Harry cracked open his eyes, and promptly was assaulted by the bright lights above him. He resolved to keep his eyes shut. He groaned. The pounding headache didn't help either, and he was sore all over, but mainly the chest. He rolled over onto his back with a grimace. When did he hurt his leg? And why couldn't he remember anything?

"Merlin's arse!" A voice exclaimed. "Sirius, c'mere!"

There were some shuffles before another voice spoke. "Eh? What's happened to em James?"

"Dunno, he just appeared out of nowhere, but he looks hurt and his left leg's all weird. Should we take him to St. Mungos?"

"I think your mother can fix him up." There was a snigger. "Doesn't look too serious."

Through the haze, Harry grimaced again. Seriously? That had to be one of the worst puns he had ever heard. What am I even basing that off of? Each time he tried to remember, the headache increased in viciousness.

"Pads, go tell her," the first voice sighed.

"Yessir!"

There was a prod on his shoulder. "Oi, can you hear me?"

Harry barely managed to mumble the affirmative.

"So, why do you look so much like me? Why are you in such oversized clothing? And it doesn't look modern either."

There was a snap, and another voice broke in. "James, don't bother him! I won't be able to diagnose the boy."

"Yes, mother."

"Ferula." What felt like a splint wrapped itself around his leg. There was a series of light taps on his head and the aches lessened considerably. He was still sore though.

As if the lady had read his thoughts, she said, "There is no spell for soreness, and I don't have the potions on me for that or to fix your leg."

Harry sighed in relief nonetheless. "Thank you."

He opened his eyes, and started to sit up. He was met by the faces of three people; one lady and two boys-his headache immediately came back with a vengeance. Harry let out a grunt and fell back down.

"Prongs, it has to be you if he passed out from just looking at us. I'm not ugly like you are."

"What?! Merlin help me Sirius I will hex-"

"Boys! We shouldn't leave him like this on the floor of Madam Malkin's shop. Let's bring him back."

Harry faded into unconsciousness.


A young witch was shrinking away from a troll, her mahogany curls flying around her face as she retreated.

"Hermione!" A redheaded wizard at his side shouted. Who were these two?

"We'll save you!" Harry heard himself yell. Why was she so close to the troll anyways? And how had the troll even gotten in-was this a girls bathroom?! He watched the redhead levitate a bat-his name was Ron, Harry remembered.

Ron. Hermione. Those names felt familiar. How? And why was there such a bright light present?

Harry jerked awake. He was laying in possibly the warmest bed he had ever been in, and the headache was completely gone. So was the wounded leg. Bright shafts of light shined through the white curtains, and Harry noticed he was in an absolutely posh room. Antique furniture was everywhere, and he felt the urge to grab his wand and blast his way out.

Probably not a good idea, he frowned. He spied his glasses and wand on the side table, and he shifted out from under the sheets. Harry put on his glasses, and was confused as he looked down at what he was wearing- oversized jumper, shirt, and pants. He would fix that.

He picked up his wand and pointed it at himself. "Reducio." He repeated this on each article of clothing until they actually fit him.

No sooner had he managed this did the door barge open, giving way to two boys, both with black hair and looking around sixteen, but one had grey eyes, and a smile that told you to run. The other had hazel orbs, and his smile was kinder, but held the same mischievousness.

"Ah, the guest awakens," the grey-eyed one exclaimed. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Sirius, Sirius Black." He spoke his surname with distaste, Harry noted.

The other one rolled his eyes. "Do not make a name pun, seriously." He grinned at Sirius's expression before focusing on Harry. "I'm James Potter. Hope you slept well 'cause we're bringing you to find your family."

Harry shrugged. "Okay."

James ran a hand through his hair. "Well. Follow us, then."

Harry padded out into the hallway, noting the way everything was themed in dark red and gold. "Nice colors," he gestured at the the furniture.

"Must be a Gryff," they decided, chuckling.

They arrived at an oak door labelled 'Fleamont Potter'. James knocked, and a few moments passed before a voice called, "Come in!"

The door swung open without assistance, revealing a greying wizard lounging behind a desk. Harry followed the others in. The two boys plopped into armchairs, while Harry sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

"So," he started, "What's your family name?"

Harry stared at him. "I...don't know, sir."

"Really?" The wizard raised an eyebrow. "In that case," he summoned a box. "Point your wand in here." He showed Harry the aperture.

Harry stuck his wand in it.

Fleamont tapped the box.

And then his eyebrows rose so high that James, from his spot behind Harry exclaimed, "Dad, your eyebrows are flying off!" He dissolved into a fit of giggles along with Sirius.

Fleamont paid them no heed. He rubbed his eyes and blinked before looking at the box again. His amber eyes rose to Harry's puzzled dark green.

"You're a Potter?!" The giggles behind Harry stopped.