Author: CelestialDrgn, aka Celeste
Rating: PG-13
Category: AU
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, so don't sue! All you'll get is pocket lint. All my money goes towards my anime and Harry Potter possessions. Harry Potter is owned, however, by J. K. Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and Raincoast Books publishing companies. Aside from Luke, none of the characters are mine, only the idea of my story. I did say these were inspired by real-life events, but the more I thought about what I wanted to happen, the more it was not like real life, so I take that back. This is a work in progress, and is my first HP fanfic (that I will attempt to finish.) Send all comments/suggestions/flames to padfootmoonbellsouth.net.
I would also like to say thank you to the four people who have reviewed my work so far. Thanks also goes to one of my three bestest buddies in the world who decided to be my beta-reader if I was hers, Tiger. ; She also writes on ff.net, so check her work out if you like Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing yuri. Her author name is Whitetiger19291.
blah = thoughts
======
A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes (2/?)
All he could remember was a sudden pain in his back, a feeling of weightless, silence, then darkness. Harry floated in his subconscious, feeling detached, unconcerned, and pain-free. There was no need to worry about the upcoming O.W.L.s, Voldemort, or anything else for that matter. To him, nothing existed. Drifting was all that he knew. Suddenly, there was something new in his world of nothing. A small, pinprick of light started shining like a distant star. Curious, Harry floated closer to that star. The star seemed to dance just out of reach. Determined, Harry sped up. The star shined brighter the closer he got to it. Then, abruptly, it exploded in a wave of light.
The late summer sunlight assaulted Harry's eyes. The first thing he realized was that his head hurt. Slowly reaching up, Harry felt the cloth- like gauze wrapping around his head. He furrowed his brows, trying to ignore the annoying luminance. Sighing, he gave up and opened his eyes. Everything was blurred, so Harry reached over to the wheeled tray to get his glasses. Carefully, he put them on and the room jumped into focus. The hospital room was a warm cream with a jungle-inspired wall trim. The room was plain except for the numerous "get-well" wishes, varying from hand- drawn cards, to sweets, to flowers and balloons. His surroundings surprised him.
This isn't the hospital wing... where am I?
Harry's left arm was encased in a bright blue cast. Examining it, he read some of the messages left by his friends.
-Harry, hope you get better. That was an awesome shot at goal! -Ron-
"What goal?" he thought aloud. The last thing he remembered was playing Quidditch. He was a Seeker, not a Chaser. What did Ron mean by his message?
-Great game, Harry, although I would say it wasn't wise of you to head the ball into goal right when the keeper punts it! -Hermione-
What is this? The only game that he knew involving heading a ball was soccer, of which Dean Thomas was an avid fan. The only time Harry had played soccer was when Dudley and his "friends" decided that Harry would make a decent enough soccer ball and chased after him. Harry got away by some how ending up on top the roof and later getting reprimanded for not letting Dudley have fun.
Harry read on, becoming more baffled, until a cheerful voice rang out,
"You're awake!"
Harry started and looked up. A nurse went over to him and looked over the bandages that wrapped his head. Madam Pomfrey? But... this isn't the school... Madam Pomfrey was the school nurse at Hogwarts. Harry was very familiar with her because of his strange ability to get hurt almost every Quidditch match, and yet win the game in the end.
"Good, it didn't bleed through," she mumbled to herself.
Harry summoned the courage to voice his thoughts.
"Why am I here, Madam Pomfrey?"
The nurse looked up at him, baffled. "Now, how did you know my name? And please, call me Poppy, if you must. Madam indeed... you're trying to make me feel old!"
This puzzled him. This was Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse... but at the same time she wasn't. His surroundings were different. He seemed to be in a Muggle hospital rather than in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, where no electronic machine could work, because hanging from the ceiling in front of him was a television set. Beside him, Harry's right arm was hooked up to an electrical IV pump which was at present infusing electrolytes into his body.
"Sorry, er, Poppy, but what happened to me? Why am I here?"
