Chapter 1:

Forgotten Memories

And

The Forbidden Forest

"Hello, sweetie," Lily cooed, patting her son on the head. "What are you up to, hmm?"

Baby Harry just looked at her and giggled, ignoring the bottle he'd been drinking before his mother's arrival. "All done?" Lily asked sweetly. He giggled. "I'll take that as a yes."

Harry rattled his high chair, trying to find a way out. Lily walked over to the sink and set the bottle in it. She turned around, and laughed at his antics. "You, Harry James Potter, take far too much after your father," She said to herself. She picked him up. "Guess who's coming to visit?" she said to him, walking into the living room carrying him on her hip. "Sirius." Harry looked up at his mother, blankly.

Lily sighed. "Uncle Padfoot," she emphasized. It baffled her that her son only knew the man by his Marauder name. Although she reasoned that she shouldn't be that surprised.

"Pafoo?" Harry asked happily.

"Yes, Harry, Padfoot's coming with Daddy."

Harry started giggling uncontrollably, eyes lighting up like Christmas lights. "Pafoo! Pafoo, pafoo, pafoo, da-ey, pafoo!" He started to wriggle excitedly on her hip. Lily laughed again, as she sat on the floor, and set him on her lap. She took her wand out of a pocket.

"Accio, book!" She said, flicking her wand towards the table at the end of the couch. The book soared through the air, catching Harry's attention. Harry stopped laughing and watched the book in wonderment as it flew into his mother's hands. "Oops! Wrong book. Too, bad," she said watching her son the entire time. "I suppose I"ll just have to put it back." Harry grinned madly.

"Wingardium Leviosa." The book floated into the air once more and started sailing towards one of the bookshelves on the far left of the room. Harry's eyes didn't move from the old leather book until it snuggled it's way between Standard Book of Spells, Year 7 and Quidditch World Cup, The Longest Match Ever Played.

"What would you like to read Harry?" She asked, smiling.

"Oh my god, Lils! You're corrupting his poor little mind!" Sirius boomed as he entered the cottage, closing the front door behind him.

"Where's James?" Lily asked, ignoring his comment.

"Had to talk to the Grand Imperial Hoo-Hah about something."

"I wonder why?"

"Damned if I know."

Lily threw him a dirty look. "Watch your mouth, Sirius Black, there are little ears around," she snapped.

"Sorry… Where's my little prongslet?" Sirius said to himself, pretending not to see the one year old sitting in Lily's lap.

"Pafoo!"

"There you are Prongslet! How's my favorite-," he picked Harry up, "- godson?" Harry gave him a toothy grin. "Good, that's what I thought."

"He's your only godchild, Sirius," Lily said, matter-o-factly.

"Well of course he is, but he's still my favorite." Sirius tried to match Harry's weird smile. The toddler cackled in response. "Where did you get that insanely freakish smile, kid?" He asked himself.

James opened the front door, and threw his Auror robes on a nearby coat rack. "He sure didn't get it from me, that's for sure. It reminds me of Moony on a bad day, personally."

Sirius turned to his best mate. "I'm not so sure about that mate. I recall your mother having a growl quite similar to this," he replied, turning Harry around. Harry saw his father, and spread his arms out trying to grab at his father.

"How's my little monster! You been taking care of mummy for me?" Harry gave him the aforementioned grin.

James tilted his head and stared at his son for a moment, playfully. "You know, Padfoot, she only did that when she talked to you…"

Sirius did his best to look offended. "Shove it up your-."

"Sirius!" Lily screeched.

IIIIIIIIIIIIII

Harry opened his eyes slowly, and yawned. He felt around for his glasses on the end table, lazily. He put them on and looked at the alarm clock and groaned. The clock read 7:30 a.m. Why did he always have to wake up during the good dreams? He wondered to himself. The nightmares seemed to last forever, but the good ones were never long enough. Was it even a dream? It seemed so real. Like it was a memory, or something. Dream Sirius looked a lot different the Sirius he knew. He didn't look as worried. He looked happier, carefree.

Maybe it was just a dream after all, he reasoned.

Harry had been having dreams like this on and off for the last few weeks. Dreams with his parents. And they seemed to get more realistic every night. This one was like it happened only yesterday. He threw back the faded blue covers, stood up and stretched. Yawning again, Harry walked over to the desk to throw Hedwig an owl treat. She hooted happily, and ate the treat in one bite.

His jet black and unruly hair was flat on one side from being slept on all night. Other than that, it was just as messy as usual. Nothing he'd done with it had ever worked. The question of whether or not his father had had the same problem when he was alive crossed his mind, but it hurt too much to think about it.

