A Stolen Past

Memory Loss

NOT MINE.
Enjoy!

Harry Potter awoke with a pounding headache and looked blearily around in the darkness. It took a few moments to realize where he was, but as soon as he located his glasses, he recognized the familiar surroundings of the cupboard under the stairs at his aunt and uncle's house. The only question was, how had he gotten there? The last thing he could remember was... Harry scratched his head in confusion. What was the last thing he could remember? He knew that he had just returned home for the summer holiday, but where had he returned from? He tried to focus his thoughts on some recent memory, but only succeeded in making his temples throb even harder and bringing on a powerful feeling of nausea. Everything for the past five years or so was a complete blur, and he found himself unable to focus on any of it.

Sighing deeply as he closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his temples in an effort to lessen the pain, Harry lay back down on his broken-down camp bed. He was just about to drift back off to sleep when he was startled back into full consciousness by very loud pounding on his cupboard door.

"Wake up, boy!" shouted the voice of Harry's Uncle Vernon. "We haven't got all day to wait around for you. If you're not ready in five minutes, I'm leaving you locked in that cupboard, and good luck trying to get out before we come back at the end of the summer!"

Harry knew it was an idle threat. His uncle might be mean and vindictive, but he would never leave another person locked up with no food, water, or bathroom for two months - not even if that person was Harry. Still, it was never a good idea to be on Uncle Vernon's bad side, so Harry jumped out of bed and dressed as quickly as he could, still trying to ignore the pounding in his head. No sooner did he emerge from the cupboard than Uncle Vernon forced him out the front door and into the backseat of the car, next to his enormous cousin, Dudley. Apparently, he had missed breakfast.

Harry fought to silence his growling stomach as the car rolled out onto the street, but it was no use - he was so hungry that he suspected he had skipped supper the night before, and perhaps lunch as well, although he couldn't be sure. He almost considered asking for something to eat, but decided against it before the thought had fully formed. If he remained quiet, he was likely to get some sort of lunch, even though it probably wouldn't be very good. If he asked for anything, though, or even mentioned that he was hungry, Uncle Vernon would complain of his ungratefulness and force him to wait until supper just to teach him a lesson.

Harry awoke from his thoughts in the middle of one of his uncle's rants. Predictably, the current subject of his verbal attacks was Harry himself.

"-and brawling! It's a wonder the boy even remembers his own name after that blow to the head. Just who does he think he is, coming home unconscious like that? That school had better not think I'm paying for any treatment they gave him. If it had been up to me, Petunia, they'd have just left him where he fell. If he woke up, he woke up; if not, so much the better."

Aunt Petunia nodded furiously and said, in a placating tone, "I think they said the other boy's parents were paying for the hospital bills."

"Yes, well I don't see why we waste any money on any of those troublemakers at all." Uncle Vernon continued his rant, but Harry began once again to tune him out.

That explains the headache and the memory loss, he thought dully. He wondered briefly if his memory of the past several years would ever return, but it wasn't like it mattered much anyway. Nothing worth remembering had ever happened to Harry Potter. He had lived the most boring and deprived life imaginable ever since his parents had been killed in that car crash all those years ago, and his situation showed no signs of improving any time soon.

After an excruciatingly long journey, during which Dudley decided to relieve his boredom by repeatedly hitting Harry in the upper arm and leaving a very nasty bruise, they arrived at their destination: a small seaside cottage that was not very far from Liverpool. As they unpacked the car and headed into the little two-story cottage, Harry could not help the feeling of excitement that bubbled up inside of him. Surely his aunt and uncle would have to allow him to stay in a real bedroom here. He might even have a window to look out of! As this wonderful thought struck his brain, he set off toward the stairs, only to be horrified at the sight of his uncle Vernon throwing a very old sleeping bag into the cupboard under the stairs, a nasty grin contorting his rotund face.

Harry angrily opened his mouth to protest, but bit back his exclamation just in time. It was nearly time for lunch, and his stomach was growling painfully. If he complained now, he could be sure of several more hours of hunger pains, and it just wasn't worth it, especially when he knew he would never win the argument, anyway. Closing his mouth, he ducked into the cupboard to unroll his sleeping bag. Immediately, his nose was assaulted by the smell of dust mixed with mouse droppings, and his spirits sank even lower. This cupboard was even smaller than the one at number four, Privet Drive; there was only a small area near one end where Harry was able to stand up straight, and from the look of things, he would be lucky to be able to stretch out completely when lying down. He sighed as he heard his aunt call the family to the kitchen for lunch; at least he would finally be able to put something in his stomach.

Summer passed at an excruciatingly slow pace, and Harry's memory did not return. He was forced to spend his days either holed up in his cupboard or out on the nearby beach, as Aunt Petunia did not seem able to stand the sight of him in the house. The only good thing about the situation was that the Dursleys were so immersed in their own leisure activities that they didn't have much time to torment him. Harry, for his part, spent the majority of his time at a small beach near the cottage. The scenery really was beautiful if you took the time to notice it, but Harry usually didn't. He was more interested in feeling sorry for himself for not having any friends to share his time with. This was the first odd thing that Harry noticed that summer - he seemed to subconsciously expect to have friends, even though he knew he had never had a friend in his life. After spending several long afternoons contemplating this as he sat on a rock and stared out at the crashing waves, he came to the conclusion that he must have at least one friend at school, since Dudley was no longer there to prevent it, and he began to eagerly look forward to the start of term so that he could find out who this friend was.

Dudley's birthday arrived before long, and, as always, it was an excruciating affair. Harry was forced to watch as his cousin opened a mountain of presents and then ate an entire birthday cake by himself, but he excused himself from the festivities as soon as he was able, and nobody seemed to mind. Just over one month later, on Harry's own sixteenth birthday, he noticed a second odd thing about himself: he was disappointed when no one acknowledged his birthday. He knew he shouldn't be - after all, the Dursleys had never acknowledged his birthday in all the years he had lived with them - yet Harry still felt as though he should be receiving something on his special day, even if it was only a card in the mail.

August passed just as dully as June and July, and Harry could hardly contain his excitement over leaving the cottage by the sea. He eagerly anticipated sleeping in his own broken-down camp bed, rather than a musty old sleeping bag on a very dirty floor, but more than that, he couldn't wait to go back to school and find out if he had any friends.

A/N: I hope you didn't find this chapter too boring; it was necessary to set up the rest of the story. If it did bore you, please don't give up on me yet - it only gets better.

Hope you enjoyed it so far!!!