By whitelonewolf.

Summery: Harry's memories are permanently erased by an unstable mental patient. Harry's life - though he doesn't remember it anymore - is turned upside down. His view, his goals, his friends they all begin to change and he in turn, turns the worlds of everyone else to match his own.

Set about half-way through fifth year. No Slash, no bashing of anyone (although Ron and Hermione are pushed slightly to the background - don't get me wrong they're both great but for this story they aren't that prominent).

"Obliviate!" Shouted the voice of a half crazed man in a St. Mungos patients outfit.

Harry Potter's large green orbs widened in shock, knowing he had no time to duck as the jet of bright blue magic shot towards him.

The force of the spell threw him back, green orbs dazed and confused as he fell. It was strange, that feeling of knowing something was being taken of him, but losing the memories of what it was. His whole life, everything he cared about and knew or ever thought of was being pulled away from him, washed down a stream of blackness and never to be regained ever again.

In a moment, that feeling of disbelief and outrage disappeared as he was pushed backwards. Instead, all that was left was dazed confusion, a stray thought - why was he falling - as the last fragments of his entire being vanished.

Chaos erupted.

Students were panicking, teachers were shouting, spells were being cast all over the place. Harry didn't notice these people for a long moment. It wasn't until the ringing in his ears from hitting his head left that he noted someone calling his name - it was his name wasn't it? - and he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

He couldn't help gaping. The room he was in was enormous and the ceiling, it was missing!


There, that was him too wasn't it? He flinched, the noise almost instantly giving him a headache - or maybe that was because he had just hit his head?

A face swam into view, pale and speckled with freckles overshadowed by fiery red hair. "Harry? Harry, mate, are you ok?" The boy of fifteen - how had he known that? - asked worriedly.

Harry blinked slowly, carefully taking note of how he felt before answering the boy. He looked up into concerned blue eyes and nodded, "I feel ok. My head hurts a little though." He admitted, reaching up a hand to rub at the back of his head.

The boy's face filled with relief. "Thank Merlin, for a minute there I thought you were a goner!" The boy laughed nervously, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to Harry, who accepted it, and helped haul Harry to his feet. "Good thing Snape got hold of Lockheart before he threw anything else at you. I wonder how he got out of St. Mungos though?"

Harry tried to follow what the other boy was saying, but he found himself thoroughly confused. Snape? Lockheart? Where they people? And what had Lockheart thrown at him? Was that the reason he had a headache then?

"Honestly Harry," Harry turned, surprised to see someone else by his side, a girl with long bushy brown hair and soft eyes, "Why didn't you put up a shield? Or did you leave your wand in your bag again?"

The boy rolled his eyes as Harry's own green orbs widened in surprise. Wand?

"Hermione, that was me, Harry's never done that." The boy said to her, his expression still a little worried as his blue eyes flickered to Harry every now and then.

The girl - Hermione - rolled her eyes this time, "Even so, imagine what might have happened had that spell worked?"

Harry blinked several times and decided that he would have to clarify for himself, since neither of these two people looked like they were going to explain to him. "Er, sorry, but did you say spell?"

Both teenagers turned to look at Harry, concern in their gazes once again.

"Yes, Harry, that's what that jet of light was, remember, the one that made you fall over?" The boy said laughingly.

Harry blinked, realisation alighting his features, "Oh, so that's how I ended up on the ground?" He glanced back again, his hand reaching up to rub at the sore spot on the back of his head, "I was wondering about that. You said it was a spell? Is that like Magic then?"

Both teenager's stared at him and Harry noticed the sound drop dramatically.

"Potter," A voice said sharply.

Hermione and her friend glanced back over at a tall, dark haired, dark clothed - those are robes - man with obsidian eyes. The man was stalking over to them, him being the closest of the adults in the room.

Harry blinked and averted his eyes quickly, some unknown instinct telling him to submit, before he frowned and looked back up - He didn't want to submit - and said in a polite tone, "Yes, Sir?"

The man faltered for a moment before scowling at Hermione and her friend, "Out of the way Weasley, Granger!"

