-Chapter One-

Remembering to Forget

"Harry… Harry, honey, wake up."

The voice came from far away pulling him from the deep darkness he found himself in. But he didn't want to leave, it was relaxing and soothing and he didn't want to face the pain on the other side.

"Harry…"

He didn't recognize the voice but it was gentle and loving. It wanted him to open his eyes, but they were like lead, everything felt like lead, and he couldn't bring himself to move, to remember what he did… whom he killed.

Something small made its way into his hand and squeezed gently, almost coaxing him in actually waking from his deep sleep. His eyes remained closed but he could hear everything that was happening now. A steady beep was coming from his right and he could hear shouting coming from another room. He didn't focus on that though, his attention was drawn by a small voice, and it was whispered directly into his ear. The voice confused him, he hadn't heard it in his life and yet he recognized it and was happy to hear it.

"Hawwy, Hawwy wou haff twu get up, we get ifeceem."

A child's voice? It didn't quite make sense but it made him want to wake up from where ever he was. He wanted to know what was going on, where he was, what happened, and who these people were.

"The doctors say it just changed!"

Now it was a man's voice that entered into his mind and this one didn't seem familiar either. This was starting to seem unreal to Harry. Who were these people, where were his friends, Remus, Dumbledore? Harry suddenly stopped; he wondered where that name came from, who Dumbledore was.

His head shook slightly, but no one in the room took notice. A firm voice from within his head told him that Dumbledore was his headmaster and a trusted friend.

"He may have some brain damage, but they say it's a miracle he even survived the fall, at the first scan they thought he was gone. They didn't think there was anything left…"

Fall what fall? His head reeled with questions.

"Mommy, mommy, he skeezed my hand!"

Harry heard himself groan followed by a rustle of sheets and loud shouts.

"Robert grab a doctor!"

The small hand had left his and in turn was replaced by a much larger one; it felt a lot bigger than his own. This confused him even more; he didn't think he had very small hands.

Another groan escaped his lips, he hurt all over and he missed the peace of the darkness he left behind. Where he didn't have to worry about anything…

"Step aside please Miss..."

Loud footsteps were heard as the soft, warm hand left his and he was almost sad to feel it go. Something cold was placed on his chest, which made him flinch, before a calloused hand swept upon his forehead. He was almost relaxed again before a bright blinding light entered one eye and then the other. He wondered what they were doing to him and as he tried to glare he was held back by a very painful sweeping motion coming from his throat. It made him cough and sputter, tears came to the corner of his eyes and a soft sound made its way out of his mouth making even him scared, he had been through much worse pain and never even flinched and now he was almost crying?

"I just don't understand it, this has never happened before, no one has ever recovered this quickly from such a deadly accident. I've never seen anything like it. He was in a coma just fifteen minutes earlier, and we thought he was brain dead not hours before."

"Well it seems to me doctor that you have made a lot of mistakes today." Harry could almost feel the man's voice glare. "I am just glad my son will be alright…" A sigh was then heard.

Son? Son! Are they talking about me? This doesn't make sense at all…

His eyes opened slowly squinting from the very bright light. Everything was blurry and out of focus and his head felt like it was hit by a bludger several times.

"W..w…wrrr?"

That was all that he could make come from his mouth, he didn't understand it, and the voice didn't even sound like his, not at all.

The room swam in and out of focus as he blinked back the tears and the extreme weakness he was feeling. A young woman was by his side and it looked like she was holding back tears as well, and the man he assumed was Robert was just behind her his arms full of a young girl with long red hair.

"Baby, just relax… try to sleep. We will be here when you wake up." The woman talked to him but he again could barely hear her as he was giving into the drowsiness of sleep. The last thing he remembered seeing was the bright green of the little girl's almond shaped eyes.

