The mood around the table was strained and falsely chipper. Harry realized the Weasleys were trying hard for his sake, but they were fading fast. He wished they wouldn't bother. Without recalling the importance of the name, he could at least appreciate the weight of losing a loved one.

"Thank you," he told Molly after she handed him a steaming cup of tea. He assured her he could add his own sugar.

Molly looked relieved as she moved away and quietly removed a wrinkled and damp handkerchief from the hem of her sleeve to dab her red-rimmed eyes.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley spoke. "We believe there are options, methods we can try to retrieve your memory. We will begin experimenting as soon as possible to see what comes of it. In the meantime, we'll do what we can to help you remember. Everyone think of items or perhaps places we could reintroduce to Harry in order to jog his memory. Hogsmeade, King's Cross—"

"Diagon Alley," Ron suggested.

"The Shrieking Shack," Hermione input while reaching in her magnificent bag to withdraw a feather quill and a blank scrap of parchment. Digging for ink, she then began creating a list based off the suggestions from around the table.

"Yes," Arthur nodded at each one. "I think they all may help. Your experiences involving these places influenced a great deal of who you are as a wizard, Harry."

"Like wear I grew up?" he asked.

The table fell into uncomfortable silence. Everyone exchanged awkward glances and avoided his eye. Harry's tone was unmistakable. It was obvious he had overhead their previous conversation regarding his extended family.

"Who are they, these Muggles? Who did I live with after my parents were killed? Tell me," he insisted when no one offered to explain.

Hermione cleared her throat. "You're mother's sister, Petunia, her husband, Vernon, and your cousin, Dudley."

"And they're Muggles? They don't do magic?"

"Yes, they— Wait. You remember what a Muggle is?"

Harry had spoken without thinking and surprised even himself. "Yeah, I guess." He could remember that but not the faces of his aunt, uncle, or cousin. "I want to meet them. I need to go find them."

The response around the table was discouraging and unanimous. Mrs. Weasley frowned with worry as she sat down and pleaded with Harry to consider the situation carefully. George assured him he was better off in ignorant bliss. Ron agreed wholeheartedly with his brother. Hermione attempted to reason against entertaining the idea of a visit so soon.

"Hey!" Ginny interrupted to suspend the chaos. "Harry has a right, doesn't he?" she argued with a steady gaze across the table at him. "They're his family. He ought to know what they did to him."

"What?" Harry demanded. "What did they do?"

"They don't like magic," she explained plainly since it was obvious no one else was going to step up and tell him. "They don't like anything or anyone having to do with it."

"That's not entirely true," Hermione input and received a sharp glare from Ginny for the contradiction. "They were coming around, weren't they? They truly did love you, Harry. They were just horrible at showing it."

Either way, the information didn't change his mind. "I still need to see them."

"That's it then," Arthur decided it. "So you must, Harry, but please wait a day or two. It has only been a few hours. Perhaps we may see some improvement after a night's rest. Tomorrow we return to the school for Fred's remains. We must lay the dead to rest before we go on with anything else. After that we can lead you to your relatives. All in agreement?"

Everyone indicated that the plan did sound like the best course of action.

"Will we…" Harry almost dreaded asking, "will we be apparating again?"

Arthur smiled at his discomfort at the thought.

"Is there no other way for wizards to travel?" Harry asked next.

"There's always flying," Ron said and instantly peeked Harry's interest.

"We can fly?"

It was the freedom of the flight which excited Harry most. It wasn't confining or suffocating like apparating. He knew what to do without being told. His instincts on the broom kicked in immediately. For the first time since waking up lost, Harry felt alive.

"This is brilliant," he exclaimed as he dropped from the sky to the ground outside the Burrow where Hermione sat watching Harry, Ron, and Ginny flying over the nearby open field. "Ride with me," he encouraged her with an outstretched hand to help her on.

"No way," Hermione refused. "I don't fly."

"What do you mean? You're a witch, aren't you?"

"I prefer to apparate."

Harry didn't think that made any sense. "You don't use brooms at all?"

