seven days lost

In fact, I really want to help you, and the direction of my research may help your disease. "

"Um...why are you helping me?" I asked.

"Because I've been working on a project with my research team recently, it's about the human brain. I thought, it might be—I mean, it's the best of both worlds." Draco said quickly, he had been watching My expression, "I think, you should also be troubled by your condition."

I thought for a while and asked, "Have you been looking for me? Around here?"

Draco touched his nose, his face pale.

"No, you misunderstood. I'm not some perverted stalker."

"Then you found it here by chance?"

"Hmm..." He didn't seem to know what to say, and took a step back.

I looked at him with interest, and it seemed to me that he must be lying—again from my inexplicable intuition, of course, maybe just because of his strange sense of disobedience—but I was not afraid.The fence that separates us protects me.I imagined what would happen if it suddenly disappeared.

"Can you come out for a moment?" he asked.

Well, the imaginary happened.

Unexpectedly, I opened the door, which I was so afraid to go outside a second ago.

Draco took me to a crowded coffee shop nearby.We sat at a round table in the open air, and he asked for a glass of milk for me, while he ordered a glass of mocha himself, and added a lot of sugar to it.

"Okay, now let's talk about it," he said. "St. Mungo's has a long history of treating magical injuries, and you can ask anyone about that. I read about you in the hospital case." information, so I thought of contacting you."

"... Oh." I nodded.

Draco's fingers intertwined.He seemed a little embarrassed by my overly cold reaction.

"Well, we can give it a try. If you think it doesn't work, or if you think I'm unreliable, you can stop at any time." He took a sip of coffee, moved closer, and I could see a wisp Light trickled down the hair at the corner of his ear.

"Is my case rare?" I asked.

"Yes, that's why it appears valuable," he replied.

"So, will I be able to heal?" This is also my biggest concern.

This time Draco didn't answer right away.He tapped the table with his fingertips, then picked up the cup of coffee and took another sip.

"I can only say one possibility," he began. "Your situation is very rare. Your brain undoubtedly has the ability to store memories, but it can only last for a short time. We need to make some attempts to arouse you. I believe those memories are not lost, but hidden in the depths of your brain."

I thought of Ginny and Quidditch.I have to admit that he has a point.

"If you want to heal, you have to try something," he said.

"I understand, I don't want them to take care of me all the time," I said.Mrs. Weasley's tears in the morning are still vivid, "And I can't remember my life. What have I been through? I asked Mrs. Weasley, and she was vague."

"What did she say?" Draco asked.His hand suddenly grasped the hot coffee cup.

"She said I had an accident. But when I asked what it was, she was very confused. And I didn't see any pictures of them in the living room, I mean, I remember there was a big one There's a group photo on the wall," I recall, "and Ginny—"

"Ginny?" I don't know if it was my illusion, but the corners of Draco's eyes seemed to twitch.

"Oh, that's my boarding friend's sister," I explained. "She's beautiful and a good Quidditch player, that's what she told me. But her right leg—your coffee is about to spill." Come out, Mister Malfoy."

"Ah, sorry." Draco quickly put the coffee cup back on the table, motioning for me to continue talking.I lowered my head and took a sip of the milk, it was still a little hot.

"Her right leg is a little loose. Although she's trying to hide it, there's a little mark, and I think it might be an injury. But I thought, maybe I don't need my leg to play Quidditch... well, I don't, either. I don't know what I'm talking about." I scratched my hair in annoyance, and when I looked up, I found Draco was looking at me seriously, seeming to memorize every word I said.

"Hmm...you're very observant." He coughed, his voice a little weird, "I think they might not want you to recall those things, I guess that might be a bad thing. But I think you should Have your own choice."

"They...don't want me to know?" I frowned, "Why?"

"I don't know." Draco pursed his lower lip, "According to the information I got, you have lived in the Burrow for five years, and you have not received any treatment during this period. I think maybe they are I have no intention of reminding you of it anytime soon."

"No, I don't understand. They can tell me everything, and then I can recover my memory, can't they?"

"No, it's not that simple. Your life is your own, and no matter how comprehensive someone else's description is, it can't replace your own memory. Only when you think about it is effective. And, I think, that memory—— Since your brain chooses to forget, maybe it wasn't a very good memory. For everyone."

"...do you know something?" I asked suddenly, staring into his eyes.

Draco didn't avoid my gaze, he said calmly: "All I know is what's in the data. I don't know much more than you."

"So you're saying they might be upset if they knew I was in therapy?"

"This possibility is not ruled out. Of course, you can tell them, but it is best to be convincing after you have achieved certain results."

I thought for a while, and then nodded slowly: "Okay. So, how are you going to treat my amnesia?"

Draco finished his mocha and put the coffee cup aside.He pursed his lips and licked off the coffee liquid.

"Here, I think you can start a journal and write down every day," he said.

"...That's it?" I was a little disappointed.

"This may help you recover your memory. If you don't want others to know what you wrote, you can put it in a secret place. I will call every day to tell you where it is."

"Call? What's that?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you." Draco took a small device from his pocket, which he explained was a flip phone.Every button on the phone's keyboard originally had a pattern, but it was erased, leaving only the one in the upper right corner.

Draco explained to me how to use it in detail.It's not difficult, but it still took me 10 minutes to get the hang of it.When I apologized to him, he was understanding.

"It took me a long time to figure it out," he said, and seeing I was still looking at him, he added, "Shorter than you, of course."

He handed me a small black journal with a pen attached to it.I stuffed it in my pocket.

"I'll put it in a box under the bed," I said.

"You start journaling today so you won't be confused tomorrow."

"Of course. I hope it wasn't a dream." I joked, but Draco didn't laugh.He looked worried.

I drank all the milk in my glass and Draco sent me back to the Burrow.He didn't go to the gate of the courtyard, and we parted on the opposite street.

That's where this diary comes from, and I think I've explained it clearly.

In fact, there was an episode after I went back - Mrs. Weasley couldn't find me, and she was in a panic; and Ron and Hermione came back, and they scolded me together.

It made me want to get my memory back even more.If I wasn't in the current situation, of course I could go wherever I wanted, and I don't need others to take care of me.Ron and Hermione are my age, but they treat me like a child now.

I looked at them, and then I had only one question: why couldn't you tell me what happened?

It seems that the answer to this question can only be slowly explored by me.

Second day

The weather on the second day, June 6: overcast

When I woke up this morning I forgot who I was.I mean, I know my name is Harry Potter, but it's like I stole it from someone else, it doesn't feel real at all.

Everything seems to be getting worse.

After breakfast, a strange man called me.He told me his name was Draco Malfoy and he was my therapist.He told me I had a diary in a box under the bed.

I didn't quite believe him, but I followed his words and looked under the bed.There really was a dusty box with a little black book in it.I patted off the ash and opened it up.

I started reading my diary and it was about my meeting with a therapist, which is why I have this diary.But I don't have the slightest impression of it, not at all, but I have to believe it's true.

My memory can only be kept for one day, and it turned out to be true.I can't imagine, all these years—if Draco is right, I've had this disease for at least five years—