Memory Madness

Memory Madness

Chapter 1:

Doctor Nancy Charmers gazed down at her clipboard as she walked through the corridors of the hospital. Being in the center of London it had plenty to keep a newly qualified doctor busy.

She was hoping to run in to Nurse Terry, who just happened to be her husband. She smirked slightly when she remembered how often he complained about his girly title. She had to remind him at least twice every week that his job was very worthy and anything but girly. He would still grumble.

"Oh, Doctor Nancy?" a voice called. She turned to see her blond haired husband behind her. His blue eyes danced as she laughed at his silly grin. Knowing the patients in the area, she tried to keep a straight face as she asked about Mr Hudson in the second ward, Mrs Weathers in the next private room, and Miss Gatsby in the room after Mrs Weather's.

Terry played along and wore a professional stoic face that truly did not suit him. He replied to her queries, saying that all patients were doing fine.

Then Nancy sighed a little as she thought about the poor boy in the room after that and asked Terry if there had been any change.

Terry didn't need to pretend to keep his serious face when she asked. "Still the same, no change," he replied, with a sad shrug.

"How long has it been now?" Nancy asked generally, not even knowing if Terry would answer.

"Well - I'd reckon that it's been almost six months," Terry said with a sigh. "The poor kid. And we still don't know who he is. No one has identified him. He's still lying there in his coma, completely oblivious to everything!"

Nancy bit her lip. Terry had been rather upset about this patient. She could understand completely. It had upset her too. The boy could only be fifteen, though he looked younger. He'd had a rather nasty blow to the head, maybe more than one blow, it wasn't certain. He'd been in a coma ever since he was brought in.

Nancy was the doctor assigned to keep an eye on him, but Terry spent more time in that area of the hospital and saw the poor child more often than she had time to check up on him.

Needing some way to refer to the boy, she, Terry and a couple of Terry's fellow Nurses, had made up a name for the patient. It was Terry's idea, after seeing the odd lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. After some character Terry knew of, he'd referred to the boy as Lightning Larry. It sort of stuck, so when a member of staff asked after Lightning Larry, it was immediately understood that they meant the young comatose patient.

With a farewell nod and kiss to Terry, Nancy had to hurry along to do the last round, as she wanted to be home in time for getting ready to go out with Terry later.

*~*~*

A pair of bright green eyes dragged themselves open, and blinked blearily for many moments. Then the eyes drooped, pulled themselves open again and took a glance around. Everywhere looked white. The small room he was in had white ceiling, walls and the bed on which he lay was attired in white blankets. The boy felt something in his hand, and slightly out of focus eyes looked down to see something connected to his right hand. His mind was so unclear and dazed that he didn't even use the energy to figure out what it was or what it did. The eyes fell closed again as the boy let sleep overtake him.

The next time the boy was awake, he didn't even open his eyes before letting himself drift off again. He was just so tired...

The time after, however, he blinked and looked about the room curiously. He thought he could see someone in the room. It was hard to tell, because everything looked a little blurred and the person also seemed to be dressed in the same sort of pristine white as the walls and bed covers. It was almost like a version of camouflage.

The boy turned his head to one side, and saw the thing in his hand. A drip thingy. It was a drip thingy. He turned his head the other way with an effort and saw a window. His head felt so muzzy.

*~*~*

Terry almost dropped the chart when he turned and saw the boy lying with his eyes open. He watched the boy turn his head to one side, then the other. It looked like an effort, which it could well be. He pressed the small emergency call button. And he hoped silently that his wife was the doctor closest by, or to hear the call first.

He then walked over to the bed. He was extremely happy the boy had woken up, at last. Maybe now they'd get some answers and find out who he was and where he belonged.

*~*~*

Then green eyes blinked a couple of times trying to see clearly when the person stood over him.

"Can you hear me, Lightning Larry?" a gentle voice asked cautiously.

Larry... oh well, sounded familiar. The boy nodded slightly.

"Good, good. How are you feeling?" the voice asked conversationally, checking something next to the bed.

All the boy did was shrug ever so slightly. He regretted it a moment later; he ached so much. He wondered how long he'd been asleep. He felt like he hadn't moved in months!

Another person hurried in. This was a woman by the sound of her hurried questions to the first person who she called Terry, the boy dimly noted.

"Look, he's awake!" Terry whispered, looking rather pleased.

The lady leaned close over him and he saw her reasonably clearly for a moment. She was a pretty young lady with wavy brown hair. She started to check him over, and his mind wandered slightly.

He'd been counting the tiles on the ceiling for a few minutes when she heard the doctor addressing him.

"Can you hear me okay, dear? And no headaches?" she asked softly.

"I hear you fine," the boy answered quietly, his voice sounding unusual, distant and rather weak to his own ears. "And - no headaches." He had the feeling that he had had headaches before for some reason. Odd, everything felt rather odd.

"You feel okay?" the doctor was taking his pulse as she spoke.

