The Tale of Jenny and Henry
Author: The Treacle Tart
Title: The Tale of Jenny and Henry
Challenge: Ginny is obliviated and has forgotten about her relationship with Harry
Summary: Jenny liked to sit in the garden and play with gnomes…and to remember.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count:2,684
Notes/Warnings: Many thanks to leftsockarchive for her beta skills and wonderful suggestions. Any remaining errors belong to me.
The Tale of Jenny and Henry
Jenny liked sitting in the garden. Odd little creatures would pop up from between the flowerbeds and weeds, and wrinkle their stubby noses at her. Gnomes they were called, not goblins, or imps. She kept getting them confused.
The gnomes made her laugh, with heads like hairy potatoes that scowled when they peered from their underground homes. But after some time they grew to accept her as a part of the garden, forgetting to differentiate her from the flowers or the weeds. After a time, they even grew comfortable.
She smiled softly as they inched closer to her, their eyes narrowed and darting about, making sure it wasn’t some sort of trap. But soon they learned to trust her, because if she was around, the others wouldn’t come to toss them across the yard. If she was around, the others wouldn’t come to spin them in the air, making them dizzy. If she was around, the others wouldn’t come.
Jenny liked sitting in the garden because the house was always full of people-people who gave her odd looks, people who lingered in corners and shadows, people who seemed to look like her. They were her family, they said. It made sense. They all had the same hair-bright red; all their noses covered in freckles. But their faces seemed strange to her, wrong somehow. Mr. was sad and Mrs. was small. Boys were quiet, bitter, and cold. And the odd little teetering house that looked like it should fall at any moment, felt like it would as well.
It was all out of place, but Jenny couldn’t remember why exactly, because she was wrong too. Her hair was too short, she was sure. The sun felt out of place on the back of her neck. Her clothes were wrong as well. The little sundress came up too high on her thigh, and was very tight around her chest, like it belonged to someone much smaller, but when Mrs. had asked her to wear it, it made her eyes shiny. Jenny liked the little yellow daisies on the trim, and ran her fingertips over the stitched petals. She really didn’t mind the dress and she rather liked Mrs.’ shiny eyes.
Her name wasn’t her name, either, but they said her eyes lit up when she heard it, so they started calling her by it. They said it made her smile pretty, and Mr. almost smiled too, and she rather liked that as well. She liked the little lines around his mouth and eyes. When he smiled, they looked like they belonged here, when nothing else felt like it did.
She could talk once, too-she was sure of it-but she never tried. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so Jenny sat quietly in the garden tugging on the hem of her little sundress, and playing with the gnomes.
Today she sat on the soft ground. Her bare legs, long and thin, stretched out from the edge of the sundress with little yellow daisies. She had dirt under her fingernails, and in the creases of her knees, and on the bottom of her bare feet. Tall blades of grass tickled her calves, and a gnome placed a tiny hand on her ankle and gave her a gentle pat.
Voices were coming from the little teetering house-some low, some loud. They were fighting again. Fighting about her. It happened almost daily. Mrs. said to leave her alone. Mr. said she needed time. First Boy said she needed doctors, Second Boy said she needed friends, Third Boy said she needed to go away, Fourth and Fifth Boys said she needed laughter, Sixth Boy never said anything. Maybe he couldn’t think of anything to say, either. Jenny didn’t like it when they fought. It was wrong, too.
Sixth Boy left the voices behind and joined her in the garden. At his appearance, the little gnome scurried away, but not before sniffing the air and kicking up some dirt. Sixth Boy sat behind Jenny, situating his legs on either side of hers, and holding his arms out to her. She leaned back into the familiar embrace and settled into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Together they sat in the garden and watched the sun go down.
He always left when the stars come out. It was nearly an hour later when she finally entered the house and to find him waiting for her, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. She took the cup and gave him a smile before going up to her room. Jenny liked her room. It’s full of pink things: pink walls, pink bedding, big pink pillows. She had books, and she’s pretty sure she’s read them, but the words mean little to her now. The walls have bare patches where the color is off. Something covered those spots once-pictures, she thinks. Yes, there were pictures. She wondered who was in those pictures and why they werere gone. She wondered who took them away.
It was morning and she was hungry. Jenny walked down the stairs slowly and stopped when she heard the voices. They were loud again, but there was a new voice now. One she hadn’t heard before….or maybe she had. Hidden behind the kitchen door, she listened. Mrs. said to leave her alone. Mr. said she needed time. First Boy said she needed doctors, Second Boy said she needed friends, Third Boy said she needed to go away, Fourth and Fifth Boys said she needed laughter, Sixth Boy was quiet again. But someone else was speaking now. A girl. Her voice was low and firm and familiar.