Those eyes that seemed perfectly familiar but so strange at the same time as though from a long forgotten dream. His conscious held onto that image as he slipped in and out of sleep. The green eyes that mirrored those of… somebody else… somebody just beyond his consciousness… somebody that he knew but could not think of…

As he slept, he dreamt. He dreamt of a room filled with silver objects and portraits of people with faces that he could not make. He dreamt of a man with a kind smile. And he dreamt of words. Words, he knew that were important but were slipping from his memory with each passing moment.

"Do not… die… change… past… let her…do not… the past… her die… not change… past… do not let her… change the past… do not let her die… do not change the past… do not… do not… let her die… change the past… do not… do not…"

Somebody gave a surprised scream as he threw himself from bed, forcing him muscles to stand and support his weight while they were still waking. The moment his feet touched the ground, his legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to the ground. Somebody ran toward him, but he scrambled frantically trying to stand while failing. His vision was spinning as quickly as he was moving and his stomach was turning. He barely had time to turn away from the person in front of him before he vomited.

Harry steadied himself on his hands and knees; he was shaking severely from cold, fear and weakness. Involuntarily he sniffed, tears were quickly forming and threatening to spill from his eyes. He still had no idea what was going on and he wanted to get out of where ever he was.

Slowly Harry lifted his head and as he did so he caught the reflection of a stranger in the mirror before him. An inaudible gasp escaped his slightly parted lips and he threw himself back, the person in the mirror doing the same thing. And yet the person in which he saw was just a child, a boy not yet over the age of eight.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around his waist lifting him up and trying to force him back into the bed. It wasn't working out so well as Harry was kicking and thrashing about as much as his small body would let him.

"No! No… No, no, no! NO!" Harry croaked, his voice was loud and very raspy and that seemed to be the only word he could form.

"Shh… It's okay… It's just me Harry…" The gentle voice of the man reached his ears but he took no notice, he wanted to escape, to run and not look back, to find someone who he knew and to figure out what was going on.

"Let go! Let go!" Harry's weak voice pleaded to be let down; to let him go. The dream was startling and every moment he was awake in this place he became more and more confused.

By the time he was placed on the bed for the third time two more men in white were in the room. Seeing the situation, one hastened to move Robert to the side while the other held Harry's struggling and shaking form down.

"I don't think…" The woman spoke, her hand at her mouth as she watched the scene play out. She was quieted, however, by the loud voice of her husband.

"That is not necessary!" One man in white had a needle and was carefully inserting its contents into Harry's forearm. It took only a moment before Harry calmed down and was once again looking quite drowsy and ready to fall asleep.

"I am afraid it is sir, he is a danger to himself when he is in that state of mind."

"He is just confused, there is no need…"

"Don't worry sir he will be fine…" And as Harry slowly fell asleep once more he watched as the two forms in white carefully looked him over making sure there was no lasting damage.

When Harry's eyes next opened, he instantly knew that he was alone. He had yet to be alone since he had found himself in this room and found that a big disconcerting and comforting at the same time. He forced himself to sit up as he reached out toward the bedside table for his glasses. He patted his hand down on the tabletop a few times before he froze.

Glasses? Since when did I wear glasses? He thought, confusedly.

However, he could not shake the feeling that he was missing something as he ran his small hands over his eyes. He shook his head slightly trying to get rid of the grogginess that clouded his mind. As he did so, his line of sight fell upon the mirror once more. He stared into it and the reflection stared back.

He felt as though he was staring at a stranger, but at the same time he felt as though he knew exactly what he was staring at. A little boy stared at him with bright green eyes, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, and looking as though he had skipped a few meals. He had a few bandages wrapped around his forehead several times and sticking out on top in a messy fashion were several auburn locks.

He threw the sheets off of his body and walked across the tile floor. His feet grew cold with each step, but he ignored that and gave the doorknob and experimental jiggle. As though somebody had been waiting for that, he heard the clicking of heels suddenly approaching. Panicking slightly, he scampered back to his bed and threw himself in it. He tried to looked innocently confused as he heard a key enter the lock and the door click open. He stared as a blond nurse stepped into the room.

