First disclaimer: I don't own HP but I DO OWN the title 'The Grave of the Children' and all original ideas linked to The Grave of the Children because they are from my own book that is copyright material. All HP and canon characters belong to JK Rowling. Anything you recognize is NOT mine. Everything else...IS.

Second disclaimer: I am not British and only have a small idea of British words and slang so forgive me if I don't use British terms all the time.

Chapter One:
The Return of Harry Potter

"I've got to warn you Harry, your memory might not return right away."

These were the words the young teenager standing by the open car door dreaded to hear at the moment. He shut the door softly and reached in to pick up his wand off the leather seat before glancing over at the man who sat at the wheel.

"And if it does you might not be able to cope with so much information at once."

"Sure," Harry said leaning against the doorframe.

"I wouldn't use any magic until you've met up with your friends."

"I don't remember spells anyway." Harry looked away and stashed his wand into his robe pocket.

"When you are ready, I'll come for you."

Harry actually smiled at that. He turned to walk away but stopped and ran a hand through his bushy blonde hair. "Will I really be okay, Gerry?" he said, a slightly sadness in his voice. "I wish you were coming with me."

"There's nothing more I can do for you Harry…the rest is on your plate now. You'll remember everything in time, but you need to be with the people and places you used to know. They will take care of you once you're home."

And just like that the car was gone, taking with it the only person Harry had known and had come to trust for the last year. How was he supposed to just do this on his own? He couldn't walk back into someone else's life that knew him and announce he was alive and well and try to explain what had happened to him. He carefully thought out what he'd say once he knocked on the door of the Burrow, what he'd say to the first person he would meet. But Harry was drawing a blank at the moment. He was sweating something fierce and his mouth felt dry. He felt like turning away and just forgetting this whole mess, but something called out to him once he reached the front yard of this tiny little home hidden in the stillness of the early morning. The idea of the unknown made his blood rush suddenly. And now he had a wand, a long unpleasant piece of wood that felt hot and heavy inside his robe pocket. What was he supposed to do with it, when he didn't even remember how to use it?

Harry looked up and spotted a light coming from an open window. It was too dark to notice anything about the shabby place. It was quite different from what he had been living in for the last year. The tainted smell of manure, dust, and mold lingered in the air and several flowerbeds had been planted along the border of the house, as if trying to hide the fact that the place smelled like a barn. And it wasn't doing an impressive job of it. Harry approached the open door with trepidation and pushed it open.

His first impression of what was inside wasn't very bright either. He figured at one time this small home had been warm and inviting but now it looked abandoned, dirty and split at the seams like an old rag doll that at one time perhaps was sparkling and beautiful but age had dulled its beauty. Or more like it, someone had taken a baseball bat to this place and smashed it to bits. Had he actually stayed here at some point in his life? And what about his own home, was it any better?

Harry stepped around some broken chairs and walked into a cloud of dust. He took in the wonderful mess, all the way to a broken clock with its insides spilling out onto the floor and the broken plates that crunched under his feet. A bird's nest was perched on the windowsill but all that was left now was a big fat brown spider that seemed to have made his home in the discarded den.

Harry looked away and reached down to brush some dust off a set of books on the seat of a broken rocking chair.

The covers read:

My life before Hogwarts, by Draco Malfoy

The boy who was my best friend; by Draco Malfoy

The Death of the Dark Lord, the true story, by Peckle Petterly and Draco Malfoy.

Harry picked up The Death of the Dark Lord and found a newspaper clipping hidden underneath. This caught his eye first because there was a moving picture of a young man with flowing white blonde hair looking smug and highly excited over something.

Below it he read:

…Mr. Draco Malfoy, the once close friend of Harry Potter, decides to hold a banquet and memorial service at Hogwarts on the anniversary of The Black Snitch. It will be held on a Monday and those closest to those who were lost will be invited. Flowers will be laid on the gravesite and a wand-lit vigil will be held in a three-minute moment of silence following the feast.