She regarded him. "Surely, you remember?"
Harry shook his head.
"You were playing soccer at the Under 18 quarter-finals and you went up to head the ball right when the keeper booted the ball. You literally flew backwards and landed on your arm," she gestured to his cast. "The miraculous thing was that you scored the winning goal. You've been unconscious for two days now. That must have been some kick!"
Harry was speechless. Was he not in the wizarding world anymore?
"Sorry, no, I don't remember at all..."
Poppy considered this. "Perhaps you have amnesia," she muttered more to herself than to Harry. She picked up his chart, writing it down. "Tell me, what do you remember?"
"I remember something completely different..." he whispered.
A knock on the door startled him. "Yes, come in," called Poppy. Harry's heart almost stopped when he saw who walked in.
"Harry! You're awake!" Lily Potter exclaimed, coming over to hug her son.
Harry's blood congealed in his veins.
"M...mum?"
Tears came to his eyes. In the world he knew, or thought he knew, his parents were dead. They died trying to protect one-year-old Harry from the evil wizard Voldemort. Harry's name became legend the night his parents died because when Voldemort tried to kill Harry with a curse, it rebounded off Harry and vitally injured the dark wizard. The curse left Harry with a seemingly mere scar, a lightning bolt on his forehead. The curse transferred to Harry some of Voldemort's attributes, such as the ability to talk to snakes (parsletongue), and gave pain to Harry when Voldemort's presence was near, or felt very strong feelings of happiness or anger.
Harry hesitantly wrapped his uninjured arm around his very-much alive mother. If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up, he thought. She looked at him and smiled.
"You seem very glad to see me. I missed you too, you know. Your father and I were worried."
Harry perked up. "Dad's here?"
Lily smiled. "Yes. Do you want to see him?"
He nodded enthusiastically.
Lily got up and went to the hallway. A few seconds later, Lily walked back in, followed closely by James Potter.
"Dad!" exclaimed Harry.
"Hello there, Harry," he greeted deeply. He laughed when Harry threw his arms around his father's waist.
"Careful there, Harry," warned Poppy, rushing over to check on his IV.
After Poppy was satisfied that the IV was still in place, she bid them goodbye and left the family alone.
Harry wiped at his eyes. Lily handed Harry a tissue, which he gladly took.
"Why are you crying?" asked James, taking Harry's glasses from him and laying him back carefully.
"I....I thought you both were dead..." he mumbled, grabbing his glasses and putting them back on.
James and Lily looked at each other, then at their son. "Why would you think that?" asked James.
Harry took a breath and told them about what he thought was his life, back in the world where people could fly on brooms, create healing potions, transform animals into water goblets, pet unicorns, tend dragons, basically do magical things. Both of his parents listened to his tale of his woeful life with his Uncle, Aunt, and cousin ("Really, Vernon and Petunia were like that?" his mother had asked) before he became accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and gained his friends Ron and Hermione. He told them of how his life was up until then.
"The last thing I remember was that I was about to catch the Snitch, then everything went black, and here I am."
His parents regarded him. "So, you remember nothing from here? You know people, but not how it is here?" asked Lily, concerned.
Harry shook his head.
"So, you don't know about your little brother?" his father asked.
Harry perked up. "I have a little brother?"
His parents smiled. "Yes, he's outside with Ron and Hermione."
James got up. "I'll get them and talk to your doctor, Harry." He went out, and in came Ron, Hermione, and his younger brother.
"Harry!" his brother exclaimed, jumping onto the bed and squeezing his older brother. Harry laughed and hugged him back. His brother was a miniature, five year old version of Harry; both had laughing, emerald green eyes and wild, raven black hair.
"Luke, be careful!" Harry's mother scolded.
Harry looked down at his brother. Luke... he thought, stroking his brother's soft black hair. Harry looked at his friends.
"Hey, mate. How do you feel?" asked Ron. Hermione was watching Luke with a maternal glow in her eyes.