He looked at himself in the mirror. His shirt was gray and baggy making him look more like a stick than he actually was. His jeans, another one of Dudley's hand-me downs, were held up with a brown belt and hung loosely around his legs.

Aunt Petunia would start serving breakfast any minute now. Best off to go down there before Dudley ate his breakfast, he decided. He sighed and made his way downstairs.

Harry passed a few pictures of Dudley's 8th birthday as he descended the stairs. The only thing that had changed about his cousin over the years was that he was, by far, larger. He took up an entire side of the kitchen table. They'd put Dudley on a diet last year, but it had apparently only lasted a few weeks after school started back up.

He walked into the kitchen. Uncle Vernon was sitting at the table reading the newspaper, a plate heaping with eggs and bacon in front of him. Dudley was sitting in his chair watching the television and ignoring everything around him (with the exception of his breakfast, of course). Aunt Petunia was cleaning a pan full of bacon grease across the kitchen. He sat at the table quietly in front of the slice of toast she'd set out for him.

"Hear this, Petunia!" Uncle Vernon boomed. "Some bloke in London spent 10,000 pounds on a security system 'cause he had a feeling something bad was about to happen."

"That's sure not going help him," Harry muttered under his breath, slightly depressed. He was hoping for something about Voldemort. He nibbled his toast.

"People these days," Aunt Petunia said at the same time as Harry. Unfortunately Uncle Vernon's small ears heard more that Harry originally thought.

"What did you say," he said, as if Harry had just said a disgusting swear word.

"I said peopl-" Petunia said, upset about having to repeat herself, before Vernon cut in.

"Not you darling, him." The last word rolled off his tongue in disgust.

Petunia's long neck craned over to him, and gave him a dirty look. "What did he say, Vernon?"

"I said the guy's an idiot, that's all," Harry said quickly, trying to cover up what he'd actually said. He was horrible at lying.

"That's not what I heard," Vernon said, venomously.

"Well if you already knew, then why'd you ask?" Harry asked before he could close his mouth. Why'd he have to be flippant right now? Why?

Vernon looked as if he was about to blow up. Is it worth it? The voice in the back of his mind said. Harry tried to conceal his laughter. "What are you laughing at, boy?"

"Nothing," Harry coughed, trying desperately not to laugh. By this point Dudley had pulled his gaze away from the television and was watching the exchange, hoping Harry would get in big trouble. He stared at them as he shoveled food from his father's plate into his mouth.

"Go. I don't care where, get out. Now." Vernon whispered his teeth clenched together. His face was purple.

"Vernon, think of what the neighbors will say!" Petunia said, worried.

He ignored her. "You have been a thorn in my side since you showed up on my damn door step! Everything that I've put up with from you for all these years and you have no respect." Vernon's eyes were about to pop out of their sockets.

"Sorry, I only respect people who deserve to be respected," Harry spat.

"Why you insolent-"

"Do you know even know what that means?" Harry said loudly, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"When I get my hands on you boy, you'll wish you were with your freakish family!" Vernon hollered.

Harry yelled back. "I'M NOT A FREAK!"

IIIIIIIIIIIII

2 WEEK'S BEFORE:

HOGWARTS

Green. Brown. Everywhere. All around him. It felt like he was being suffocated by them. By the mist that hung around him. The cold. Everything. It was all blurry. He couldn't make out anything other than the tip of his nose.

He felt around with his hand for his glasses, as he lay there on his back. He felt something resembling his wand and grabbed it. "Accio glasses!" he whispered. Something whacked him in the head and landed on the ground right beside his left ear. He groaned, and picked the wire-framed glasses up.

He put them on his head. Where the hell am I? What happened? How did I get here? The answers were on the tip of his tongue, right on the precipice of consciousness, but just out of reach. He looked around, in the hopes that something would jog his memory.

Ancient pine trees towered above him, their long branches blocking out the light of the moon. Their roots were intertwined together. Everything was covered in moss of every color, and rotted leaves and needles littered the forest floor like carpeting.

Something red caught his eye. He turned on his side to get a better look at what it was. There was a woman in the leaves. Her body was almost covered in them. He watched, mind foggy, as her arms raised themselves out of the mound, and she sat up. The woman spat leaves out of her mouth, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Who is she? He wondered.

She turned to him, just as confused as him. When he made eye contact with her almond shaped, emerald green eyes, it clicked. "Lily?" he croaked out through his bone dry mouth.

Her eyes widened. "James?"