Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter.

A/N – I am sorry this is so late. I always seem to be apologizing for that don't I? For that reason, I have decided to openly state that anyone reading this should not expect a new chapter but once every other week or so. I really wanted to stick with a weekly update, but it appears that just isn't going to work with my life at the moment. Sorry if that upsets anyone, but that's just the way it is. And with Starcraft 2 coming out this week, my time will be even more scarce than ever.

Harry awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright. He automatically reached towards his bedside table for his glasses, glancing as he did so at the time displayed on the glowing red digital readout. It read six am. He halted his search and blinked before looking again. It was 6 am…and he could see that.

Reaching up a hand tentatively he probed his face, wondering if he had fallen asleep with his glasses on again; nope. This was bizarre. At that point he began to notice other things. For instance, he was not in his room at Number Four, Privet Drive. In fact he wasn't sure where he was.

Looking around, he noticed four blank white walls, a television mounted on a stand up high, and a closed wooden door. Beside and behind him he did notice several odd looking machines. Judging from his surroundings, and the small bed and itchy sheets, he guessed he was in a muggle hospital. At least it looked a lot like the rooms he had seen on all of the daytime programs his Aunt had liked to watch; the ones where everyone seemed to fall into a coma and get amnesia at least once a month.

But how would he have gotten to a hospital? Surely the Dursleys wouldn't have taken him; He doubted they would take him into the hospital if he was lying on the floor bleeding in front of them. They'd just have Dudley take him outside so he didn't bleed on the rug.

Before he could ponder his situation further, the door opened and a head with a mop of dark unruly hair peered inside.

"Aha," the stranger said with a grin and a thick Irish brogue, "the dead awakens." He closed the door behind him as he entered and walked swiftly to Harry's side. "It's good to see you up boy; you really gave us a scare."

Harry shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs. "Where am I?"

"You're in Salisbury District Hospital."

"How did I get here?"

"Officers picked you up at Stonehenge. You were unconscious and non-responsive, so they brought you to us. Any idea as to how you got there mate?"

Harry shook his head. "Not a clue. The last thing I remember was falling asleep in my room."

"Where would that be?"

"Surrey."

The man whistled. "That's quite a long ways. Not really my business though. But you might want to expect an officer round here later to ask you these questions again. When they found you, you were bare-arsed and surrounded by scorched earth. Things like that tend to make them curious." He shook his head. "Ah, but where are me manners? The name's Michael."

He reached out his hand and Harry shook it tentatively. "Harry."

Michael raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a nearby plastic chair and sat down. "Got a last name Harry?"

Harry hesitated before answering. It might not be a good idea to give away his real name, at least not until he could find some way to contact Dumbledore.

"Evans. Harry Evans."

"Well it's good to meet you Harry Evans. We'll see what we can do about finding your parents."

"Don't bother, they're dead."

Michael gave him a pitying look. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"So are you a doctor," Harry asked quickly, desperate to change the subject. Michael gave a short laugh.

"Please, do you really think a doctor would be in here this early? That might throw them off their golf game at noon. Nah, I'm a nurse, I work for a living." They sat in silence for a few moments and Harry stared out the nearby window as the first rays of dawn spilled over the horizon."Look Harry," Michael began quietly, "what happened to you? If you tell me maybe I can help. You've got to give us something here, cause right now the police think you set fire to a national landmark. Around here it's kind of a big deal."

Harry was shaking his head before Michael even finished. "I'm telling you the truth, I have no idea how I got here; I don't remember anything after falling asleep that night. But I know I wouldn't have started any fires." A thought occurred to him. "Can you tell me what day it is?"

"Sure, it's the second." Harry tried not to show any emotion. Two Days! I've been gone from the Dursley's for two whole days. I'll bet Ron and Hermione are going spare wondering where I am, not to mention Dumbledore. "Thanks."

