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There was a young boy lying in the middle of a white room on a small hospital bed. He was unaware of the stark walls of the hospital that surrounded him; instead, behind his closed eyes, he focused on the beautiful lake stretching out in front of him as he stood on the banks. Despite the beautiful view, however, he was feeling very lonely and sad. It wasn’t until the two people sitting beside him began to talk that his dream was interrupted, releasing him from all feelings of grief, if only for a little while.


“Lily, darling, we should probably go get something to eat,� said a deep voice.


“No, thank you,� the woman named Lily replied. “I think I’ll stay here.�


The man with the deep voice sighed. “It won’t matter if we leave his room for just a little while…�


“I know, James. It’s just… I want to make sure I’m here when he wakes up.�


There was a shuffle of footsteps and James’s voice spoke again, this time much closer. “Darling,� he began, “I’m afraid you may be expecting too much. The doctor didn’t guarantee---“


“But Dr. Monroe did say that he was looking much better, and his recent brain activity has increased,� she interrupted.


James sighed again. This time, he spoke much quieter and it was almost impossible to hear what he said. “Dr. Monroe also said that he may never wake up,� he whispered sadly. His heavy footsteps grew softer as he walked away, and a door could be heard shutting behind him.


Lily remained in the room, and she sniffed loudly. “My son will wake up,� she said shakily, to no one in particular. She reached forward and grasped the hand of the young boy lying on the bed beside where she sat. “Oh, how I wish you were awake once again,� she whispered, before dissolving into silent tears.


Only about a minute went by before the boy on the bed stirred slightly. Lily looked up, wondering if she had only imagined this sudden sign of movement, but the boy shifted again and she realized that he was waking up. By the time he had looked at her, revealing his startling green eyes, the ones that were so much like hers, she was filled with an indescribable joy - Harry Potter was okay.


As Lily stared at her son, hardly daring to move just in case this was all a dream and she’d wake up to find herself curled up in her chair, her son lying motionless beside her. Instead, she herself sat motionless, paralyzed with disbelief and happiness.


Meanwhile, Harry was glancing around him, trying to figure out where he was. The first thing he thought was that he was dead. His mother was there, with her rich red hair and green eyes. Also, everything was so blindingly white that the only place he could imagine being that way was some kind of heaven.


But Harry did not have much more time to ponder this, for Lily had snapped out of her daze and had wrapped him in her arms. At first, Harry did not know what to do. He did not know what the heck was going on. But he patted her back reassuringly and broke away from her embrace to look at her against through startled, disbelieving eyes.


“Mum?� he whispered slowly.


Her eyes filled with tears. “Yes, dear, it’s me.� Her face broke into a smile, and Harry just stared, not allowing himself to believe that his mother was sitting about a foot away from him.


“But… how…?� he murmured to himself, confused. Then he said louder, “Where am I?�


“You’re in the hospital,� Lily answered slowly. A look of concern suddenly flashed across her face, but she tried to hide it by smiling again. Harry didn’t buy it.


“The… the hospital? You mean… St. Mungo’s?�


“Saint… what was that, dear? Of course not,� she replied, laughing nervously. But she still looked worried. “What ever are you talking about?�


Panic suddenly pulsed through Harry’s body as he realized that he had no idea where he was, or why his dead mother was there. He needed answers. Fast.


Suddenly, Lily spoke again. She reached for his hand and stared into his eyes. “The doctors said you might be a bit confused,� she began. “But don’t you remember why you’re here? Or who I am?� The last part she said almost pleadingly, and despite Harry’s confusion his heart went out to her.


“I know who you are,� he reassured her. “You’re… You’re my mother. Your name is Lily Potter.�


She smiled. “That’s right, dear. And you’re my son, Harry.�


“But why am I here?� he asked her, not encouraged by the fact that she had at least called him Harry. “I should be staying at the Dursley’s this summer… and I’m going to Fleur and Bill’s wedding, and I still need to find all of the horcruxes to kill Voldemort, because he killed… my parents,� Harry finished uncertainly, looking again at his mother.


By now, Lily was looked extremely worried. “What are you talking about, Harry? There is no one getting married, and who is this… Voldemort? Nobody killed us, dear, I’m alive and breathing right in front of you.� Then she placed her hand on his forehead, as if he was coming down with some sort of fever that was making him delusional.


