A/N: I got this idea one night and suddenly found myself writing it down. This is just one of the ways Harry's life could have turned out after the Final Battle, one of the What Ifs after that last chapter ended.

His eyes slowly eased their way open, light flooding his pupils. He immediately shut them once again, but then, even slower than he had before, he opened them fully. The room was empty and entirely unfamiliar to him. This was not his room; but, then again, what was his room? What did it look like, how big was it, where was it? Blinking repeatedly, he reached for his head. A thick bandage surrounded his hair, and he then wondered what color his hair might be.

Noises made their way into the room, and he struggled to find out their causes, what was making them, who were making them. He felt the need to know some of them, but his mind rattled, empty, with no information for him. His growing frustration was beginning to bother him when a man appeared in the room, dressed in odd clothes, but, then again, he couldn't really call them odd seeing as he didn't know what was normal.

"Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?" The man had scruffy brown hair and deep, brown eyes. His face was fair and he carried himself with an abundant amount of pride. He seemed to know who the confused man was. The man began touching various parts of his, Mr. Potter's, apparently, throat and face; his hands were cold and were completely unwelcomed.

"I'm Healer Burns, you took a nasty hit to the head, mate."

Healer Burns looked at the man in the bed, who remained silent, his eyes curious. The healer began to wave his hand in front of the man's face, concern etched in his eyes.

"Follow my finger, please, Mr. Potter." He followed Healer Burns's finger cooperatively, but the same curious expression remained.

"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?" His voice was firm and he continued pressing firmly to various parts of Mr. Potter's body, from his wrist to his throat once again.

"Yes." He answered slowly, unsure if the words would come out right.

Healer Burns watched his face for a moment before yelling out. "Nurse Hanley!"

A short red headed woman came in, a cheerful grin that stretched ear to ear on her face. She too was dressed in odd clothes, only they were a pale purple color, unlike the vivid green of Healer Burns' clothes. She went straight to Mr. Potter's bedside and started poking him in the same manner the Healer had already done twice. It was beginning to irritate Mr. Potter, who was still curious as to what his first name was.

"He seems distant, lost almost." The Healer informed the woman, the nurse, Mr. Potter suddenly remembered, as he flipped through a clipboard full of papers.

"Have you tried asking him questions?" the nurse asked politely.

"Yes."

"Other than how he felt?"

"Er…"

Nurse Hanley patted the man's arm. "It happens with all the newer Healers, Mr. Burns. Now, Harry dear…"

"I've been a healer for two years, Nurse-" He started, but she waved him off, looking at Harry.

Harry, that was his name; Harry Potter, it sounded nice enough he decided. The nurse walked over to the side table that rested beside his bed. She reached into the top draw and pulled out a photograph. Sitting on the bed she held it up for Harry.

It was of a large family, judging by all their red hair. They all had smiles on their faces, but they all seemed forced. He could identify a mother, and a father, and six young adults, most likely the children. The oldest one stood beside a beautiful woman with silvery blonde hair and a brunette stood beside one of the younger men. The children were all red-headed boys, and one lone girl, most likely the youngest by her looks.

The nurse pointed to the red-headed girl. "Tell me something about her." She said, her smile only growing wider.

Harry opened his mouth, but words did not come. He struggled to speak; he knew how to speak, right? Finally the words he had been searching for came to him.

"Red hair?"

The woman's grin faded entirely. She released a deep sigh and looked at the Healer who was studying Harry. They both knew what was wrong. Was there something wrong? Perhaps there was, seeing as he didn't know much of anything.

"What's your full name?" The healer asked, not moving.

"Harry Potter." It was slow and unsure like all his previous answers.

"No your full name, including your middle."

Harry's mouth hung open for several moments. What was his middle name? He certainly did not know. He shrugged his shoulders. A mad grin spread across his face and he laughed softly, like a little boy.

"I dunno. D'you know?"

"Nurse Hanley, can you please run to floor four and get-"

"I know what you need." She nodded curtly and left the room.

The Healer dragged a chair to the side of his bed and crossed his arms as he sat down. Harry observed him, pride still radiated from the man. He was arrogant; he couldn't be more than twenty-two, maybe even younger. He hadn't shaved in what looked like two to three days and he had the faintest black markings beneath his tender eyes, so faint nobody else would have noticed them, except for Harry.

"You haven't shaved in two days and last night you were drinking. You're unhappy with your personal life so you do your best to make it nonexistent by devoting yourself to work." Harry blinked, shocked at what had just emerged from his mouth. He didn't even know where he was or how old he was, or what color his eyes were and yet he knew everything about this man by merely looking at him.

Healer Burns chuckled. "I bet you could tell me the last time I had sex too."

"Last week." Harry blurted out, reaching for his mouth as a seed of fear being planted deep within his stomach.

Burns laughed again. "I know this probably frightens you, Harry, but don't grow too worried over it. You have Pueritia Memoria, Childhood Memory. Your mind is like a book, and this spell wipes the pages clean. You have to go back and recreate your entire life's worth of memories."

