Harry shuffled through the thick stack of parchment, looking at the senders' names: Ginny, Ron, Hermione, the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Petunia, Ginny, the Creevey brothers, Ginny, Hermione, a girl named Nora, Ron, Ginny, Neville. Harry sighed and pulled out the one from his alleged sister.

Harry,

How are you doing? It's so weird being at Hogwarts without you; you have no idea! Although, I don't see how you would know what it's like since you can't be here to see it happen. As you can imagine, everyone keeps asking me about you. As if I can tell them if you remember them or not! Oh, and the Creevey brothers wanted to know if you preferred candy or jokes. I think they want to send you something to make you feel better. Just watch out; I think they were trying to bewitch them to say something when you open the wrappers.

The Quidditch team is all out of sorts without you. (I'm sure it devastates you that we apparently can't get along without you.) Apparently you're keeping your post as captain, but Bell is taking your place until you get back. Though, she is waiting to hold try-outs for the open beater spot until you get back. (You know you could just appoint me to the spot. I already tried out anyway, six years ago when I creamed you in our back yard. Ha, remember the look on Mum's face when she saw me on Dad's broom? She was ready to kill me! So, since you know I'm a killer flier, and I've got way better arm strength than you do, I'll just appoint myself beater and take over your captain position!)

Ginny wants to know why you haven't returned any of her owls. I told her you only woke up two weeks ago, but she still seems kind of huffy about it. If you ask me, she's just worried about you. Isn't she sweet? And you said she'd never warm up to you.

Hermione wants to know if you want her notes from classes. I told her Mum and Dad are teaching you at home, but she seems to think that the professors at Hogwarts might mention something important for your NEWTs. Ron keeps telling her to give you a break. I don't see how you put up with those two! They bicker more than anyone I've ever seen! Although, it may be worse since you're not here. So, do us all a favor and get your butt back here and make those two shut up. Although, perhaps it'll be worse when you get back. After all, you'll get to deal with everyone asking you about your accident. Just don't make it sound worse than it is... or else I may have to send you back to Mum and Dad. Wouldn't you love that?

Oh, speaking of professors, we have a new DADA teacher (big surprise, I know). It's this bloke named Killen. He's really nice though. Believe it or not, he's a really good teacher—even Hermione approves, and you know that says something!

Well, I've got to go, break's almost over. Write back soon!

Pet

Harry read over the letter again. He had gotten the letter yesterday but still hadn't responded. How was he supposed to write a letter to a girl he had never met? Harry pulled a piece of parchment out of his desk, unscrewed the lid to his ink well, and dipped his quill. He could just pretend that he was writing a letter to Hermione. After all, she was like a sister to him, right?

Petunia,

I'm fine, how are you? I hope you're well. I'm fine, a little disoriented, but I'm becoming accustomed to life.

Harry scratched out the line and crumpled the piece of parchment. It sounded way too stiff to be a letter to his sister—and a close one, from what Sirius said.

Pet,

Life at home's pretty dull. I can't wait to be back at Hogwarts. Just tell everybody that I'm clueless and can't remember anyone.

Harry crumpled that failed attempt too. He didn't want people to get mad at him. He threw one of the crumpled pieces at the waste basket in his room, annoyed that he couldn't even write a simple letter to anyone in this world, real life. Anymore, Harry added to himself. He must have written letters to people in this life, this dimension at some time.

Harry pulled out a third piece of parchment and stared at it angrily. He had no idea what he and his sister talked about. He didn't even know how to talk to his sister.

"What's the matter?" a woman's voice said from the doorway. Harry turned to look at his mother. He didn't want to bother her by saying he didn't know how to write a letter to his little sister, but if anyone could help him, she could.

"Petunia wrote me a letter, and I don't know what to say," Harry said. "If she's such a close sister, she should know I can't remember anything!" Harry growled.

Lily frowned at her son's outburst, but let it slide. "First of all, call her Pet. That's what you've called her since you were little," She suggested as she sat down on the end of Harry's bed. "Second of all, don't worry about what you write, she'll understand if it doesn't really sound like the you she knows. She knows you're going through a tough time, and she won't turn her back on you if you sound too formal with her. Respond to the letter as if you were writing to a friend—Ron for instance."

"But she's not Ron! I know Ron!" Harry cried, frustrated.

Lily sighed. "So pretend she's Hermione."

"I tried that," Harry said, exasperated. "That's what happened." He glared at the crumpled pieces of paper on the floor. Lily bent over the edge of the bed and picked up one of the failed attempts. She scanned over the two lines and smoothed it out. Harry roughly took it from her outstretched hand.

