A/N: I do not own anything to do with the Wizarding world or Harry Potter! Please R I'd appreciate it.

Chapter 2

"You killed Lord Voldemort," answered the girl. Harry stared at her with his mouth open as fear began to settle into the pit of his stomach. I'm a murderer? he thought. He became scared at what he was before he had forgotten his life; maybe, now that he had killed a person, he didn't want to know forgotten memories. Harry's' breath quickened, and he wondered why this girl was looking at him, a murderer, with sad cinnamon eyes.

"Wait," Harry said, his brow frowned, "How would I know that you're not lying to me?" The girl sighed, and looked at the white tiled flooring. "You'll just have to trust me." She then gave a little helpless laugh to the floor, and shook her head.

"How could you trust me when you don't even know yourself?" she mumbled to herself. Harry stared at her intently; he thought that he had briefly seen her, like a face he had past on the street, but didn't take the time to look closer. Some little piece of him felt like he remembered her, and that little part knew that she was…was something to Harry, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"Why are you here," said Harry.

"I came here to visit you…," she said as tears filled her eyes, "…too bad you don't remember me."

"Who are you? How do I know you?" The questions spilled out of his mouth. Harry felt completely helpless; he was asking a girl that he didn't even know—well, remember—about his life.

"My name's Hermione Granger," she said, looking into Harry's green eyes. As Harry looked into her eyes and heard her name, he saw a flash of a memory in his minds' eye: It was her; she was smiling and laughing, with a body of water in the background. But just as it appeared, it was gone, as if the bandage that was wrapped around his head had soaked it up.

"Do you remember?" Hermione said quickly after she saw Harry's eyes suddenly glaze over, as if remembering. She sat up straighter, and gripped the clean white sheet while she waited for Harry to answer.

"I…err…I think so. Well--I saw something," Harry stuttered. His head then began to throb gently as he tried to capture the past memory. Hermione had a sad look on her face when Harry looked at her again; it was easier to look at her than the bright, white walls that hurt his head to look at. For some reason, Harry felt sad to look at her miserable expression; she was too pretty to have her face covered by sadness. Oh, stop thinking that; just shut up…Potter. That's right, I'm Potter. Wow, I can't even mentally curse myself because I'd forgotten my name.

Then suddenly, the door at the end of the room burst open. A boy around Harry's own age stopped inside of the room and looked between Hermione and Harry. His ginger hair was windswept and messy, and his magenta robes with were wrinkled. On the robes, were the letters WWW which made Harry wonder what it stood for. Weird Wardrobe Warehouse? Harry thought, rolling his eyes to the ceiling briefly. These people are mental for wearing robes. Why is everyone acting like its Halloween? Wait…is it Halloween? Even if it was, why is everyone wearing the same thing?

The boy then ran over to Harry's bed and looked down at Harry with wide, confused blue eyes. Whoa, thought Harry looking up at the boy, he's tall.

Harry looked back with unsure, nervous, and frightened eyes as the redhead looked at Harry with a critical one. The boy then looked over to Hermione, and they locked gazes. From her gaze, the boy came to a conclusion to his never-spoken question; Harry gave a wild guess that the boy knew him and what the question was.

Lucky guess, because the boy walked slowly over to the bed Hermione was sitting on, and sat down un-gracefully, causing Hermione to bounce slightly on the mattress. Harry suddenly got another image: a red-haired boy falling off of a…a horrid looking creature with dark, stretched skin over the skeleton of a horse, and folded, leathery wings. Harry blinked to clear the image, and the white room came back into view.

Harry saw his company, embracing on the little bed, as if they were at a funeral where a loved one had just perished. Harry thought that if he had a friend who had lost his memory and didn't know who his…acquaintances...were, then it was about the same difference. They then released each other, and both looked at him with teary, red eyes. Harry felt as if he was on display at some kind of zoo—he was in a cage, with a little bat-eared, elf-like creature looking through the metal bars. Harry blinked the image away; he had a feeling that his life was a bit…weird…or he was crazy for seeing a winged horse and a little elf, while he was the one in a cage.

"Do you remember me at all, mate?" said the redhead with pleading sadness dripping with his tears and covering his voice. Harry looked between the two people in front of him with wide eyes; his mind plank of important memories; he didn't know what to say.

"I see you two…in flashes…" Harry said lamely; he even thought that his remark was stupid.

"I'm Ronald Weasley," he said after a moment of hesitation. By the look on his face, he felt sad at repeating a name that Harry should know now by heart; too bad that was as empty as his mind.

"Wait," said the boy named Ronald, turning to Hermione, "if he doesn't even know our names, then does he know what he is?" Hermione looked to the ceiling with pleading eyes. She then covered her face with her hands; something told Harry that they had a lot of explaining to do. And speaking of explaining, what else could he be other than a murderer (a sudden bit of nausea overtook him at the possibility of him really killing someone) and a boy with a blank mind? Wait a minute, Harry thought with sarcastic humor, I wonder if I'm a fairy or something else stupid and mental. Apparently it has to be interesting for them not looking forward to telling me.

If only Harry knew that being a fairy would be a story less complicated to tell…

A/N: If you remember in the Order of the Phoenix, Ron fell off of the thestral at the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. The memory about Hermione I added for fun. Also, the one about the little elf, a.k.a Dobby, Harry had the dream before Second Year about Dobby encaging Harry to keep him 'safe'. I just thought that I'd point out that. Please R&R if you want me to continue!