Since Draco Malfoy has been looked upon as the savior of our magical world, his latest actions are not surprising as most know him for his outstanding courage and love for every creature, be he half-breed or pure blood wizard or witch. "It will be a night of remembrance and of sadness of course, but I rather look into the future than keep on mourning of the past," were the words of Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister of Magic.

"We remember those we lost," came the calm voice of Draco Malfoy as he composed himself beside Mr. Fudge, announcing his plans. "I too have lost friends in this tragic event and I am finding myself alone now, separated from those dear to me in my life. I just hope that soon we will find the witch or wizards responsible, who aided the Dark Lord, in this tragedy.

"We are dedicating this night to the friends and families of those witches and wizards killed during the cowardly attack that took place almost a year ago; also to those who still remain alive who have given of their time, energy, and resources to help during this tragedy. May their names and memories live on, in each one of us."

Harry felt a lump in his throat. Why should something like this effect him so much when he didn't even know what it all meant? The Black Snitch? Harry felt oddly out of place at the moment. He hated to admit it but he felt terrified all of a sudden like the walls were closing in on him.

"That's me," Harry said looking at his name on top. "I guess I know this Draco Malfoy person, whoever he is."

Nothing came to mind looking at the picture, no memory at all, but Harry got the distinct feeling he really didn't like this fellow, even though this world—his new home and the magic folk living here called him the savior of their world.

A flickering light at the window caught his attention and Harry moved into the living room, seeing for the first time that every inch of space was covered with newspaper clippings. Someone had taken a great deal of time to collect all these, Harry thought pulling a newspaper article that was pinned to the wall. Someone obsessed with Draco Malfoy because his picture was pasted on every inch of wall space. One of them had half of a plate sticking out of the wall which the words Saint Malfoy was printed in big letters. It looked like someone had taken to stabbing that one a great deal.

Underneath it read: Darker Days at Hand. Hogwarts is no more

Harry pulled another clipping from the wall. This one had no picture but in large black letters it read: 'The Grave of the Children' completed. Minister of Magic quite pleased with the memorial commissioned by his partner in the ministry, Draco Malfoy.

"Lumos."

Harry was going to read on when he felt a funny prickling sensation at the base of his neck.

"Drop it," a small voice said from behind him. "Drop the newspaper and book and turn around…slowly."

"Wait a minute—"

"Shut up.' Her voice sounded more frantic. "How did you get in here?"

"The door was open," Harry said, following suit and panicking along with her. "I didn't come here to cause trouble."

"Shut up I said. Turn around—no wait, drop the book—do you have a wand?"

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. "Yes, if you'd let me explain."

"Take it out and hand it to me."

"Look," Harry said starting to lose his temper. "I'm not a thief, here you can have my wand," he said dropping it on the floor and kicking it away from him. "Like anyone would steal anything in here in the first place."

"I'm not worried if you came to nick anything," the girl said. "No one comes here to visit. Not since…" Her voice trailed off and Harry found himself turning around slowly.

She was crying, whoever she was. She stood in the shadows and Harry took a step closer to get a better look at her, feeling soft light flicker across his eyes. He noticed the light came from the tip of her wand.

"Are you alright?" Harry said.

The girl was staring at him with the look of someone who had just seen a ghost. Her brilliant eyes were wide as saucers and her lip was quivering. She took a step forward and gazed at him. Harry had a shock himself. She was quite lovely with her face streaked with tears, among the tiny freckles splashed about a pale face. She really wouldn't have looked dangerous if she didn't have a very pointy stick pointed right between his eyes. He had an urge to reach out to her, but he didn't. His hands froze at his sides. He didn't want to scare her more than she already seemed to be. Harry could tell she was about his age. Her hair was like fire, twisting over one shoulder in a long fat braid. She was dressed in a simple yellow jumper; the sleeves looked to be torn off to reveal a pink and red plaid shirt underneath. There was something oddly familiar about her, and he fought his mind to hurry up and find a name.

The girl's wand traveled down his throat to his chest and back up to his face again. She was quiet and the silence disturbed him very much. Her eyelashes fluttered as if to shake off any remaining tears and Harry felt his stomach do a back flip. Was this what Gerry had warned him about? Trying to force himself to remember too fast? But looking at the girl seemed to strike him in a funny way. He didn't want to lose this strange yet familiar feeling so kept his eyes glued to hers, forcing her to not look away.