"I've been better," he answered honestly. Luke was poking Harry's cast. "Yes?" he asked, smiling softly.
"Can I sign you arm? I want to draw something, too," the younger boy said, already looking around for a permanent marker.
Harry spotted one hidden behind a basket of sweets. He reached over and pulled it out, handing it to his brother. "Here you go, Luke."
Luke opened the marker and signed his name neatly, considering his age. He then started doodling a stick version of their family. Harry talked to Hermione and Ron until Poppy came back in with Harry's dad and his doctor and shooed everyone out, saying Harry still needed rest. Luke hugged his older brother once more, who kissed him on top of the head and handed the younger boy to Hermione. "See you, Harry!" she greeted, and they left. His parents both hugged him and left him with his doctor.
Dr. Lambton, as he was later introduced, was a middle-aged man with chocolate brown hair and kind, green-blue eyes. He was a doctor of neurological trauma, and often dealt with sport-influenced injuries. "So you remember none of your past, but you know who everyone is?" he asked, writing on his chart.
"Everyone, except I wasn't aware that I had a younger brother." Harry proceeded to tell him of the world he grew up knowing.
His doctor looked thoughtful. "I believe you have selective amnesia. You chose to remember those close to you, but they were in a different setting. Normally, the patients I've encountered who have had selective amnesia would have trouble remembering some people they knew, but otherwise everything else was fine. But, each person is unique. We're going to release you, most likely tomorrow, and perhaps being in your natural surroundings things will come back to you." He rose and shook Harry's hand. "Get a good rest, and I'll see you tomorrow."
Once his doctor left, Harry lay back on his bed. That was a dream? How could it be? It all felt so real... He pulled his glasses off, setting them on the tray, and closed his eyes. I'm going to miss Hogwarts and Quidditch... Harry thought for a while, reminiscing. He grinned. So the Dursley's are real... at least I can live with my parents now and not be their servant-boy. Harry settled into his warm bed and fell asleep, dreaming of life with his new family.
======
Rating: PG-13
Category: AU
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, so don't sue! All you'll get is pocket lint. All my money goes towards my anime and Harry Potter possessions. Harry Potter is owned, however, by J. K. Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and Raincoast Books publishing companies. Aside from Luke, none of the characters are mine, only the idea of my story. I did say these were inspired by real-life events, but the more I thought about what I wanted to happen, the more it was not like real life, so I take that back. This is a work in progress, and is my first HP fanfic (that I will attempt to finish.) Send all comments/suggestions/flames to padfootmoonbellsouth.net.
I would also like to say thank you to the four people who have reviewed my work so far. Thanks also goes to one of my three bestest buddies in the world who decided to be my beta-reader if I was hers, Tiger. ; She also writes on ff.net, so check her work out if you like Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing yuri. Her author name is Whitetiger19291.
blah = thoughts
======
A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes (2/?)
All he could remember was a sudden pain in his back, a feeling of weightless, silence, then darkness. Harry floated in his subconscious, feeling detached, unconcerned, and pain-free. There was no need to worry about the upcoming O.W.L.s, Voldemort, or anything else for that matter. To him, nothing existed. Drifting was all that he knew. Suddenly, there was something new in his world of nothing. A small, pinprick of light started shining like a distant star. Curious, Harry floated closer to that star. The star seemed to dance just out of reach. Determined, Harry sped up. The star shined brighter the closer he got to it. Then, abruptly, it exploded in a wave of light.
The late summer sunlight assaulted Harry's eyes. The first thing he realized was that his head hurt. Slowly reaching up, Harry felt the cloth- like gauze wrapping around his head. He furrowed his brows, trying to ignore the annoying luminance. Sighing, he gave up and opened his eyes. Everything was blurred, so Harry reached over to the wheeled tray to get his glasses. Carefully, he put them on and the room jumped into focus. The hospital room was a warm cream with a jungle-inspired wall trim. The room was plain except for the numerous "get-well" wishes, varying from hand- drawn cards, to sweets, to flowers and balloons. His surroundings surprised him.