"Not if she can help it." Ron dropped in from above to land with a thud on the turf beside them. "Don't bother. She won't have anything to do with it."

It didn't seem right. Harry remained baffled as he watched Ginny glide effortlessly through the air with the toes of her trainers skirting the tall grass on the ground. She noticed him watching and quickly shot into the sky.

"Done already?" she goaded him back on his borrowed broom to return to the air for a brisk race over the garden.

"Which do you prefer, flying or apparating?" Harry asked Ginny as they veered to a stop mid-air and turned back.

"Flying definitely," she responded as if there was no other right answer to the question. "Apparating is faster, sure, but the skills are quite different. It's not as fun," she added before playfully shoving him to the side to get an advantage and a head start across the field.

Harry surged forward and quickly caught up.

When they finally left the sky to return to the house for the evening, Hermione waited for Harry outside the broom storage shed to hand him his moleskin which he had left sitting in the grass. He thanked her and hung it from his neck once again.

"I wanted to ask you about this," he held up the bag before hiding it beneath his clothes. "All that's in it, what's the meaning of them exactly?"

"That's another loaded question." Hermione smiled. "Let's help Mrs. Weasley with supper, then I'll do my best to explain."

"Maybe you could start with the broken wand," Harry suggested.

"Actually, it isn't," she corrected him with a sheepish look on her face as they neared the kitchen door where Ron and Ginny had already stepped inside. Pulling something from her back pocket, Hermione held up a perfectly formed, un-broken wand. "I was going to give it to you later," she explained before handing it to him.

"You fixed it." Harry hesitated only a moment before taking it cautiously between his fingers. An odd sensation ran up his arm causing him to smile involuntarily. If he doubted he was a wizard before that moment, the fear was now banished. The wand knew him, and he knew his wand.

"I wasn't sure it would even work, but I had to try. My wand didn't have any effect on it, but the Elder Wand did."

Harry looked at her in confusion.

"The wand you won from Voldemort, remember? The one you dropped outside the school this morning? I picked it up. I'm sorry, Harry. You don't realize it now, but that wand is important. It's rightfully yours, so I can give it to you also, but we must not lose it." She reached for her own bag to pull out the Elder Wand before Harry stopped her.

"Keep it for me, for now," he insisted. "I don't know what I would do with it."

"I don't either," Hermione insisted, "but I think I know who we can ask."

The following morning dawned overcast and cool. As the Weasley's set out to return to Hogwarts for their loved one's remains, Harry wished he had not indulged in so many of Molly's breakfast sausages. As he stood in line with the others to apparate, he felt queasy at the thought of being squeezed so mercifully and uncomfortably.

"Ready, Harry?" Hermione reached for his hand to help him through the process once again.

Before he could mutter a reply, Ginny appeared at his side.

"Makes you wish you had a broom again, doesn't it?" She smirked and slipped her hand into his free palm. "Just close your eyes and think of flying."

The girls simultaneously turned on the spot and dragged Harry rapidly through space, landing with a gentle thud outside the school gates. Harry inhaled sharply as strong winds nearly knocked him over. A chill gale blew in from the lake as clouds skittered across the sky over the mountain ridges. The castle lay in shadow and looked like an abandoned monument left to ruin.

The gates stood open, and Arthur and Molly led the way up the path to the school. Before reaching the front entrance, they ran into a crew conducting a series of spells to repair the damage of battle.

"Professor McGonagall," Arthur greeted the formidable witch who turned away from her work when they approached. She was using her wand to levitate a cumbersome boulder of stone from a heap of debris. She set it aside and greeted them with a weary expression. "Have you been at it all night?" Mr. Weasley asked with concern for the Professor's well-being.

"Not entirely," she responded, "but very nearly that. There is much yet to do and not enough of us to do it, I'm afraid."

"Well, we're here now. George and I will take over here and give you a rest. Ginny, go with your mother and help her prepare Fred's body." Arthur took charge and pulled out his wand as George did the same.

"Professor?" Hermione stepped forward.