Michael nodded. "For what it's worth, I believe you Harry. I'm sure soon enough everyone else will too." He stood and walked towards the door. "I'll bring up some breakfast for you. Don't worry Harry, everything is going to be just fine."

After he was gone, Harry leaned back into the pillows and sighed. They thought he was trying to set fire to Stonehenge? He could be in some serious trouble. If ever there were a time to break the restriction on underage sorcery, it was now. A frightening thought then occurred to him. He looked around frantically for his clothes, glasses, anything that was actually his. Where was his wand?

Shit!

Harry stretched slowly as he stood up out of the back seat of the police car, working the bed sores out of his muscles. After he had realized his wand was gone, he wasted several minutes panicking before he calmed down enough to think clearly. He did not see any of his clothes and Michael has said he was found starkers. So since his wand had been in the pocket of his sweatpants when he had fallen asleep, he concluded that his wand must still be at Stonehenge.

Soon Michael had returned with breakfast, and Harry had immediately launched his campaign to return to that very place. Michael was adamant that Harry was in no condition to go anywhere; he had just regained consciousness and needed to be monitored. But Harry was relentless throughout the day, asking every time the nurse entered the room, and even hounding the doctors when they finally made an appearance.

He had made the same request to the police officer who arrived to question him around lunchtime. It had been a quick interview, as Harry really didn't know anything about how he had arrived where he had, but he assured the officer that if he could return to the place where he was found, it might just jog his memory and he would be able to tell them what happened. The officer did not look impressed.

That was why he had been very surprised this morning when the same officer had returned, informing Harry that he would be escorting him to the site. Harry hadn't questioned his good fortune, mumbling a quick "thank you," before he hurried into the bathroom to dress in the sweatpants and tee-shirt that the officer had provided. Within minutes he was in the back of the officer's car and they were on their way.

And now here he was, staring at the pillars arrayed before him as he followed the officer into the center of the massive stones. He was rather surprised not to see any tourists in the area at all, but then he saw the police tape and realized the reason why. Soon they stopped and Harry stared incredulously at the large section of blackened earth. It really did look like someone had set a fire!

"This is where we found you," the officer said, his tone neutral, "after we heard a report from a tour group that there was a naked teenage boy passed out in the monument." Harry was shocked. Who could have done this? It couldn't have been…me?

He composed himself, trying to focus on the reason he had come here. My wand, I have to find my wand. "I'll just take a look around then," he said casually, "see if anything comes to mind." He began to walk in a slow, wandering path across the blackened ground, his eyes darting back and forth desperately.

The officer watched him with narrowed eyes. He knew this punk kid would hang himself. When the boy had first asked to return to the crime scene, he hadn't believed his luck. So far they had been unable to find any physical evidence to link this boy to the fire, and without it their case was very weak indeed.

And then the boy had asked to see the site. Jog his memory indeed; it was obvious that the boy wanted to return so that he could retrieve whatever it was he had used to start the fire before it was found. Obviously he thinks I'm a fool. Well we'll just see who the fool is kid. A lighter, a cigarette, anything, and then you're mine. He drifted off, day dreaming happily about how he would spend the extra money he would be seeing in his paycheck after his promotion.

Where is it? Harry was searching frantically now; he had already looked all around the center of the blackened area, where he was supposed to have been found. But there was no sign of his wand. Now he was walking around the outside of the burnt area, hoping that maybe it might have fallen from his pocket and rolled out of the flames. There! He hurried over to one of the large pillars nearby and dropped to one knee, a grin plastered on his face. The smile slowly faded as he examined the wand; it wasn't his! Then whose was it? He reached out a hand to pick up the unfamiliar wand.

The moment his hand touched the wood, a jolt ran up his arm and bright blue sparks began to shoot from the tip. He was too shocked to even move. This is the same thing that happened back in Ollivander's shop when I first bought my wand! But this one isn't mine, is it? But he had no more time to think about it as the bright flashes had snapped the officer from his fantasy land and he was hurrying over, struggling to pull his gun from its holster.

