NOTE: For the last few weeks, the Power Stone Count has dropped sharply. These days, the novel is not even getting 30 PS.
Now, I understand that readers used to vote to get extra chapters. I totally understand that.
But, you must also understand that I have no obligation to post on Webnovel platform as well.
I have already stopped publishing on Scribble Hub because of poor support. For now, I am only publishing on Webnovel and Royal Road.
Royal Road is over a hundred chapters behind Webnovel, but, if the Power Stones keep falling like this, proving my point that readers here have no interest in the novel anymore, then I will mass upload on RR and make RR my main platform.
At the end of the day, I will uphold my not-dropping promise to readers, regardless of where I publish.
Its your choice.
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Something odd was happening, Harry knew. Something truly odd.
Yesterday night, Professor Dumbledore had appeared behind him when he was lost watching his parents in the Mirror. He had then warned Harry not to go looking for Mirror after its impending transfer to someplace else.
Harry, in a feat of shame and anger, had thrown his Invisibility Cloak at the bottom of his trunk.
It was then he began feeling the oddness.
He looked around. Ron was snoring. Draco was twisting and twitching in his lips, itching his scars. Neville was at home. And… And… And…
Harry pressed his brows. What's happening to me?!
It happened, then.
Out of nowhere, as if he had been avoiding it all along, Harry's eyes landed on a crystal ball-like object in his trunk.
He took it out and held it in his hands.
Then he remembered it.
A Remembrall! Harry thought, shocked. Wasn't it Neville's? But wasn't it won by… by… by…
Suddenly, blood-colored smoke flooded the Remembrall's inside, making Harry's widen. It didn't end there, though.
Within the bloody smoke, a yellow crystal was bobbing up and down, like a pale star.
Then, the yellow star went Supernova!
BOOOM!
Harry's scar burned like never before and began bleeding. "Arghhhhhhhhh!"
Memories of a forgotten friend flooded Harry's mind as Ron and Draco woke up, hearing his screams.
The boy Harry had met on the train…
The boy Harry had come to respect…
The boy Harry had faced death with…
The boy Harry had survived dangers with…
The boy Harry had become best friends with…
Blood dripped from the tip of Harry's nose as he recalled his name.
His name was… Harry shouted, throwing himself off the bed. "Arlen Black!"
Harry's head spun toward Black's bed. It was there. All Black's stuff. Black's trunk, clothes, and even his Hogwarts robes were thrown on the bed.
It was like Harry had been actively ignoring everything about Black for two days when he had gone to see the Mirror with him.
A chill ran down Harry's spine.
"What you on, mate?" Ron asked, yawning. Then he saw blood as Harry looked over his shoulder. "Whoa! You are bleeding!"
Draco was about to curse, too, when he heard the bleeding remark. He stood up and looked at Harry, frowning.
"Where's B… Black?" Harry stuttered, forgetting the pain and blood. "Where's Black?!"
Ron and Draco looked at each other and almost simultaneously replied. "Who's Black?"
"Did you hit your head, Potter?" Draco said, twisting his lips. He looked at Ron and suggested, "Let's take him to the infirmary."
"Good idea." Ron jumped off the bed.
Harry looked at the two of them as if they had gone insane. "What's the matter with the two of you?! Black! I am talking about Arlen Black! Our friend!"
Ron gulped. Now he was getting worried. "I told you not to go to that Mirror!" he shouted back. "Look. You have gone mental!"
Harry ran to Ron, who got scared and took several steps back. Ignoring the look on Ron's face, Harry thrust the Remembrall into Ron's hands.
It instantly poured out the red smoke.
"See!" Harry shouted. Then he pointed at Black's bed. "Black!"
Ron looked at the Remembrall and then at the bed, which looked as if someone had been living there. But, to Harry, it didn't seem like Ron had remembered anything about their friend.
Draco came to them, then. "The bed's always been like this, Potter. At least wipe the blood off your face. Or people would say Malfoy finally finished the task. Imagine the look on my father's face, then. Haha!"
