Does it hurt, dying? Surely it couldn't hurt this much. All the pain. His body was riddled. And yet, he couldn't scream. Whatever was happening, he couldn't feel his mouth, his lungs, his throat. Couldn't feel anything, but the pain.

He couldn't hear. He couldn't smell. He couldn't even taste. And all he could see was green. A sickly, electric green that was so bright it hurt his eyes. Hurt his core. Or perhaps that wasn't the light's doing.

The green faded to blackness and he let out a suffering groan.

"Boy?" A foggy voice came from a distance, as if someone were calling out from under water. Were they calling out for him? Who was he anyway? "Wake up," the voice came again. Or was it a different voice? Wake up? Was he asleep? You can't be in pain if you're asleep, can you? "Boy?"

Another groan was released and he felt himself tilt his head. It was resting on something soft. A cushion? Wasn't he in a forest? But- why would he be in a forest?

His eyes opened a crack to let in a warm glow, a soothing amber to make him forget the green. Someone was touching his forehead. They were warm. Gentle. It felt nice. He forced his eyes open more and he got a very fuzzy picture of a red haired woman looking over him. Her features were blurry, and so was everything else in his field of view.

"Hello there," the woman said, her hand dropping from his forehead. Why did she have to stop?

He blinked drowsily, "Glasses..." he heard himself utter. Glasses? Did he wear glasses? Was that why everything was foggy?

"Here," a new voice spoke. It was a mans. It was calm, like the lady's. A cold pair of glasses was slipped onto his face and the wire frame rested neatly against his form, as if they were always meant to be there. With new clarity, the boy looked looked at the lady and the man.

The lady had a pretty face, with jade irises set into doe shaped eyes. Her skin was pale and soft looking, a light smattering of barely visible freckles adorned her cheeks, and she bore a kind, subtle smile.

The man was darker, visually speaking. His hair was dark, his eyes were dark, his skin was dark. He was handsome, with high cheekbones and a sculpted face. He, too, wore glasses. They sat atop hazel eyes, and he looked down at the boy with cautious curiosity. He had a feel about him as kind and warm as the woman.

They both looked really young, barely in their twenties maybe. They looked familiar. But he couldn't place them anywhere in his mind. He couldn't place anything in his mind. He pushed himself up with his elbows, or, at least, he tried, before the lady stopped him.

"Hey now, don't strain yourself," she soothed, gently pushing his shoulder to get him to lay down. He went back with little fuss. His head spun from his movement and a wave of nausea washed over him.

"Where..?" He asked, trailing off weakly.

"Where?" The man questioned back. "Where are you?" He offered, and the boy nodded.

"You don't know?" The lady frowned. He didn't like seeing that. A frown on her lips. "You're in a place called Godric's Hollow. Do you know how you got here?"

He shook his head, bringing on another horrid feeling of nausea.

"What's your name?" Asked the man, glancing briefly at the woman with concern.

The boy furrowed his brow. Name? He had one of those, right? But.. what was it? He stared into the faces above him, thinking. A small voice called in the back of his mind. Barely understandable, heard through a haze. Evans. Potter. What did that mean? Was that his name? He thought harder, for confirmation. All he could recall were faint hisses of someone calling him 'Freak'. But that wasn't a name. Was it?

"I- don't remember," he finally admitted. "I think... Evan? But- I... I don't know. I'm- I'm sorry. What happened? Who are you?"

"Hey there, calm down. It's okay," the woman gently crooned. "It's okay if you don't remember." She placed a hand on his forehead again.

"All we know, kiddo, is you just turned up all of a sudden in our kitchen," said the man.

Kiddo? That was kinda patronising. He wasn't a kid he was- wait... how old was he? The man seemed to take his contemplative silence as a sign to continue.

"Are you sure you don't remember anything? What about your parents? Where are they?"

"Dead," said the boy. It was the most sure thing he knew, though he didn't quite know how he knew. He couldn't even remember who they were. Who he was.

The man frowned sincerely, "I'm sorry." The two adults- were they adults? They really did look rather young- glanced sadly at one another before the man spoke again in a gentle tone, "My parents are dead too."

"Sorry," said Evan.

The man shook his head, smiling sadly. "It was their time. They got really sick a few months ago. They were old. It happens."

"I was a baby," Evan said with clarity. "I think. I remember-" he frowned, snapping his eyes shut. "Screaming. And green light." He could see it, in his mind. That same nauseating green light from before. A sharp flash and a woman's screams. Cold cruel laughter rising over it. His hand reached for his forehead, feeling raised skin indicative of scarring, and brushing it gently, just below the woman's hand. "The green. I saw it again. Before I woke up." He moved his hand to his heart unconsciously. It graced his bare flesh. Where was his shirt? He felt a small patch of fabric covering his chest, which confused him.

