She wondered where her parents were. Had they been summoned by Voldemort? She knew that her father had received the Dark Mark during the last war, but to the best of her knowledge, her mother had not. Why would they both be summoned?
Perhaps the answer to that was linked to everything else that had been going on lately. Before he had been sent home, she had overheard Draco telling Theodore Nott that the he had overheard his father say that the Dark Lord was keeping a low profile while he went after information. Perhaps all these recent happenings had jeopardised that information and risked the Dark Lord to being exposed, forcing him to call all of his followers and their families to his side before they were rounded up.
That was the only thing Pansy could think of on that front, and it was as good a theory as any.
But she had to think of herself now. With her parents missing she would have to find other ways and means. Perhaps she would have to get into contact with the other side of her family, those that her father never talked about, except to curse their existence. Would they want anything to do with her? She didn't know.
There was also a chance that she would not get that far anyway. What if her parents did come for her? What if she was whisked away to hide with them and the Dark Lord? She didn't much fancy that!
So, despite having a place to stay, Pansy Parkinson was in still in limbo. She had a lot of thinking to do regarding her life and those in it.
Just to make matters worse, her tummy hurt and she could not stop the tears from leaking slowly from her eyes.
The home of Muriel Prewett was most certainly the home of a stuffy old spinster. Apart from a few books, everything in the house was at least a century old. The abrasive Muriel fussed about, muttering under her breath about anything and everything named Weasley as she cleared the decorative silk pillows off of her ancient sofa.
Meanwhile, three of her great-nephews and one great-niece lingered uncomfortably in the doorway, trying to stop their eyes from watering from the smell of dust balls and cabbage.
"Well," she grumbled at last. "If you're going to stay here then sit down. And I'll have no noise. Not while I'm reading Rita Skeeter."
And with that she sat herself down in a wing-backed armchair, pulled out a book entitled Armando Dippet: Master or Moron and promptly disappeared behind it.
Fred nudged Ginny in the back and, nervously, she made her way forwards, followed by Fred, George and then Ron. One by one they sat down upon the ancient sofa, which creaked ominously under their combined weight, and began looking around for something, anything, to occupy their minds.
They found nothing.
Ron let out a sigh, only to wince when Muriel lowered her book in order to glare at him. Ron's ears went pink as he cast his eyes downwards. This satisfied Muriel enough to resume her reading.
As they sat there, with only the monotonous tick-tock-tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway providing reprieve from the suffocating silence, the four youngest Weasleys began to wonder just what they had been thinking when they had decided to come here rather than go to Percy's flat above the Slug and Jiggers Apothecary in Diagon Alley.
The Healers had run into a slight problem. While Sarah Abbott, her daughter Hannah and Hannah's friend Susan Bones had all been more than happy to supply memories for Harry Potter to view, Harry himself was not so keen on the idea of viewing them.
Given the events of the past few days his reluctance to let anything near his mind was quite understandable, but it was frustrating for those who only wanted to help him.
To make things more difficult, they could not just simply sedate him as they had when they had scanned his mind and removed the false memories that had been planted there by Dumbledore, as Harry needed to be conscious in order to view the memories contained within the hospital's pensieve.
They needed to call for backup.
Supported by her husband, and with Hannah and Susan following on behind, Sarah made her way to Harry's room.
It was clear to her from the moment that she stepped into the room that Harry did not recognise her. It was clear, however, that he still knew who Hannah and Susan were, for his eyes immediately became clouded with suspicion as they locked onto the pair of Hufflepuffs.
"What are they doing here?" he demanded, angrily.
"We're here to help you Harry," replied Hannah, sounding more than a little worried at his tone of voice.
"Help?" spat Harry in disgust. "Why would a Hufflepuff help me? I remember you two last year, badmouthing me at every turn, wearing those badges Malfoy made!"
"Harry," interrupted Sarah before his ranting could continue any further. "Harry, do you remember me? I'm Sarah. I was friends with your mother when I was at school."
Harry turned his anger filled eyes towards her and looked her up and down before replying "I have never seen you in my life."
"You have Harry. We met over the summer holidays. You just don't remember because you were Obliviated."
"That's what they keep saying," said Harry, gesturing towards the healers in the room. "But I didn't have any gaps in my memory before I came here."
"Harry, the person who Obliviated you placed false memories in your mind in order to fill in the blank spots that they left behind. The healers removed those false memories, but they can't unlock the Obliviated memories. That's why I'm here Harry. We want you to watch other people's memories of what you did during the summer so that you can fill in the blank spots. We have a pensieve and a whole collection on memories for you to look at so that you can remember. Won't you please look at them?"
Harry stared at her for several long moments, clearly wrestling with his emotions. Finally he said "Prove that you knew my mother."
Seeing the opportunity for what it was and seizing it with both hands, Sarah turned to her husband and asked "Edward, could you go home and get the picture of Lily, Mary, Alice, Marlene and I that's on the mantelpiece?"
He nodded and left the room.
.....
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