The boy glared but he was pulled out of the way by Hermione rather quickly. Harry looked up at the man who stared at him with a slight frown.

"Do you know what your name is?" He asked sharply.

Harry had the distinct feeling that several people were holding their breath, waiting for his answer. He didn't want to disappoint them, so he frowned, trying to remember if Harry really was his name. He wanted to be sure before he said anything.

"I, er, I'm almost sure it's Harry, Sir." Harry answered - not nervously - in as sure a tone as he could manage.

Disbelief flashed across the mans eyes before returning to stony calm, "You think?" He sneered, "What is your full name?"

Harry blinked and tilted his gaze skyward, trying to think again. His full name? What was it? His name was Harry, of that he was almost certain, and the man had called him Potter, so that must be his last name. That would make him Harry Potter - James, there is a James in there too - he looked back down at the man and answered,

"Harry James Potter." He said, his tone more certain than it had been the first time.

The man almost looked relieved - Relief? But why? - before asking, "What are the names of your parents?"

Harry looked up at the ceiling - or lack thereof - again before answering. His middle name was James, that usually indicated a connection to a relative of some sort, didn't it? He wasn't sure, but it was the only clue he had. So James was his father's name. As Harry's last name came from his father - how did he know that? Why didn't it come from his mother? - that would make it James Potter. Harry frowned. There was something missing, something about a flower - flower? That doesn't make sense? - roses? No, Lilies. Lily and... Lily and James.

"Lily and James Potter." Harry said allowed, wonder in his voice as a vague feeling of warmth filled him.

He missed the second relieved look that crossed the mans features briefly.

"Where are you?"

Harry looked back down from the sky and blinked. Glancing about the hall - why are there so many people looking at him? - and noticed that everyone but the adults were wearing the same thing - a uniform - even himself, he realised as he looked down.

"A school?" Harry guessed with a small shrug, looking back at the man.

The man glared, "Ten points from-" The man broke off, staring at Harry curiously as Harry frowned in bewilderment, "What school?" He asked suddenly.

Harry blinked several times, "Er... I'm sorry, Sir, I don't know."

Noise erupted once again.

"Silence!" A voice called, and Harry jumped at the sound.

Glancing up again at the ceiling - how was it doing that? Was it made of glass? - he returned his gaze to the man who had been asking him the questions.

"Where do you live?" He barked out.

Harry tilted his head a little, "I don't know." That revelation didn't bother him perhaps as much as it should have. "Oh... That's bad isn't it?"

The man looked surprised and annoyed at the same time, causing Harry to feel as though he should apologise.

"Sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to bother you."

"Bother me?" His tone was cold, scathing, "Potter you don't even know where you live. What is your birthday?"

"July thirty-first." Harry answered instantly before blinking, "Oh, that was easier than the others."

The man looked as if he wanted to slap a hand to his face - why would anyone ever do that? - and Harry found it vaguely amusing.

"Excuse me," Harry asked for a moment, as the other adults rushed over to him, "But is the ceiling glass?"

The man frowned, bewildered for a moment before he followed Harry's gaze upwards toward the roof. "No. It is enchanted."

Harry's gaze snapped back down. "Enchanted?" He asked, eyes alight, "You mean magic? Like what that girl and the boy were talking about? Spells?"

The man seemed hesitant, his dark eyes flickering over to where Hermione and her friend stood looking very distressed. "Yes. I mean magic."

"Let me see him, Severus." A lady said briskly and the surprised man moved out of the way, wide obsidian eyes never leaving Harry's face.

A lady in a nurse like uniform took his place, pulling out a stick and waving it about. Harry frowned, flinching away from her - why? Why did he flinch? - and was about to ask what she was doing - maybe she was going to hit him with it? - when green, red and blue beams shot from the end of it in rapid succession and hit him.

Green eyes bugged out. "What-? How did you do that?" Harry exclaimed, awed as the light surrounded him and glowed different colours.

Looking back up at the nurse, Harry saw her face go pale. She looked over at someone beyond his line of sight and he turned his head to follow her gaze. Behind him stood the oldest man he had ever seen! He was tall, with a long blue robe looking thing that had purple and red stars splashed across it and the longest, whitest beard Harry had ever seen.