"Hey," he shouted loudly, "whatever it is you're doing kid, stop it right now! You're under arrest!"

Harry turned and ran, looking back over his shoulder to see the officer chasing him as fast as he could. Damn it, what am I going to do? I don't know how to apparate, or how to create a portkey, and I don't think this guy is going to give up. He nearly stumbled as a loud pop rang out behind him. The officer, desperate now, had begun to fire wildly into the air as he ran.

"Stop! I am ordering you to stop!"

If he was caught, they would take his wand, and then he would be really stuck. Without it he would have no way of escaping, or contacting Dumbledore or his friends. He had to keep running. Putting his head down, he pushed himself harder and widened his lead. Behind him he heard the officer shouting into his radio for backup, and he knew that soon there would be nowhere left to run.

Quickly making a decision, he stopped running towards the road and dived to the side in between two of the pillars. He quickly started weaving between the stones, and his pursuer soon lost sight of him. As soon as he heard the flustered officer pause, Harry slid to a stop and knelt behind the nearest rock. Peering his head around the corner, he could just make out the officer, sweating profusely and swearing up a storm, his head swiveling frantically as he tried to catch sight of the fleeing Harry.

Harry gasped, gulping in huge mouthfuls of air. This isn't working. If only I knew how to apperate, I could be sitting down at the Burrow right now. The policeman was getting close now; he could hear him just beyond the rock he crouched behind, shouting into his radio as he tried to coordinate the other officers arriving on the scene. Within seconds he would be discovered.

Harry slumped over, beaten. He supposed he could stun this one, but what about the other dozen men he heard driving up the road, sirens wailing. Performing magic on one muggle could get him kicked out of school, jinxing a dozen could earn him a sentence in Azkaban, especially considering the Ministry's attitude towards him over the past year. Not to mention if he fired on them they were likely to fire right back, and he wasn't keen to find out if his Protego spell could stop a bullet.

He leaned his head back against the cool stone, closing his eyes and drawing in one long, deep breath. This whole thing felt like one giant nightmare. Even his boring summer at the Dursleys wasn't looking so bad right now. He wondered what Ron was doing. Likely he had just woken up and dragged himself reluctantly down to the table for his usual huge portion of his mother's cooking. His head would be so buried in his food that he wouldn't even notice as the twins made jokes at his expense and Ginny laughed uproariously.

Harry's brow furrowed and his jaw tightened as he concentrated hard on the image of his best mate. He could almost smell the scents of the Burrow. The slightly musty scent that was always present in the old house, the wild flowers that grew just outside the kitchen window in the garden, and the most delicious smell in the whole world…Mrs. Weasley's cooking. The place even felt different from anywhere he had ever been, including Hogwarts. It just had this quality to it; it was something in the air, and just being there he would know the love the Weasleys had for one another.

I'd give anything to be there right now. As he had this thought, he felt a swelling in his chest, like he had taken a huge gulp of air, and then felt a vaguely familiar squeezing sensation enveloped him as he disappeared into nothingness.

Moments later the police officer rounded the corner, gun waving from side to side as he scanned the area. He lowered his weapon, reaching a hand up to scratch his head in confusion. He would have sworn this was where the kid was hiding, he had checked everywhere else. Oh my god, did I lose the suspect? I didn't even have clearance to bring him out here; I just wanted to be the one to find the evidence! I am so screwed. Looking over he saw his lieutenant stalking towards him, his expression thunderous. Oh yeah, he was screwed.

He opened his eyes and saw the Burrow standing before him. And then he rolled forward and promptly threw up. A few moments later, coughing and spluttering, he rose unsteadily to his feet, feeling utterly exhausted. Whatever that was, I don't want to do it again. He looked around, blinking in the bright sunlight. He must be hallucinating, because there was absolutely no way he was at the Burrow. And yet here he was.

