Chapter 2: Forgotten

Ron sat dumbfounded in the middle of the café. He kept gapping not really realizing what was going on around him. Harry had long since left the café and the sounds of sirens had replaced him. Apparently someone was doing a bit of Christmas shopping without their wallet. Hermione was too busy with the attention that wasn't focused on her for once, that she missed the odd looks passing over her boyfriend's faces as he tried to muddle through what was happening to his best friend.

Harry was a hero, a savoir, he had one and there wasn't any fighting left to do. So why the Hell was he hanging out here acting like some Muggle "please men" when he was the greatest Auror since Moody with a bank account bigger then Europe and a girl friend more pleasurable then a horde of Veela? Ron figured it had something to do with the press, but not tell his best friends and then completely ignoring them in their old hangout? Something was definitely wrong with the black haired wonder.

Suddenly Ron wrenched out of his chair and flew down the street to the jewelry store. The cops were holding back the people around the scene of the brake-in. Ron could see Harry and his female redhead friend talking to the two cops he had seen before. Ron cast a small 'Notice-Me-Not' charm on himself and slipped under the tap.

"Harry you great prick! What the hell are you playing at?!" Ron called flinging his arms around the man. "We've been looking all over for you! Did you think that you could really ditch us that easily? You've got Hermione in a right state!"

Suddenly Ron was flying through the air and when he could blink the water out of his eyes he realized Harry flung him off and had some contraption pointed at him. Ron, not knowing what the gun did, merely got up off the ground, pissed off now.

"RON! DON'T!" Hermione shouted as she raced through the tape to her boyfriend. She knocked the gun out of the way and hauled Ron to his feet. "Harry! What do you think you are doing?" She hissed. "You know he doesn't know what that thing does. And since when do you carry one around? What are you doing here anyway?" Suddenly she reeled back and slapped him across the face.

The two cops and the redhead sprung into action, finally shocked out of their stupors.

"Hold it right their ma'am! How did you get across the tape! O'Rilly! Get them back now!" The taller of the two cops called holding Hermione off. Harry was gentle rubbing his cheek with a confused look on his face. The redhead beside Harry was trying to get him to show her his face but he continued to stare at Ron and Hermione like they had suddenly joined at the hip and grown second heads.

"No, really! It's okay! We're friends of Harry's!" Hermione protested shoving the third policemen's hands off her. "Look lady." The first police man said helping the other two to get them back. "I don't know who this Harry guy is, but you are contaminating this crime scene."

"Harry! Tell them it's true Harry!" Ron called over the police man's shoulder. Harry turned his head to look behind him as if trying to see who the redheaded boy was talking to. "Don't act like you don't know us!" Ron shouted angrily.

"But I don't." Harry said matter-of-factly, staring blankly at them ad they were hauled off by the burly policeman in their momentary stupor. Ron and Hermione traded looks of disbelief.

"Alright Harry, you've had you're joke. Fred and George will be very pleased with you!" Ron called angrily over the police men's shoulders as they dragged them over the line. "Stop fooling around. You have some serious explaining to do!"

"My name is Tom! Not Harry! I don't know you but you are interfering with my crime scene!" Harry snapped turning away from them. Ron and Hermione watched gapping as Harry walked off arm-in-arm with the young redhead. The two cops followed behind in animated conversation with Harry, but he would have none of it. He seemed to snap at the two cops and they dropped the topic of conversation.

Ron picked himself up from were he had fallen onto the sidewalk. "I don't believe this! That's Harry! I'd know him anywhere!" Ron cried running his hands through his hair. "I know, I saw him too." Hermione said calmly. "How can you be so calm?" Ron cried out flinging his hands down to his sides. "I'm not." She replied. Ron looked closer and saw that she was shaking violently, her fists clenched by her side.

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose. "We have to talk to him alone. Come on. Let's get back to the Burrow we can find him later today and we'll confront him their. Maybe he didn't want to blow his cover in front of his cop friends." Hermione reasoned. "Oh and next time Ron, when someone holds a gun to your head, you're supposed to stop moving and look scared. Or you'll get your head blown off and that won't be very nice no will it?"

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Tom Riddle dropped his bag off in the corner of his small flat. The rooms were furnished with giveaway furniture that had springs poking out and the most horrible colors and patterns he'd ever seen. But it was the best he could do at the moment, and his friends had meant well when they gave it to him.

He ran a hand through his short black hair and stripped of his leather jacket and gun holsters leaving him in a black button-up t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He unclipped his badge and tossed it onto the counter with his keys, wallet and spare change that seemed to float from one pocket to the next.

That day had been long and hard. The Chief had given him hell for over an hour about "having a cup of tea and social hour" with two complete strangers in the middle of an active crime scene. Over and over again Tom had tried to explain that he had not been put in charge of watching the tape line and that he did not invite the strangers over to pounce on him and call him Harry, acting as if they knew him. But no matter what he said he still got his ear chewed off in volumes that reportedly had the second in command shaking. The only bright light in the dismal cloud of a day was that he had caught his thief.

Robert Collins had been a jewelry story thief and a creature of habit. Thus Tom found himself outside the same chain of stores Collins always robbed with said thief cuffed and in a police cruiser bound for the courts. Tom had collected his pay as well that day and had decided to treat his bare cupboards with food, a very special treat indeed.

As he put the food away, Tom found himself rubbing the thin lightning bolt shaped scar over his right eye. That man, the redhead had been staring at it the whole time he'd accused Tom of being some bloke called Harry.

Probably owed the redhead money, this Harry person…Tom reasoned as he tossed old cartons of Chinese out of his barren fridge. Redheads were even less likely to let such things go than Perkins, the gambling Meter Maid that Tom sometimes haggled with over a ticket on his car's hood. Tom knew from experience with Tina, wonderful girl, but she could hold on to the littlest thing for eons.

Tom groaned and finished putting the food away before popping the top on a soda and downing it in a few gulps. He couldn't wait till he could drink. Interning as part of the London Police just wasn't as fun if you couldn't drink.

He popped one of the microwave dinners in the microwave and padded out to the small T.V. he had in the living room. He flicked it on, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt. He sprawled over the couch and watched the news till his dinner was ready. Life was relatively dull for Tom, but he liked it that way. A while ago he had no idea who he was, and now he had finally pieced his life back together. The simple things like being able to eat food without worrying he was going to die of some unknown food allergy or being able to write Tom Riddle on the ballet for his pay check would never pass unnoticed ever again.

Tom went about his nightly activities, researching the missing criminals, few in number as they were nowadays, took a shower, walked his dog Bandit, and climbed into bed. This was the part of the day Tom dreaded the most. Even as the clock struck midnight, he still lay in the same position hoping that he'd fall into a peaceful sleep without dreams as crazy as they had been the past couple of months. Some seemed like he was strung out or stoned beyond belief. Merepeople, spiders bigger then houses, people flying on brooms, it was all ridiculous.

Ever since he had been put on that stupid hypnotism test, trying to reawaken his lost memories, he'd been having the most insane dreams, most were nightmares he'd rather he never have to relive but some humorous like the one he'd been telling the guys about that day at lunch where he was swimming in a lake with fins and gills to rescue a…a redhead that looked just like that man at the scene that afternoon. But that was insane; people couldn't grow fins and gills to rescue redheads who seemed to be sleeping underwater while shark like creatures swam around with spears, singing something…something Tom had forgotten.

It was best if the dream was just forgotten. Just like everything else he thought he remembered. He had come to the conclusion that in his first life, he had been a drugged out punk and had almost completely lost interest in finding himself. It was best if the old life went in the way of his dreams…Forgotten.