"Hello, Harry, how are feeling today?" she asked politely as she checked various things around the room.

"Fine," he said shortly.

"Well, you're parents want to see you. How do you feel about a few visitors?" she asked, taking his blood pressure, checking his bandages, and shining an annoying light in his eyes.

"Er…"

"Great!" she said, brightly, taking his hesitation as an answer. "I'll send them right in."

Almost the exact moment that the nurse left the room, a man and woman that he felt he should know entered the room. The woman looked slightly nervous as she bustled over his bed. Harry watched with her interest as she smoothed his sheets and muttered questions toward him that she obviously expected no answer ("How are you feeling, dear? You don't look too good. Are they feeding you okay? Is the bed soft enough? It does not look nearly comfortable enough. Would you like another pillow? Of course you would. I shall bring an extra one next time…"). The woman was a complete head shorter than the man and she had strawberry-blond hair that was drawn up into a messy bun. The man had a dark brown mane with stubble on his face from several days of not shaving. He walked over to Harry's bed and just placed his on the railing. Then just stood there and looked down at him as though he were afraid this was the last time he would see him.

Harry cleared his throat and said, in a scratchy voice from not using it in a while, "Where am I?"

"You're at the hospital, dear. You fell and, well…" She gave an emotional sniff before continuing, "Well, we are just lucky we got you here in time is all."

He shifted his gaze from the woman to the man and back again. "And… ah… who are you?"

The woman made an odd sound that was a mixture between a gasp and a sob. The man was immediately at her side and taking her into his arms. He gave a sad look over her head toward Harry. He said, just loud enough for Harry to hear. "It's okay, Charlotte. The doctor did say that he may suffer from small amnesia, remember? It'll be okay. It will all be okay."

"B-but, Robert, we're his… his…"

"I know, I know," he murmured. He looked at Harry once more and asked, in a desperate voice, "You really have no idea who we are?"

He hesitated a moment before shaking his head no.

The man swallowed. "We… we are your parents, Harry—your mother and father."

Harry did not speak. He furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion. Little, blurry images—almost as though they were photographs instead of memories or dreams—popped into his head: a woman with red hair, a man with glasses, a little black-haired baby, green eyes… and a name… a sweet name…

"Lily," he murmured.

His mother turned to him, her eyes bloodshot, "You… you remember Lily?"

"Green eyes," he muttered.

"Yes, she has green eyes, just like you," she said.

Your eyes… just like your mother's… Lily…

"Would you," his mother paused, "would you like me to bring her in? She's right outside you know I could go get her if you want. You two were always really close. Would you like that, dear?"

"Just like mine," he repeated.

"Yes, just like yours," his father said. "Honey, why don't you go get her?"

She ducked out the room and returned only a second later with a sleep ridden five-year-old. She had long red hair and bright green eyes. The girl rubbed her eyes slightly before looking at Harry. The moment she saw that he was awake; she grinned and shrieked, "Hawwy! Wou no' asweep! Yay! We get ifeceem now!"

He laughed half-heartedly. Red hair… green eyes… one of the few things that I remember… then why does it seem like something's different?

The little girl rubbed her eyes once more the lack of sleep less apparent now that she was excited. She looked to her mother and father expectantly before giving a huge smile that seemed to reach her ears. Her small hands clapped together several times before she launched herself at her big brother expecting to get a big hug.

Harry cowered against the railings of the bed trying to get as far away from her as possible as Lily came towards him and attached herself around his waist. He struggled to get her to let go, it wasn't that he didn't want or appreciate anything from these people who claimed they were his family, it was just he felt like he didn't know them at all. This was all beginning to be too much to handle at the moment.

It was then that Robert lifted Lily from his bed, seeing the desperate look in his son's eyes he frowned shaking his head once or twice. Charlotte looked to her husband before taking Harry's hand and holding it between both of hers.

"Now Harry, c...can you tell—tell us what you do rememb..."