"I'm sorry to intrude like this." Harry said.

"Intrude?" She said taking a step back, her eyes twinkling all of a sudden. Before he knew it, she had slapped him across the face with what seemed every bit of strength she had.

Harry stumbled and looked at her, rubbing his cheek. "Why'd you slap me for?"

She came at him then, pounding her fists on his chest. "Where—have you—been!" she screamed, pushing him away from her body like he was some kind of filthy rag. "Do you—have any—idea—of what—has happened!"

She turned and walked away from him, grabbed a plate and smashed it against the kitchen counter.

"I'm s-sorry," Harry said making a move towards the door. "I'll go."

"No, stay!" She said looking up at him.

Harry froze and watched her carefully. After a moment when she had calmed down he found himself able to relax. It looked like she was going to keep his head intact to the rest of his body.

"I'm sorry about that," she said stashing her wand inside a robe that was folded neatly on the table. "You possibly couldn't be Harry. Last I remember, he wasn't blonde and his eyes were green and well…he's dead." She folded her arms across her chest and gazed into Harry's eyes from across the room. "You sure do look like him though."

Harry stared at her. "But my name is Harry, Harry Potter."

She gave him a funny look and walked over to him to push a lock of hair from his forehead. "No scar," she said rolling her eyes. "Look, I don't know what you're up to—whoever you are—but my dad and brothers could be home at any minute."

Harry followed her into what seemed to be the living room as the fireplace suddenly lit up in thirsty green flames. "But I am Harry…well, I've been told that I am. See I lost my memory—everything—where I came from or who my family and friends are." Harry began to study his feet, noticing the peculiar sound ringing in his ears. "The fellow who found me helped me you see, found out my name and my friends for me and just dropped me off here. Said the people I used to know would be able to help me reclaim my memories." Harry took a deep breath, wondering if she was listening at all or if she had dozed off. She was sitting on the small sofa, looking at her feet as well. "I have no where to go. He just told me my memory would come back in time. Please."

The girl gazed up at him, searching his eyes. "Don't remember anything?"

"Yes," said Harry looking away. He sat across from her on another chair—uncomfortably because it felt like he was sitting on a stack of dirty newspapers—and rested his elbows on the tops of his knees. He thought for a moment where to begin.

"Well?" She said locking eyes with him. "I warn you, I'll know if you are lying."

"He found me a year ago," Harry blurted out. "Gerry that is. Washed up on some beach. He nursed me back to health. He was great too; we lived in the Americas for a while as muggles. I didn't even know I was a wizard until just yesterday morning. Quite a shock really."

"Did you say a year ago?"

"I don't know what kind of person I was or what happened, but I really could use a friend right now, even if I never had any…besides Draco Malfoy."

At mentioning Draco's name, her eyes flashed with anger.

"What's all this talk about Draco Malfoy?" said a voice from behind Harry.

Harry jumped to his feet and stuttered as a tall red-haired gentleman entered the house, sliding a small pointed hat from his balding head. "Who is this Ginny? A friend of yours?"

"Ginny?" Harry said looking at her. "Is that your name?"

"It's my father," Ginny said standing suddenly, rubbing her hands on her pants. She took Harry at the elbow and made him turn around so her father could get a good look at him. "Harry's come back!"

Harry saw the man start, as if trying to find the right words to say. There was doubt in his eyes and obvious wonder. Harry realized at once he liked Ginny's father, he felt more at ease under the man's whimsical gaze than he did at Ginny staring him down to death a moment ago.

"Hello," Harry said. "I really am Harry Potter, that much I know for sure."

"Sure doesn't look like him," the man said looking at the spot on Harry's forehead. "Do you remember my name Harry?"

"No sir. Sorry."

The man bent down face to face to Harry and whispered, "It's Mr. Weasley and this is my daughter Ginny. You knew my son Ronald from school…were best mates actually." Mr. Weasley's voice trailed off.

