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AMNESIA

Lucille Lee

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SUMMARY: A.U. W.I.P. At an important point in the war, Harry Potter loses his memory. Will Voldemort win now? Sirius is alive. Rated R for Yaoi. HP:DM

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One

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One morning he woke up and… and he didn't know where he was. Around him, four other boys were dressing – wearing some sort of uniform, he noticed. But what was he doing here?

"Oi, Harry!" he heard a red-haired boy shout, "We have Potions first thing this morning. Hurry up, mate!"

Who was Harry? Maybe it was him… yes, he believed he was Harry… Harry Potter… but what was Potions? Were they all going to drink potions or something this morning? But the most important question was – why was he here?

"Harry!"

"Excuse me," he said, remembering vaguely that Uncle Vernon had said that he would skin him alive if he didn't keep a civil tongue, "but may I know who you are? What place is this?"

It was the oddest thing, he thought, when everyone suddenly fell silent and looked at him strangely.

Then suddenly, a sandy-haired boy started laughing. "Very funny, mate, now get dressed quickly if you don't want Snape murdering our house-points!"

"Snape? House-points?"

The red-haired boy who had first called out to him was staring oddly at him. "It is really not the right time to fool around, you know."

"Fool around?"

A plump, black-haired boy, who had finished dressing and was rummaging in his trunk looked up and said, "I do not think that he is joking, Ron."

The red-haired boy nodded, his eyes wide with fear and though he had only half-buttoned his shirt and not even worn his tie, he ran out.

Some time later, a rather bossy-looking girl with most wild brown hair came in along with the boy.

"Harry?" she asked gently, kneeling by him, and taking his hand in hers.

He pulled it away. "Who are you?" Gods! Who were these people? Where was he? Had he finally escaped the Dursleys or was this some sort of a dream?

"We've got to tell Dumbledore!"

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He had dressed up in hurry and after eating a hearty breakfast (that really shocked him – very pleasantly), he had been escorted by the girl with wild hair – whose name he learnt was Hermione – and the boy, Ron (that was a better, simpler name – he liked it better) to an office.

He was presently seated in this plush office, ogling wondrously at the people moving and talking in the portraits. Where the hell was he?

"Professor Dumbledore," he heard the girl say and turned to look at the man who, he suspected, would tell him why he was here – and more important, where he was.

Dumbledore seemed very… strange. He was old – his hair and beard were milky white – but didn't quite give that impression. In fact, his blue eyes twinkled. Not that unpleasant "twinkle" in Uncle Vernon's eyes when he sent him to the cupboard, but a rather good-natured twinkle which Harry found calming. He forgot his anxiety and was assured that things would be fine – eventually. All he wondered for now was how much trouble he was getting into with the Dursleys.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I think Mr. Potter would prefer talking to me alone," he said as he sat down on the plush armchair.

Ron and Hermione got up and left albeit reluctantly. He didn't mind it much. Though the boy was fine, the girl's bossiness annoyed him.

"Harry," said the old man gently, "do you know why you are here?"

"Ron said you would tell me," he said uncertainly, "The last I remember I was asleep in my cup… room," he remembered Dursleys' warning about not telling anyone that he slept in a cupboard.

"So you have no idea as to how you got here?"

"No, sir."

The old man was lost in thought for a while.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"May I know when I will be going back to the Dursleys? They don't know I am here, do they? Or have they sent me here?"

"Harry, the Dursleys… well, they did kind of send you here. That was because your godfather has returned and agreed to take care of you."

Harry's eyes widened with surprise.

"I have a godfather?"

"Yes. Would you like to stay with him or go back to the Dursleys?"

"I'd stay with him," said Harry without a moment's delay. At last, he thought ecstatically, I am free!

But then… "The Dursleys never told me about my godfather," he said.

"They didn't know about him. By the way, Harry, your godfather will explain everything else to you. I think it will be good if you go and pack up your things now."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you need help find your way back?"

"No, sir. I can do that on my own."

"Well, then, good day, Harry."

"Thank-you, sir. Good-morning."