Harry stared with wide eyes at his mother. A cold fear had gripped his heart and he no longer knew what to do. How could he prove to her that he was right? Then, a thought came to him. He sat up and looked earnestly at his mother. “Look at my forehead,� he urged her. “There’s a lightning-shaped scar.�


His mother’s eyes flickered up to his forehead and then back to his eyes. She spoke slowly and calmly, though Harry could easily tell that he was scaring her. “There is no scar,� she began. “When you hit your head, it didn’t leave a scar.�


His stomach jolted as he heard these words. This was not right. This was not happening. She was wrong. She was merely some sort of an impostor, messing with his mind. He could prove it to himself. “Can I have a mirror?�


Lily looked slightly taken aback by this question, but dug around in her purse all the same. While she searched for a mirror, he noticed there was some loose money in her bag. Muggle money.


“Here,� she said, handing him a small round mirror. He took it, and could feel her eyes on him as he slowly brought it up to his face. And nothing could prepare him for what he saw.


Gasping and dropping the mirror, Harry looked back at Lily in fear. His scar was gone. Something horrible was happening, and he needed to get away. He tried to get out of bed, but noticed a tangle of wires connecting him to many machines. So he started grabbing them and ripping them off, not caring what they were. Harry was becoming frantic, and he needed to get out of this place, whatever it was, quickly.


But just as he had stepped onto the cold floor with his bare feet, Lily grabbed his arm. She was standing in front of him, looking truly frightened. “Harry, lay down. I’ll explain everything to you if you just lay---“


“No!� Harry yelled, loosing control and pulling his arm from her grip. He stumbled, and it was then that he realized it was hard to walk; his legs felt so weak. Harry grasped the metal bar at the edge of his bed and was able to help himself back up against the wall, where he leaned, panting.


Lily began to cry as she inched towards him. “Please lay down,� she begged. “You haven’t used those muscles in years. You won’t get very far. Your father will be here soon and we can all have a chat together.�


“No,� he repeated, this time not as loud. “You’re not my mother. This is not where I belong. Let me go.�


“I’m not forcing you to stay here, Harry,� Lily replied through her tears. “This is a hospital, and you are my son.�


“You’re lying!� he yelled again. Harry wasn’t able to think very straight and he wasn’t sure if he should try to escape or just keep her away from him, whoever she was. His mother was dead, and this was not her. It couldn’t be.


Lily walked closer. “I am not lying. Harry, this is normal to feel confused. The doctors said that it should be expected, and that you may not even remember anything about your past right away. But we can help you get through this.�


Overwhelmed, and also incredibly tired and weak, Harry slid down to the ground with his back against the wall, feeling defeated. “Why am I here?� he asked, despite himself, for he was very afraid of the answer.


Lily knelt down in front of him. She took a deep breath and began, “Right before your eleventh birthday, we were driving home from dinner. There was a wicked storm that night, and it was growing more difficult to see as each minute passed. Your father was driving through an intersection when a car came speeding through a red light and… and hit us.�


Harry stared at her in disbelief, but allowed her to continue. “It was a miracle you didn’t die, Harry, because the other boy - the one in the car - did. Before the doctors knew your name they referred to you as the boy who lived,� she said, smiling slightly at the memory.


But Harry was far from ever wanting to smile again. He felt sick. “I remember that,� he mumbled.


“Well, they said you were conscious the first few moments in the hospital. But after that…� Lily’s voice trailed off, and she looked worried again.


“After that… what?� Harry asked in a barely audible whisper.


“Harry, you slipped into a coma that night. You’ve stayed that way for the past six years.�


If Harry had been standing up at that moment, he probably would have collapsed. Instead, he slumped forward and buried his face in his hands, trying to accept the truth. He felt his mother’s hand reach across and touch his shoulder, and he looked up. “Can I see your mirror again?� Harry asked her.


She got up and walked over to the bed where he had dropped it only minutes before. Without saying a word, she handed it to him.


Harry took it gratefully and held it up to his face again. He looked at a boy who he did not know, and whose life he could not remember. Harry wanted, so badly, to have some kind of proof that it was not all a dream. He wanted to see something that would reassure him that the life he thought he had led was not all in his head.


So when he stared into the mirror he held in front of him, Harry found himself wanting, for the first time, to have the thing that identified exactly who he was and what he had been through – his lightning-shaped scar.