This isn't the hospital wing... where am I?
Harry's left arm was encased in a bright blue cast. Examining it, he read some of the messages left by his friends.
-Harry, hope you get better. That was an awesome shot at goal! -Ron-
"What goal?" he thought aloud. The last thing he remembered was playing Quidditch. He was a Seeker, not a Chaser. What did Ron mean by his message?
-Great game, Harry, although I would say it wasn't wise of you to head the ball into goal right when the keeper punts it! -Hermione-
What is this? The only game that he knew involving heading a ball was soccer, of which Dean Thomas was an avid fan. The only time Harry had played soccer was when Dudley and his "friends" decided that Harry would make a decent enough soccer ball and chased after him. Harry got away by some how ending up on top the roof and later getting reprimanded for not letting Dudley have fun.
Harry read on, becoming more baffled, until a cheerful voice rang out,
"You're awake!"
Harry started and looked up. A nurse went over to him and looked over the bandages that wrapped his head. Madam Pomfrey? But... this isn't the school... Madam Pomfrey was the school nurse at Hogwarts. Harry was very familiar with her because of his strange ability to get hurt almost every Quidditch match, and yet win the game in the end.
"Good, it didn't bleed through," she mumbled to herself.
Harry summoned the courage to voice his thoughts.
"Why am I here, Madam Pomfrey?"
The nurse looked up at him, baffled. "Now, how did you know my name? And please, call me Poppy, if you must. Madam indeed... you're trying to make me feel old!"
This puzzled him. This was Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse... but at the same time she wasn't. His surroundings were different. He seemed to be in a Muggle hospital rather than in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, where no electronic machine could work, because hanging from the ceiling in front of him was a television set. Beside him, Harry's right arm was hooked up to an electrical IV pump which was at present infusing electrolytes into his body.
"Sorry, er, Poppy, but what happened to me? Why am I here?"
She regarded him. "Surely, you remember?"
Harry shook his head.
"You were playing soccer at the Under 18 quarter-finals and you went up to head the ball right when the keeper booted the ball. You literally flew backwards and landed on your arm," she gestured to his cast. "The miraculous thing was that you scored the winning goal. You've been unconscious for two days now. That must have been some kick!"
Harry was speechless. Was he not in the wizarding world anymore?
"Sorry, no, I don't remember at all..."
Poppy considered this. "Perhaps you have amnesia," she muttered more to herself than to Harry. She picked up his chart, writing it down. "Tell me, what do you remember?"
"I remember something completely different..." he whispered.
A knock on the door startled him. "Yes, come in," called Poppy. Harry's heart almost stopped when he saw who walked in.
"Harry! You're awake!" Lily Potter exclaimed, coming over to hug her son.
Harry's blood congealed in his veins.
"M...mum?"
Tears came to his eyes. In the world he knew, or thought he knew, his parents were dead. They died trying to protect one-year-old Harry from the evil wizard Voldemort. Harry's name became legend the night his parents died because when Voldemort tried to kill Harry with a curse, it rebounded off Harry and vitally injured the dark wizard. The curse left Harry with a seemingly mere scar, a lightning bolt on his forehead. The curse transferred to Harry some of Voldemort's attributes, such as the ability to talk to snakes (parsletongue), and gave pain to Harry when Voldemort's presence was near, or felt very strong feelings of happiness or anger.
Harry hesitantly wrapped his uninjured arm around his very-much alive mother. If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up, he thought. She looked at him and smiled.
"You seem very glad to see me. I missed you too, you know. Your father and I were worried."
Harry perked up. "Dad's here?"
Lily smiled. "Yes. Do you want to see him?"
He nodded enthusiastically.
Lily got up and went to the hallway. A few seconds later, Lily walked back in, followed closely by James Potter.
"Dad!" exclaimed Harry.