The new voice said they all knew what she needed. The new voice said only one thing could bring her back. The new voice said there was only one answer. And then the fighting started again.
It was growing louder, and it hurt Jenny’s ears because it was wrong, all wrong, and she needed to make it stop, so she put her hands over her ears and began to rock back and forth. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Sixth Boy saw her hiding behind the door. His eyes grew shiny and warm. Then he spoke.
“Why don’t you just ask her?”
Now everyone else was silent.
He was breathing heavily and shouting. “Instead of fighting over what you think she needs, why not just ask her? Did it ever occur to you that she just might know?”
Jenny’s heart began to pound as Sixth Boy walked over to her and took her trembling hand. “It’s all right,” he said softly, and led her to the room full of anxious faces.
“J...Jenny,” he began, “you’re …sick. You’ve forgotten some things, and we want to help you remember, but we don’t know how. Does anything come to your mind…a memory, a word, a shadow of anything?"
Jenny was scared; too scared to move, almost forgetting to breathe. All eyes were on her, waiting for something, but she had nothing to say. Sixth Boy gave her hand a squeeze. “What do you think of …What do you think of when you sit in the garden?”
And she smiled slowly. That, she knew the answer to. It was with a little giggle that she said, “Henry.”
No one asked her any more questions. She said a name and the room went silent. Mrs. gasped. Mr. bowed his head. Boys were quiet, bitter and cold. The new voice came forward and took Jenny’s hand. She turned to Sixth Boy. “We have to go for a walk. Just the three of us. She needs to know.”
Mrs. cried. Mr. nodded. No one moved but Sixth Boy, and together they went for a walk in the garden.
They walked until they came to a little stream that ran along the edge of the property. They sat in the shadow of an elm tree and Sixth Boy began talking:
“I have a story to tell you and I want you to listen to the whole thing. A long time ago, there was a war. There was a man who was after you. He wanted to hurt you. But you weren’t scared of him; you had met him years before, you see, and you stopped being frightened of him. You knew he was trying to hurt your friend…your H...Henry, and you swore you would never let that happen. But Henry…Henry made a promise, too. He promised you would never get hurt. You wouldn’t listen. You said you knew your place and your place was with him, and Henry decided that the only way to make sure you stayed safe was to make you forget-make you forget him. He promised to make it right after it was all over. Only the person who cast that spell could reverse it, but he…he never came back. He vanished and we haven’t seen him since. The war is over, the bad man is gone…and so is Henry.”
Jenny listened to his words, and watched as he comforted the girl and they both cried. It was wrong, it was all wrong, and it was about time to make it right. “You’re wrong,” she said softly. “You think he’s dead, but he’s not. I’d know. Henry’s alive…and he’s waiting for me.”
It soon became obvious to Jenny that they didn’t understand. They talked of places and people in the past. It seemed to Jenny that people kept thinking about the past far too much. She didn’t have a past to remember and she was perfectly happy. She wanted them to be happy too, because that’s how it should be.
Jenny let her hair grow long. She stopped wearing the yellow sundress. She stopped playing with the gnomes. She learned everyone’s name.
Bill bought her new clothes. Charlie took her flying. Percy read her stories. Fred and George showed her how to play Quidditch. Molly taught her to bake. Arthur sang old songs. Ron and Hermione walked with her to the little stream that ran along the edge of the property and helped her remember.
Ron said Henry was brave. Hermione said Henry was impulsive. Ron said Henry was loyal. Hermione said Henry was stubborn. Ron said Henry was resilient. Hermione said Henry was obstinate. Ron said Henry loved Jenny. Hermione couldn’t say anything else.
Jenny began to do magic again. A few family friends took turns in showing her how. Little things at first: turning beetles to buttons, levitating feathers, mixing simple potions. The wand made her fingers tingle and her cheeks warm. Slowly the world seemed to right itself.
Days passed quietly and lives continued. Bill and Fleur had a child. Charlie became a teacher. Percy married. Fred and George opened another shop. Mother smiled more. Father played with plugs. Ron and Hermione fell in love, though Jenny had a feeling they felt that way all along. Jenny understood they were waiting, too. They would never admit it aloud, but they waited for Henry just like Jenny did.
