Disclaimer: The delightful world of Harry Potter happily does not belong to me. I don't think I could take the responsibility of satisfying millions of readers. I'm just a poor poor student who likes to avoid homework by writing stories.

A/N: This is an idea that popped into my head. It's sort of thought out, but not completely, yet. Tell me if it would be worth pursuing. It wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote at least one chapter of it. :) Happy reviewing!

Chapter one:

A boy with green eyes and messy, black hair woke up in a forest. He looked around slowly, minding the excruciating pain in his head and came to the conclusion that he didn't know where he was. He dropped a rock he'd been clutching in his right hand. He was injured, that was easy to tell. He moved various parts of his body, trying to catalogue the damage. Right leg hurt, possibly broken; at least one cracked rib, probably more; a large gash in his side bleeding profusely; and that annoying pounding in his head. Various bruises covered most of his body, but he was sure these were the most pressing wounds. He reached to push his glasses back up his nose (they were currently hanging off his left ear), and a stab of pain went through his left arm; he added that to the mental list.

He thought, I've been unconscious for who knows how long, and I'm not dead. Well, it can't be the Forbidden Forest, then. Wait, what's the Forbidden Forest? He decided to walk to the edge of a lake beyond the woods that he could see through the trees. On second thought, I can hardly walk. He managed to pull himself up, only to take a step and fall against a tree. Soft snow helped break his fall.

He thought hazily, Perhaps I'll just stay here for a while.

He searched his pockets for food or water. He found a small stick with a bushy end about the size of a pen. In a flash, he knew it was a broom. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. He enlarged it and flew toward lake after clumsily pulling himself atop. He didn't really know where he was going, but he remembered learning something about being lost and following the water. He almost smiled as he gazed upon a cabin in a small clearing near the lake. As he approached, he noticed that It was empty, but he went in, desperate because of the cold and his injuries. He felt something on his left arm, below the center of pain there. It was his wand strapped on his forearm. It wasn't visible until he touched it with his right hand. He pulled it out and pointed it at his side. The bleeding stopped from the deep wound in his side, but he couldn't heal it. He wasn't sure how he had gotten the bleeding stopped, and he didn't know how to do more for it. He also didn't know what to do for his possible broken bones. He knew magic, but couldn't remember where he'd learned it. He thought to himself, I should have remembered my wand when I enlarged my broom, because he was so exhausted he didn't even light a fire in the hearth before he lay on couch and fell asleep.

He was in a dark room surrounded by people in black robes and white masks. He could feel pain. There was a shot of light and he was engulfed in even more pain, so intense that he couldn't even think through it as to what it may be. The scene shifted, he was in a train station. Four people in black robes that no one else seemed to notice grabbed him and disappeared from the station. The scene changed again. He was outside. He could feel the edge, of what he didn't know, but he ran to the edge ignoring the pain in his leg and throughout his body. He saw a rock about the size of his hand and pointed to it, yelling "Portus." He stumbled through the barrier and fell with his right hand landing on the rock. As he felt the tug behind his navel, a shooting pain shot through his side and everything went black.

He woke with a start, wincing as his body tried to jolt to a seated position, but didn't have the strength. He was panting from the dream, and the effort was causing his chest to burn, where his cracked ribs were being pushed in and out roughly by his labored breathing.

A sound in front of him caused him to look up for the first time. There was a person standing there. A man likely a few years older than himself was looking at him with unhidden suspicion.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" asked the stranger. The boy thought, but he didn't know.

"I don't know. I-I woke up in the forest. I didn't know where to go. The door was open, so I came in. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stay so long. I just needed out of the cold. I'll go now, sorry for the trouble, sir." He tried to get up and gasped in pain. He tried again, but the attempt was futile.

"You're hurt," the cabin's owner (he presumed) observed.

"Yes. I'm sorry to bother you even more, but I may need some help getting up, if you'd be so kind. Then I'll go and leave you alone, sir." He didn't know where he'd go, but he really had no right to impose himself on this man.

The man didn't move. "What's your name?" he asked for identification again.

"I don't know, sir. I can't remember anything. Sir, where am I?" The boy was getting more uncomfortable with the situation, and honestly was starting to freak out after realizing he didn't know who he was.