"But if she tells everyone I don't remember them, everyone will get mad at me," Harry complained, beginning to crumple the parchment up again.

Lily put her hand over Harry's hand and stopped him. "Tell her you're joking and that you don't know who you remember," Lily advised gently.

Harry looked at her hand with a small smile.

"What?" she asked. Harry looked up into the sparkling green eyes that matched his own.

"It's just so good to see you alive," Harry said quietly. Lily pursed her lips and Harry saw tears well in her eyes. "Sorry!" he said, suddenly aware of how insensitive that comment had sounded. But it was true! After sixteen years of thinking she was dead, it was nice to know it had all been a dream.

Lily smiled, though Harry could tell it was a forced smile. "That's okay," she said. "But perhaps I ought to leave you alone with your letter," she said, her voice thickening with the threatening tears. Lily stood up and quickly left the room, leaving Harry staring confusedly after her.

Harry sat at his desk thinking about his mum. He hadn't wanted to upset her, but obviously by referring to his dream, he had. He probably ought to apologize to her, but what was he going to apologize for? All he had really done was tell her that he loved her...in very different words.

Harry shook his head and decided not to worry about it. He dipped his quill into the inkpot and put the nib to the smoothed out piece of parchment.

He heard a quiet knock at the door, but he didn't turn to see who it was. "Door's open," he called. Harry heard footsteps and the protest of the bedsprings as his visitor sat on his bed.

"Harry, maybe we should get someone to help you remember things," James said quietly. Harry turned around to face his father.

"I didn't mean to upset Mum," he said honestly. James sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I know, but it's been just over two weeks. You should be remembering more than you are," James said, keeping his voice low. "Just come with me to talk to someone and figure out if we should start worrying about you or not," James said. Harry got the impression that he didn't really have a choice, but he nodded his head anyway.

"Good. Get dressed then. We should go now," James said, standing up from the bed. He seemed more at ease now that Harry agreed to go.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but James was already out the door and had shut it behind himself. He sighed and pulled out a set of muggle clothes. There was no use in arguing with his stubborn father anyway.

An hour later, Harry was sitting on an uncomfortable examination table, and his parents were sitting in nearby chairs. They had been ushered into the room by an unfriendly nurse and been told the doctor would be in shortly. Harry stared at the bland door, disgruntled; his father hadn't mentioned anything about going to St. Mungo's.

A few minutes later, a tall young man with auburn hair walked into the room. Harry looked sourly at the man. Quickly following him were Madam Pomfrey and Albus Dumbledore. James jumped up and shook hands with the elderly wizard and smiled gratefully at the school nurse. Lily smiled appreciatively at the Hogwarts staff before turning her attention to the healer in the room.

"Hi, I'm Healer Johnson," the man said, offering his hand first to Harry, then to James, and then to Lily. "But please call me Derek," he said as he took a seat in his chair with wheels. He wheeled over to the examination table and smiled up at Harry. "Now, Harry, what seems to be the problem?" Harry watched Dumbledore conjure a couple of comfortable chairs.

"Didn't they tell you?" Harry asked. He really didn't want to explain his stupid accident and his loss of memory if he didn't have to.

"Yes they did. After all, I'm an expert in the field of psychology. But I'd like to hear it from your point of view," the man said with a smile. He made a few notes on his notepad in the typical unreadable scratch of a doctor.

Harry sighed before beginning. "I was playing Quidditch. I caught the snitch. A beater from the other team hit me after I caught the snitch and knocked me off of my broom. I fell fifty feet. Three months later, I woke up at Hogwarts. Two weeks after that, I'm sitting in front of you," Harry said monotonously.

"Can you tell me about the dream you had while you were in the coma? Just skip over anything you don't remember for now."

"Professor, isn't there a spell that will recover my memory?" Harry asked the headmaster. Dumbledore gave a small smile at the teenager's impatience.

"Harry, a mind is a precious asset, and a very complicated one at that. I wouldn't dream to presume myself able to repair lost memories. That is something you must do on your own."

"But you can modify people's memories without blinking. Surely there's a reversal spell for that!" Harry said.

"Harry, Healer Johnson is an esteemed member of the St. Mungo's staff. He specializes in memories. Answer his questions, and you may find yourself in school in a few days' time."

Harry sighed and turned back to the wizard in green robes. "It was like a whole other life. I remember events from sixteen years of life. What parts would you like to hear about?"

"Any major points, such as people and relationships, or traumatic experiences up until the moment you woke up."