"I... Albus, there's nothing I can do, we must get a mind healer to see him immediately! He, he's lost everything!" She whispered, voice disbelieving even as she said it.

"Magic?" Harry whispered, eyes wide still staring at the glowing lights before her words sank in fully. "My... My memories? What are you talking about, what do you mean I lost my memories?" He looked up at the ceiling again. "Magic... I... Am I a wizard?"

Immediately he knew it was true, but still, he couldn't help but feel awed and overwhelmed and light-headed as he stared up at the ceiling. The noise had erupted again even louder this time.

People were shouting louder and louder, some were crying. Harry looked around and couldn't help but wonder how many of these people he was supposed to know. Looking up at the ceiling again he marvelled at the wonder of it all.

If he focussed, he could feel the magic coursing through him, tingling at the end of his fingers. Holding his hand out a stick similar to the Nurse-Lady's flew into his hand. His eyes widened as he stared at it. - A wand - A little voice in the back of his head whispered.

"Wand..." Harry murmured turning it over in his hand, eyes wide with fascination. "My wand." He laughed suddenly, drawing the attention of many of the shouting people.

Harry grinned roguishly, "I can do magic." He laughed again, "I can do magic." He looked back up at the ceiling, as if to remind himself that magic was real.

Looking around he spotted a fallen cup on the ground - a goblet - his mind supplied. In a moment of instinct he pointed his wand at the goblet and ordered, "Float."

To the surprise of all watching, the goblet rose.

Dropping his arm in wonder, the goblet fell. "I can do magic." Harry whispered, staring at the wand in his hand in amazement.

"Impossible." Someone whispered.

"He didn't even use an incantation." He heard someone else say.

Murmurs broke out once more but Harry paid them no mind. He was a wizard!

Harry felt as if something had just lifted from his eyes and he was seeing the world for what it truly was for the first time - Odd, as he didn't remember the world at all - he felt as though the chains had been cut from his wrists and ankles and he had been set free. He could do anything. He knew with a certainty that came from deep within him that it was true, just as he had known that he was a wizard without being told.

Before he could experiment anymore, the Nurse-Lady interrupted his thoughts. "Come on Harry, best we get you up to the Infirmary and see what we can do about this?" She said it in a falsely cheerful tone, and Harry wondered why she was upset - he hadn't done anything had he?

Harry just shrugged and agreed, figuring that the Nurse-Lady probably knew what she was talking about. "Are you going to get rid of my headache? Can magic do that?" The thought of magic fascinated him and he wanted to know as much as he could about it.

With a small sad smile, the Nurse-Lady - She must be a witch - nodded at him.

The walk up to the infirmary was strange and wondrous to Harry. He stared at everything, commenting in an awed voice on all the amazing things he saw. The pictures - they're moving! Oh, and so are the stairs! How do they do that? The nurse witch just watched him with sad eyes and answered in a soft, almost teary voice.

Harry didn't understand why she was sad, but then, he couldn't remember anything. Maybe she had known him? Maybe something bad had happened to her and she was sad? Whatever it was, Harry didn't ask.

When they got to what the Nurse Lady - "I'm Poppy Pomfrey, the school Nurse." - called the Hospital Wing, Harry just stared around the large white room in curiosity. When Poppy headed over to the fireplace, he watched as she picked up a large tin that sat next to the fireplace and threw some green looking powder into the fireplace.

"Wow!" Harry whispered as the flames flickered green.

Poppy leant forward and to Harry's surprise stuck her head into the fire with a call of "St. Mungos!"

Harry could only stare, bug eyed, as Poppy exchanged a few words with somebody on the other side of the fire - at least, that's what Harry assumed she was doing.

When she pulled her head back out of the fireplace, it flared for a moment and a tall, fair-haired man stepped forward.

"He's just over here." Poppy said to the man, leading him back toward Harry.

Harry could only stare at her, "How did you do that? Can I do that? How does it work?" Harry was amazed and curious and eager to have answers.