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He knew he would not be able to find his way back, but he hadn't wanted to appear a complete imbecile. His foolhardiness had cost him a lot. He was lost. And he had NO idea as to where he was.

"Potter!"

He turned to see a blonde boy (unlike Dudley, he was thin and tall – but with an expression very cold and evil) looking at him.

"What are you doing here, Potter?"

"I… I was going back to my… room," he said uncertainly, once again wishing that he hadn't said that he knew his way back.

The boy raised a thin eyebrow. "The Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor not Slytherin, Potter!"

"What?" he said, frowning. He knew that there was something strange about this place. The pictures moved and he wasn't sure… but he had thought that a staircase he had seen ended up nowhere.

"Very funny, Potter. Now what are you really doing here?"

"I was going back…"

"I am not a fool, Potter."

Harry stared blankly at him. He was very sure that he hadn't called the boy a fool.

"I will have to deduct points from Gryffindor for idiocy, I guess," he said, his lips curling in a smirk. "Ten points from Gryffindor for snooping around, too, Potter. I bet you still think that you would have become the Head Boy!"

Harry was annoyed and exasperated. "What are you talking about? What is Gryffindor?"

The boy was now staring wide-eyed at him. It was as if he was seeing him for the first time.

Suddenly he said, "What's my name, Potter?"

"How am I supposed to know?" said Harry, scowling slightly, "You never told me."

The boy stared at him for the longest of time.

"You have lost your memory," he said slowly, the smirk returning to his face. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"My memory? There is nothing wrong with my memory," said Harry indignantly. "I know perfectly well that I live at No. 4 Privet Drive with the Dursleys and I remember everything that was taught to me in school and…"

"Great, Potter," said the boy, leaning against the wall. "Brilliant! No wonder Dumbledore doesn't want more people to be recruited as Death-Eaters – without their hero, they would be defeated in no time."

Harry didn't understand him. However, as the boy mentioned Dumbledore, he remembered that he was supposed to go back to his room and pack up as he was to go and live with his uncle… no… his godfather.

But he was lost.

But he needed some help right now.

"Er… who are you?"

"Malfoy – Draco Malfoy," said the boy, coming up to him. "And I apologize for being impolite before."

He extended a thin white hand towards him. Harry wasn't sure that he liked this boy. He was rude and cold and there was something which was not quite right about him. But he could do with a friend or two, he guessed. What if this boy knew his godfather and told him lies about him – Harry – being unfriendly and ill-mannered like Dudley did? Then he was sure that his godfather would hate him.

He accepted the hand and shivered slightly – the hand was so cold!

"I am Harry Potter – but I guess you know that?"

"Oh! I know you," said the boy, his grip tightening slightly and then letting go suddenly. "I know you very well. So what were you doing here?"

Harry sighed. He didn't want to appear stupid but… "I was lost. I am new around here, you see. I was supposed to go back to my room and pack up because I am going back to my godfather."

"Godfather?"

"Dumbledore said so."

"Oh, of course," said the boy and thought something for a while. "Do you know how he looks?"

"No… I have never met him before."

"Well, I do."

Harry was glad that he had accepted his hand then. He didn't want to make a bad beginning with someone who knew his godfather.

"What is he like?"

Before Malfoy could reply, someone came up behind him. "I think, Mr. Potter," said the dark stranger, "Professor Dumbledore asked you to pack up and not chat idly here."

"I am sorry, sir, but I was lost."

"Come with me, Potter," he said shortly. "And, Mr. Malfoy, do keep the third-years in my class in order until I return."

"Yes, sir," said Malfoy, sulkily and flashing a brief grin at Harry walked away.

"Potter!"

Harry hurriedly followed the man, his mind still on Malfoy – what was his first name, again?

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My first try at a Harry-Draco story. As I said it will be somewhat A.U. so be prepared for that. Anyway, reviews would be greatly appreciated. Remember, I ONLY write for my readers.

Anyway, this story is inspired by someone called Edward Norton (not the actor ;-)). So though I am not dedicating this to you, Edward, I thought that you ought to know.

- Lucille Lee.