"I was the boy who lived, except my mum died saving me. My dad died before her. So I grew up with my aunt and uncle, and they weren't exactly loving guardians. I didn't know I was a wizard until Hagrid gave me my letter. At the end of first year, I met Voldemort while he possessed a teacher. At the end of second year, I fought a basilisk and destroyed a Voldemort-possessed diary. At the end of third year, I helped a convict, who turned out to be my godfather, escape the dementors' kiss because he was innocent. At the end of fourth year, I dueled Voldemort again after he got his body back and saw a friend murdered. At the end of fifth year, my godfather was killed in a battle, and I heard the prophecy made about Voldemort and me. And at the end of sixth year, I watched a Snape murder Dubledore after I helped him capture a horcrux. Then, during the next summer, I was out getting another horcrux, and my friends and I were ambushed. We were running back to where we could apparate back to headquarters. I was hit by a curse and blacked out. Next thing I knew, I woke up at Hogwarts...with my parents."

Derek looked at Harry in amazement; his quill had stopped moving halfway through Harry's story. Lily and James stared at Harry, tears threatening to come out of Lily's eyes. James held her close, but continued to stare at Harry in shock. Dumbledore stroked his beard as if Harry's story were some intriguing puzzle, and the fact that one of his trusted staff members had killed him wasn't the least bit disturbing. Madam Pomfrey covered her opened mouth with her hand, but managed to refrain from saying anything.

"That's the main outline," Harry said, prompting the man to come out of his stupor.

"Oh, uh, do you remember detailed events to fill in the blanks in your dream?"

"Yes," Harry said emotionlessly. He looked to his parents briefly before turning back to the healer.

"Do you remember your life before the Quidditch accident? Before your coma?"

"No."

"Tell me more about your dream world. Did you get along with your parents?"

"They were dead," Harry said flatly. Didn't this bloke remember anything?

"What about your guardians?"

"I told you. They weren't entirely fond of me and hated the magical world."

"And your guardians were your aunt and uncle, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Do you currently have any relatives that feel the same way?"

Harry looked to his dad for help with the answer. James said nothing, merely smiling encouragingly at his son. Harry looked to his mother, but he got the same response. "I can't remember," he said dully. Lily slumped in her chair and James whispered in her ear.

The healer then turned to Harry's parents, and James spoke up. "His uncle hates the wizarding kind and prefers to pretend we don't exist. Especially since his wife was killed by you-know-who."

"Did you have any friends in your dream?"

"Yeah, Ron and Hermione," Harry said, wistfully remembering them. His sister had mentioned them in her letter, so he assumed they weren't just figments of his imagination, but what if they were different? He thought back to his unread letters, but he couldn't bring himself to read them. What if they were completely different than he remembered?

"They are his real best friends. He also has a girlfriend, Ginny," Lily said. Harry looked at Lily, wishing she wouldn't bring Ginny up. He didn't know where he stood in any relationship, let along that one!

"I see," Derek said. Harry hated it when people said that. What do they see? The healer made a note on his notepad.

"Was your life in your dream how you want your life to be?"

"Yeah, I've always wanted my parents to be dead, to be raised being called 'freak', going to school as someone who's famous for a ruddy scar, and being Voldemort's biggest target," Harry said sarcastically. Derek looked quickly over his shoulder at the evil wizard's name, but quickly turned back to Harry. Harry heard a rustle of cloth as his father wrapped his arm around Lily.

"Is that really how you feel?" Derek asked, his quill touching the notepad, waiting for Harry's answer.

"No," Harry said.

"Do you remember any times you thought about a life like your dream?"

"Before my coma, I don't remember anything, let alone my thoughts," Harry repeated.

"Ah, yes, that's right," Derek said, circling something on his notepad.

"Are we really getting anywhere?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Harry!" Lily rebuked her son.

"No, it's okay," Derek said, putting up a hand. "He's right. We seemed to have come to a stalemate. I will look up various cases of amnesia and see what I can find. In the mean time, I want you two to continue telling Harry stories. Maybe something will jumpstart his memory, an we'll have someplace to go from," Derek said, looking at Lily and James. The husband and wife nodded their heads solemnly and clasped hands. "Harry, don't get frustrated if you can't remember everything right away. Just keep at it," he added encouragingly to Harry. "Now, I'd like to see Harry again in a few days. So, please talk to my receptionist and set up an appointment," he said. James nodded again and stood up. Derek followed suit and shook hands with James.

Lily nodded her head in acknowledgement of the young healer and placed her hands on Harry's shoulders, directing him out of the room. "Thank you, Healer Johnson," she said with a smile. "Professor, Madam, would you like to come over for tea?" Lily offered.

"Sounds charming," Dumbledore said, standing up from his chair with a swish of robes.