"Ms. Granger," McGonagall nodded while assessing Harry with narrow eyes of contemplation. "Any improvement, Potter?"

"Very little," Hermione answered for him. "We need access to the headmaster's office, with your permission."

"You have it," she assented. "May I ask why?"

"We have a few questions for Professor Dumbledore."

The request did not seem strange to McGonagall, although Ron looked disturbed by it. Harry had been given an overview of who this Professor Dumbledore was and what he was supposed to mean to Harry from Hermione the night before. He too wondered what questions they could ask of the dead.

"The password is 'ginger newt.' Take all the time you need." McGonagall sent them off with her blessing. Hermione led the way through the front doors of the school and up the grand staircase.

"What is Dumbledore's portrait going to know about Harry's memory loss?" Ron asked as they climbed to the second floor landing.

"It doesn't hurt to ask, does it? Anyway," Hermione said, "that's only half of what I want to ask him. I want to know what he had intended to do with the Elder Wand. If nothing else, he can confirm or discourage our choice in the matter."

"Whatever you say, Hermione," Ron relented with a sigh. His mind was not on Elder Wands anyway, and he looked nearly as tired as Professor McGonagall as they ascended into the school on their way to the headmaster's office.

The corridors were busy with foot traffic of all kinds from house elves to the school ghosts. All were busy setting Hogwarts to rights and all were eager to take the opportunity to thank Harry and share their congratulations on defeating Voldemort. Many told of their losses of family and friends and hoped that they would see him attend the many funerals. Harry was soon overwhelmed despite Hermione's efforts to propel them along in a hurry to get to the headmaster's office and away from the grateful crowd.

"I don't even know what I've done," Harry muttered uncomfortably. "They're all thanking me for something I had no control over."

"That actually should feel familiar to you," Ron considered logically. "That sums up a great deal of your life, Harry."

Eventually they reached the revolving staircase guarded by the stone gargoyle. Hermione gave the password, and they instantly began to rise in an ascending spiral. The door to the office was already open when they arrived. As soon as Harry stepped across the threshold he was met with resounding applause from the occupants of the many portraits lining the walls.

"Well done, my boy!" One old wizard saluted him from above a bookcase.

"Hear, hear! Magnificent work, young man!"

Unsure of how to respond, Harry merely nodded and followed Hermione's lead to the headmaster's desk where she stood before a large painting of a bearded wizard wearing half-moon spectacles who smiled down on them with his twinkling eyes on Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione addressed the late headmaster.

"Wonderful to see you all," he greeted them warmly. "I trust that you are alright?"

"We are, yes, thank you, sir. That is, all of us but Harry. Something happened in the forest, Dumbledore. He lost his memory after Voldemort attempted to kill him."

"Yes, I have been informed of this setback," he nodded. "Curious turn of events, eh?"

"Yes, sir. Do you have any theories?"

"At least six, but none of them very plausible," Dumbledore responded.

"That's helpful," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Have you any faculties at all, Harry, or have you complete reverted to infancy?" Dumbledore asked.

"What?" Harry shifted awkwardly under the attention of the talking portrait and felt the weight of numerous sets of eyes from around the room. They were all listening intently while occasional whispered discourse of speculations flitted from frame to frame.

"Are you able to recall how to tie your trainers for example, or is everything blank?"

"Oh! Yeah, I can do things. I mean, I used a wand alright."

"He recalls spells, Dumbledore," Hermione clarified. "He knew what a Muggle was without explanation. There are things he knows, but memories of times, names, occurrences…these are all missing."

"I see," the professor considered what they said with intense curiosity. "How very interesting. Very interesting indeed."

"What do you think happened? Were his memories linked to the horcrux? Are they gone for good now that Voldemort is?"

"That is an excellent theory, Ms. Granger, one I too considered but believe it is not so. Had his memory been connected to the piece of Voldemort's soul it is likely it would have been erased entirely once it was destroyed. No recall of spells, no everyday common knowledge. No, it seems much more plausible that it was the effects of the killing curse which caused the memory loss. However, since Harry is the only one to have survived it, we have nothing in which to compare it to. It may be possible that the first time he endured the curse his one-year-old memory may have been erased as well. There is no way to tell."