Jenny never dreamed. Perhaps it was a side effect of having no memories. She only ever saw blackness when she slept, so when she started seeing green eyes, she knew something was happening. She never mentioned it to anyone, as she knew they weren’t ready to hear it. Everyone commented on how bright her eyes were and how her face was colorful again.
Ron and Hermione finally had set a date. They would marry in the Fall, on the grounds of the school where they discovered each other, in the courtyard by the lake. Jenny gave a secret smile. That would be the day. That would be the day Henry came back. Ron and Hermione were his best friends, after all, and he would never miss their wedding day.
She didn’t want to ruin the surprise. She didn’t want to spoil what would be the greatest wedding gift they could ever receive, but she was bursting to tell someone. While everyone else was busy, she stole away to the garden, to the elm tree, and called out to the gnomes that lived there.
“Please come out,” she whispered. ”I have some news to share. ”A grey knotted head peeked out of the mound of earth and looked at her quizzically.
“You remember me. I’m Jenny.” The curious gnome peered out further, but made no move to leave his hole.
“He’s coming,” she said gleefully, unable to wait a second longer. She spun around in a circle with her arms stretched out and her palms pointed to the sky. “My Henry is coming back.”
It was the morning of the wedding. Jenny walked around the house singing a song to which she didn’t even realize she knew the words. Her hair hung in long red waves down her back and she wore a robe of emerald green. It looked like everyone in the world had turned out for the wedding. The courtyard by the lake was full to bursting with people, and Jenny looked expectantly in the crowd for Henry’s green eyes.
Ron had seen her scan the crowd and walked over to her. “Looking for someone?” he whispered into her ear.
“Yes, but I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.” His eyes got sad and Jenny frowned. It was wrong again. He wasn’t supposed to be sad today. “Why aren’t you smiling? Don’t you want to be married to Hermione more than anything else in the world?”
“Almost,” he said softly. “Almost more than anything else in the world.”
Music began to play and they both knew it was their cue to begin. Jenny went to take her place next to Hermione.
A shadow shifted at the edge of the courtyard. Jenny smiled. Her hands began to shake and she twisted the heel of her shoe into the ground to keep herself from floating away. She barely heard a word spoken, but when the crowd cheered, and Ron and Hermione kissed, she knew it was over. Without a word, she threw the flowers in her hand up in the air and ran.
Rose petals and leaves of ivy from the discarded bouquet showered the bride and groom. They turned to see her running. They listened to her squeals of joy. They watched her jump into someone’s arms.
“I knew you’d come back,” she cried.
Someone screamed. Someone fainted. Someone cried.
It was some time later that order was restored, thanks to the efforts of Albus Dumbledore, who arrived just before the surprise guest. Everyone sat around staring at the couple, no one knowing quite what to say. Jenny and Henry sat with their fingers intertwined as Professor Dumbledore began to tell a story.
“We found some letters among Mr. Potter’s things-letters from a Henry to a Jenny. We came to the conclusion that they were addressed as such so that the nature of their relationship could remain a secret from those who might use the information to harm them. Young Mr. Potter was resourceful when he wanted to be.
“Among the letters was one addressed to Miss Weasley-one that remained unopened and unsent. We planned on delivering it outright, but fear of the repercussions of such a letter on her recovery prevented us. We read it, only to find an explanation of why he erased her memory of him, and his promise that after it was over he was to remove his memory of her. He wanted to make sure that no one could connect the two in case a vengeful Death Eater should seek retribution for his fallen master. He wanted to keep her safe, you see, and felt it was the only way.
“We realized that the spell may have been more powerful than intended, as we are sure Mr. Potter had no idea of its strength, and of the effect it would have on Miss Weasley. It only stood to reason that it had the same effect on him. It was Remus Lupin who first had the idea, and he placed inquiries to several Muggle hospitals asking if they had any patients suffering from memory loss who answered to the name of Henry.
“We hadn’t heard a word until Mr. Potter appeared on the grounds today. Apparently a nurse had mentioned that someone might be looking for him, and he insisted on coming here. He insisted that Jenny was waiting for him.”
“What happens now?” someone asked.
The room was silent. It was a question to which no one seemed to know the answer. Jenny looked at their faces and gave a small smile. “It’s obvious isn’t it," she said. “We all live happily ever after.”
There was a story hidden there somewhere. A fairy tale about a boy and a girl who fell in love, and the evil tyrant trying to keep them apart. There was a romantic sonnet about star-crossed lovers lost on the path to forever. There was an epic adventure about good against evil. They spoke of devotion, and hope, and undying love, and Jenny knew it was only a matter of time until they had their happy ending.
