore seemed to be angry with him. Just confused.

"Harry?" Lupin asked. "Did you need something? You could have called me…"

"No," Harry mumbled guiltily. "I…heard the Headmaster arrive and I…well…"

"Well, naturally you wanted to know what was going on," Dumbledore continued with a knowing look.

Harry sighed, and decided that honesty was probably the best policy. "Yes."

"Although I can understand your reasoning," Dumbledore continued, looking at Harry from the top of his half-moon glasses, "I can't, I'm afraid, condone your methods. Perhaps next time, instead of sitting on the bottom stair and eavesdropping, you might consider simply asking to join us. You may be surprised at the response you get."

Harry frowned, and tried to control his reddening cheeks. He didn't remember anything about the Headmaster before he'd woke up in the Hospital wing, but he had a feeling that his 'older' self hadn't got much past the old man either….

"You knew I was there the entire time, didn't you sir?" Harry asked shrewdly, more than a little impressed at the old Headmaster.

"Does anyone ever really know anything, Harry?" Dumbledore replied serenely. "Now, would you like to join us? I have no objections if Remus here doesn't."

"It's fine with me," Remus replied, still looking a little confused.

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "I…okay."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Excellent. So, first item on the agenda…"

Harry swallowed nervously, unable to shake the feeling that he had stepped out of the fire and straight into a boring school board meeting. What on earth had he got himself into…?

"…Harry?"

"Hmm?" Harry shook himself a little, determined to stop his mind from wandering anymore. "I'm sorry, I missed that…"

"Magic, my dear boy," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "Firstly, we must discuss magic."

A small thrill of excitement shot through Harry at that; maybe this 'meeting' wouldn't be so boring after all…

"What about it?" Harry asked, trying to temper the excitement slightly.

"You may have lost some of your most recent memories, Harry," Dumbledore replied, looking a little sad. "But magic is intrinsic. It is within you, even now, and I'm afraid that incidents can occur in a growing child if that magic is not exercised properly."

"Do you ever remember anything strange happening to you as a child, Harry?" asked Lupin softly, taking over. "Anything that set you apart from the other children your age? Anything that you couldn't explain…?"

"Yes," Harry muttered, deliberately choosing not to expand on that thought. Lupin seemed confused, but Dumbledore just looked at him sadly once again. That gave Harry pause. What exactly did the Headmaster know…?

"Well, that was your magic," Lupin continued, oblivious to Harry internal musings. "The older a Witch or Wizard gets, the greater the frequency and ferocity of their accidental magic. That's the main reason why we offer a school place to every young witch and wizard in the country."

"Most Wizarding families," continued Dumbledore, "Home-school their children up until the age of ten, but after that point it is considered safer for the growing Witch or Wizard to be given the opportunity to channel that boundless and growing magical energy in a safe and rather more isolated environment."

"Oh," Harry said, not sure what he was supposed to say. Apparently though, neither Dumbledore nor Lupin seemed to be expecting a verbal response at all.

"Hogwarts is a sanctuary to all that need it," Dumbledore continued, smiling at Harry in a way that filled him with an unrecognisable but undoubtedly reassuring warmth. "Forgive me, but even in this state Harry, you are no exception."

"But we're not at Hogwarts," Harry pointed out quietly, glancing around the old cottage.

"I rather thought you'd prefer the peace and quiet for a bit," Dumbledore replied, and after a moment, Harry nodded in reluctant agreement. Dumbledore smiled widely. "Hogwarts will be waiting for you when you're ready, I can assure you. And until then, we will simply have to make do with a brief – and yet hopefully rewarding - introduction to magic itself."

"Here Harry," Remus said, holding out his hand.

Harry stared at him for a long moment, then he allowed his gaze to drop downwards. At the sight of the object that Remus was holding in his hand, Harry frowned.

Remus was holding a stick. It was smooth, clearly well-cared for, but a stick nonetheless.

But even as this thought hit his mind, Harry felt a tingling in his fingers. It started small, barely noticeable over the steady beat of his heart, but within seconds it began to grow, extending through his fingers and into his hands, his arms, slowly but surely travelling towards his chest; towards his heart. It was calling him. The stick – it was calling his name…

Before he knew it, Harry was lifting his own hand. He wanted to touch it, he needed to….

"It's yours, Harry," Dumbledore said softly when Harry hesitated slightly. "Take it."

Harry did, and immediately felt the warmth flood into his body. The feeling was so reassuring, so familiar, that even though Harry was certain he couldn't remember ever holding his wand before – and surely it must be his wand - it felt like he had come home.

"That feeling," explained Dumbledore, "That, Harry, is your magic. Remember that feeling. Allow it to fill you up."

Harry did, almost instinctively so. His ten-year old mind didn't really understand what was going on, but some part of him did. A part of him remembered this feeling, and was clinging to it now…

"Whenever you can, Harry," began Dumbledore, "I want you to remember that feeling. I believe – and I hope I am right – that it will be the key to unlocking all the memories that have been buried deep in your mind."

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, and for the first time, Harry felt the inexplicable urge to smile back. He stared down at the wand in his hand and marvelled at the world he now found himself in, at the life he was now leading. It was strange, obviously, and there was no doubt in Harry's mind that it was dangerous, even scary...

But maybe, just maybe, it was also a little bit wonderful.

"Magic has saved us all at one point or another, Harry," Dumbledore continued, his smile widening. "In this case, my dear boy, I believe it might even save you."

A/N – So how was it? I hesitate to even ask whether it was worth the wait, since it's been so unbelievably long since I last updated this story. In my (admittedly feeble) defence, I have continued to write, just not for this story. The upside of that though (if there is any upside) is that I really think my writing has improved since I last wrote for this story. Hopefully you agree?

Special thanks goes to Melindaleo (a wonderful writer in her own right – definitely check out her stories!), who gave me the gentle nudge I needed to get back into this story. Her help has been invaluable, and I appreciate it more than I can say!

I won't make any promises about when I'm going to post the next chapter, because I am notoriously bad at sticking to a pre-determined schedule. In spite of that though, I hope this chapter shows that I at least have no intention of abandoning this story! Please, if you've got a spare minute or two, let me know your thoughts on this chapter, and as always, thanks for reading!