-Summary: Harry loses his memory after Sirius' death -
he remembers nothing but his life at Privet Drive and the magic he's learned.
Once he re-meets everyone, his life is turned upside down... Rated R, Boy/Boy
love, Language, etc.
-Pairings: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
-Author Notes: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews!
It just makes me want to keep going with this story; you're all so awesome.
And I even got on someone's favorites list - aww, thanks so much. It means
a lot to me that you guys like this story so far, even though there's no
H/D yet... Also, I'm dragging the story out on purpose, because I
want to see how long I can make this story. Just letting you know ahead
of time. ;)
***
"...y!!"
"-rry! HARRY, WAKE UP!!"
Harry kept his eyes closed, moaning. His head was
pounding - his scar felt like it had been hit by a truck, like one of those
"big rigs" he'd seen in American movies.
He slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the bright white clouds
reflecting distant sunlight through his window. He was being shook rather
roughly by a red-headed blob with a long nose... no, wait, it was just
Ron.
"Oh, finally you came around! I was getting worried. You were
laughing all night, I could hardly get to sleep. Is everything ok? We're
going to be late for Transfiguration if you don't hurry up, we can still
make breakfast in the Great Hall," Ron said all this very fast.
"Ugh...," Harry groaned, holding his head gingerly and closing
his eyes again. He had been having a very nice dream about whirling green
masses, until Ron had to come and ruin it.
Hermione's voice trailed through the dormitory door, "Hurry up,
Ron! Get Harry up already!"
Ron was still holding on to Harry's shoulders, trying to pull
him up out of bed. Harry shoved Ron off and put on his glasses.
"Hey you, er, Ron - do you know where the bathrooms are? I'd like
to take a shower before eating breakfast," Harry asked.
"Yeah, but make it quick, would you? We only have about 15 minutes!"
Ron answered, picking himself up off the floor. He walked to his own bed,
which was across the room from Harry's - Good, Harry noticed.
"Hurry up, Harry. I'll wait here for you to finish."
Harry stood up and glanced around, looking a bit lost. He turned
to Ron with a searching expression on his face, waiting for him to show
where the bathrooms were.
"OH! Right! Outside the dormitories, to the left, are the boys'
bathrooms. The girls' are on the other side, but I don't think you need
to know that," Ron said, turning a bit red.
Harry left without bothering to say thanks.
***
Inside the showerroom, Harry had hurriedly stripped away his clothes
to nothing so he could get to breakfast faster; he had skipped dinner last
night, after all. He didn't notice any showers or baths, it was just a
big, empty, tiled room with his clothes scattered in one corner. The tiles
were sunshine yellow checkered with occasional squares of deep brick red.
These Gryffindor colors are like ketchup and mustard; what an
awful combination. Who in the hell picked these colors out for them?,
Harry wondered. And how the bloody hell am I supposed to wash myself
if there aren't any showers or baths in here?
It came to him in a flash, though he didn't quite know how it
had happened. He rummaged through his clothes and pulled out his wand.
"Pureau!" Harry said loudly, holding out his wand. His
voice echoed off the empty walls as shiny silver water droplets began pouring
out of the tip of his wand, mimicking a showerhead. Harry held the wand
over his head and watched the water trickle in mercury-colored streams
over his trim, athletic body. It slowed at every muscle crevice, but finished
all the way down his legs and onto the floor, where it disappeared.
What was different about this water from the water at the Dursleys'
was that it was specifically for cleansing. It was pure and washed away
all dirt, oil, even magical flesh-eating slug trails.
Harry closed his eyes and enjoyed the deep massaging sensation
all over his body. He felt as though the water was entering him through
his skin and cleansing even his insides. He wanted to stay surrounded by
this water forever, but the feeling was broken once his stomach rumbled
again. Sighing, he pulled his hand back down and the water flow stopped
- and Harry was suddenly dry.
He put his clothes back on, complete with the warm-red-and-flashy-gold
tie around his neck. He was dressed in a dark gray v-neck sweater over
a plain white pressed collared shirt, and black tailored pants. He finished
putting on his black robe, as black as his hair, and tucked his wand away,
running out of the bathroom to find Ron waiting right outside.
"Harry, are you sure you're - er - clean? That was pretty quick,"
Ron noticed.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry answered. Of course he was clean! He really
didn't want to go into a conversation about his shower; at least, not with
this red-haired, skinny, freckled boy standing in front of him. This one
they called "Ron", he was awfully dirty for a wizard. Harry turned his
head away and wrinkled his nose in disgust.
Luckily Ron didn't notice this because he was now talking to the
bushy-haired girl, who seemed to be frantic.
"Ron, you've got to help me get Crookshanks - he's run off under
Ginny's bed again - "
Ron turned back to Harry, his face both a mix of hunger and disappointment.
"I'll be right back, Harry! I'm just going to help Hermione - you stay
right there so we can show you the way to the Great Hall."
Harry watched Ron leave and his stomach grumbled again. He clapped
a hand over it and a wave of anger washed over him. I don't need to
wait for this dolt and his stuck-up girlfriend, or whoever she is,
he decided.
He turned and hurriedly skipped several stairs on his way to the
Fat Lady's painting. The Common Room was deserted, so he figured that all
the other Gryffindors must be eating already.
He stood and watched while the Fat Lady's portrait opened, agonizingly
slowly. Not being able to take the hunger pangs any longer, Harry stepped
forward and pushed open the painting himself, and the Fat Lady shrieked
at his cold hands on the back of her painting.
