Disclaimer-but- (I'm wondering...is anybody getting tired of my cliffhanger disclaimers? Can anybody remember the first word?)

Hello. Casual, casual. No holidays coming up. No exciting events. Other than this chapter, of course! LOL...I know what you're all thinking...'yeahhh rigghhtt' or is it 'suuuure.' Either way let's stop this time wasting or move on to the thank-yous. First biggest thank you is thank you for getting me all the way to my 100+ reviews after only seven chapters. Means a lot!

MIDNIGHT-PIXIE: I'm glad you like both stories. Yeah Hermione needs it under control but she's been under tough times. It'll get better for her though...eventually.

hjpchick, truffletruffle01, mystikalolo, babee-munky, PinkyTheSnowman: It's been a difficult week with Ron and I (Just go check all the angry reviews got for my other story. I'll have to rectify those reviewers later). Everyone thinks it's a very love-hate relationship. I think its just love. It may seem strangely cruel now but just wait for it. It'll happen. I can promise Ron's story will be revealed.

bethzc: Yes! Finally! Someone who is actually enjoying the Ron thing. LOL...but there is much to be unveiled.

daddysgirl101989: Thanks for saying that's genius! There's a lot of Ron the Death Eater near the ending. Hah sorry about all you favbs being dead or evil!

Also thanks to: dancerrdw and Insanity-of-the-owl.

'The more anger towards the past you carry in your heart, the less capable you are of loving the present'-Barbara De Angelis

Harry was unbelievably nervous and excited for his first lesson on life. His life. It was kind of like when you find a book you've wanted to read forever. And finally when you get it in your hands you're both nervous and excited for what's to come. What'll happen? Will there be a happy ending or a tragic one? (How I feel about Harry Potter) Now imagine that that book was the story of your life.

For his lessons Harry was to be taught in a room on the third floor that was filled to the brim with dusty, antique items. They looked rather vile but this was the only room that wasn't already being used by the DA. It had been cleared in the center so that a low desk and a rickety chair were placed near a couch. Harry sat gingerly in the chair and waited anxiously for Hermione to arrive. She would be the storyteller tonight. As he waited he scanned the room a yellowing paper was stuck on the wall across from him. Truth be told it looked rather like a family tree. He stood and went to investigate it further. Could it even be his own family tree? Upon further look he was disappointed to see that it was not his. It belonged to the Black family, whoever they were. He checked the chart for the name Potter anywhere but came up with only Blacks and Malfoys mostly. He also noticed a few burn marks on the paper.

From behind him the door opened and he practically jumped out of his skin. He was about to welcome Hermione heartily but was disappointed once again when only Luna entered. Not that he didn't enjoy her company but he had been hoping to get along with his lesson.

Luna poked her head in, skimmed the room, and then entered all the way. As she entered a gentle clinking sound followed her. She was wearing robes of pale blue and her blonde hair and translucent eyes stood out.

"I was just wondering if you'd like a snack for your lesson," Luna murmured, her eyes playing the mood of the room.

"Erm-it hasn't really started but I wouldn't mind those cookies you gave me yesterday," Harry said, watching her carefully.

She looked as new to this room as he did.

"Well, I'll go...," she said, but she seemed lost in the room. The reason why Harry had no clue.

She turned to leave and that clinking sounded again.

"What's that clinking sound?" Harry questioned, politely.

Even though Luna was a person he had initially felt comfortable with it lasted longer. Now, when she was in a room he often stiffened up. She was just so very different and he felt he had to do something to stay on her good list. He had no idea what she judged people on.

Instead of responding to his question she lifted up her robes to reveal anklets made of bells. Tiny, intricately made, bells. Harry stared at her rather blankly. How was he ever to deal with such a surprising person as her?

He could only nod and smile as she left the room. As she left Harry felt the energy she left still in the room. Her presence lingered on. Harry felt as if the presence of many lived on in his room. Perhaps, once, he, himself, had left his presence here?

The door opened again except this time the person that popped into the room was Hermione. She was dressed in dark robes and her hair was caught up in a messy bun. She shuffled in with stacks of papers, books, and scrolls in her arms. She waddled like a duck as she made her way to the desk and laid everything out on there. She breathed out and greeted Harry.

"Good Morning, Harry. I see you're checking out the Black family tree. Hoping to see some of your family on there?"

"Uh no, just curious," Harry lied.

Hermione smiled and walked over to the Black family tree. She placed a hand on one of the burnt spots. Mumbling something that sounded awfully like, "He was all of our family" she turned away and began settling into the rickety chair. She gestured for him to sit on the couch across from her. He came. He sat.

"So, Harry," Hermione said, excitedly, "I suppose we should start?"

Harry had the feeling she was fighting the urge to squeal out in happiness. Truthfully, he was beginning to feel the same.

"Definitely," Harry agreed, thinking that this was long awaited.

Hermione grew silent, stared at Harry, and cocked her head to one side.

"I think," she said after a while, "That we should start the lessons in the most important place. The beginning. You should learn in the order that you learned it in reality."

Harry nodded, not quite sure where the beginning was. Hermione stared at the family tree, solidly.

