Harry awoke to find himself on the floor of a room with plain white walls and nothing on them except a rusty, old-looking gold mirror. There was dusty smog covering it, suggesting that it had been there for some time.

"So who did he say he was?" Harry heard a deep, male voice through the door, and inched closer to it, squashing his ear to it in hopes of hearing more.

"I told you, he said he was Harry Potter. Pronounced it the same way she does." Who's she? Harry wondered briefly, and then resumed listening to the couple.

"You don't think…"

"I do." The woman stated very firmly and clearly. "It's too much of a coincidence. We have no idea of knowing how much time passes out there while we're stuck in here. For all we know, we could be dead." Harry fell back in shock and felt the impact of his fall on his thin, bony wrists. He rubbed them frantically, trying to process what he had just heard. What were these things? Memories? Ghosts? He silently pushed open the door to find the lady hunched over the man, kissing him intently and wrapping her arms around his neck. The man gasped in obvious disgust and pushed her away so strongly that she fell onto the sofa, her hair covering her face. She very slowly and tentatively stood up and stared at him with disappointment.

"I thought you said you'd think about it," she trembled. "Seeing as though she's not here and never will be again" Harry cleared his through uncertainly to announce his presence.

"What are you doing out here?" the man snarled. "Usually a closed door means that your presence is not wanted or expected. Is that too complicated for you, little kid?"

"OK, look," Harry said angrily. Why were these people treating him like an insolent, unaware kid? His unkempt appearance never triggered that much of a why impression with anyone else before, so why now? "I'm not stupid. I've battled dark wizards and been subjected to worse pain than you can imagine. I'm not a kid, so stop treating me like one." The man huffed and marched over to Harry, who stood very still with his arms rigid at his sides. Harry wasn't expecting the blow that came to his jaw, the fist connecting sharply with the bone. He stepped back with uncertain balance, and toppled backwards to land painfully on his head. The woman rushed over and cradled his head.

"Godric, stop manhandling people!" she cried out. "I know you've had a hard time, but please, don't take it out on everyone else. Including me!" She focused her attention back to Harry and after a few well-chosen whispered words, Harry felt energetic and happy, more so than he had been in a long while.

"Who is that guy?" he demanded of the woman. She clasped her fingers together and shifted her weight anxiously from one foot to another.

"Godric," she said finally. "Potter, this is Godric Gryffindor." Harry clasped his fingers together nervously, staring in complete and total awe at the frustrated looking man.

"You're really Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor, aren't you?" he said faintly. The woman stared back at him.

"Yes," she said clearly. "I don't know why this is so hard for you to understand, but yes, we are." Harry walked forward until he was within inches of Godric. The deceased Founder was looking down upon him with a little irritation, and a slight bit of curiousity. Harry touched a single finger across his cheek.

"You're really him," he whispered.

"Why am I so important to you?" Godric asked finally, after looking deep into Harry's eyes and stepping back slightly. Harry blushed and looked down at his feet.

"No reason," he mumbled, turning away to look at Rowena, who was watching him mildly.

"Excuse me, but is there any way to get out of here?" he asked. "Someone's expecting me." Rowena grabbed his hand and steered him over to a painting of Merlin.

"Stroke his beard and close your eyes," she said matter-of-factly. Before Harry could say good-bye, she had pushed his finger against the rough, oil painting and he felt another spinning, nauseating sensation as he flew through the wall. He found himself, surprisingly, standing upright in the hall that he though was for the Room of Requirement. Harry began walking back towards the infirmary without telling his legs where to go. Are they real? He thought. What are they, then? Bracing himself, Harry reached the hospital wing door and pushed it open with trepidation. Madam Promfery was still lying on the floor under the influence under the full-body-bind spell. Her eyes were glinting with red sparks. Harry swallowed a huge lump in his throat, pointed a shaking finger at her chest, and whispered, "Finite Incantantem." The nurse sprang up and grabbed Harry's robes, pulling him close to her.

"Never even…did you think….stop to think……could have happened," she hissed into his ear with an icy tone. Harry drew back and inhaled long, deep breaths.

"I'm so sorry," he pleaded in desperation. "I got…. caught up with something." The nurse's eyes narrowed and her lips turned down slightly at the corners.

"You are to stay in bed for the rest of the week!" she hissed again. "And this time, I will put more than simple binding spells around your bed! And if you escape, which I highly doubt you will, you will be very sorry indeed." Madam Promfery stumbled backwards, almost tripping on the edge of her robes. "Get in bed. Now." Dumbledore would have never..." she muttered to herself as she walked slowly into her office. Heaving himself onto the bed, Harry quickly fell asleep.

"Are you sure? I just can't believe Harry would do something like that."

"Am I sure? Am I sure? AM I SURE? I was on the floor for over an hour! Anyone could have come and I would have been helpless, set on a silver platter! Never mind the fact that my bladder was full after about ten minutes and the hard floor is horrible for my back! I'm not twenty! And you ask me if I'm SURE?"

Harry almost closed his eyes again to avoid another confrontation with the angry nurse, but surrendered himself and crawled out of bed. Lupin spun around to face him with a disappointed expression on his face.

"Harry! Is it true?" Harry hunched his shoulders a bit.

"Yes. I did Petrificus Totalus on Madam Promfery. I'm sorry, Professor-"

"Re-mus."

"Yes, er, Remus. I just…needed to get out." Lupin turned away and stared out a window at the Whomping Willow."

"Harry, I can't talk to you right now, I've got some…er…business to take care of," he said grimly, gesturing at the violent tree. "But, promise me Harry, in a couple days when I'm feeling better, we'll have our talk." He started to walk away, but Harry stopped him.

"Remus, can't you just take the Wolfsbane Potion?" Remus turned towards Harry with a pained, stretched expression.

"Harry, Severus is gone now. There a precious few wizards who can make the potion. It's almost easier to transform every month than find someone who is willing to take it. So, I'll see you in a few days." With that, he left the room, leaving Harry feeling depressed and guilty.

Harry reached out towards the corridor wall, and grabbed the tiny, gold box than sprung out, spinning around and around.

"Back so soon?" Rowena appeared cheerfully, wearing a different pair of ancient looking robes in bright purple. Harry couldn't help but grin.

"I couldn't keep away," he admitted. Godric walked into the room, accompanied by a plump, friendly looking lady.

"Ooh, hello dear, what's your name?" she squealed in delight. Harry almost retched.

"Harry James Potter," he muttered. The woman gasped.

"Potter, potter?" Harry smiled in spite of himself.

"Yes. I'm from the Potter family." Godric looked up in surprise.

"So you're my heir, then!" he said softly. He began tracing the fabric's patterns on his armchair, staring at nothing in particular.