Wow, my sincerest apologies that it has taken me so long to update. School is a bit hectic right now, and unfortunately, my writing often suffers.
Anyway, without further ado...chapter 4!


Harry was shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of a roomful of people he didn't know. A ginger haired boy about his age finally spoke up.

"I don't understand, mate. How could you just forget who we are?"

Harry looked at him warily. He'd been bombarded with questions of the like for the past ten minutes after Hermione had recounted what had happened in his flat. "I don't know," he said quietly.

People around him began to whisper to each other, staring at him as though he were mad. He had a thought that he was probably experiencing how an animal at a zoo must feel. Caged and on display, for strangers to talk about as they pleased. He looked at Hermione pleadingly.

"Alright, everyone, that's enough. Let's just enjoy the party for right now. We'll figure everything out later."

Most everyone muttered their assent as they turned back to their drinks and dancing. Everyone, except for Hermione and the ginger haired boy, whom Harry had been told was Ron. They were whispering to each other, and shooting glances at him. Their voices steadily rose, though Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell they were arguing. He was surprised to see how brightly Hermione's eyes flared when Ron would brush off her comments with a wave of his hand or a roll of his eyes. Ron's cheeks were tinged with pink, a result of trying to keep from yelling. Finally, it seemed Hermione had won as Ron stormed off into the other room. Hermione turned to him and smiled.

"Well, Harry, you should enjoy the party as well! After all, you're the guest of honor!"

Harry looked confused. "But why?"

"Just because you've forgotten us," Hermione began with a tone that told Harry she still didn't quite believe him. "Surely you haven't forgotten your own birthday! It's tomorrow, Harry, but we're celebrating tonight because…" she suddenly snapped her mouth shut and her eyes dropped to the floor as though she were searching for another explanation. Before she could come up with one, Harry interrupted.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why are we celebrating tonight?"

At that moment, Ron joined them at Hermione's side, looking triumphant. "I told you we'd have to tell him."

Hermione's breathing deepened. "I just didn't think it wise to bombard him with so much information at once, Ronald."

"Bloody hell, Hermione, he's not an idiot! He would've suspected something sooner or later!"

"Thank you, Ronald!"

Harry quirked an eyebrow. He was finding it rather uncomfortable to be talked about as though he wasn't sitting two feet in front of them. Ron opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione swept in front of him, kneeling before Harry to look into his eyes.

"Harry…" She hesitated.

"Yes?"

"You're…we're…you see…"

"You're a wizard, Harry."

Harry looked up at Ron, who shrugged his shoulders at a glaring Hermione. He opened his mouth to question the statement, but he was suddenly overcome with a great emotion he couldn't quite describe. It was glaringly reminiscent of a déjà vu. Confused, he snapped his mouth shut.

"Harry," Hermione began gently. "This may come as a bit of a shock, but yes, you're a wizard. And so is Ron. And I'm a witch."

Harry blinked as he stared at her. Hermione certainly didn't look like a witch. Weren't witches supposed to be ugly and wrinkled and covered in warts? No, Hermione was the farthest thing from a witch. Stark raving mad, perhaps, but certainly not a witch.

"And the reason we're celebrating your birthday tonight is because…" Hermione drew a shaky breath, and Harry noticed a sadness in her eyes. "We have a funeral to go to tomorrow."

"How inappropriate."

Hermione gasped. "Excuse me?"

"To be celebrating a day of life on the eve of a ceremony for a death? It doesn't seem right, does it?"

Hermione couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. "I suppose not."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Harry commented.

When she finally looked up at him, Harry was startled to see silent tears flowing down Hermione's face. He immediately felt a need to comfort her. "I'm sorry," he offered, not really knowing what he was apologizing for. It just seemed appropriate.

Hermione responded with a small, yet forced, smile. "Oh, Harry," she whispered.

Sensing that this topic was a hard one for Hermione, Harry decided it best to change the subject. "A wizard, you say?"

Ron stepped in now. He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Yeah," he told Harry. "Hard to believe, eh?"

Harry shook his head disbelievingly. If Hermione hadn't been so upset, he imagined he would've been angry. Strangers traipsing in and out of his flat, telling him he was a regular Merlin or something. It was all very confusing and, he was realizing, infuriating. But this girl, who now looked so small next to Ron's gangly form, had transformed from a vibrant ball of stubborn energy into a sobbing mess right before his eyes. It was enough to turn any man's heart soft, a woman crying, and Harry felt his anger ebbing away.

"I don't understand," he admitted, deciding to let them explain rather than brushing them off without a second thought.

"Ever wonder where you got that scar from?" Ron gestured to Harry's forehead.

Immediately, Harry felt his heart begin to race. He fought back the urge to trace the scar with his fingertip, as he had done on so many other occasions. "I know where it came from," Harry answered, his voice sharper than he meant it to be. "I got it the day my parents died."

He expected Hermione and Ron to snap to attention at this statement. He expected Hermione to gasp. He expected the exact same reaction from these two that he always got when he told someone his parents were dead. When they obliged him, he looked at Ron, expecting an embarrassed apology.

"You mean you know?"

That, he wasn't expecting.

Harry narrowed his eyebrows. "Of course I know," he snapped. "We were in a car accident when I was a baby. They were killed instantly. I survived with this scar." He gritted his teeth as he recounted the tale. Where did these kinds of people come from? How rude could you get?

Ron lowered his head and Hermione burst into fresh tears. "No, mate," Ron said suddenly. "That's not what happened."

Harry's already thin patience had worn out. He stood quickly and hurried to the door without another word. Under any other circumstances, he would've given Ron and Hermione a piece of his mind, but at that point, they didn't seem to Harry to be worth it.

That night, Harry tossed and turned in his sleep. He awoke abruptly, gasping for air and sweating profusely. He sat up and dropped his head into his hands. Feeling the lightning bolt under his fringe, he allowed himself to cry. His body racked with sobs as his dream replayed in his head.

It had been so long since he'd last dreamt about his parents. In his dreams, he'd always seen them smiling. They were always happy. Sometimes he dreamt of his mother holding him in her arms, cooing at him until she was rewarded with a smile and a gurgle. Other times, he dreamt of his father rocking him to sleep in his nursery, laughing softly as he began snoring.

Tonight, however, was different. There was no smiling, no laughter. The dream was completely devoid of any happiness whatsoever. Tonight, he dreamt of his mother screaming. He dreamt of his father crying. Tonight, he dreamt of a flash of green light and emptiness.

Harry couldn't stand the darkness any longer. Without even thinking, he plunged his hand under his pillow, extracted a long wooden cylinder, and screamed, "Lumos" quickly, before the harsh emptiness of the darkness enveloped him as it had his parents in his vivid dream.

The room flooded with light and Harry's heartbeat returned to normal. He sighed, wiping fresh sweat from his brow. It was then that he noticed the object he was clutching in his hand for the first time. He stared at it confusedly.

'What did I do?' The thought screamed in his mind as he stared at the cylinder. More important, however, was the next thought thatentered his mind.

'How did I know how to do it?'