Finis
Title: The Tale of Jenny and Henry
Challenge: Ginny is obliviated and has forgotten about her relationship with Harry
Summary: Jenny liked to sit in the garden and play with gnomes…and to remember.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count:2,684
Notes/Warnings: Many thanks to leftsockarchive for her beta skills and wonderful suggestions. Any remaining errors belong to me.
The Tale of Jenny and Henry
Jenny liked sitting in the garden. Odd little creatures would pop up from between the flowerbeds and weeds, and wrinkle their stubby noses at her. Gnomes they were called, not goblins, or imps. She kept getting them confused.
The gnomes made her laugh, with heads like hairy potatoes that scowled when they peered from their underground homes. But after some time they grew to accept her as a part of the garden, forgetting to differentiate her from the flowers or the weeds. After a time, they even grew comfortable.
She smiled softly as they inched closer to her, their eyes narrowed and darting about, making sure it wasn’t some sort of trap. But soon they learned to trust her, because if she was around, the others wouldn’t come to toss them across the yard. If she was around, the others wouldn’t come to spin them in the air, making them dizzy. If she was around, the others wouldn’t come.
Jenny liked sitting in the garden because the house was always full of people-people who gave her odd looks, people who lingered in corners and shadows, people who seemed to look like her. They were her family, they said. It made sense. They all had the same hair-bright red; all their noses covered in freckles. But their faces seemed strange to her, wrong somehow. Mr. was sad and Mrs. was small. Boys were quiet, bitter, and cold. And the odd little teetering house that looked like it should fall at any moment, felt like it would as well.
It was all out of place, but Jenny couldn’t remember why exactly, because she was wrong too. Her hair was too short, she was sure. The sun felt out of place on the back of her neck. Her clothes were wrong as well. The little sundress came up too high on her thigh, and was very tight around her chest, like it belonged to someone much smaller, but when Mrs. had asked her to wear it, it made her eyes shiny. Jenny liked the little yellow daisies on the trim, and ran her fingertips over the stitched petals. She really didn’t mind the dress and she rather liked Mrs.’ shiny eyes.
Her name wasn’t her name, either, but they said her eyes lit up when she heard it, so they started calling her by it. They said it made her smile pretty, and Mr. almost smiled too, and she rather liked that as well. She liked the little lines around his mouth and eyes. When he smiled, they looked like they belonged here, when nothing else felt like it did.
She could talk once, too-she was sure of it-but she never tried. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so Jenny sat quietly in the garden tugging on the hem of her little sundress, and playing with the gnomes.
Today she sat on the soft ground. Her bare legs, long and thin, stretched out from the edge of the sundress with little yellow daisies. She had dirt under her fingernails, and in the creases of her knees, and on the bottom of her bare feet. Tall blades of grass tickled her calves, and a gnome placed a tiny hand on her ankle and gave her a gentle pat.
Voices were coming from the little teetering house-some low, some loud. They were fighting again. Fighting about her. It happened almost daily. Mrs. said to leave her alone. Mr. said she needed time. First Boy said she needed doctors, Second Boy said she needed friends, Third Boy said she needed to go away, Fourth and Fifth Boys said she needed laughter, Sixth Boy never said anything. Maybe he couldn’t think of anything to say, either. Jenny didn’t like it when they fought. It was wrong, too.
Sixth Boy left the voices behind and joined her in the garden. At his appearance, the little gnome scurried away, but not before sniffing the air and kicking up some dirt. Sixth Boy sat behind Jenny, situating his legs on either side of hers, and holding his arms out to her. She leaned back into the familiar embrace and settled into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Together they sat in the garden and watched the sun go down.
He always left when the stars come out. It was nearly an hour later when she finally entered the house and to find him waiting for her, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. She took the cup and gave him a smile before going up to her room. Jenny liked her room. It’s full of pink things: pink walls, pink bedding, big pink pillows. She had books, and she’s pretty sure she’s read them, but the words mean little to her now. The walls have bare patches where the color is off. Something covered those spots once-pictures, she thinks. Yes, there were pictures. She wondered who was in those pictures and why they werere gone. She wondered who took them away.
It was morning and she was hungry. Jenny walked down the stairs slowly and stopped when she heard the voices. They were loud again, but there was a new voice now. One she hadn’t heard before….or maybe she had. Hidden behind the kitchen door, she listened. Mrs. said to leave her alone. Mr. said she needed time. First Boy said she needed doctors, Second Boy said she needed friends, Third Boy said she needed to go away, Fourth and Fifth Boys said she needed laughter, Sixth Boy was quiet again. But someone else was speaking now. A girl. Her voice was low and firm and familiar.
