Untitled Part 1

22

'It is our choices Harry, that show us what we truly are, far more than our abilities.'

And with a shake of his head and a regained focus in his eyes, Harry's mind snapped itself back into actuality as he rubbed his orbs with the back of his hands.

Did I just zone out while standing?

His behind rested back on the brick wall, a few feet below the Astronomy Tower. Relying on the stone behind him, he jumped off of it, making his way up towards the tower.

The bottom of his shoes shifted inaudibly against each stair leading to his destination. However, his mind was occupied with rather something else.

Wondering who was that oddly familiar voice in which he zoned out and heard, Harry couldn't help but find it quite intimate.

It felt like there was more to it, as if a whole chapter of his life was missing.
As if that voice that he heard, had a huge role in it.
But Harry hasn't really thought of it in that way, he believes it's just his mental unstableness and anxiety piling up.

It was a pity that he no longer recalls anything about Dumbledore whatsoever, neither his appearance, nor his voice, not even a fraction of the time he used to spend with him.
Nothing.
As if he didn't exist.
To Harry at least.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the other members of the Weasley family are one of the very few that know about this. They haven't been bringing up Dumbledore in any of their conversations, or at least not when Harry's around.

Of course some of them flipped out at the news of Albus's tragic death, and even more when they got informed that the boy's memory of his professor, and his last father figure, was completely erased.
Gone.

Voldemort's return and Draco Malfoy being a death eater were the only two things that are worth worrying about according to him.

And no, Harry's evocation of him and Draco's weirdly intense tension wasn't lost.
He still does remember all of their incidents.
Their insanely long, pointless arguments.

The daily fights that would always end up with one of them choking the other, their breaths inches apart.

The marks forming their way up Harry's arm, up to his neck, all due to Malfoy's harsh touches and grips.

The way they would shoot death glares at each other from almost miles away, but it seemed like they could easily explore one another's eyes and get completely lost in them.

The way those piercing, cold, blue/grey eyes would send a ray of shivers down Harry's spine, just by a stare.

The harsh words that would come out of Malfoy's mouth every once in a while, but Harry didn't mind it for some reason. It was like he was addicted.

The toxicity.

Everything.

Harry remembers all of it, since of course Malfoy was not the one erased from his mind.

But still, something felt missing.

Even about Draco.

There was something more.

Harry sighed, placing both of his palms on the edge of the Astronomy tower.

Since his reminiscence of his dear professor is vanished, he also doesn't recall the time when he offered to help Draco in finding a way out, and keep Dumbledore alive. He doesn't remember the trauma and terror on Malfoy's face that night, when he had to take the life of his professor.
Harry doesn't even know that he died anyway.
Everything about Dumbledore was gone astray.