He recognized the small garden off the side of the house, and there was the rickety broom shed that held the family's old Cleansweeps, and there- his brain froze in its tracks. His nose twitched. The smell cemented it for him. There was no way that he could ever mistake the smell of Mrs. Weasley's sheppard's pie. It appeared that he had arrived just in time for lunch. His stomach gurgled, the nausea apparently already forgotten.

He staggered forward, shuffling as quickly as his tired feet would allow towards the epicenter of those wonderful smells. Hallucination or not, the food smelled real enough, and right now that was good enough for him.

If Ron had been awake enough to see the murderous look on his mother's face, he would have gone running for the hills. Instead, he shuffled lazily into the Burrow's kitchen, completely missing the barely concealed snickers coming from the twin's and Ginny as he poured himself into the chair next to Hermione, who was trying hard not to smile. The smells wafting up from the hot food seemed to perk him up though, and he reached out a hand to begin filling his plate.

Smack!

"Ow!" he shouted, clutching his stinging hand. "What the bloody-"

"You won't finish that sentence if you know what's good for you Ronald Weasley!" bellowed the Weasley matriarch. "I won't have that kind of language in this house!" She stood with serving spoon in hand, the other planted firmly on her hip. It was clearly the spoon she had struck him with. "Now just what do you think you are doing?"

Ron had to think about that one for a moment. "Eating?"

"Oh no you aren't," bellowed, "this is the third time this week that you have slept in until past noon and been late for lunch and I won't have it. Do you hear me young man? If you can't wake up at a civilized time then you don't get to share meals with civilized people. So you can just sit there and wait until everyone else is finished before eating."

Ron gaped in horror. "But it'll be cold!"

His mother stared at him stonily. "Well then maybe this will be a lesson to you. Wake up or go hungry." And with that, she turned back to the oven, waving her wand and causing a sheet of freshly baked rolls to float through the air before each one tossed itself from the tray like a skydiver, landing in a basket on the table. Ron sat mute, obviously in shock.

The twins however, looked at each other thoughtfully.

"My dear Fred," George asked, "do mine ears deceive me, or did our mother just imply that we were civilized?"

Fred stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Indeed, I believe that she did George. I must say that I am happy that she has finally taken notice. After all we are paragons of civility…"

"…manners," injected George.

"…chivalry"

"…nobility"

"And," Fred concluded, "not to mention we're just plain gorgeous. But all of that aside, it is nice to be the recipient of one of mum's backhanded compliments like this for once."

"Oh stop it you two," Mrs. Weasley scolded lightly as she sat at the end of the table, a bowl of fresh greens in hand. Then she turned her attention back to Ron. "Honestly dear, you should be ashamed of yourself. Sleeping in like this. Harry could be in the hands of You-Know-Who right now; this is hardly the time to be lying about."

Ron's eyes bulged a little at this. "Lying about! I'd be out there with the Order right now looking for him if I could, but you won't let any of us help. You're the one who keeps telling us that it's too dangerous and that we should leave everything to Dumbledore. I just don't see what good it does Harry for me to wake up at the crack of dawn to help scrub something. Not like he's going to pop out of the window grime."

"That is quite enough of that young man. Dumbledore has everything well in hand and you will do your part by staying here and helping me keep the house in order. Now, after lunch, you'll be heading out into the garden." Ron groaned softly and clutched his growling stomach, afraid to argue lest food be delayed even more.

"Good then," Mrs. Weasley said, sipping at her tea. "Now Ginny, don't forget the -" She stopped suddenly and her eyes went wide. The whole table jumped as her tea cup fell from her trembling fingers and shattered on the wooden floor.

"Mum what's wrong," Ginny asked, turning her head to follow her mother's gaze. She gasped and Ron and the twins turned to see what the cause of the commotion was. It was Harry, leaning against the doorframe and looking fairly awkward as the room gaped at him. He smiled shyly.

"Hello everyone," he finally said, "it's good to see you."