The new voice said they all knew what she needed. The new voice said only one thing could bring her back. The new voice said there was only one answer. And then the fighting started again.
It was growing louder, and it hurt Jenny’s ears because it was wrong, all wrong, and she needed to make it stop, so she put her hands over her ears and began to rock back and forth. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Sixth Boy saw her hiding behind the door. His eyes grew shiny and warm. Then he spoke.
“Why don’t you just ask her?”
Now everyone else was silent.
He was breathing heavily and shouting. “Instead of fighting over what you think she needs, why not just ask her? Did it ever occur to you that she just might know?”
Jenny’s heart began to pound as Sixth Boy walked over to her and took her trembling hand. “It’s all right,” he said softly, and led her to the room full of anxious faces.
“J...Jenny,” he began, “you’re …sick. You’ve forgotten some things, and we want to help you remember, but we don’t know how. Does anything come to your mind…a memory, a word, a shadow of anything?"
Jenny was scared; too scared to move, almost forgetting to breathe. All eyes were on her, waiting for something, but she had nothing to say. Sixth Boy gave her hand a squeeze. “What do you think of …What do you think of when you sit in the garden?”
And she smiled slowly. That, she knew the answer to. It was with a little giggle that she said, “Henry.”
No one asked her any more questions. She said a name and the room went silent. Mrs. gasped. Mr. bowed his head. Boys were quiet, bitter and cold. The new voice came forward and took Jenny’s hand. She turned to Sixth Boy. “We have to go for a walk. Just the three of us. She needs to know.”
Mrs. cried. Mr. nodded. No one moved but Sixth Boy, and together they went for a walk in the garden.
They walked until they came to a little stream that ran along the edge of the property. They sat in the shadow of an elm tree and Sixth Boy began talking:
“I have a story to tell you and I want you to listen to the whole thing. A long time ago, there was a war. There was a man who was after you. He wanted to hurt you. But you weren’t scared of him; you had met him years before, you see, and you stopped being frightened of him. You knew he was trying to hurt your friend…your H...Henry, and you swore you would never let that happen. But Henry…Henry made a promise, too. He promised you would never get hurt. You wouldn’t listen. You said you knew your place and your place was with him, and Henry decided that the only way to make sure you stayed safe was to make you forget-make you forget him. He promised to make it right after it was all over. Only the person who cast that spell could reverse it, but he…he never came back. He vanished and we haven’t seen him since. The war is over, the bad man is gone…and so is Henry.”
Jenny listened to his words, and watched as he comforted the girl and they both cried. It was wrong, it was all wrong, and it was about time to make it right. “You’re wrong,” she said softly. “You think he’s dead, but he’s not. I’d know. Henry’s alive…and he’s waiting for me.”
It soon became obvious to Jenny that they didn’t understand. They talked of places and people in the past. It seemed to Jenny that people kept thinking about the past far too much. She didn’t have a past to remember and she was perfectly happy. She wanted them to be happy too, because that’s how it should be.
Jenny let her hair grow long. She stopped wearing the yellow sundress. She stopped playing with the gnomes. She learned everyone’s name.
Bill bought her new clothes. Charlie took her flying. Percy read her stories. Fred and George showed her how to play Quidditch. Molly taught her to bake. Arthur sang old songs. Ron and Hermione walked with her to the little stream that ran along the edge of the property and helped her remember.
Ron said Henry was brave. Hermione said Henry was impulsive. Ron said Henry was loyal. Hermione said Henry was stubborn. Ron said Henry was resilient. Hermione said Henry was obstinate. Ron said Henry loved Jenny. Hermione couldn’t say anything else.
Jenny began to do magic again. A few family friends took turns in showing her how. Little things at first: turning beetles to buttons, levitating feathers, mixing simple potions. The wand made her fingers tingle and her cheeks warm. Slowly the world seemed to right itself.
Days passed quietly and lives continued. Bill and Fleur had a child. Charlie became a teacher. Percy married. Fred and George opened another shop. Mother smiled more. Father played with plugs. Ron and Hermione fell in love, though Jenny had a feeling they felt that way all along. Jenny understood they were waiting, too. They would never admit it aloud, but they waited for Henry just like Jenny did.
