If only he could remember something, anything about himself! Why was this stupid piece of broken wood so important to him in the first place?
He sighed and stood up, shoving the pieces of wood back into his pocket. There was no hope of fixing it, whatever it was. It had been all but shattered by the car's wheels. Stupid car. He walked out of the alley, blinking in the bright sunlight. Nothing was going to get solved by sitting in an alley mourning the loss of a stick.
The only way he could think of to go about trying to get his memory back was to try and find something that he could recognize. He started walking around, staring at everything (and getting some strange looks in return), but nothing seemed particularly familiar. Maybe he had been here before, well he must have, because this was where he had found himself, but nothing here held the same sense of familiarity as that stick in his pocket had. Maybe it had been his first trip to this town?
He sighed. Nothing here was jogging his memory in any way. He turned around, ready to head back to the alley, but something caught his attention. Well, two someones, to be exact. A boy and a girl, who both looked about his age. Most of the people he'd seen around here were either much older or much younger than him, but that wasn't what had caught his attention. Nor was the fact that the boy seemed to be confused by a cell phone that a woman standing near them was using. No, the thing that had made him pause was that these two people did seem familiar.
Not in the same way as the stick in his pocket, but the kind of familiarity that comes with good friend who have been through it all together. The boy started towards them. Even if he was wrong and he had never before seen them in his life, what more could go wrong in his life at the moment?
As he walked over, the girl turned to him, seeming puzzled. "Excuse me, not to be rude, but do I know you?" she asked. "You seem familiar, but I can't quite place you."
He grinned. "I think you may be asking the wrong guy. I just came over to ask you the same question."
Maybe it was because it seemed as though they'd known each other for years, or maybe it was just because they were all looking for answers that didn't seem to exist, but they kept talking for most of that day. The boy told them his story, which didn't take too long, as there was so much he himself didn't know. When he showed them the broken piece of wood, however, he hadn't been expecting a reaction quite like the one he got. "You're a wizard?" the boy, Ron, had exclaimed, examining the wand.
"I guess. Makes about as much sense as anything else that's happened so far," the teen shrugged. He shoved his hair back.
"Where did you get that scar?" the girl, Hermione, asked. "But of course, you wouldn't know. It's strange, though, it looks like a bolt of lightning."
The boy traced over it with his finger. "I dunno where I got it, but it was hurting last night. I remember, I was having this strange dream and it woke me up."
"Strange…"
Ron and Hermione had told the boy their story, as well.
"And then yesterday, we found ourselves here, with no idea why. I think we might have been looking for someone, possibly you even, because it seems that what happened to us is rather similar to your situation." Hermione finished.
"But I he lost his entire memory, and we only forgot why we were here. If you're so smart, how exactly is that similar?" Ron had interjected, rather rudely.
"Maybe you were looking for me and, I dunno, someone removed all the memories of me from everywhere?" The boy frowned. "But why would anyone bother doing that? Who could even do that in the first place?"
Nobody could answer. After a while, they went to find a hotel. Luckily, Hermione and Ron had some 'muggle' money, as they called it, with them, and they found a place to stay the night.
"You're going to need a name you know," Ron pointed out later that night. "It gets too confusing if you don't have one, plus people might get suspicious."
"I guess." The truth was, that had occurred to him too. He had been trying to figure out what he should call himself for a while. Unfortunately, nothing had come to mind.
"I have absolutely no idea."
"Well, we have to call you something," Hermione insisted. "We can't just go around calling you 'that guy', it will attract too much attention!" Ron and the boy had to admit she was right. Attention from the general public was the last thing they needed at the moment. With their story, they would immediatly be 'chucked in the looney bin', as Ron so eloquently put it. So, for the next few hours, they sat around, trying to come up with a name for the boy. After much debate and deliberation, it was finally decided that the boy's temporary name should be Jeremy Brenin, a name borrowed from Hermione's neighbor's dog.
Ron glanced at the boy, now Jeremy, appraisingly. "The dog name fits!" He daclared at last, earning him the rank of 'target' for all the pillows in the room, courtesy of Jeremy. Ron, of course retaliated. Hermione just rolled her eyes and pulled out a book, eventually putting a stop to the all-out war around midnight.
Okay, there's chappie 2. I actually cringed while writing this, I'm awful at writing dialogue, but this chappie needed to be put in, as it's kinda important. I know they're all kinda out of character, so any suggestions at all, PLEASE review and tell me. I'm begging you!
Lady Jarine