CHAPTER 2

Wounds

Harry had his arm pressed on his ribs, where the wound still glistened with fresh blood. George was talking to him, completely unaware of the pain he was in.

"How did you know about Grimmlaud Place?" George asked suspiciously, hand tracing a groove on his sword.

"Doesn't everyone these days? The cover was blown on this place years ago." Why didn't Harry just tell him who he was, some part of him knew that he wouldn't believe him, and he couldn't really handle someone putting a sword to his throat right now.

"True, but how did you know?"

"It was in the Daily Prophet," Harry guessed. George frowned,

"Was it? Seems like a pretty strange thing to have in the Prophet."

"Of course it was, how else would I know?" This was the wrong question to ask and Harry saw George's eyes flicker over him, summing him up and wondering if he had misplaced his trust. "What were you doing in there anyway?" He continued. George lifted the box held in his hands,

"My family and some of my friends lived here a while back… There were apparently things left around here … I thought I'd come around and pick up what's left. We would have come back sooner but no," He cast a steely look at the house "it was a bit… hard, memories; you know." Harry slowly nodded, "and you? Just in the neighbourhood?" He jested, Harry frowned,

"You could say that," George frowned,

"Don't like to say much about yourself do you?"

"Not much to tell." Harry muttered, wincing slightly, he moved his hands to his wound and felt blood running between his fingers.

"You still haven't told me your name," George queried.

"James," said Harry, before he could think. "Hilt," he added quickly, "James Hilt," his hand still on the swords handle. George nodded slowly,

"James Hilt," he said, testing the words on his tongue, "nice to meet you." Harry nodded in response. The blood was flowing quicker between his fingers now, staining the dirt. He felt himself become light-headed - the colour drained from his face as he doubled over, a concerned voice of George coming as a muffled blur. He looked at the red on his hands,

"Damn," he whispered, before everything went black.

Harry opened his sore eyes to a light shining through a broken window, he coiled away from it, where am I? His chest was patched and wrapped in bandages, his jacket and sword skewed on the table beside him and a smell of soot and wood surrounded him.

Blinking madly, he sat up. Immediately a throb of pain ran through his body, he clutched his chest, leaning forward and waiting for it to pass; his body was paying him back for what he had done. Grabbing his jacket, he stuck his hand in all the pockets searching for something he was sure he still had; as he searched he heard a scream in his head and saw with vivid imagery Hermione looking at him, her eyes full of fear.

"Harry please! Please do something! You always know what to do"

"I don't this time, I'll be back I promise, just be strong."

Harry shut his eyes tight, his hand meeting a smooth cold surface. He pulled out a small vial full of bright gold liquid. Harry ripped the cork out and drank it quickly feeling rich warmth run down his spine and through his chest, making the pain subside. He placed the empty vial back into his pocket.

"So he just came up to you, just like that?" Came a woman's voice in the other room, etched with concern.

"I don't know what else to tell you,"

"Don't you think it is terribly dangerous to leave a man you only just met in your home? What if he isn't who he says he is?"

"What if he is? You know I'm capable of defending myself, besides, he is in incredibly bad heath – what is he going to do? Hell I had to make him regain consciousness before just so I could give him water, otherwise he would have dehydrated. He was still pretty out of it when I did though," The other voice sighed,

"Right then, how do you think he got the sword?"

"Godric Gryffindor's?"

"The very one."

"I don't know, I haven't asked him!" He yelled in a whisper, "Mum, please, you're being unreasonable, he's going to wake up any second, and you can talk to him then." He heard footsteps and quickly shut his eyes,

"Still passed out," muttered George, his voice close to Harry, he sighed. "He looks sort of familiar,"

"No, he probably just has one of those faces," said Mrs. Weasley dismissively, Harry's eyes threatened to open, but he kept them shut tight. There was a brief pause,

"Anyway, I have to go," said George,

"Go? And leave him here?"

"Yes mum, leave him here!" Mrs. Weasley glared at him, "okay, I'll take his sword and wand with me, happy?"

"No."

Harry heard George's disgruntled moan. "What else can I do? Place a binding spell on him?"

"Well maybe."

"That was sarcasm mum!"

"Okay, fine… take his weapons. I guess that'll have to do," she looked at her watch, "I said I'd meet Ginny for lunch," Harry felt his heart pelt up against the sides of his chest. Mrs. Weasley paused, "She worry's about you, you know…"

"She doesn't need to, I'm fine." Harry heard him pull on a jacket.

"No, your not."

"I am! What would you know?" There were footsteps towards the doorway.

"I know what it is like to lose most of my family," Mrs. Weasley said softly. There was the sound of a door being opened and then slammed back on its hinges then Mrs. Weasley sighing and leaving the room after him.

Harry remained perfectly still, waiting until the footsteps had completely disappeared and he was left in silence. He placed his hands to his head, pushing them hard against his eyes and trying to clear himself of the thoughts that tormented him.

Standing, he grabbed the couch for balance, his legs and arms ached like an invisible weight pulled on them, his head throbbed and his gut tingled, though he knew it was nothing compared to what he would be feeling without the potion.

Harry walked into the next room, his eyes vaguely glancing around at the furnishings. His eye caught on a picture sitting on top a dark wooden mantle. He moved towards it, feeling a pang in his chest as he realised it was a family portrait of the Weasley family. However, he and Hermione were in it too. The photograph carried and air of loss, the vacant space left from the death of Fred seemed to haunt the image. If Harry recalled correctly the photo was taken soon after the fall of Voldemort. After that moment everything seemed to be going well, until a few weeks later when rouge Death Eaters who managed to avoid jail bound together and began to reek havoc.

Harry sighed at the photograph, his eyes trailed onto George. He was not smiling; instead he looked rather occupied with the roof. George looked strange without a gleeful and cheeky smile plastered on his face. He looked even more strange without his twin Fred next to him. His eyes then moved down to Ginny, her head was slightly tilted to the side, as if thinking – however she wore a forced smile. He gently touched the image of her, as if by doing it he would be able to do it for real.

He took a deep breathe and began surveying the rest of the room again. The place was rather run-down, it appeared as if multiple battles had dispersed within the walls due to random boards being placed on the plaster to cover gaping holes. However, it was clean and somewhat modern.

Harry spotted a wide mirror which had a long crack ridden down the centre on the other side of the room. He looked into it, his vision focusing slowly, he felt his fingers loosen around the picture frame and it dropped to the ground, smashing into a thousand tiny pieces as he looked at his reflection.

Thought I'd do a quick upload from the first chapter, get this story rolling - ya know..

Ooh, cliffhanger… kinda but not really. Haha.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry it's short.

Please R & R! I love feedback.

Pheonixxsong