"Dad?" Ginny said looking up at him.

Mr. Weasley stood up straight suddenly. "Well, right then," Mr. Weasley said nodding. "Scar gone, hair and eyes have changed. But yes, it is you Harry, isn't it?" Mr. Weasley positively beamed at Harry. "Same face, same voice. No mistaking that stance! You still look like your dad, although it seems like all the color has gone out of you…"

"Yes, it is," Ginny said looking at Harry. "Dad, he needs our help."

"Right you are Ginny!" Mr. Weasley said putting his hat back on his shinning head. "Got to contact Dumbledore and the others still left. After all, if Harry is alive…you know who could be as well."

"You know who?" Harry said.

Ginny looked hopeful.

Mr. Weasley caught the look on her face. "I don't know yet Ginny, but perhaps it will cheer your mother up some. Once your brothers get here, send Rascal to her and tell her the good news."

"Right," Ginny said following her dad to the door.

Mr. Weasley looked outside as a flash of orange and pink light flickered in the darkness. "Don't bother, here Fred and George are now. Maybe they can give us all a ride to Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts?" Harry said following after them. "I thought it was closed, like the newspaper said? Why would we go there? Isn't there a banquet going on there tomorrow night? Draco Malfoy—"

Ginny positively hissed and snatched the newspaper from Harry's hand. She marched back into the living room and stabbed it into the wall where it hung permanently, as if fixed by invisible glue.

"I'll show him Hogwarts," Ginny mumbled strutting back into the kitchen. "That son of a dung beetle, I'll turn him back into a ferret if he crosses my path and just hand him over to Buckbeak!" Ginny was starting to talk to herself now. "Just you wait Saint Malfoy, I'll find something... "

"Is she alright?" Harry said to Mr. Weasley.

"Yes, don't mind Ginny, she has a personal agenda against Draco Malfoy. You will come to know why in time…especially after you get your memories back my boy." Mr. Weasley patted him hard on the back. "As to Hogwarts, Harry, it was your school. And Dumbledore has not left it since…well, perhaps the visit will jolt your memory?"

"Oh, guess I should have known that then," Harry said finding a seat at the table.

Ginny put her arm on his shoulder and smiled down at him. "It will be okay Harry, once we talk to Dumbledore, we can find out what happened to you and how we can get your memory back. You'll see."

Harry smiled back at her. "Bother telling me your names again then? And who Dumbledore is?" He said hoping he didn't look stupid asking the question.

"Oh." Ginny looked dejected.

"It's okay Harry, Ginny," said Mr. Weasley. "I suspect this is a bit much for Harry's brain at the moment."

"Sure feels that way," Harry said.

"I'm Ginny Weasley, and I was…well…you were good friends of my brother Ron and you were also good friends with Hermione. And we are friends because you first were friends with them. Does that make sense?" Harry nodded. "Good. Well, Hermione is off in Chile right now with Professor Lupin, but I'm sure we could get word to her. She is quite busy though." She gave a strangled sort of look at the mentioning of Hermione. "Isn't that right dad?"

Mr. Weasley nodded and rested his hand gently on top of Ginny's head. "I never got a reply back from Remus or Hermione at my last letter. Indeed they do seem to be busy."

"So where is Ron? Will he come with us?" Harry said looking at them both.

"Never mind the questions, Harry," Mr. Weasley said patting him on the shoulder. "All in due time."

A tall young man with red hair entered through the front door. "Oi! Does anyone have any peanut butter?" he said waving his brightly-lit wand around. "See you've been cleaning around here Ginny. I love what you've done to the place. I think you've missed a spot though."

"Yes, quite the neat freak, Fred," the boy's twin said entering right after him. "Ginny, you do need to find a better hobby than plate breaking and wallpapering our home with that ugly git."

"I'm not the only one living here,' Ginny said, her eyes flashing. "There's some on the table Fred."

"Who are you?" Fred said nearly walking into Harry. "Ginny, you bringing your dates to the house now?"

"I'm not her date—get off me,' Harry said politely moving Fred off his feet.

