CHARLUS' SYMPTOMS continued to escalate after he announced that he couldn't recall his mother's name. His erratic breathing was suddenly accompanied by him grabbing at his chest as it ached and raced at the same time. He couldn't stop shaking but even when he felt like he was going to topple over, Charlus couldn't bring himself to stop moving. When Sirius called out to him, trying to tell him to relax, Charlus caught none of it, and moments later, he claimed he couldn't breathe.

"What's wrong with him?!" Sirius questioned Maeve in his own form of panic. "What's happening? Save him!"

For a moment, Maeve seemed unsure of her next course of action. It was painful to witness Charlus in such a state, mainly because he had been progressing so well since leaving St Mungo's. But it appeared as though some of her fears were finally coming to the surface. Inducing patients into comatose states was not a regular practice among the wizarding kind, but more so muggles. Whatever could not be fixed with magic right away or over the course of a short period of time, was deemed as irreversible damage.

However, when Sirius begged her years ago to save Charlus' life, she was willing to try just about anything.

"Listen to me," she said to Sirius, " we need to get his breathing under control first. Just help me calm him down and we'll discuss this afterwards. We just need him to take slow and deep breaths."

Under Maeve's directions, Sirius approached Charlus but continued to keep some distance between them. More than anything, he just wanted to go over to his husband, wrap his arms around him, and hug Charlus until he was calm. And yet, Maeve advised against that, claiming that it would only make things worse for Charlus if he suddenly felt trapped. They couldn't just call out comforting things to him either since he couldn't hear him.

But Sirius had a plan as Maeve watched him start to sign. It didn't seem to work in the beginning but eventually, the movement caught Charlus' attention and he, at the very least, stopped pacing.

With his hands out in front of him, his palms facing downward, he moved them up and down, to tell Charlus to "calm down." Of course, it was easier said than done, leaving Sirius to move his hands up to his chest and slowly move them outward to make the motion for breathing.

"Breathe, Charlus," Sirius told him, " it's alright, we're all here with you. Just breathe with me."

"I can't, I can't!" Charlus gasped out.  It was clear that he could still breathe, enough that he could talk, but as Maeve observed, it was the panic that made Charlus believe that he couldn't.

Step by step, as he repeated the same actions over and over, Sirius continued to near Charlus, all the while as Charlus continued to claim that he couldn't breathe. Eventually, Sirius was able to get close enough and cautiously reached out to grab one of Charlus' hands. Maeve was going to warn him against it, but it was too late.

Fortunately, Charlus didn't have a negative reaction, but instead, watched and allowed Sirius to place his hand against his own chest. Sirius took several deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Every so often, he would remind Charlus to breathe and to relax because he was safe and nothing was going to happen to him. And finally, Charlus closed his eyes and continued to breathe along with Sirius until he was calm enough to speak.

"I'm sorry," he muttered out, allowing his forehead to come and rest on Sirius' shoulder, " I'm so sorry."

Sirius didn't say anything, but instead, rubbed his hand over Charlus' back in a comforting manner. He stole a glance in Maeve's direction, witnessing the small frown that had developed on her lips.

Once Charlus was calm enough to speak, Lyall was instructed to keep Harry occupied, while the rest of the adults spoke inside the kitchen. Remus entered the kitchen with a worried look, unsure if he should ask if Charlus was okay before he sat down. Meanwhile, Maeve had already put together a draught that would allow Charlus to remain in a relaxed state as Sirius spoke to him.

"Your mother's name is Euphemia, remember?" he said. "She was always so protective over you and James. Always talking about how proud she was to have you two as her sons, you were the greatest gifts she was blessed with. She had a unique sense of fashion, she liked dressing your father up in these robes with those wild colours. Your father didn't dare to protest. She was one of your best friends too, always looking out for you. Always wanting to make sure that you and James were happy. You remember her now, don't you?"

Charlus swallowed. "Of course," he replied, " I can see her every time I close my eyes. I remember so many things with her, but I couldn't remember her name. Why? She's my mother! What's wrong with me?"

Maeve placed the draught on the table, bringing both men to look up at her. "Nothing is wrong with you, Charlus," she told him. " It's memory loss and to be honest, it's not as uncommon as you think. I just didn't think it would happen now."

"What do you mean?" Remus asked. " When would you expect memory loss?"

"It's very common in patients coming out of a comatose state to experience memory loss. Whether it's the inability to recall memories before the brain injury or the inability to form new memories. Some don't experience any memory loss. It's hard to say. However, since you woke up, your recovery rate was alarming, Charlus."

She pushed the draught closer to him, encouraging him to drink it.