"Northern Minnesota, near the Canadian border. Where are you from?"

"I… can't remember, but not here. I've never been here. I don't know how I know that, though."

"Well, you sound British, but how the hell did you get here?"

The boy was getting frustrated with these questions and the pain in his side and other parts of his body was increasing. "I don't know! I said that already. I can't remember anything about me!" His breathing started to speed up and get shallower. The room was beginning to spin in front of his eyes.

"Hey, are you alright? Maybe you should just lay back down," the man said, pushing slightly on his shoulders. He didn't even notice when the man had come closer.

"Sir, what's your name?" he asked.

"Andrew Swenson, but you can call me Andy. We should think of something to call you until you can remember," Andy smiled as he seemingly tried to reassure the confused boy.

"Evan," the name just popped into his head. He didn't know where it came from, but it seemed familiar, somehow, and he smiled. "I think I'd like to be called Evan."

"Ok, Evan. I'm going to pull off this robe or whatever it is and your shirt. I need to see how badly you're hurt. You've been bleeding," he pointed to a red spot on the couch and matching spots littering the rug.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, Andy. I'll get it," said Evan as he waved his wand, and the mess was gone. Andy jumped back with wide eyes.

"What the hell was that?" he shouted.

"What?" asked Evan. Then something else entered his mind like his broom did; Andy was a muggle. "Oh no, oh no, oh no… Andy, will you promise not to tell anyone about this? Please?" Andy nodded his head. "Ok, I'm going to tell you something, and you probably won't believe me, but just listen, ok? I'm a wizard. I don't know who I am or where I'm from, but I do know that I'm a wizard and I can do magic. Please, try and understand. I know it's impossible to believe, but please try."

The other man's eyes were roving all over the room, looking anywhere but at the man (wizard!) before him. Eventually, he turned back to Evan after thinking about it for many minutes.

"So, what else can you do?" he asked tentatively.

Evan smiled, "Lots of things, but I don't know much about healing, unfortunately. I think wherever I was, I was beginning to learn it, because I knew how to stop the bleeding last night. Where am I from? Who am I? Damn, it's like it's on the tip of my brain, but I can't spit it out!" He was growing frustrated again, and feeling even worse. He felt hot and knew he must be getting a fever.

"Oh yeah, your injuries. Just settle down, now. We'll talk more about this wizard stuff later. Lets get a look at your wounds now, ok?" said Andy gently.

Evan nodded. It turned out that lifting his arms up above his head was much too painful, so Andy cut his shirt up the front with a scissor. He inhaled sharply when the clothing was removed.

"Hey, Evan, I think we should get you to a hospital. I don't think I can treat these," he said nervously.

"It's ok, I have a healing potion in my trunk that I can try first," said Evan. Andy's blue eyes snapped up to meet Evan's green ones looking confused. Evan, looking just as confused, reached into a pocket and pulled out a small wooden box, about the size of a jewelry box. He pointed his wand at it and enlarged it to a full sized trunk. "My trunk… healing potion… What's going on? I remember little bits, then everything fades away again. Er, Andy, could you look in the back right corner of the trunk? There should be a green pouch with some glass vials inside. They're labeled, could you give me the one that says 'general healing' and the one labeled 'pain reliever'? Oh, do you think I have any broken bones? I'm pretty sure I do, but never mind, we'll wait and see how these work."

Andy just nodded dumbly and did as asked. Evan downed the potions and pulled a face. "Well, at least I can remember that potions taste like dung." After a few minutes, Evan felt he was sufficiently healed for the time being, or at least the pain was numbed, and sat up to look in the trunk. He was still a little sore, even with the potions, but managed to shake it off and not think much about it.

"Hey, Evan. What could have caused all those injuries?" asked Andy, sitting beside him.

"A duel." Again, they were both shocked by his response. "Yeah, probably a duel… but why would someone dump me in a forest without finishing me off, and with all of my possessions? Or, what I'm assuming are my possessions. There's not much here. Not as much as there should be, I think. Look, there's nothing with a name, place, or any useful information!" There was a broom servicing kit, a small spinning top looking thing (sneakoscope, he told himself), some candies, a moving action figure of a dragon with the number four on it, the pouch with potions, another pouch with gold and silver coins, clothes, some silvery material (invisibility cloak) and a photo album.