"By George, look at that!" Fred said pointing his lighted wand at Harry's face. "He's alive, this one he is George."

"Yeah, you sure he's not a zombie or anything?" George said getting a closer look. "Last I remembered, Harry was buried beneath—owe, why'd you do that for!"

Ginny had elbowed George in the ribs.

"I was buried?" Harry said panicking, looking at all of them.

Ginny picked up Harry's wand and slipped it nicely inside his robe pocket for him.

"Don't mind them, Harry," Ginny said pushing him out the door.

But Harry couldn't get the image of him being buried alive out of his head. Bile rose in his throat and he fought to keep it down. "Wait a minute Ginny, why won't you tell me more about me being buried? Did I die?"

"You weren't buried," Ginny said tugging on his arm harder. "Stop asking questions. You're alive aren't you? So that means you didn't die Harry."

"Come on boys, I need the buggy," Mr. Weasley said grabbing Ginny's robe for her and tucking it nicely under his arm. "We need to go to Hogwarts, immediately."

"My brothers," Ginny said looking at Harry. "Quite the team."

Harry looked back as Mr. Weasley and his other son lit their wands to light the path before them. Fred and George were dressed very differently than their father and sister. They both wore blue and yellow top hats that seemed to be too tall for their heads and kept swaying each step they took. A long white feather was sticking out of one of their hats that must have been twelve feet long. Their robes had swishy long tails and they both wore traditional ties tucked in neatly underneath a pin-stripped vest. One of them—Harry couldn't tell if he was Fred or George—had a winged bird on his shoulder that looked a lot like a miniature parrot painted blue and white. The bird also wore a top hat and looked rather silly with a tiny bow tie strapped around its little neck.

"They were opening another shop at Hogsmeade, so they put on their Sunday Best. Even Rascaliantagious dressed up for the occasion," Ginny said giggling and nodding to the bird on her brother's shoulder. "Zonko's wasn't too thrilled about it, so they have really been at it. It's an all-out war between joke shops. It has exhausted them so much we barely see a joke out of them like we used to. Saving it all for their work."

"Oh, I thought they were going to a wedding or something," Harry said catching Ginny's eye and grinning.

"Harry," Fred said catching up to him. "So where've you been?"

"In some state called Georgia."

Fred whistled. "Boy, you really did get blown up, didn't you? All the way over there!"

"Where?" Ginny said.

"America," Fred said. "Must have hurt."

"So how is America like?" Ginny said.

"Well, I don't have anything to compare it to," Harry said. "I really can't say, can I?"

"So you know someone in the Americas then?" Fred said smiling.

"Just Gerry who brought me here."

"That's enough Fred,' Mr. Weasley said. "This isn't the time to ask Harry to get you in touch with someone overseas about your products. You can do that later after Harry is seen by a Healer."

"Healer?" Harry said.

"Yes, we don't know if your memory lose is because of magic or just a good bump on the head," Mr. Weasley said. "You haven't been in touch with any Healers have you, Harry?"

"No. I just found out I was a wizard."

"Then, it will be best you do. I believe Madam Pomfrey still resides at the castle."

Harry stopped as the doors of a very old and baby blue car opened for him. It was the coolest car he had ever seen in his whole entire life. It wasn't a style of car he was used to. It looked rather old fashioned but impressive.

"What kind of car is this?" Harry said looking inside.

"It's a 1928 Pontiac 4dr Sedan," Fred said beaming.

"Won't tell you where we got it from," George said winking at Harry.

"Not yet at least," Fred said moving over so Ginny could get in the middle and Harry on the other side. "Would be kind of a waste to tell you and not have a real reaction from you, now would it?" Mr. Weasley got into the front seat and George took the wheel, pushing his hat down so it could fit in the car too. That was not before he bewitched the jar of peanut butter to fly out the car window and down under the hood of the car. Suddenly the car gurgled and Harry had the feeling the car had just enjoyed lunch.

Harry turned his attention back to the interior. "It's really nice," Harry said running his hand down the fawn-colored seat. "And really old too. I think it's brilliant."