Ron wanted to laugh, but Harry's heavy breathing made him stop.
Harry snatched the ball from Ron and threw it toward Draco.
It turned red again.
"See!"
Draco's laugh became a frown. "See what exactly, Potter?" he said, throwing the ball back. "We all forget something every day. Not everyone has a perfect memory like my sister. Let's go to…"
Harry stepped back. For a moment, he indeed began thinking if he had hit his head or something.
Then his eyes landed on the Hogwarts robes on the bed again.
Black's face flashed in his eyes.
No! No! He wasn't imagining it. He hadn't gone insane! These people… They were the ones who had forgotten about Black… just as he had.
Now, only he remembered Black. Only him.
So, he must be the one to bring him back!
Harry spun around and ran.
Ron and Draco's eyes shot up, all sleepiness washing off their faces. They ran behind him, asking nothing.
It was night, but that didn't stop Harry from running from Gryffindor Common Room to Professor McGonagall's office, where she slept in an attached bedroom.
Upon Harry's relentless knocking and shouting, a tight-lipped McGonagall walked out, still wearing the red and white Santa Hat.
Ron and Draco just took and corner and finally caught up with Harry's mad rush, both taking heavy puffs.
The moment they saw the coldness dancing on the tip of Professor McGonagall's nose, they instantly regretted following Harry.
Harry, on the other hand, was already blubbering, pointing at the ball.
"A moment, Mr. Potter… are you bleeding?!" Minerva's eyes opened wide. "Blimey! What you were doing?!" She looked at Draco. "Were you fighting?!"
Draco looked offended.
"He was bleeding when we woke up, Professor," Ron explained hastily. "Something about Black or whatever."
"Let's go to infirmary…"
Harry snapped. "Will you just listen?!"
…
Harry's shout was so loud that it woke up the ghosts and figures in the paintings alike.
Professor McGonagall was too stunned to even reprimand.
Harry pushed the ball in her hands, which turned red, and again explained everything word by word.
The Head of Gryffindor House looked at the bloody smoke within the Remembrall and, for the first time, really gave it a thought. It was true. She couldn't remember what she had forgotten, despite exploring her Mindscape thoroughly.
Harry might be imagining it, McGonagall thought. But… Mindscapes aren't foolproof, either.
"Come with me, Potter," McGonagall said, shocking Draco and Ron. "You two, too."
…
When Harry came to his senses, putting his worries aside for a while, they were standing in the Headmaster's office.
Professor Dumbledore was looking at the Remembrall in his hands. It had gone red again.
"Tell me about this Black, Harry," the Headmaster said, "in as much detail as possible."
Harry had the words dancing on the tip of his tongue. So he told Dumbledore everything from the first to the last day. "I took him to the Mirror, Professor. But then… then… I just forgot about him."
Dumbledore's blue eyes momentarily flashed black.
Minerva approached him. "Is it an imaginary friend?" she asked, looking worriedly at Harry. "Poor child…"
"Imaginary friend?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's quite a detailed, imaginary friend, Minerva, no? Children possess better imagination, I agree. But…" He looked at the redness in his hand. "I have a bad feeling."
McGonagall gasped. "Surely you don't mean we all forgot someone together?! That's absurd…"
"Magic itself is absurd," Dumbledore replied, rubbing his thumb on the ball. "If only there was a way to confirm…"
Harry had been listening to the two Professors, getting anxious.
However, just when he heard Professor Dumbledore's last words, something clicked within him. He threw a look at Draco and then faced the Headmaster.
"There's one sure way to confirm, Professor," Harry said, his heart thumping loudly.
"And?" Dumbledore stepped toward the boy.
"If someone is known to not forget anything, then we can confirm this using the Remembrall, no?"
"There's no one…" Minerva was replying but then paused altogether.
Yes. There was one who was known to be brilliant, outstanding, and possessed a memory better than everyone.
Harry opened his mouth and called her name. "Darcie Malfoy."
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