"Spell?"

He sighed. "Harry, you are a wizard."

The room suddenly disappeared and Harry found himself in a wet shack. A hot fire was burning and on the dusty sofa sat a man several times Harry's size. His beard and hair blended together, long and wild and his coat looked like it could be the sheet of a king-sized bed. A family of three sat cowering together, a rather fat man with a thick mustache and a tall, blonde woman who kept a firm grasp on her fair haired, pudgy son. The giant man was looking with wide eyes at the small boy in front of him. The boy had round glasses and messy, jet black hair. His emerald eyes held a slight sense of fear, and he seemed surprisingly calm for a boy his size to be standing before a man so large. The giant spoke, his voice rough and as large as his size. "Harry-yer a wizard."

Healer Burns was standing above Harry, holding a long wooden stick that emitted a light from the tip, as if a light bulb was inside of it. He was holding Harry's eyes open and shining the light above them.

"Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry." He was unaware of what he was saying; he only knew that words were flooding from his mouth. "Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys. We await your owl by no later than July thirty-first…" Suddenly his breathing grew heavy and he shut his eyes, as if the light was painful. "Never-insult-Albus Dumbledore-in front-of me." His eyes flew open the moment after those words flew from his dry, cracked lips.

Harry looked up at Healer Burns with wide eyes full of panic. "Do you remember a lot?" He asked quietly, putting his wooden stick in his pocket.

"I'm a wizard…" Harry said slowly. "Magic is real, and there's a school, Hogwarts." He thought for a moment. "Did I go there?"

"Yes, you did. And you're making progress, but from you I'm not shocked. Though, I wouldn't expect memories to flow like that all the time. Only every once in a while." He sat back down in his chair. "It's going to be like you're a child, growing up all over again. Right now, you're a mere toddler, perhaps three or four, still rather quiet and frightened. By the end of the day, or possibly week depending on your particular case, you should be about six or seven, and then eventually you will make it to eighteen, your proper age."

"I'm eighteen?"

"Yes. And you're the Chosen One." Burns nodded. "There was a very evil wizard. He came to your family's home when you were merely a year old and killed both of your parents. Then he tried to kill you."

Harry licked his lips, the seed of fear growing and beginning to bloom.

"But the Killing Curse, something nobody has ever survived, failed. You are the only known person to survive it, and you were a baby no less. Your godfather, Sirius Black, was blamed for their murders, he was believed to have been a Death Eater, You-Know-Who's followers. In reality it was another one of the Potter's friends, but Black was sent to Azkaban, the wizard prison.

"You were sent to live with your aunt, uncle and cousin, who were non-magical. We call them muggles. They hid your magical identity until you were eleven when you were supposed to attend Hogwarts; you then went to school and had quite an adventurous first year. You fought a troll and saved the Philosopher's Stone from the Defense Against the Dark Art's teacher who was working for You-Know-Who. You did this alongside your two friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

"In your second year of school, you saved Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister from the Chamber of Secrets, where a rather large snake called a Basilisk attacked you. You destroyed it and saved Ginny. Your third year proved more exciting on a more personal level. Sirius Black, your godfather escaped from Azkaban. Dementors, large horrible things that suck out souls, were posted at Hogwarts to search for him. You discovered his innocence but he still had to flee." He stopped, observing Harry.

"Is this too much for you?"

"I really don't understand it all, but it seems…normal."

Burns nodded. "It's because it is your memory. It's still in your mind, but it's…lost."

"I think I understand."

"Well, later you won't be so easy to comply with. At the earliest stage of this memory loss, you're so confused by everything that your mind goes into a state of speed almost, it takes information in without attaching it to emotion, making it far easier for you to absorb massive amounts of knowledge. It's hard to explain."

Harry shrugged. Nurse Hanley came into the room, a thick book and several smaller ones tucked beneath her arm. She handed the three smaller books to the healer and then she smiled at Harry. He was beginning to find a familiarity to this woman, like he knew someone like her…but he didn't know anyone beside Healer Burns and Nurse Hanley. But Burns had said his memory wasn't truly gone, just lost.

"Here." She gave harry the thick novel and saw his name in large letters on the cover.

"The Life of Harry Potter. I have my own book?" He asked bashfully.

"You're very famous Harry." She patted his arm delicately.

"You can skip to chapter fifteen or so, I've filled you in on over half of what that book will tell you." Healer Burns muttered, flipping through his own stack of books attentively.

Harry opened it to, Chapter Fourteen-Dragons, Mermaids and Mazes of Doom, the title did not sound appealing but he skimmed through it, feeling more refreshed than he had earlier.

"Nurse Hanley, did I really fly on a broom to get away from a…" He read the name carefully, "Hungarian Horntail?"

"Yes, you did, sweetie."

"Oh." He turned back to the book and listened to the nurse and healer's whispered conversation.

"Do you think it will come back?"

"It's Harry Potter, his magical power is off the charts. He should be fine in a few months."