Evan picked up the photo album and opened it. Inside, he saw a man and a woman holding a baby. They were waving and smiling at the camera. The man had messy black hair, and the woman had beautiful red hair and green eyes. The baby had dark hair like the father and was giggling as he waved his tiny hands at the camera, copying his parents.

"Wow! They're moving!" exclaimed Andy.

"Yeah, in the wizarding world subjects of pictures and paintings move. These must be my parents," he said sadly. Did they miss him? Were they looking for him? There were other pictures as well. Some without the baby, and some with other men holding the baby. There was one with a black haired man and a sandy haired man looking lovingly at the child. Evan sighed. He flipped through the pages some more and saw that there were no more pictures of him with those two after about the age of one. In fact, there weren't any other pictures of him until he looked to be around ten or so. He was by a lake with a red-headed boy and a brown, bushy-haired girl. There were a few other pictures with those two, and a few other people, including the two other men he saw in various pictures with his parents, but nothing to indicate where they were taken or who they were.

"So… if you're a wizard, is there some other way you can get a hold of someone?"

"Well, we use owls for post. I remember that, but you need a name or a place to send it too, not to mention an owl. I feel so stupid. How does a person just forget who they are?" He raked a hand through his hair and felt a few lumps on his head. That explains the headache.

"Well, you were pretty badly beat up, you know. You could have had a knock to the head or something that caused it."

"Yeah, or maybe I was obliviated. I don't think so, though, because why would they let me remember how to do magic?" He ignored Andy's puzzled look at the term 'obliviated.'

Evan continued to look for anymore clues he could in his trunk, but he'd already emptied it. There was no more information to gain there. He decided to check the rest of his cloak pockets. There was a key, quill, ink, and an old piece of parchment, but nothing else that could be of use. On the key was engraved 'Gringotts.' Evan thought that should have meant something, but couldn't place it. It was like trying to reach that itch in the middle of your back where your fingertips could just barely graze the surface, but couldn't reach enough to actually satisfy the itch.

"Well, I'm sure I'm not from around here. At least that's one thing I know. But I don't know how to go about finding other witches and wizards to get back to… somewhere."

"Why don't you just stay here for a couple of days until you're feeling a bit better and have time to think on things. Heck, maybe your memory will clear up by morning," said Andy in a friendly tone. "Are you sure you don't need to go to a hospital, though?"

"Yes, thank you, Andy. I can't begin to thank you for all of this. You don't even know me. If – when I figure out who I am, I'll repay you. I promise." Evan looked him in the eye and made sure Andy knew he was serious.

"You don't have to do a thing. You're hurt and lost. I'm sure you'd do the same for someone if they wandered into your cabin in the middle of winter. I can't very well kick you out, can I? You'd freeze to death! I'd take you to the police to find out about missing persons, but I'm guessing you wouldn't be in any of their databases. Why don't you lie down and rest now? You look sick, and I don't think you're completely fixed up just because of some potion. So, go back to sleep and I'll get you something to eat when you wake up." Andy led him to a small bedroom off the main living area. Evan was extremely wobbly on his feet and Andy put an arm around him, and more than half-carried him to the bed.

Evan felt incredibly guilty for all the fuss, "You don't have to feed me, Andy. Just letting me rest here a little while longer would be plenty. I'll go as soon as I can. You've already done so much. I'm sure you have someplace to be. I honestly didn't mean to intrude."

"Don't worry about it, Evan. I don't have anywhere to be right now. I'm on break from school. I go to a University a ways from here, but we have a few weeks off for Christmas holidays. I don't really have much family to speak of, so I like to spend my time here. It's peaceful this time of year," explained Andy.

Evan smiled, "It's Christmas? As long as you're sure, then. And I want you to know that you can kick me out anytime, and I won't think anything less of you. You've already shown kindness beyond what I could have hoped for."

Andy smiled back and ignored most of what Evan said, "It won't be Christmas for a few days. Get some sleep." The stranger, and only friend 'Evan' had at the moment, left the room and the lids closed over bright green eyes.

A/N: So, what do you think? Continue or trash?