"Humph! Well, I never! So rude, you used to be such a little darling
- "
Her words were drowned out because Harry had bounded down the
tower's dimly-lit narrow stone staircase and stepped out into the Hogwarts
castle once again. Unfortunately, he didn't know where the Great Hall was,
so he started to run down corridors aimlessly, amidst talking suits of
armor and mischievous candles that put themselves out whenever someone
walked close.
Ugh, I'm getting nowhere, thought Harry desperately. And
I'm still hungry.
He felt he should stop, so he leaned against a wall, panting,
and slid onto the cold stone floor. After he had caught his breath, he
re-opened his eyes and saw in front of him a huge set of bold wooden doors.
The doors were easily twice the size of Hagrid... if only Harry had known
who that was, that is.
He stood up and walked towards the doors - he smelled something
delicious wafting from inside, he was dying to taste it -
As soon as he touched the door, its false image fell away and
he saw 4 long tables filled with students from every house - there was
one for the intelligent Ravenclaws, the loyal Hufflepuffs, the courageous
Gryffindors, and of course, the sly and cunning Slytherins.
Harry stepped forward. So this was the Great Hall, filled with
the happy sounds of students laughing and talking. He looked upwards and
saw that the giant room appeared to have no roof, but there was no breeze
to be felt inside. He could see the gray, woolly clouds casting shadows
on the ground outside, through the windows, yet there were no shadows inside
the Hall.
How very odd a place, he thought.
Everyone was eating - there were sausages, eggs, porridge, toast
- Harry wanted a bit of everything -
Slowly the Great Hall's noises grew to a painful halt, as people
turned to notice Harry standing alone in the doorway. Voices trickled to
Harry's ears from every corner of every table.
"So it's true, then; he has come back - "
"What do you think happened to him? He looks rather drawn, wonder
if his friends ditched him..."
"I heard he killed someone in the Ministry of Magic - "
"Oy, Harry! Stand right there where I can get a good shot!"
FLASH!
Colin Creevey had scurried up and snapped a quick picture of Harry
Potter to send in to the Quibbler as proof that he was still alive. Blinded
and fuming, Harry lashed out - there was a snap as his fist collided sharply
with the side of Colin's face -
Colin let out a howl and fell to the ground, an angry black bruise
already beginning to form on his newly-misshapen jawline, and a steady
stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He dropped his camera
and it shattered on the floor, and the Great Hall was deathly silent.
Ever so smoothly, Madam Pomfrey quickly strode down the middle
of the Hall from the staff table and helped Colin to his feet.
"Come now, you've got to get to the Hospital where I can mend
your jaw - " and she and Colin were gone.
Harry, composure (and eyesight) regained, stepped carefully over
the mess of Colin's camera and made his way for the nearest table, which
he assumed was Gryffindor's - there was a girl with violent red hair he
expected was related to Ron somehow, because of her resemblance. He quietly
sank down into his seat and grabbed a piece of toast, trying to avoid everyone's
startled stares. Slowly, the crowd in the Great Hall began chattering again,
but it was obvious they were talking about Harry.
Ron came running into the Great Hall, Hermione behind him, struggling
to keep up with his long strides. Ron sat down in a seat next to Harry's
("Why didn't you wait for us?!"), and Hermione sat on the other side of
Ron, obviously still hurt over what Harry had done to ruin the party last
night. Ron stuffed an entire fried egg in his mouth and skewered several
sausages on the same fork.
"Dig 'ee mish anythin'?" he asked, specks of food grazing the
table.
Harry leaned away in disgust. "Er - not really - ," he replied,
dropping his piece of toast to get an untainted one. He noticed the one
they called "Hermione" was pouring a cinnamon shaker into a bowl of porridge.
She then proceeded to cut up peaches and drop a few pecans into it.
So much for Harry's appetite.
***
As Madam Pomfrey steered Colin away from the Great Hall, the Slytherin
table was abuzz with disbelief at what Harry had done. Draco Malfoy was
especially stunned, as he thought his rival would do anything to save
his housemates, not hurt them.
"Blimey, Malfoy, did you see that one?" whispered Blaise, who
was astounded.
"Yeah, I did. I guess he really is back, then," replied Malfoy
quietly, still staring at the back of the boy wonder's head across the
room.
Pansy spoke up from Draco's left side. "Well, he's still violent
so it's still all your fault, Draco! Did you see the way he hit that mousy
boy, any one of us could be next - "
Draco had caught hold of her chin sharply and was only centimeters
away from her face as he growled at her to stay quiet - she had been more
than whispering and the Great Hall was still mute.
"Would you hold your tongue, Parkinson? Don't give him a target,"
whispered Draco, his steely eyes grazing over her face, from her big black
eyes down to her red lips and back up again. He flashed his famous Malfoy
smirk. She blushed deeply and Blaise reached over quickly to pull Malfoy's
hand off of her, glaring.
Slowly the Great Hall began to babble with talk again, and Draco
turned back to his half-eaten boiled egg, the smug look still across his
face.
That one never fails to surprise me, thought Draco, thinking
of Harry Potter. That Colin "Creepy" kid had it coming, at least...
Or so that was his conscious excuse for being in awe of his enemy.
***
A/N: This chapter was supposed to be up last night, but I was up late and didn't have time to proofread - sorry everyone!