"Don't be so sure of yourself, Burns. That can be a downfall for many healers."

"I know what I'm doing."

He heard Nurse Hanley sigh. "So, what exactly does this type of memory loss entail?"

"He's like a child that needs to grow up all over again. There are a few positives to this though."

"Positives?"

"His vision has been corrected, that's why he hasn't requested his glasses. The fall affected his optic nerve and gratefully, it was in a good way, he could have gone blind. He's also highly observant. He could tell what I'd been doing last night and the last time I'd had sex even."

"I should warn the other nurses…or not."

Harry wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was listening to their conversations. He found it hard to imagine Nurse Hanley doing anything mean to anyone. But maybe she wasn't being mean? What exactly was considered mean?

"Did I wear glasses?" He suddenly asked.

Burns looked up from his book for a moment. "Yes, but the fall corrected your vision."

"How did I fall?"

"Remember You-Know-Who?"

"Yes, he killed my parents and tried to kill me." His bluntness caused Nurse Hanley to sigh sadly, her eyes moist. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?" He asked her.

"No, Harry, continue."

"He had Death eaters, his followers." He told Burns.

"Yes, well, you killed You-Know-Who in May. It's late August now. A few days ago, his remaining Death Eaters tried to attack Hogwarts, where you defeated You-Know-Who. They were fended off fairly easily, due to their small numbers. During the fight, you were thrown from a staircase outside the Great Hall, landing on your head. It's a miracle you're even alive."

"Was anybody else hurt?"

"Other than a few bruises or cuts, no, nobody was even hospitalized."

"Well that's good." Harry nodded and returned to his book.

"Keep reading, Harry, it will help you a lot, I'm sure." Burns told him, still going through his book.

Eventually Nurse Hanley left, leaving Harry alone with Burns. Both men kept their eyes on their respective books, keeping to themselves. Harry's mind buzzed with the new-found information he was getting from the book. He had led an army of his schoolmates into battle when he was fifteen; it was incredible to him, yet he couldn't quite pull very much emotion out of the stories. He felt a slight tug at his heart when Sirius died, but he was merely remembering the fact that he had been upset over it at one point.

After over an hour, Harry looked up at Healer Burns. "Sir, can I look at myself?"

The healer looked up, his expression still lifeless. "Sure, it's natural to be curious." He stood up and went to Harry's bedside table. He pulled out a mirror, holding it up for Harry to gaze at his reflection.

His eyes were a vivid, emerald green, his skin fair and his hair jet black. He then realized that that small boy in the memory was him. He touched the thick, white bandaging that was wrapped around his head, tugging slightly at it before Burns pushed his hand away.

"There's a healing cream on your wound right now. You can take that off in about a week." He took the mirror away, but Harry could still see his reflection in his head, clear and vivid.

"Was I close to my family?"

Healer Burns sat down, shaking his head. "Your aunt and uncle? Not really. In the beginning you all had a deep hatred for each other, but the last time you saw them before you left for school, you all made a truce of some kind. This is all according to your book." He chuckled. "It's amazing what one interview can create. The interview happened two months ago. One month after it happened, there's a book. Your life is certainly something to be written about though."

He stood up and checked Harry's bandage once again. "Well, you need some sleep. You've just taken in about eighteen years in a matter of hours. Try and sleep through the night on your own, I'd rather not give you any potions while your mind is so unstable."

"All right." Harry removed one of the pillows from behind him and lied down obediently.

"Harry, I wouldn't consider the Dursleys your real family." Burns said quietly, leaning against the bed. "Remember that photo, Nurse Hanley showed you? Well, that's the Weasley family. Molly and Arthur are like your adoptive parents almost. They have six children, formerly seven before the Final Battle. Bill is the oldest and he is married to Fleur and works at the wizard bank, Gringotts. Then there's Charlie, who works with dragons in Romania. Percy isn't too popular, having abandoned the family when the world thought you crazy." Burns laughed slightly and Harry did too, remembering the book. "Then there are the twins, well were the twins. Fred died in battle, but George is still alive. They ran a joke shop together and now George handles it alone. Ron is your age and your best friend. He is dating Hermione Granger, your other best friend. You three were considered the Golden Trio, because you saved the wizarding world together. Lastly, is the only girl in the family, Ginny, I don't know much about your relationship, but you will find out in time.

"The Weasley's will be informed that you awake and well. I'd expect the entire crowd to be in here first thing in the morning. If Molly hugs you, crying, don't be scared, she tried to do the same to me when I told her you were going to be fine." He patted Harry on the arm and turned to leave.

"You haven't talked to your parents in years. You should call them. You're lucky to have them."

He froze his hand on the silver door handle. He glanced over his shoulder at Harry who was watching him.

"I just might do that. Good-night, Harry."

"Night Burns." Harry yawned, his mind still racing. He didn't know how he would ever be able to sleep, but the moment Burns turned the lights out, his eyes slid shut and he emerged into a deep sleep, filled with curious dreams about red-heads and motorcycles.