"I do believe that is my job!" A man with black hair and a huge black mustache entered the room holding a clip board and looking quite important and quite, severe…

"Excuse me?"

"I am here to evaluate my patient and how much damage exactly the fall actually hurt him." The new man then clicked his tongue before looking to his clipboard and furrowing his brows together. "You may stay if you want, but I recommend against it…"

"I don't believe we need yo—" Robert glared as the man interrupted yet again.

"Your son's doctor hired me to evaluate him; he said there may be some amnesia as well as other…problems… associated with a head injury. I am here to see he makes a full recovery." Charlotte looked to her husband not knowing what to say to this—doctor. She decided he was quite rude but she agreed with him on some points.

"Fine, fine… but we will stay in the room as you question him!" Robert nodded softly as his daughter laid her head sleepily onto her fathers shoulder.

"As you wish…" The man gave a small smile that seemed to make him colder rather than friendlier before turning to Harry.

"Now son, can you tell me your whole name?"

"Er…"

"I am just here to ask you a few questions, don't worry no answer is wrong."

Harry bit onto his lower lip, he didn't like this man, and he just seemed so… greasy, which also reminded him of someone else of which he couldn't put his finger on. He also didn't like how the adults talked about him as if he wasn't in the room at all.

"Harry…" Harry thought for a moment before looking up and shrugging. "…Sir…" He added as the man kept looking at him thoughtfully.

"Last name?"

"Ah…Harry, Harry… Pott—Erm…?" Harry squinted his eyes, that name was on the tip of his tongue but now he couldn't remember it at all. Something that started with a 'p' he was sure. At this point the man was scribbling furiously at his paper. Well Harry was sure of one thing at least; his first name was Harry, which was the only thing that seemed right in this place.

"Okay, Harry, can you tell us what you last remember?" Harry noticed that the man's voice didn't change and he still seemed very mean. Concentrating hard, Harry who didn't care for this man, wanted to please the other two adults in the room, who were watching helplessly.

"Ah… red, scary, eyes and a…a bright green light? And an evil, scary, laugh. Then a…a scream…" He bit at his bottom lip again looking towards his hands, which had the sheets crumpled and strained within them.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said…"

"Never mind, never mind. You have a very active imagination Harry…" He said this with no humor at all in his voice. Another thing Harry didn't like about him was that he didn't even know his name. "Now can you tell me anything at all about the fall… or anything before it?" Harry confused at the question looked up. He just asked what the last memory he had was… Wasn't that the same question?

"I...ah…" He sniffed hard, trying not to let the tears fall, this man was scaring him and he didn't like him at all.

"I think that's enough sir, we will let you know if we need you again." Robert also had enough of this man, he definitely wasn't helping matters.

"That's fine, I was almost done anyways. I will send my report to Dr. Halibut and he will get back to you." And with that the doctor left without a backwards glance. Robert stared after him grumbling.

"Are you okay sweetie?" When Harry nodded she gave a small smile before looking once more to Robert and the now sleeping Lily. She sighed inwardly; she hated leaving Harry alone, even for a short time.

"Harry?" She said timidly and as Harry looked up she pursed her lips sadly he had such sadness in his eyes. "Honey, we need to get Lily home and check up on Petunia and the sitter. We will be back very soon; we promise… will you be okay? Because I will be glad to stay."

"I...I'm okay." Harry gave a small smile hoping to convince them. He was torn, on one side he wanted to be alone to think and on the other he was terrified of that option. When Charlotte nodded and kissed him on the forehead he almost felt like calling her back but refrained himself as he caught site of his reflection in the mirror once more.

Slowly he walked towards it feeling the bandages around his head. Something told him that there was something important about unraveling them, something he knew he had to see—to know.

He stood back, closing his eyes as he took them from his forehead. When he opened them he stared his eyes wide before his whole body started to shake. He backed up slowly and deliberately before he reached the door and finding it open took off in a sprint down the hall.

His family found him passed out at the bottom of the stairs to the entrance of the hospital.