"Tired..." he replied, softly.

"Perfectly normal for comatose patients," the doctor said quietly, while noting something down and looking at his eyes closely.

"For - what patients?" the boy felt confused, and talking was an effort.

"For comatose patients, honey. You were in a coma for the last six months."

If he'd had the energy, the boy would have had his jaw dropped. He didn't however, and could only blink dazedly for a while.

"What is your name?" the Terry person asked.

"I - I don't know," the boy faltered. "I - can't remember."

The doctor looked to him sharply and leaned forward again.

"Do you remember nothing, dear?" she asked, worriedly.

"I - no - nothing. I can't remember anything." The boy sighed, looking as hopeless and defeated as he felt. He remembered nothing after that, and when he awoke next he assumed he'd fallen asleep.

He felt far more awake this time. And after counting half of the tiles on the ceiling, the doctor lady came in.

"Awake?" she asked, standing beside the bed, and holding her clipboard tightly.

The boy blinked at her and couldn't help but think that the answer to the question was a little obvious. He didn't think people would usually sleep with their eyes open...

"You sure you can't remember anything?" the lady asked, concerned after a pause.

"Yes," the boy replied with a heavy sigh. He didn't like not remembering. It was disconcerting not to know anything about who you were. He didn't even know what colour his hair or eyes were, or how old he was, or - anything about his identity at all.

"Any aches? Any pains?" the doctor asked, noting something down.

"I ache all over," the boy answered with a slight grimace. The doctor nodded understandingly and bit her lip thoughtfully.

"You'll need to build your muscles back up. Physiotherapy. You'll probably start on that in a few days - depending on how you feel, of course." The lady doctor then waved a farewell, with a last suggestion of going back to sleep for the boy, who sighed and did so.

*~*~*

He was sitting by a window. A dark forest lay not too far from the building - no, castle, he corrected - he could see part of the outer walls, and it was definitely a castle. A small hut stood on the edge of the forest and a large lake reflected the cloudy sky below the tower.

He became aware of movement next to him, and turned to see a girl with bushy brown hair. She wore an exasperated expression and was talking in a condescending manner to a tall boy with bright red hair and freckles, who sat opposite.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Ron!" the girl then snapped, slamming a large book shut. "You have to study! The tests are coming up." She paused, jerked a thumb at the boy, who'd been watching the exchange, and continued. "He might not be taking the tests at the end of this year but you certainly are, Ron Weasley, and if you don't get your act together, you will fail!"

"All we've done for the last two weeks is study, Hermione!" the boy named Ron retorted, turning slightly red in the face. "It's about time we took a break! Played Wizard's Chess, or Exploding Snap. Anything but more studying!"

The boy found himself calming the other two down and even convincing Hermione to do as Ron suggested and take a break from the books. He glanced warningly at Ron when he looked too triumphant.

Ron invited him over to the fireplace to the chessboard, and after a very short game, the moving pieces on Ron's side were cheering at their victory.

The boy with no memory jolted awake, the strange images still swirling about his head. Hut...the forest... Ron... Hermione... Hogwarts!

The words made themselves heard and the boy grimaced slightly as they echoed around, not making very much sense. They were - what? - Memories - Dreams? He wasn't sure.

All he was sure of was that for the last four days, ever since the last lady doctor's visit, he'd had these sorts of dreams when he slept, and sometimes when he was awake, and counting ceiling tiles in his boredom.

Every time when he awoke, he felt - a strange sense of loss, as though he was not at home in reality and he belonged in the odd dreams.

He didn't have long to run his mind over all he'd seen in his sleep, as the Physiotherapist came and taught him the first simple exercises to build up his muscles again. They were dull and draining exercises, and he felt thoroughly fatigued after it all.

He would have liked to wait a little longer before starting the therapy, and Doctor Nancy, the nice lady doctor he'd first seen, had recommended it, but he had a different doctor now. A doctor who seemed to have pushed Doctor Nancy out of the picture entirely on purpose. He missed the Nurse called Terry too, but all he seemed to see was the gruff forty-year old doctor now.

He'd been glad to finish the exercises, and glad to be able to rest again. Not only because of how exhausted he'd felt after the first session, but also because he wanted to dream again. He liked those dreams so much, he felt like he belonged...

When he next woke up he was pleased to see Terry milling about the room. The gruff doctor (whom the boy had unflatteringly named: Doctor Grizzle-Guts in his head) was also in the room on the far side for some reason. The boy's attention was firmly set on Terry however.

"Hello, mate," Terry greeted jovially, taking a seat next to the bed. "Sleep well?"

"Very well," the boy smiled. They'd had quite a few conversations in the last few days. The boy knew that Terry was married to Doctor Nancy, that their first year anniversary was coming up in a week or two, and some very ordinary details about hobbies and the like.