"Hello there, Harry," he greeted deeply. He laughed when Harry threw his arms around his father's waist.
"Careful there, Harry," warned Poppy, rushing over to check on his IV.
After Poppy was satisfied that the IV was still in place, she bid them goodbye and left the family alone.
Harry wiped at his eyes. Lily handed Harry a tissue, which he gladly took.
"Why are you crying?" asked James, taking Harry's glasses from him and laying him back carefully.
"I....I thought you both were dead..." he mumbled, grabbing his glasses and putting them back on.
James and Lily looked at each other, then at their son. "Why would you think that?" asked James.
Harry took a breath and told them about what he thought was his life, back in the world where people could fly on brooms, create healing potions, transform animals into water goblets, pet unicorns, tend dragons, basically do magical things. Both of his parents listened to his tale of his woeful life with his Uncle, Aunt, and cousin ("Really, Vernon and Petunia were like that?" his mother had asked) before he became accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and gained his friends Ron and Hermione. He told them of how his life was up until then.
"The last thing I remember was that I was about to catch the Snitch, then everything went black, and here I am."
His parents regarded him. "So, you remember nothing from here? You know people, but not how it is here?" asked Lily, concerned.
Harry shook his head.
"So, you don't know about your little brother?" his father asked.
Harry perked up. "I have a little brother?"
His parents smiled. "Yes, he's outside with Ron and Hermione."
James got up. "I'll get them and talk to your doctor, Harry." He went out, and in came Ron, Hermione, and his younger brother.
"Harry!" his brother exclaimed, jumping onto the bed and squeezing his older brother. Harry laughed and hugged him back. His brother was a miniature, five year old version of Harry; both had laughing, emerald green eyes and wild, raven black hair.
"Luke, be careful!" Harry's mother scolded.
Harry looked down at his brother. Luke... he thought, stroking his brother's soft black hair. Harry looked at his friends.
"Hey, mate. How do you feel?" asked Ron. Hermione was watching Luke with a maternal glow in her eyes.
"I've been better," he answered honestly. Luke was poking Harry's cast. "Yes?" he asked, smiling softly.
"Can I sign you arm? I want to draw something, too," the younger boy said, already looking around for a permanent marker.
Harry spotted one hidden behind a basket of sweets. He reached over and pulled it out, handing it to his brother. "Here you go, Luke."
Luke opened the marker and signed his name neatly, considering his age. He then started doodling a stick version of their family. Harry talked to Hermione and Ron until Poppy came back in with Harry's dad and his doctor and shooed everyone out, saying Harry still needed rest. Luke hugged his older brother once more, who kissed him on top of the head and handed the younger boy to Hermione. "See you, Harry!" she greeted, and they left. His parents both hugged him and left him with his doctor.
Dr. Lambton, as he was later introduced, was a middle-aged man with chocolate brown hair and kind, green-blue eyes. He was a doctor of neurological trauma, and often dealt with sport-influenced injuries. "So you remember none of your past, but you know who everyone is?" he asked, writing on his chart.
"Everyone, except I wasn't aware that I had a younger brother." Harry proceeded to tell him of the world he grew up knowing.
His doctor looked thoughtful. "I believe you have selective amnesia. You chose to remember those close to you, but they were in a different setting. Normally, the patients I've encountered who have had selective amnesia would have trouble remembering some people they knew, but otherwise everything else was fine. But, each person is unique. We're going to release you, most likely tomorrow, and perhaps being in your natural surroundings things will come back to you." He rose and shook Harry's hand. "Get a good rest, and I'll see you tomorrow."
Once his doctor left, Harry lay back on his bed. That was a dream? How could it be? It all felt so real... He pulled his glasses off, setting them on the tray, and closed his eyes. I'm going to miss Hogwarts and Quidditch... Harry thought for a while, reminiscing. He grinned. So the Dursley's are real... at least I can live with my parents now and not be their servant-boy. Harry settled into his warm bed and fell asleep, dreaming of life with his new family.
======