Poppy and the man - medi-wizard - stared at him. He found it strange that he was able to identify these things despite not having any recollection of learning anything about these things. It also seemed that he was only able to recall the names of these things when confronted with the actual object or person.

The man approached Harry and smiled at him, "I'm going to take a look at your mind, to see what memories you might still have."

Harry grinned, "You can do that? Can you teach me?"

The man gave him a nervous sort of smile, "You could probably ask someone else to teach you."

"Oh, that would be cool." Harry smiled.

"So, is it alright if I have a look at your mind?" The medi-wizard asked.

Harry shrugged, "Sure."

The man pointed a stick, a wand, similar to Harry's own at him and said in a soft voice, "Legilimens."

Harry felt a strange sensation in his mind almost as soon as the word was spoken and felt a strange compulsion to stand still.

The feeling probed and prodded around his head - strange, it's like moving water - before carefully pulling out. The man's face was frowning when Harry's eyesight came back into focus and Harry wondered what he had found that made him so worried.

"I'm afraid there will be no recovery of his memories. They are completely gone from his mind." The man said.

"Are you sure?"

Harry jumped at the new voice. It was the dark man from before.

The medi-wizard nodded in finality.

"You have to be able to do something. This is the Boy-Who-Lived!" That was a woman, with her grey hair pulled up into a bun.

Harry got the feeling she was quite strict.

"It's ok, Minerva." Harry blinked at the old man who spoke, he had a long beard and the strangest clothes - or was it strange? It seemed quite normal to these people? - and half moon glasses.

The woman - Minerva - didn't look like it was ok. Harry was confused.

"What's a Boy-Who-Lived? Doesn't everyone live?" Then his eyes lit up, "Oh, do dead people live here? Like, like Zombies?"

"Severus." The old man said warningly, twinkling blue eyes glancing over to the man with the dark eyes.

"I wasn't going to say anything." The man said, sounding strained.

Harry frowned, wondering if they were going to ignore his question or answer it.

Severus seemed to notice his look and said in a mildly scathing tone, "No, Potter, there are not zombies in the Wizarding world."

"Oh." Harry looked around, trying to see if there was something else he could ask about, but the woman, Minerva, started up again.

"There has to be something, even if it will help him relearn everything, we can't let the Boy-Who-Lived wander around with no knowledge of who he is!"

Harry turned to Severus, since he had answered his other questions so far, "What's a Boy-Who-Lived."

"You are." The man sneered as the medi-Wizard replied.

He sounded annoyed now as he said, "I know very well who he is, but there is just nothing I can do. The boy has no solid memories of his entire life. His memory learning is intact, his knowledge of spells and magic untouched and as such he will not have to relearn everything, only be reintroduced to it."

"How can he retain all that knowledge with no recollection of learning them?" Minerva argued.

"It is quite possible, Minerva." Severus said, turning back to the conversation. "You can take away a person's entire memory and they will still be able to walk and talk and do things that they have learned, it is an ingrained knowledge not connected to the memories of learning it."

There was a sigh from the old man. "So there is no possible way he would remember his friends? His teacher's?"

"No. I imagine he will be quite overwhelmed too, he will know many things instinctually and it might be a bit much."

Harry laughed, "It's not really, I'm fine, although it is a bit annoying that you keep talking about me as though I'm not here. But this, it's all so amazing!"

The teacher's all looked at him. This boy who was so carefree and innocent - if a little outspoken - and amazed at the things he had not been amazed at before. Was this who the boy would have been had he not had such heavy responsibilities? Was this the type of person Harry really was underneath everything? Was this the person Harry would have become had his parents survive?

Harry himself didn't know that these questions circled inside the heads of those present, and nor would he be able to answer them if they were voiced aloud. But he did know the inexplicable feeling of freedom and wonder that had begun to well up inside of him. Yes, he may have been a bit indignant at having his memories taken away from him, but the truth was he didn't know what he was missing if he was feeling free now, what had he felt before hand?

Harry didn't know, nor was he all that worried about it. Right now, he wanted to learn magic, he wanted to be able to do anything, he wanted to explore everything!

And was going to start, straight away, no body would hold him back, no body would cage him. He felt free. He felt alive.