"I tried to find out what food was up for the day, but got caught by Nurse Laura, I think it was, the one with really light blonde hair, and had to go past the canteen without hearing anything," Terry said apologetically. He'd made it a habit to find out what Lightning Larry would have each day, and had taken great pleasure in announcing it.

The boy suspected that this was an easy way to make sure Terry was never at a loss for what to say, but he doubted Terry ever could be. He seemed to be constantly talking, never without a topic.

"Doesn't matter," the boy yawned, and then he decided to tell Terry about his dreams or whatever they were. "I keep having the strangest dreams." He began.

"Really? Tell me..." Terry was as enthusiastic as could be.

"They're like things I remember," the boy started slowly. "There was a street with shops selling the oddest things. Stuff like beetle eyes, herbs, bottles of all sorts of amazing things. Then there was a bookshop - it didn't sell ordinary books though..." he trailed off trying to remember anything more specific. "They were like text books I needed for school..." A few book titles leapt to mind. "Magic books," he whispered, almost forgetting that Terry was next to him. "And there was a shop for this sport we played. Can't remember what they called it... you flew when you played it. Flying around the pitch with the stands all around..." the boy trailed off again.

"Sounds like a crazy set of dreams." Terry remarked.

"Oh, but they're not dreams," the boy exclaimed desperately, "they can't have been - they were so real. I - I belong there - in that place." He fell in to silence, chewing his lip, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. It can't have just been dreams. Could it?

"I know how real dreams sometimes feel," Terry said soothingly, "but as nice as it would be if all our dreams were true, it just doesn't work that way, I'm afraid."

"But what about Ron and Hermione?" the boy asked distantly. "I've never seen two people as real as they are..."

Terry gave a short chuckle, told him to get some rest, and went on with his work. Doctor Grizzle-Guts had also been listening intently to the boy go on about flying and beetles and magic books. With a raised eyebrow and a sneering smirk, he left the room silent as a mouse.

*~*~*

The next few days were uneventful. The more time the boy spent awake, the more bored he felt. He'd also asked about who he was, and was dismayed when no one at the hospital knew. No one had come to find him. He briefly wondered why. Maybe he was not a nice person. Maybe someone was glad to be rid of him! Still, he never let himself get carried away with his thoughts.

He loved his dreams, and bits and pieces seemed to come to mind at the oddest times. Like the time Terry had brought him a food tray with a glass of orange juice. He'd found himself asking if it was pumpkin juice. Quite a few such encounters had occurred.

Terry announced one day that after his wife had gone over some details and notes, she thought he was recovering marvellously, in fact he said she'd been rather amazed at the speed he was mending. The Physiotherapy was also doing wonders for his muscles, though he still needed to work some more before he was better.

Three days since he attempted to tell Terry about his odd visions, Doctor Grizzle-Guts came in with a nasty glint in his eye, which gave the boy goosebumps all the way up his arms. He felt he had seen a look like that before, and he didn't associate it with anything good.

"Here is the boy, Doctor Moore," he said, with a sneer, to an older man with a gray moustache.

"Oh, thank you, Doctor Marsh, thanks very much," the man replied with a preoccupied air. He came and sat next to the boy's bed as Doctor Grizzle-Guts nodded with a slimy grin and left.

"Now then young sir," Doctor Moore said briskly, "I'd just like a few words with you, if you don't mind."

The boy was very wary of this whole situation, something wasn't quite right. But he nodded politely and replied that he didn't mind at all.

"Excellent, excellent," the man muttered, placing his briefcase on his knees, placing a note book on it and sucking the end of a biro. "Doctor Marsh informs me that you had a number of interesting dreams?"

The boy nodded eagerly. He loved those dreams so much. "Yes, I have, they're wonderful. I think -" he paused, voicing his inner thoughts for the first time "- I think they're maybe memories."

"Right," Doctor Moore pulled the word out, nodding. "Tell me about them." He said this with a very business-like, no nonsense air.

"Well..." the boy faltered slightly at the tone, but then he collected his thoughts and ploughed on. He explained that the place had a castle, and the lake, and he spoke of a giant he couldn't recall the name of, who rescued him from a family of people he didn't like. He described Ron and Hermione in vivid detail, speaking animatedly throughout. He described some things that were less pleasant too. He spoke of an evil person - someone magical who had gone bad and had succeeded in becoming a powerful Dark Lord. He would also see something else when he thought of this evil, he thought of the colour green. A flash - all green, and usually a scream would resonate through his head.

When he finally finished saying all he could remember, Doctor Moore was looking stoic, though he wore a slight frown. "You are sure these are - memories?" He half stumbled on the word.

The boy nodded fervently. "They are. I can feel it - I know they are!" Doctor Moore nodded, almost to himself, and put away the pen and paper, on which he'd been writing notes.

"Thank you for your time," he said with a slight nod, and then he left.

The boy felt uneasy again, as though he'd done something he shouldn't have. Spoken in a way or about something he shouldn't. Not only that, but he didn't see why that doctor had needed to talk to him. He fell asleep with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.