"Tell me, Harry, do you remember your family?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, "Not at all."

"But, do you think that if I repeated their names to you, the names of your mother and father, that you would remember them? After all you've remembered a lot of important people after just hearing their names," Hermione said, reasonably.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I would. I mean if my parents aren't important than who would be?" Harry said, his eyes brightening.

His family. He needed that so badly. To know them. To remember. He needed the closure.

"Alright. If you must know your mother and father were Lily Potter and James Potter," Hermione replied, speaking the names so clearly Harry could in no way misinterpret them.

Harry closed his eyes and waited for memories to rush through him as they had when he'd remembered the name of others. A flow. A spark. A ripple in a pool. Anything. He felt a tingle but after that nothing came. His mind remained dark. Harry began to grow afraid. It was like discovering you were blind. How could he not remember his parents? He opened them again. His eyes, that is.

Hermione was looking right at him with a sad smile on her face, "You didn't seem them, did you?"

"No," Harry answered, quietly, "No I didn't."

"Care to know why?" Hermione implored, the sadness while leaving her expression, stayed in her eyes.

Harry nodded, numbly. He was so confused. It was painful not being able to remember your own parents.

"Because, Harry, you never really knew them," Hermione explained, trying to keep her voice smooth, "When you were three months old they were murdered."

As painful as it was not being able to remember your own parents, it was even more painful to realize you never really knew them. Harry didn't know quite what to say. Three months? He hadn't even gotten a chance to know them. And murdered? It was all rather breathtakingly sad to take in all at once. At that moment Harry felt very, very lonely.

"Who was it, Hermione?" Harry mumbled, "Who was it that killed my mum and dad?"

Hermione had been watching him closely up to his point until she finally spoke, "That is where one of the greatest stories of wizarding kind kicks in."

She laid out a book in front of him. Then another. Then another. All until several books were laid out in front of him. They all contained a similar story in their respective pages. Harry saw the terms Harry Potter, You-Know-Who, The Potters and Godric's Hollow many, many times on the page. But he didn't really read the stories. He wanted Hermione to tell them to him.

"Could you?" he said, gesturing towards one of the books.

Hermione looked down at the book and back at him, "If you want. The truth is, Harry, that an evil wizard murdered your parents. His name is Lord Voldemort. Many are afraid to speak his name and at the times these books were published most referred to him as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. According to modern lingo, however, we call him the Dark Lord. Now on the night of October thirty-first Voldemort came to your home, in Godric's Hollow, to kill you. But your parents weren't just going to hand you over. Your father was defeated and killed in a battle with Voldemort. And your mother-"

Hermione's voice cracked and Harry almost broke out of her spell. But she quickly recovered and continued.

"Your mother died trying to shield you from Lord Voldemort. He killed her too," Hermione said, softly, "Then Voldemort had you all to himself. He tried to kill you with one of the unforgivable curses, Avada Kedavra. But for reason's unknown to this day you survived and the spell shot back at Voldemort, himself. He was ripped from his body and you were hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived. You are the only known person to survive the Avada Kedavra curse."

Harry felt rather cool and shaky all over. He was strangely sad at the loss of his parents. It was odd even to him because in all reality he had never known his parents so there was no reason to be sad. But how could he help it? He did not cry but not all sorrow can be expressed in tears. He stayed silent for quite a long time and fortunately Hermione let him.

Another feeling lingered over him. The two worlds he'd been in. The world of Voldemort, the red-haired girl and this world were one in the same. He knew there was no point asking if Voldemort lived on for he knew the answer himself. He'd seen him when he was quite older.

"I remember him," Harry said, bitterly.

"Who?" Hermione inquired, eyebrows raised.

"Voldemort. I cannot for the love of me remember my parents but I remember him. I was with him before I woke up here. It felt as if only two minutes had passed but it was really years and years," Harry sighed, "I saw the way everything ends, Hermione. How my story ends. I remember the end but not the beginning."

Hermione tried to smile but she failed, "It's not your fault."

"Really?" Harry said, fiercely, "Then whose is it?"

"War, hate, the malice Voldemort had; that is not your fault at all," Hermione went on, "You were just caught up in-between."

Harry's head swirled as he recalled the memory he'd been thinking of before waking up. How Voldemort had sent the Imperius Curse upon him. Oh, how he remembered.

'Go to the lake Potter...'

'Everyone will think you abandoned them...'

'Drown yourself...'

'The Wizarding World will know they're savior is only a coward...'

'Drown yourself. Don't resist me...'

'To scared to face me...rather save his own neck by dying...'

'DROWN YOURSELF!'

Yet he hadn't drowned himself. He didn't know quite what he had done. But he knew what everyone thought.

"The world thinks I'm a traitor and a coward, don't they?" Harry demanded, "They think I abandoned them?"

"Harry...you can't change what you did in the past," Hermione tried to explain.

"So you think I deserted everyone too?" Harry said, heating up.

"What am I supposed to think?" Hermione snapped, "What was everyone supposed to think? We find Voldemort claiming himself the victor with no you in sight. It was only three days later that the DA found your body hidden by the lake. Tell me, Harry, what would you have thought?"