"I'm afraid I can't. Students might need my help. I came because Healer Johnson is here at my request. And Harry's medical past might have been needed," the nurse said briskly.

"Perhaps another time," Lily offered.

"During the holiday, perhaps. It's always a pleasure to talk to you," the nurse said before leaving the room.

Harry let himself be steered out of the room, wishing desperately that he could remember more and not have to come back to St. Mungo's. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of seeing a shrink every few days. He looked up to his mother and saw a spark of determination in her eyes. He sighed and decided he'd go through with it. After all, he owed it to his parents after being in a coma for three months.

Once the three adults and Harry were safely home, Lily began getting out her tea server.

"That didn't seem very productive," James said. Harry looked at Lily, waiting for her reaction. He hadn't planned on saying anything, but maybe since James brought it up, it would be an acceptable topic.

"James!" Lily cried, smashing a teacup. She brandished her wand and the china flew back together. "We've got to do everything we can to get our Harry back. If Dumbledore says this guy can help us, then by God, we're going to do our best to help this bloke help our son!" Lily said, pointing her index finger in her husband's face. "Isn't that right, sir," Lily said kindly to the headmaster. Harry watched, fascinated by Lily's temper. It reminded him of Ginny's temper, he thought fondly.

Dumbledore chuckled and looked at the young couple. "In the end, Harry's going to have to get his memory back on his own. Healer Johnson may or may not be able to help him speed the process along," Dumbledore said noncommittally.

"Seems like a waste of good money," James grumbled.

"Are you calling your son's welfare a waste of money?" Lily asked, outraged.

"I'm still here, you know," Harry announced loudly. James and Lily looked at him for a minute before going back to their argument.

"No, but I'm calling paying some bloke in green robes asking our son questions a waste of money," James retorted.

"Well, we haven't exactly been asking him questions ourselves, now have we?" Lily said, dangerously quiet.

"Perhaps we ought to leave these two alone," Dumbledore suggested into Harry's ear. All too eager to get out of the tension in the kitchen, Harry hurriedly left the kitchen behind Dumbledore.

Once in the safety of the living room, Harry turned to Dumbledore. "Sir, I don't want them fighting about me," Harry said helplessly.

Dumbledore smiled. Harry wanted to shout at the man. Dumbledore seemed to have an infuriating habit of smiling at the least funny moments. "You apparently have lost your memory," he said merrily. "Those two will fight for a few minutes, then they'll cool their heels and be as loving as ever. It's been that way since their Hogwarts days," Dumbledore finished fondly. "I'm going to read a few of your mother's marvelous books. Why don't you go work on a few letters to friends? I'll come get you when we're ready to drink our reheated tea," the wizened wizard suggested.

Harry walked to his bedroom and shut the door. Harry looked around the room and missed seeing a snowy owl sitting on his desk with a mouse for him. The Potters owned two owls, one for the whole family and one Petunia and Harry shared. Since Hedwig was the owl that Petunia and Harry shared, she was living at Hogwarts.

Harry sat down at his desk and picked up the begun letter to his sister and dipped his quill in the inkwell.

Pet,

Life at home's pretty dull. I can't wait to be back at Hogwarts. Just tell everybody that I'm clueless and can't remember anyone. Only joking! Mum and Dad had me go to a shrink today. Well, he called himself a healer, but I think Mum and Dad think I'm nutters and need a psychiatrist. You should hear the argument going on now! Mum wants me to keep going to this bloke, but Dad thinks it's a waste of money. Personally, I agree with Dad.

I can't wait to get back to Quidditch, though I haven't been flying yet. I know, I know, how am I going to stay Captain if I can't fly very well? Well, I don't know, so I guess I'll just have to start practicing tomorrow. And I'm sure you'll make the team, even with fair try-outs.

Tell Ginny that I'll get around to writing to her between all the homework Mum and Dad assign me and the healer visits (which may not be until after I get back to Hogwarts!)

Hermione can wait to make me study her notes in addition to mine until I get to Hogwarts, which shouldn't be too long. Although, this is NEWT year, I wouldn't want to compromise my chances of scoring well! And as for Ron and Hermione bickering, just yell in their faces to 'shut up' and if they don't listen to you, call them names, or walk disgustedly away. At least, that usually works for me. I'm not sure how it's going to work for my little sister.

Well, if Hermione likes the teacher, and you like the teacher, he must be really good! Though I don't know if anyone could be as good as Uncle Remus was (and no, he's not standing over my shoulder).

Well, it sounds like Mum and Dad have stopped arguing and Dumbledore's over for tea, so I'm going to send this off with Epona.

Good luck with school!

Harry