Happy Valentine's Day. Instead of chocolate, I come with a new story. Thank you to Kmoaton for betaing and thank you to Lady Ayami for helping me with naming this story. Enjoy!
Harry turned the small vial over in his hands, wondering if he had the courage to actually follow through with his plans. It had seemed like it would be an easy decision but the more he looked at the vial, the more doubt began to creep into his mind. Was this really the right thing to do? It seemed like the easy way out to him but he just didn't know if he could deal with the pain anymore. Not only did he have to deal with bearing the guilt for Cedric's death but now he also had to relive Sirius's death in his nightmares every single night. It was still as agonizing as it had been when Harry first realized that his godfather was dead and it had been over a month since Harry had gotten a full night's sleep.
He had been filled when grief when Cedric had died, someone that he had only known from school and through the Tri-wizard Tournament. However bad he thought his grief was then, it was unbearable now that it was his godfather who was gone, the one person that stood a chance at getting him away from the Dursleys and forming a real family with Harry.
Green eyes stared at the vial blankly. Was it worth it? Was it worth it to forget everything just to get rid of some pain?
Harry stared at the photo album on his bed, specifically at the photo of his parents' wedding, with Sirius as the best man in the background.
Yes, it was worth it.
Harry Potter shoved the photo album back under the loose floorboard, along with anything magical that might cause him to remember. Then he returned to his bed and took a deep breath. It was now or never. He didn't know when he would be leaving this house for Hogwarts but he couldn't risk being here when he took the potion.
The teenager snuck out of the house quietly. His aunt and uncle had given up locking his door every single night and Harry was fortunate that they hadn't locked it tonight. Harry strolled through the neighborhood, trying to find a spot where he could take the potion peacefully. He finally settled on a park right across the road from the train station. If he saw the train station later on, hopefully he wouldn't wander back to Privet Drive. He didn't want to leave permanently but he couldn't risk going anywhere that would cause him to remember right away.
Pushing away all of his thoughts, Harry uncorked the vial and swallowed the contents in one gulp. When he had researched and bough the potion, he had read that there was nothing that was currently invented that could bring abck his memories, not even the memory that he was Harry Potter. Things tended to work out differently for him. At first, he felt nothing unusual. He still had his memories and he began to think that it hadn't worked. However, before he could fully work himself into a panic, the teenager's vision began to blur. The park looked like it was spinning around in circles, even though Harry was fully aware that he was sitting down and not moving. The spinning began to increase and in a few seconds, all went black.
When he woke up, he immediately wondered why he was outside. Who would choose to sleep outside unless they were homeless? Was he homeless? He felt like he should know this but for some reason he couldn't.
The teenager looked around, trying to pinpoint where he was. Judging from the sign hanging from the train station across the road, he was in a place called Surrey. However, that didn't tell him anything. He didn't know where he was or where he should go. With hesitation, he approached the train station and looked around. There was a train coming soon but he didn't know if he had a train ticket or any money to pay for a ticket. Was that even what people did?
He wasn't sure of anything anymore. He knew the words for everything he saw and he seemed to know the basics of functioning in this world but he wasn't sure how he had learned these things or if he had learned them correctly. Still, they had to be right, otherwise he was sure that he would have stood out.
Well, he would have stood out if there was anyone else in the train station besides the ticket attendant.
Shaking his head, the teenager went into the bathroom. Maybe if he washed his face things would become clearer. He would keep following his instincts for the time being, sure that if he did something extremely out of the ordinary that someone would tell him.
As luck would have it, he found a ticket on the counter of the bathroom sink. It was slightly damp but it didn't look like it had been used. The teenager examined the ticket carefully. King's Cross Station. He didn't know how to get there but it sounded much more interesting than Surrey. Maybe if he went there he would be able to find something he recognized.
It was such an odd feeling, wandering around having no clue where he had been or where he needed to go. He could only hope that he was doing something right.
Before he left the bathroom, the teenager glanced at himself in the mirror. He didn't look like anything special but he was certain that his shaggy, messy hair and his too large clothes meant that he was homeless. Oh well. He was sure that there were worse things in life than being homeless. At least he didn't have any possessions to worry about taking onto the train. The only thing he found curious was the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead but he couldn't remember how he had gotten it. At least it would make him identifiable to anyone looking for him.
He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
The ticket attendant stared at him curiously as the teenager presented the ticket but said nothing. When the teenager asked, he was given directions and the names of which trains to take. It was surprisingly easy, which he was grateful for. He had a feeling that normally things didn't work out so easily for him, though he couldn't say why. As the train left the station, the green-eyed teen sat down and waited for his next stop to come.
King's Cross Station was a lot larger than the Surrey station had been, the boy realized when he arrived. He was on platform 5 but now he wasn't sure where to go. Which way should he go out of the station? As he stood, trying to decide what to do, the teenager failed to notice a stranger watching him from across the station with a shocked look on his face nor did he notice the strange man's approach.
"Well, look who it is. The famous Mr. Harry Potter," a deep, sarcastic sounding voice said from beside him. The boy looked at the speaker blankly.
"Where is he? I don't think I've seen anyone famous before. I feel like that would be something I could tell my friends."
The man stared at him in surprise, his eyes narrowing.
"Are you playing with me?" he asked in a voice that sent shivers up the teen's spine. He sounded dangerous.
"I'm not sure what you mean. Where is this famous Harry Potter, though? I've never heard that name before. Is he a foreigner?"
The man stared at him for a few long seconds, eyes searching his face. The boy couldn't help but notice that his eyes landed on the scar on his forehead more than once. Then the man pulled out a thin piece of wood and muttered a word that didn't sound English to the teen.
The teen blinked and stared at the man who was in front of him.
"Hello," he greeted the man. "Do you need something?"
There was an unreadable look in the man's blue eyes. He had gray shaggy hair and his beard made his appearance seem even wilder. When he spoke, the teen noticed that his teeth seemed to be sharper than normal—or at least what he thought was normal.
"We've been looking for you," he said. "What were you thinking, running off like that?"
"Do we know each other?" the teen asked, tilting his head in confusion. "I don't believe I've met you before."
"You foolish boy," the man grumbled. "Your mother is worried sick. You shouldn't have gone out so soon after your accident." Green eyes widened.
"My m-mother?" Somehow that was a surprise to him. "You know my mother?"
"Of course I do," the man snapped. "Now let's get you back before you get into any more trouble. It's not safe out. Even you should realize that, memories or not. What if you had come across the wrong person?"
The teen gave a bitter smile.
"Then I guess it's best that you found me before that happened then, isn't it?" he asked and tried not to grimace in pain as the man gripped his arm tightly. "What's your name again?"
"Fenrir Greyback."
The name seemed vaguely familiar to the teen but the sensation of familiarity didn't make him recognize the man.
"Where are we going?" the teen asked as he was dragged along by the man who had identified himself as Fenrir Greyback.
"Back," Greyback growled, starting to grow annoyed by all the questions. His plan had better work. Otherwise, he was going to regret not killing Harry Potter on sight.
"Back where?" the teen asked. Greyback didn't answer. Instead, he disapparated, teen in tow.
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