Hindsight
Chapter 1 is up! Woohoo! Yay!
Update!
Well, I had already uploaded this for a week, when suddenly, to my surprise while on the bus, I realized that Harry Potter had glasses! So, here is Chapter one, modified!
Machines beeped in a sterile white room. On the bed, lay a lifeless-looking young man, who looked barely out of his teens. In fact, he was technically still in them. The only smidge of color came from a brown clipboard hanging off a hook on the end of the bed.
The room was completely still. The other rooms around it were full of movement, but this patient had been in a comatose state for six months. The clock ticked, the green line on the machine peaked at regular intervals, and the machines still beeped.
Suddenly, the young man's shut eyes scrunched together, then opened to reveal bright green eyes. The patient sat up with a bit of difficulty, and his eyed took in the room. It was blurry, but he could still make it out.
I'm in a hospital… he realized. I saw a room like this on my cousin's television…
The patient furrowed his brow.
I have a cousin? Why don't I remember anything…
A nurse walked in to change the IV drip that was almost empty, but stopped in the doorway with a start. She walked to the telephone on the wall and picked it up.
"Dr. Harmon, paging Dr. Harmon, Joe Bloggs in room 223 has awakened; Joe Bloggs in room 223 has awakened."
My name isn't Joe Bloggs, it's…erm, H-H-H…
"Harry Potter!" his unused voice croaked.
The nurse looked at him. "Excuse me?"
"My name isn't Joe, it's Harry Potter!" he said, his voice warming up.
"Well, of course, dear, Joe Bloggs is a name we use when the body is unidentified." she explained kindly.
Harry nodded slowly.
How did I know that? I don't think I know anything else…
"Well, while we're waiting for Dr. Harmon, let's see if you remember anything else." the nurse grabbed the clipboard and extracting a pen from her robe. "Now, let's see, birthday?"
The words spilled out of his mouth before he could even register what he was saying. "July 30th, 1980."
"Good, good." The nurse murmured. "Middle name?"
"It's my father's name." Harry replied, his face screwed up in concentration.
"And that is?"
"G-J-Ja-Ji-James!"
"Wonderful! Mother's name?"
"Petu- NO!" his face erupted into light horror for no apparent reason. "L-Lily!"
"Excellent. Their address?"
Harry shook is head.
"Hmm. Anything else?"
"No." Harry said carefully, searching his memory for any sort of clue.
"Alright." The nurse said, putting the clipboard back to where it was before. "Now you sit tight for a moment. Where is that doctor…" she mumbled, walking into the hall.
Harry lay back on a pillow, thinking hard.
Suddenly, from down the hall, there was a crash, and a loud, shrill voice started to bellow.
"LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID! IT'S NEVER GOING TO COME OUT! THAT WAS INK! BLACK INK! BLACK!"
At that last word, Harry's mind suddenly filled with names.
Bellatrix, Narcissa, Lucius, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Fudge, Kingsley, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, Dursley, Hagrid, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Riddle, Ginny…
The last name seemed to echo in his head. His train of thought was then abruptly interrupted by a man in a doctor's coat who walked through the door with the nurse.
"Hello, Harry. I'm Dr. Harmon; I'm the doctor who has been working on your case."
Harry nodded in greeting.
"Now, you've made an extremely remarkable recovery, and…"
"Err, excuse me, but how did I get here, and, why can't I remember anything except a few names?"
"Well," the doctor started, "you might be suffering from a slight amnesia, due, perhaps, to some head damage from when you entered the comatose state, and how you got her, we were actually hoping that you would answer that."
Dr. Harmon paused to allow the information to be absorbed
"You were found, six months ago, unconscious, in an alleyway in Northumberland. You had no ID, and no one could personally identify you, so, as, I hear you know, you were admitted to this hospital under the placeholder name."
"Oh. And, er, why is everything blurry?"
"Well, you were found with a pair of broken glasses. We weren't sure if they belonged to you, so they are being kept in you're room number's box. The lenses are broken, so we aren't able to use those to match the prescription. I will schedule some vision tests today, and depending on the results, you should be able to get you a pair ASAP. Okay?"
"Sure."
"And one more thing, we have some questions about that scar." Dr. Harmon waved at Harry's forehead with his pen.
"Okay…"
"We're very sure that it does not relate to your injury, but we need to know about it for medical history purposes. Can you remember anything about it?"
Harry racked his brain for anything about a scar. "Only that I've had it since I was very young."
"Hmmm, are you sure? It has a very peculiar shape, and it may interfere with anything we might give you to keep you healthy."
"Shape?"