The doors shut on their own and Harry peered into the front seat and counted nine different stick shifts in different shapes and sizes. On the top of each stick were the letters, H, H, W, B, D, A, P, P, F.

"What do those letters mean?" Harry said.

George beamed. "Glad you asked Harry. The letters stand for, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Burrow, Diagon Alley, Anywhere, Past, Present, and Future."

"We haven't been authorized to use a Time Turner on the car, so those sticks are pretty much useless at the moment," Fred said whispering to Harry and if Harry wasn't mistaken, Fred winked at him and George gave him a look that made Harry believe these two cared less about having the proper authorization.

"And those take us…?" Harry said.

"One for each destination point," George said looking back at Harry.

"Each destination?" Harry said. "Why not just drive there normally? Why do you need all of those?"

Fred, George and Ginny all sighed.

"This car," Mr. Weasley said smiling back at Harry, "is a Portkey. We don't need roads with this car Harry. It will take us anywhere we want to go or the places we have predestined this car to be."

"Dad helped us turn our car into a Portkey," George said slipping some goggles on. "Brilliant of him, isn't it? Soon we will be manufacturing these buggies, just as soon as we polish it up a bit, add a few luxuries sort to speak."

"And get the approval of The Bewitched Muggle Artifact Sanction," said Mr. Weasley.

"Which dad is head of," Ginny said smiling. "Not only does dad recover muggle artifacts, he is keeping them for further testing."

"Or giving them to us," Fred whispered to Harry.

"Going to run a few tests on safety and if certain objects can be modified for wizarding purposes," Mr. Weasley said in a serious tone. "The rejected pile goes back to the Misuse Office while approved artifacts get a passing grade."

"Dad loves his new job though," Fred said.

"Still works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, he just has more power to do what he wants with what he…finds," George said sniggering.

"Mom doesn't know about Fred and George's car though," Ginny said sitting back. "Dad wants to start a business selling magical muggle items. He has already got a toaster that sings and a pair of dancing mittens and this car has been his greatest achievement to date. Fudge actually wanted one of his own, thought it a bit stylish you know, but dad told him he'd have to wait for one."

"And well, dad did make one car fly years ago," Fred added. "Sure Harry wouldn't forget that, now would you Harry? It was the greatest moment in Hogwarts history!"

"Yeah, next to our exit, right Fred?" George said nodding with a silly grin on his face.

Harry faked a laugh and shrugged, resting his head back against the car seat. He also wanted to ask what a Portkey was, but thought better not to say anything else. He should have figured it had something to do with magic. Yet, he really hadn't seen any magic besides wands lighting up and those strange moving pictures in the newspaper.

"Your presence here tonight has brightened up our lives Harry," Ginny said rolling her head on the seat to look at him. "It has given us some hope for once."

Harry turned to look at her. "Me? Why so."

Ginny looked away and Harry could see the sadness in her eyes, such that he had never seen before in anyone. "Well, you should find that out for yourself. You already found out a little from the newspapers."

Harry stared at her for a moment and smiled. "Thanks. I wasn't quite sure what to expect when I came here. But I feel a whole lot better. Confused…but better."

"We really must be off!" Mr. Weasley said putting on some rather large goggles of his own. "Buckle up, because we haven't gotten the kinks out of this car yet kids."

"Kinks?" Harry said, his eyes going wide.

"Yeah, the car spit Fred out half-way to his destination last time," Ginny said strapping herself in. "So dad installed these muggle seatbelts."

Harry watched as George moved several gears into different positions and hit the accelerator. Instead of speeding off, the car didn't move. A loud bang issued from the rear of the car and purple smoke filled the early morning air. It smelled quite like burnt peanuts. Then when Harry thought the car was going to go nowhere it slowly began to bounce its way down the path, shaking every bone and hair on Harry's body. Automatically he reached out to grab something and his hand came in contact with Ginny's other hand on the seat. He shot a look at her and muttered sorry.

Ginny smiled and squeezed his hand before he could take it away. It was almost as if she read his mind and understood how he was feeling at this moment. He squeezed her hand back and closed his eyes, wondering how long he had to nap until they would reach their destination.