seven days lost

man.He claims to be my therapist, and his name is Draco Malfoy.

Following his words, I found my diary from under the bed.I read it quickly, but I didn't understand it, so I read it again.I found a very interesting thing - maybe not funny, but scary - every morning when I wake up, I am not completely memoryless, I will think that I am in a certain time period in the past, and Every time is different.This only proves how messed up my memory really is.

Summarizing the diary of the previous two days, I have been to school before, and the name of the school is very strange - Hogwarts.I have two best friends at Hogwarts who are now married and I live in their house.The former Headmaster of Hogwarts was Dumbledore, now Professor McGonagall.Dumbledore seems to have a deep communication with me, but I can't remember it, and it's written vaguely in the diary.I guess yesterday's self just remembered a feeling, a fragment, but couldn't put it together.He didn't want to mislead me in the future, so he didn't make random guesses.

I went to the two rooms mentioned in the diary, one was locked and the other was exactly as described in the diary.All this is true.

Like yesterday, I was lost again.I'm going to get my memory back, but there are very few things I can rely on - my broken, unstable memory, my therapist, and maybe luck.

My past is like a thin piece of paper floating on the sea, which is unpredictable, and I don't know when it will fall and sink in an unknown place.But I know I don't want to, maybe it's a good choice to live a life without hard work and work, but it's not what I want.

I don't know what I've done, but I know I don't want to stop here, now or in the past.I must find a way to escape.

After lunch, instead of going back to my room, I went to the living room.Mrs. Weasley went out to buy some used daily necessities, but Mr. Weasley rarely came home for lunch today.He was sitting on the couch reading the Daily Prophet, and when he saw me sitting in front of him he put the paper down and smiled at me.

"Hey, Harry. Are you feeling all right?"

"Uh...it's okay." I swallowed, a little nervous.He was a nice man, and I should relax a bit, but I don't have any conversations with him in my diary.

"Is there anything you want to say to me?" he asked.

"Well... so, sir, how is my uncle's family? Are they still living in the same place?"

Mr. Weasley looked a little surprised. He stroked his chin and considered his words for a while: "No, they've moved, Harry. They're not in Privet Drive anymore."

"When did they move?"

"It's been years since I moved away," he seemed to be recalling, "and now the house is rented out to someone else. Do you want to go and have a look?"

"No, it's not..." I shook my head, for some reason, I remembered another room, wide and dark, filled with many flashy decorations, many people shuttled and bustling...

It was just a floating image that passed through my mind. I couldn't even see the specific shapes of those decorations, and I couldn't recognize the faces of those people, and their words were so vague.I stood in front of the chaotic memories, like standing on a fast-moving subway, and all the strange things turned into shaking blocks of color.

A great sadness hit me like a falling comet.I suddenly tightened the clothes on my chest, said goodbye to Mr. Weasley hurriedly and ran back to my room.

The feeling of pain that almost overwhelmed me could not go away no matter what. I didn’t know which time and space and which self this suffocation came from. Something sharp was spinning and was about to fly out of my brain.

I wanted to cry, so I cried.It was the first time I cried for no reason.

I wanted to hold on to something, and only then did I really feel that I had lost something—something I was desperately trying to hold on to.Grief swam in my chest like a hot iron, and I bent over, a low, beastly howl from my throat.

The sorrow of countless fears, regrets, and despairs.I've lost countless ribs that made me up, and I've been reborn, never to get back.

I took out my diary and wrote it all down.Then I threw the pen into the bedside table and fell heavily on the bed.I took a cell phone out of my pocket.I dialed it hard.

"Beep, beep, beep... beep... hello?"

I opened my mouth and was about to speak when a curtain floated in front of me.I saw a figure falling obliquely and passing through it smiling in the blue light.

"Do not--"

"Potter? What's the matter with you?"

"No, no—he's not dead, Sirius! He's not dead—"

"Calm down, Potter! Where are you?"

The phone slipped from my hand and fell to the ground, but my hand remained raised.I sat on the bed blankly and pressed my brain hard.

I remembered where that room was, it was Sirius' home.And Sirius was my godfather, a relative who would sign my application to Hogsmeade.

More images came to my mind, I saw him sitting on Buckbeak's back and said I was worthy of being James' son, he handed me a looking glass to watch out for Snape, he was looking at him in the house. I laughed heartily as his head emerged from the fireplace in the living room...

But he died.His smiling figure passed through the veil of death, and he died.

Hate that couldn't be grasped no matter how much I called out pierced my heart, I was dragged away crying, I yelled at Dumbledore angrily, I had to believe that no one would ever become a wolf dog again I am happy, no more.

Not anymore.

I kept wiping my tears with my hands. I was shaking uncontrollably and could hardly stop.I collapsed into the futon and covered myself with the soft quilt.

How much more do I have to lose, how much more do I have to lose?How many more things did I forget, only to find it irretrievable when I finally remembered?How many important people, how many fearless sacrifices, have I forgotten?

I lost control.I mean, I can't remember exactly what it was like, but it must have been horrible.Something was going on in my head and I couldn't bear the torture so I was throwing things here and there - and when I came to I was held tightly in Mrs Weasley's arms and Mr Weasley was standing there worrying looking at me.

"It's okay, kid, it's okay...it's okay..." she kept saying, pressing me into her arms hard.It was really weird for a 24 year old man to be held like this and I knew I was doing something wrong again and I shouldn't be doing this.I've been causing trouble for other people.

They comforted me for a long time before leaving. Mrs. Weasley offered to accompany me, but I firmly refused.

I slumped over my desk to write in my diary, making it even more excruciating by rewriting painful events, my tears melting on the page.

Before I finished writing, the phone vibrated suddenly - I searched for the source of the sound for a while, and found it under the bed.I got connected.

"Hey?"

"Is it Harry Potter?"

"It's me, what's wrong?"

"How are you? Can you tell me, I really—what you just said—"

"Sorry, I'm fine," I sniffed, "really."

Draco was silent for a while, then said, "Could you come out for a while?"

"No, I—I don't want to come out, it's very windy outside."

"Potter, I'm at the back door in the backyard right now."

"I said I don't want to go, didn't you understand?" I suddenly raised the volume, which startled me too.I figured he'd think I was a jerk throwing a tantrum and hang up angrily.

"Potter, if you want your situation to get better, you'd better come out and see me," he said.

As soon as I heard that I hung up the phone and sat down at my desk sulking.

Oh, he doesn't understand how painful I am at all, he just regards these as his experiment, an experimental material that can be exchanged for reputation, for his own benefit, he wants to force me to recall these painful things, he doesn't know Did it take much effort for me just to write them down?

I was angry for a while and then fell into extreme self-loathing.I know how much I've gone too far, I've been very rude and I've always taken it out on other people.I'm messing with everyone who tries to help me, I'm beyond help.

I was at a loss again.

Just as I was hesitating whether to apologize to Draco, the phone rang again, and I quickly pressed the answer button.

"Hey?"

"Sorry, I don't think I'm a qualified therapist."

"No, it's not your fault," I replied quickly, "I'm the one to apologize."

"Since you're fine, I'll go back first."

I hesitated for a moment, then said, "Wait a while, Malfoy. I'll be right down."

I ran downstairs quickly and opened the back door of the warehouse with the key in my pocket.I found this key while touching the phone, and I think it should be the one mentioned in the diary.I will put it in a fixed place when I come back, just put it in the diary.

I quickly walked around the path and out the back door, and a tall, thin man was standing not far away.I walked towards him and stood in front of him.

"Sorry, I said on the phone