"Do you not even know what it looks like?" asked Dr. Harmon.
Harry shook his head. Wordlessly, the nurse pulled a makeup compact out of her pocket. Harry looked into the mirror and pushed up his thick bangs, which completely covered his forehead, showing a thin, lightning bolt-shaped scar.
As he looked at it, Harry suddenly received an image of bright green light, but it went almost as soon as it came.
"So, nothing?"
Harry nodded.
The doctor looked a little put off, but simply jotted some notes down on his clipboard.
In a small London flat, a young man with shockingly red hair lay sprawled out on a messy bed. The blanket had slid down to his waist during the night, showing off a T-shirt with a large (and rather cute) picture of a duck.
There was a pop, the curtains were ripped open, allowing blinding sunlight to pour into the room, and a female voice chirped: "Good morning, Ronald!"
Ron gave a start and instinctively, and blindly, pulled the blanket up to his chin, before his eyes adjusted to the light, and he saw his sister standing in front of the bed, with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face.
"Bloody hell, Ginny!"
"What?" Ginny said playfully. "Besides, I've seen that shirt a million times. Or were you afraid that I was your precious Hermione?"
"N-no." Ron stuttered defensively.
Ginny giggled. "Though, I do suggest that if you don't want Hermione to see that shirt, you get dressed."
"Why?"
"Because," Ginny said, studying her watch, "she should be arriving it in three…two… one…"
They both heard the door open, and another voice echoed through the apartment.
"Hello? Ron? Ginny? It's Hermione! I'm here!"
Ron quickly scrambled out of bed, and ran towards his dresser.
"I'm in here!" Ginny called.
Looking desperate, Ron made a slashing motion across his neck.
"And I'll be right out in a sec!" Ginny continued, rolling her eyes at Ron, who was currently struggling with a sweater.
Meanwhile, Hermione surveyed the cluttered living room critically. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled out her wand and gave it a wave. Instantly, the room was neat and tidy, and she gave a satisfied nod as Ginny walked through the doorway.
"God, Hermione, can't you ever stand in a room without cleaning it?"
"Not when it looks like this." Hermione waved her wand, and the room returned to its original state.
Ginny shuddered. "Alright, put it back, you were right."
"Thank you." She raised her wand, but Ginny stopped her.
"Wait! Let me try. I can never get it right." She concentrated, then waved her wand. Instantly, the room was clean.
"You did it!"
"ARGH!"
"Not quite."
"GINNY! WHAT JUST HAPPENED? I WAS HOLDING MY JEANS, AND THEN…" Ron stopped abruptly at the doorway, holding a pair of jeans, and wearing a blue sweater and a pair of flannel pajama pants.
"Hello Hermione." he grinned sheepishly.
"Hi, Ron." she replied lightly.
"Anyways, Ginny."
"Yes?" she answered innocently.
"I was holding my jeans, and then they suddenly reappear back in my dresser."
"So?"
"So, did you have anything to do with it?"
"No." she replied simply.
"Fine." He glowered at her, and then retreated back into his room.
Moments later, Ron returned, fully dressed, and still looking grumpy.
"So, Ron, Ginny told me about your little wake-up call this morning."
Ron looked at Ginny, an alarmed look on his face. "What did you tell her?"
Ginny gave a smile worthy of the Cheshire Cat. "Nothing of importance."
Ron sighed in relief, then looked at Hermione. "So?"
"Well, I really must have a look at the shirt, one of these days…"
Ron glared at Ginny, who was sniggering into her hand.
"I never knew you had a liking for ducks." she continued, before both she and Ginny burst into laughter.
"Grrrrrrr…"
"Now, back to seriousness, do you want to go there now, or later?"
A sudden solemn mood seemed to engulf the entire building.
Both Ron and Hermione looked at Ginny as she gave an almost inaudible sob.
She looked up at their worried faces, and her face seemed to harden. "I want to go now."
"Are you sure you're up for apparition?"
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Hermione said decisively. "I brought Floo Powder." She pulled a bag out of her pocket.
"Oi! You didn't think thing that I would have some?" protested Ron.
"Well, do you?"
Ron's mouth opened to retort, then lowered his head and mumbled something indiscernible.
"Pardon?" Hermione's eyes twinkled.
Ron felt rather like he was talking to Professor McGonagall. "No." he repeated without looking up.
"Fine. Here." She tossed the powder into the fireplace, and the flames instantly turned green.
One by one, they walked into the fire and screamed their destination, arriving there in an instant.
Can I just say something?
OK, here it goes…
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE! I'M DESPERATE!
Ahem That is all.