"Will he ever get it back then?" Hermione asked, looking hopeful now that the theory of the horcux connection was dispelled.

"That remains to be seen. What do you think, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward in his frame to look down at the floor near the desk. "Your knowledge of horcuxes was much more extensive than mine."

"Snape?" Ron startled in surprise and moved around the desk in surprise. He found a framed portrait propped against the wall covered in a protective cloth. Removing the cover, he stepped back with a laugh of glee. "Look at that! They've got 'im on the floor."

Harry and Hermione moved around to get a look. The face which glared back at them through a shroud of black, stringy hair, scowled down his elongated nose.

"Temporarily on the floor," Snape informed them. "I have yet to be hung in my proper place."

"I'll say," Ron laughed again with a reprimand from Hermione.

"Don't be rude, Ronald," she hissed before nodding respectfully at Professor Snape. "Hello, Professor. Could you please share your insight? What do you think of Harry's condition?"

Snape looked up at Harry with narrow eyes before replying. "I agree with Dumbledore. His memory is not gone forever like the horcrux. It is likely it will return, in full, in time. Perhaps after some prompting."

"That's what we thought." Hermione looked further relieved. "We've talked about taking him back to places of importance. We've been telling him all we can recall to help compile memories for him."

Snape nodded. "It is a start. It is—"

"Hold on," Ron interrupted and stepped forward. Raising the frame off the floor, he stood behind it and held it up in front of his face so Harry and Hermione could see it better. "There, not so awkward." It would have been less awkward if not for the fact that it now appeared as if Professor Snape was wearing Ron's legs.

"It is a shame," Snape continued unaware, "that Harry did not store many of his memories for the Pensieve. Had he done so, he would simply have to watch them over again."

"That's it!" Hermione exclaimed. "Thank you, Professor! Dumbledore, may we? Could Harry borrow the Pensieve and your store of memories for Harry to view? So many of yours have to do with his past. He could re-learn all of it by seeing them."

"The Pensieve belongs to the headmistress now," Dumbledore reminded them. "I am almost certain Professor McGonagall would have no issue with you using it."

"We'll check with her first. This is fantastic, Harry! I think it will help immensely."

Harry was willing to try anything, although it didn't deter him from his first plan of action. "I still want to go visit my mum's sister."

Professor Snape's scowl deepened as he heard this. He exchanged a look with Dumbledore as Ron walked around the room with the portrait and stopped in front of a mirror for a look. He raised the frame high to elongate the appearance of conjoined bodies before dropping it to his torso for a two-headed effect.

"Stop that," Snape snapped. "Put me down, you nitwit."

Ron refused to do so, causing Hogwart's hindermost headmaster to walk out of his frame and disappear.

"Where'd he go?" Ron looked at the empty canvas with disappointment and finally set it back in it's place on the floor. "He's no fun."

"We need to go," Hermione steered him and Harry to the door before stopping again as she recalled something. "One last question though, Professor. The Elder Wand. It's Harry's now, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Dumbledore met Harry's eye with a serene smile and pride in his gaze.

"He can keep it then, and use it?"

"If that is his desire."

"You don't think I should?" Harry could tell without Dumbledore saying so.

"That is not for me to decide."

"Hermione said it used to be yours."

The headmaster nodded.

"And you used it?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Did it make you powerful?"

"More than for my own good," Dumbledore replied sadly.

Harry thought about this carefully, looking to Hermione for confirmation. They had already discussed what he should do with the wand if he didn't keep it. "Voldemort stole if from your grave," he said mostly to himself. "It belongs there, so I'll put it back." He looked up at Dumbledore whose smiled confirmed he chose rightly.

"Very well, Harry."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said before they reached the door.

"Certainly, Ms. Granger. And Harry?" Dumbledore waited for Harry to stop and turn around.

"Yes, sir?"

"Come visit anytime."

Harry promised that he would and stepped out onto the staircase behind the others.