Jenny never dreamed. Perhaps it was a side effect of having no memories. She only ever saw blackness when she slept, so when she started seeing green eyes, she knew something was happening. She never mentioned it to anyone, as she knew they weren’t ready to hear it. Everyone commented on how bright her eyes were and how her face was colorful again.
Ron and Hermione finally had set a date. They would marry in the Fall, on the grounds of the school where they discovered each other, in the courtyard by the lake. Jenny gave a secret smile. That would be the day. That would be the day Henry came back. Ron and Hermione were his best friends, after all, and he would never miss their wedding day.
She didn’t want to ruin the surprise. She didn’t want to spoil what would be the greatest wedding gift they could ever receive, but she was bursting to tell someone. While everyone else was busy, she stole away to the garden, to the elm tree, and called out to the gnomes that lived there.
“Please come out,” she whispered. ”I have some news to share. ”A grey knotted head peeked out of the mound of earth and looked at her quizzically.
“You remember me. I’m Jenny.” The curious gnome peered out further, but made no move to leave his hole.
“He’s coming,” she said gleefully, unable to wait a second longer. She spun around in a circle with her arms stretched out and her palms pointed to the sky. “My Henry is coming back.”
It was the morning of the wedding. Jenny walked around the house singing a song to which she didn’t even realize she knew the words. Her hair hung in long red waves down her back and she wore a robe of emerald green. It looked like everyone in the world had turned out for the wedding. The courtyard by the lake was full to bursting with people, and Jenny looked expectantly in the crowd for Henry’s green eyes.
Ron had seen her scan the crowd and walked over to her. “Looking for someone?” he whispered into her ear.
“Yes, but I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.” His eyes got sad and Jenny frowned. It was wrong again. He wasn’t supposed to be sad today. “Why aren’t you smiling? Don’t you want to be married to Hermione more than anything else in the world?”
“Almost,” he said softly. “Almost more than anything else in the world.”
Music began to play and they both knew it was their cue to begin. Jenny went to take her place next to Hermione.
A shadow shifted at the edge of the courtyard. Jenny smiled. Her hands began to shake and she twisted the heel of her shoe into the ground to keep herself from floating away. She barely heard a word spoken, but when the crowd cheered, and Ron and Hermione kissed, she knew it was over. Without a word, she threw the flowers in her hand up in the air and ran.
Rose petals and leaves of ivy from the discarded bouquet showered the bride and groom. They turned to see her running. They listened to her squeals of joy. They watched her jump into someone’s arms.
“I knew you’d come back,” she cried.
Someone screamed. Someone fainted. Someone cried.
It was some time later that order was restored, thanks to the efforts of Albus Dumbledore, who arrived just before the surprise guest. Everyone sat around staring at the couple, no one knowing quite what to say. Jenny and Henry sat with their fingers intertwined as Professor Dumbledore began to tell a story.
“We found some letters among Mr. Potter’s things-letters from a Henry to a Jenny. We came to the conclusion that they were addressed as such so that the nature of their relationship could remain a secret from those who might use the information to harm them. Young Mr. Potter was resourceful when he wanted to be.
“Among the letters was one addressed to Miss Weasley-one that remained unopened and unsent. We planned on delivering it outright, but fear of the repercussions of such a letter on her recovery prevented us. We read it, only to find an explanation of why he erased her memory of him, and his promise that after it was over he was to remove his memory of her. He wanted to make sure that no one could connect the two in case a vengeful Death Eater should seek retribution for his fallen master. He wanted to keep her safe, you see, and felt it was the only way.
“We realized that the spell may have been more powerful than intended, as we are sure Mr. Potter had no idea of its strength, and of the effect it would have on Miss Weasley. It only stood to reason that it had the same effect on him. It was Remus Lupin who first had the idea, and he placed inquiries to several Muggle hospitals asking if they had any patients suffering from memory loss who answered to the name of Henry.
“We hadn’t heard a word until Mr. Potter appeared on the grounds today. Apparently a nurse had mentioned that someone might be looking for him, and he insisted on coming here. He insisted that Jenny was waiting for him.”
“What happens now?” someone asked.
The room was silent. It was a question to which no one seemed to know the answer. Jenny looked at their faces and gave a small smile. “It’s obvious isn’t it," she said. “We all live happily ever after.”
There was a story hidden there somewhere. A fairy tale about a boy and a girl who fell in love, and the evil tyrant trying to keep them apart. There was a romantic sonnet about star-crossed lovers lost on the path to forever. There was an epic adventure about good against evil. They spoke of devotion, and hope, and undying love, and Jenny knew it was only a matter of time until they had their happy ending.
Finis