Harry's nostrils flared and he reminded Hermione of himself in fifth year. But then he calmed and stared, angrily, at the Black Family Tree.

"You're right," Harry whispered, "I don't even remember what happened. One second I was under the Imperius Curse being forced to drown myself and the next I'm here."

"Imperius Curse to drown yourself?" Hermione said, alarmed, "Oh, Harry!"

She placed a hand over his and looked at him with all her might as if hoping he'd forgive her for thinking bad about him. For a second he almost didn't want to forgive her but then he realized if he didn't have people like Hermione he wouldn't have anybody. He certainly didn't have any family.

"It's alright," Harry shrugged.

He was extremely exhausted. Learning the past was a task that was an emotional roller coaster. He hadn't known that his past was filled with so many up's and down's. The down's, however, had outshined the up's today. He had more questions but his fatigue held him back. Hermione seemed to notice this.

"How about we end the lesson for today," Hermione suggested, "You've learned an awful lot. Especially the story of how you became famous."

"I'm famous?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe," Hermione assured him.

"What have you for me today, Avery?" Voldemort inquired, hands clasped together.

"Well, my lord, we've initiated the battle of east Bulgaria and are planning to send some troops around to the west to caught off all resources from outside. Our recruits from France request more food and Dementors. The courts on the floors below have been rearranged to resemble a meeting room at your request and, finally, a Death Eater based in London has been injured while on task," Avery reported, nervously.

"Yes, yes, yes...," Voldemort sighed, "I grow weary of this dull and unuseful piece of news you give me everyday. What of Harry Potter? Where is he hiding? Who is he with? Or have you found nothing for me, Avery?"

Avery felt Goosebumps trail up his arm, "My lord, I am sorry to report that there has been no sighting of Harry Potter. And if I may, sire, most say that it is foolish to search for him for he is dead. Baddock is no honest man."

Voldemort flared up, "Crucio."

He was not satisfied with Avery's screams. There had been a time when those screeches had been somewhat of a pleasure. But now, he only wanted to hear the scream of one. Only wanted to watch the blood drain onto the floor neath him from one. Wanted to cause that one man so much pain that he would beg for death before the end came. Only then would his need be met.

"Foolish, you say? Baddock may be no honest man but I have told you it is what I believe to be the truth," Voldemort hissed, as soon as Avery's body stopped squirming and stood limp, "Do you not believe me, Avery? You must learn that when I say something is true, it is true. When I say Harry Potter is alive, he is alive."

By now Voldemort was pulling Avery's head up by the hair. He watched him wriggle with pain. Just then his door opened once more and Weasley stepped into the room. He did not look surprised to see Avery there on the ground. In fact he smiled to see him there. He'd always thought him an idiotic bastard.

"Get out of here," Voldemort ordered, pushing Avery away from him.

Avery did not need telling twice and scurried out the door with Weasley shutting it for him. Voldemort sat in his chair-his throne and stared upon Weasley's face. His little experiment had always made the Dark Lord so proud. To think that with hardly any effort on his part he could change a wizard so entirely that he could not tell the difference from his friends and his foes.

"What have you to say on your campaign, Weasley?" Voldemort questioned, as he checked his abnormally long nails.

"All goes well, my lord. You saw the debate I posted for the pureblood wizards last week. Most of them will pose as Muggles to help support me and, of course, you, my lord," Weasley responded, "The Muggles, themselves, are falling for me. I've been doing a lot of charity events as they like to call. Talking the 'people.' The Muggle magazines and newspapers are calling me the people's Prime Minister."

Voldemort laughed, "Perfect, Weasley. You have outdone yourself. And once you become the Muggle Prime Minister then I shall have complete rule over those brainless folk. They had voted me on when you think about it."

Weasley agreed and then paused before saying, "Did you find any sign of Potter?"

Voldemort looked at him in case his face gave away a seal of emotion. No. He remained stony. Voldemort was still in control.

"No," Voldemort replied, sternly, "None of my Death Eaters are quite so smart as you, Weasley."

"Then, if you may, my lord, I'd like to be assigned onto the Harry Potter project. I'd like to hunt him and return him to you," Weasley supplied.

Voldemort stared him up and down. Was it possible that Weasley still cared for Harry Potter? They had at one time been mates.

"Why should I? You're busy with the Prime Minister project," Voldemort said with a wave of his hand.

"I should like to be the one who gives you your biggest threat, dead or alive," Weasley clarified, "And, as you had said earlier, I am far more intelligent that most."

Voldemort could not say no to the offer Weasley made, "Do not make me regret this, Weasley."

He smiled, "Oh, you shan't."

Weasley grinned to himself and turned to leave the room. However, Voldemort had to have the last word.

"Do not let memories of a past lost haunt you. You family and friends are only one. You serve only me, Weasley."

Ron Weasley stiffened. He chose not to reply but headed out the door. Once outside he kicked a sleeping guard before turning the corner in the Ministry office. It was only then that he had to the courage to speak.

"Ron Weasley serves only himself."

Author's Note: Duh duh duh! And Ron becomes involved ever more. And Harry remembers. And Hermione teaches and so many things evolve. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

xoxo

winky