His eyes opened again.

The adults stared at him with horror in their eyes. They were trying to mask it, but they were failing. Evan ignored their clear unease and looked down at his bare chest. The fabric, it was a square bandage; stuck down by seemingly nothing, though it felt secure. Red blood was seeping through and staining the white cloth.

"Am I bleeding?" He asked.

It took a moment for the adults to regain their composure from whatever it was that worried them so, and the man nodded. "We patched you up as best we could. It's not a big cut, but it's deep. You were bleeding a lot."

"Oh," was all Evan said. "Who are you?" He asked, remembering he never got an answer to that question before.

The man blinked and looked rather sheepish, "Right, yes. I'm James. This is my wife, Lily," he introduced.

They were married? Yes. That seemed right. James and Lily... those names rang a very loud bell in Evan's brain, but he still couldn't place them.

"How old are you?" He asked.

"19," the woman laughed a little when Evan pulled a confused face. They were really really young then. And they were married?

"We got married last year," the man explained. "Thanks to this war, well, things keep getting moved up schedule."

War? Yes. Evan remembered something like that. But... he had ended it? Or did he? "Voldemort," he whispered.

James frowned but nodded. "Yeah. Voldemort."

Evan was half expecting pain at the utterance of that name. That was a name, right? "He hurt me." He said, hand hovering over his bandaged chest.

Lily grew a dangerous look on her face and brought her hand away from Evan, clenching her fists. Evan watched her and flinched at her anger. "That horrid man!" She hissed. "Hurting a little kid."

James placed an arm about her shoulders, "I know Flower, but calm down. You're scaring Evan."

Lily looked to the boy and softened immediately at the frightened look in his eyes, "Oh, oh dear. I'm sorry." But Evan had zoned out. He was hit by memories of harsh words and pain.

"Potter," he said suddenly.

The adults were taken aback, "Pardon?"

"That's my last name. I think." Potter. Spoken in taunt and derision in his memory, by unseen faces.

Lily and James looked at one another. Evan couldn't read the emotions on their faces. Lily broke the silence first, "He does look a lot like you, dear."

Evan didn't quite understand, but that sentence stirred something within him. He had heard something similar before. He watched as James nodded slowly.

"We did speculate... what if he is related?"

There wasn't time to say much else before the nausea Evan had been experiencing grew too overwhelming to handle. His stomach hurled, and he threw up onto the floor.

Lily let out a shocked shriek and jolted away before she was covered. James looked worried for a moment before he gave a light chuckle.

"Okay kiddo, just let it out." He reached forward and helped his wife up off the floor before patting a now coughing Evan on the shoulder. The boy looked up at him with embarrassed and fearful eyes.

"I- I'm sorry," he uttered. He shifted as though to get up, "I'll clean it up. I-"

"Lay down, kid," James shook his head and nudged him back down. "Look, Lily's already taken care of it. See?"

Lily had magically made the vomit disappear, the living room floor looking as good as new. She even managed to make it smell of lavender. Evan blinked owlishly. Even he had been scrubbed clean, the remnants of sick on his lips had disappeared.

The woman was now also holding a glass of water, offering it to the boy with a gentle smile, "Here, sweetheart."

"Th-thanks," Evan took the offered drink with a shaking hand, raising it to his lips and gulping it down as if he hadn't drunk anything in weeks.

"Woah, slow down," James soothed, carefully placing a hand on Evan's wrist and stopping him. "You'll make yourself sick again."

Evan flushed red, "Sorry." He lowered the glass and observed Lily and James. They really did look familiar to him. Maybe they were related after all. "Thank you for helping me," he said.

Lily smiled warmly, her teeth were neat and white. Evan delighted at the sight. Something about her made him want to see her happy always. "Of course, sweetheart. How could we not?"

"Exactly," James nodded. He was smiling too and Evan could tell it was a smile that rarely faltered. "We could never turn down someone in need. Not if we could help them. And on that subject, is there anyone we can contact for you? Family?"

Evan thought hard but came up blank, shaking his head. James frowned, looking to Lily for advice. Evan felt bad. "I'm sorry," he said. Flashes of yells of 'burden' and 'unwanted' burned his memories.

"Don't be sorry, kid," James insisted gently.

"You can't help this," Lilly soothed, stroking his hair again. "You're just a child."

"Tell you what," James smiled, "You can stay with us for as long as you need. We can help you find your family, okay?"

Evan bit his lip, 'burden' still searing in his mind, but he saw the kindness in James and Lily's eyes, and nodded. "Okay," he smiled.

James left the room shortly after. He told Evan he had work. Lily stayed put though, stroking Evan's hair and humming softly until he drifted off to sleep.