"The first few days, you were in and out of sleep as to be expected. But from that point on, there was nothing stopping you. Normally, patients are slowly brought out of their comatose state. You woke up on your own. Not to mention, you woke up with a purpose. You wanted to save your family and from that point on, you haven't stopped. You pushed yourself to walk and even with the help of magic, you were recovering incredibly fast. It's my fault for letting my guard down, thinking you had just made a full recovery."

Despite trying to remain calm for Charlus' sake, Maeve could see the worry that continued to develop on Sirius' expression.

"What does that mean? What does all this mean?"

"The Cruciatus Curse has been said not to cause people physical harm but that's not entirely true," Maeve explained. "We've seen from cases like Charlus, and Alice and Frank Longbottom that it can cause damage, even long after the curse has been lifted. It stimulates the pain receptors to the point of the person believing they are being tortured, and that can send anyone's body into shock or worse. If kept under long enough. Because the effects can be similar to a traumatic brain injury, I took it upon myself to place you in a comatose state, Charlus, so you could heal. But there was always the risk of side effects."

Charlus bit the inside of his cheek. " But why now? Why would something like memory loss surface now?"

"More than likely, you're under a great deal of stress. Your mind has been active more than ever as you put together plan after plan. I've warned you since we left St Mungo's that you need to be easier on yourself. You are still in the recovery stage and even if you are making incredible progress, there is still a chance for some relapse. You might have forgotten your mother's name at the moment, but more than likely, it would come back to you at a later time without any help."

"What about everything that was happening earlier?" Sirius asked. "He claimed he couldn't breathe, he was in pain!"

"That was a panic attack," Maeve continued, " Charlus felt an intense onset of fear because he couldn't remember his mother's name. He wasn't in danger per se, but his body entered a panic mode. He was short of breath and that was causing him chest pain, shaking, pacing, it's all common with an attack. I could have stopped you with magic, possibly temporarily paralysed you for the moment, but it's also best to learn how to cope with it if you're on your own. Learning the proper breathing exercises and other coping mechanisms will help when you have moments like that."

Sirius rubbed his face. "Are you saying there is going to be more?"

"There is a possibility," she said, " I can't guarantee that there won't be. Until the matter with Harry's custody is resolved, I'm sure you're going to be under a lot of stress. We can work on relaxation techniques and try to keep your stress levels as low as possible. If you feel a lapse in your memory, it's best to just ask. Remus and Sirius are here to help you, they've known you the longest in this household."

Charlus didn't say anything for a moment, looking away from Maeve and staring at his hands that rested on the table. Since taking the draught, his body had entered a state of relaxation so he was no longer shaking. But it hadn't worked to settle his mind completely because Maeve was right. He was under a lot of stress when it came to Harry's custody, which was why he was working so hard to make sure nothing could go wrong. But while he was taking care of outside factors, he hadn't really been paying any attention to himself.

"Be honest with me, Maeve," he asked after a minute or so, " do you think I'm still competent enough to raise Harry, even with this going on?"

Grandpa Lyall wasn't as good at Hide-and-Seek as Harry would have wished. And if he was being completely honest, he hadn't been in the mood to play in the first place. After watching his Uncle Charlus become upset at the mention of Harry's grandmother, Harry felt as though he had done something wrong. He also feared that his uncle was still sick, even if he didn't know what illness his uncle had to begin with. It had been his questioning that had triggered such a reaction and Harry was afraid that he had royally screwed things up for himself.

Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and even the horrid Aunt Marge had told him many times before that no one would ever want him. And even if they did take him, they would see just how horrible he was and want to send him back. Harry remembered those words well and he feared that they were going to come true.

He had made Uncle Charlus upset, maybe upset enough that he would be sent back to the Dursleys.

But he wouldn't go back, he couldn't. After experiencing what life was like outside of Privet Drive, Harry never wanted to go back. And no one could bring them back if they couldn't find him, right?

Walburga had been settled under her heavy duvet, attempting to rest under the instructions of her live-in Healer. But she couldn't fall asleep and she especially couldn't fall asleep when she heard the sound of crying as her bedroom door opened and slammed closed. She remained still, for the most part, slightly annoyed that someone dared to come into her bedroom with their own drama.

Couldn't she die slowly in peace?

But as she heard more crying, curiosity got the best of her and she threw her covers off her body and slowly sat up. She was about to tell whoever was crying to go seek comfort somewhere else until she saw the little boy crouched in the corner.

Most of his body was hidden as he was curled up in a tight ball, but even in the shadows, she could make out the dark hair against the pale skin.

"Regulus?"

Lifting his head up, the boy revealed himself and it was not her beloved son. Instead, he looked very similar to Charlus, and the late James Potter she had seen several times at King's Cross Station. It wasn't Regulus, it was little Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Why are you crying?"