Chapter 2
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, as you may already know from Chapter 1. Please review, and enjoy!
Sobbing, he drew himself up and concentrating on the first place he could think of, he twisted into thin air. Moments later, he arrived at the grave site of his parents in Godric's Hollow. His frozen tears dripped into the soft snow. Against the bitter cold of winter at Godric's Hollow, Harry stumbled along, absentmindedly straying by the many tombstones. He suddenly stopped, seeing a familiar name that seemed to jump off the granite rock it was engraved on. Walking slowly back to present himself in front of the tombstone, he traced his hand over his old friend's name. Hermione Jane Granger. He didn't believe his blurry vision, already laced with fresh tears. Turning his face away from the tragedy, he came across another name that his unwilling eyes read, Ronald Arthur Weasley. His unbearable misery seemed to wrench sobs erecting loudly from his shivering, thin body. He crawled along the row of tombstones, coming across each of the names of the Order of the Phoenix, and each of the members of the D.A. Until finally, he stopped, balling up fists and crushing the snow in his sadness. In his mourning, he didn't notice two black figures Apparate a hundred meters from him, and the last thing he felt was a sharp pain in the back of his neck before he embraced darkness.
Harry awoke later in an unfamiliar room. All was boarded up, wooden, and old. His mouth was a desert and his body aching all over. He noticed a still figure, but couldn't quite make out the shape. His glasses were right in front of him. Harry jammed them on, and looking up, he noticed that a gaping empty space occupied where an ear normally should be. A head full of red hair and patchy clothes over the body of the man, Harry still couldn't recognize who it was. Suddenly sensing potential danger, he tried to grab his wand, but his robe was gone. He was in his Muggle clothes again, and an increasingly throbbing headache appeared where he remembered a sharp blow to. Harry tried to speak, but his throat was so dry that his voice came out hoarse and raspy.
"Who are you?" Harry finally managed to whisper. The man turned around, and despite the man's aged face that the sands of time eroded the youthfulness out of, Harry finally saw his face and instantly knew he was a friend. "Th-thirsty," Harry whispered. The man smiled and nodded, immediately getting up with surprising strength, leaving Harry to try and remember the man's name. The man came back with a glass of water as well as Harry's wand. George. Weasley. Harry had remembered now.
"For safety precautions, or if you tried to attack me before recognizing me. I think its safe enough now, though." Harry propped himself up on one elbow, and George helped him up into a sitting position. He could see more of the room now. Cluttered piles of stacked papers here and there, a ragged blanket and a pillow off towards the wall, and a very dirty window, letting thin slivers of light in and spilling onto the floor. Slowly tipping back the cup and his head in unison, Harry let the water trickle down into his desert of a mouth. When he had drank all of the cup's content, he fell back to sleep. George whispered, "Sleep. Sleep is good. You'll need lots of it later."
When Harry awoke next, it was about noon, because the rays of light were brighter than when he last was awake. George wasn't in the room. Harry felt stronger than before, so he got up and decided to walk around and explore. He got to the hallway and began smelling the fresh saltiness of the sea. That was strange though, he wasn't anywhere near the sea, was he?
Through the next half hour, Harry had found a small bedroom that reminded him of a goblin (who he vaguely remembered was named Griphook), and a wrinkly man who reminded him of wands, a master bedroom whose bed's head board was engraved with a neat and lavish FD heart BW, two other bedrooms, and a large kitchen that looked unused. Harry was still full of energy so he decided to walk outside. In the front yard, he found a beautiful private garden, obviously FD's, whoever that was. In the back, facing the sea, he found a neat little grave he remembered sorrowfully digging manually himself, and a small tombstone with eroded but faintly legible writing saying, "HERE LIES DOBBY A FREE ELF," in shaky letters. His heart suddenly felt a strong pang of sadness over his little friend. To keep his mind off it, Harry continued down the beach to find George barbecuing something delicious. He had simply followed his nose.
"Ah, Harry! I was just about to go wake you. Lunch is served." George quickly seated Harry in front of a miniature version of the feast in the Great Hall. After lunch, George quickly explained much of what has happened after Harry lost his memory.
The Order had continued its all-out war against the Death Eaters because You-Know-Who seemed to pride himself in defeating but not necessarily killing his most formidable enemy, Harry, and thought himself too important to take part in the battle he was sure he would win. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers tracked down everyone who went into hiding and tried to oppose them earlier. Death Eaters ruled the Wizarding World, even in Albania, to France, and all the way to the Dutch. Although Karkaroff easily gave allegiance to his former allies. All of the Order was killed, George was the only survivor.
"Well, you have things to do and I have things to show you. Let's go inside, shall we?" George hurriedly magically washed the dishes and ushered Harry inside. Harry now had his new black hawthorne wand securely in his wand pocket, and his Invisibility Cloak in his other pocket. George was waiting for Harry outside the front door.
"Come on Harry, we've got lots to do," said George as he grinned.
I know this chapter is long but the next chapter might be longer, it might be shorter. I haven't decided yet. Please review!
