“Harry! Harry, are you up already?”
Harry Potter woke up with the sound of a very melodious voice calling him, drifting over from downstairs.
“Coming!” he yelled back groggily, as he slowly made his way out of bed and hastily put on his glasses. He quietly tumbled down the stairs and went into the kitchen, where he met a wonderful smell of enchanted pancakes.
“Good morning, Harry dear,” said a very pretty young woman with dark red hair and bright green eyes. “Slept well?”
“‘Morning, Mum,” he answered sleepily, as Lily Potter placed three plates full of pancakes on the mahogany table. “I had a very str-str-strange dream tonight, you know,” replied Harry, as he tried (and failed) to stifle a yawn.
“Really?” she asked, amused. “What was it about?”
“I dreamed that there was this guy named Lord Voldemort who had killed a lot of people, including you and Dad. I don’t remember the reason, but I know that he had killed you with this Avada Kedavra curse when I was only one, and I had to live my whole life with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon!” he recalled, shuddering.
“What a nightmare,” she laughed. “Your father and I must have threatened to send you there too many times if you actually dreamed it!” She took some apple juice and milk from the fridge. “Avada Kedavra, you said? Nope, I’ve never heard of that curse. What was the Lord’s name again?” she asked, as she brought juice and milk on the table.
“Oh… wait,” he racked his brain. “I don’t remember anymore! I think it was something like Lord Mordermore or something.”
“Hmm, maybe,” answered Lily thoughtfully. “Well, what else happened?”
“It was interesting: in the dream there were all my friends, like Ron, Hermione and Ginny.” He blushed. He hadn’t meant to say Ginny. His mother took no notice of this, however, so he decided to move on. “And Sirius had been blamed of your murder and had to stay for 12 years in Azkaban!”
“What?!” said a young man with untidy, jet-black hair and hazel eyes. “I knew it! All this time you were pretending to be my friend, while you’re really a back-stabbing liar!”
“Yes, Harry’s dream caught me red-handed, Prongs,” laughed a very handsome young man with long black hair.
“Not really, Sirius,” explained Harry. “In my dream, you had been convicted of that murder, while really it had been Peter’s fault!”
“What? Why me?” cried a small little man who had just entered the room.
“Tsk. Tsk. How could we not have guessed, Padfoot?” asked James Potter, winking at his 16 year old son.
“No!” yelled Peter, worried. “I assure you, I did nothing!”
“Stop whimpering, Wormtail. It was just a dream. Unless,” Sirius grinned at his best friend, “you’re so scared because you’re actually planning to kill them and frame me!”
“I would never!” cried Peter, realizing only now it had been all a joke.
“And, Sirius, you had died, too, only by Bella’s hands,” said Harry, smiling at the shocked look on his godfather’s face.
“Now, really, Harry, just because Bella and I have different opinions doesn’t mean she hates me: she’s my cousin after all!” said Sirius, with a look of mock concern.
He then frowned at his godson and asked, “Wait a second. Are you telling me that you made Peter a crazy murderer, killed your parents, killed me and let the freaking werewolf live and be the day’s hero?” he looked at him shocked.
“Well, in a way, yes,” Harry smiled, and looking at his father said, “but he wasn’t the only one of your friends who survived.”
“Who else did?” asked Prongs curiously.
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me it was old-” Sirius began, his eyes widening in horror.
“Severus Snape,” finished Harry, laughing at the look of revulsion on both his father’s and his godfather’s faces.
“Well, we could eliminate him now.” Everyone jumped as Remus Lupin entered the room, looking a bit shabby but smiling.
“Yes, I’m sure you all would like to, wouldn’t you?” Lily narrowed her eyes at her husband and at the three grown men beside him.
Everyone started laughing as a knock on the door made them turn around and through the window they could see some very familiar slimy black hair. Too familiar.
“Speaking of the devil,” said James, as he opened the door. “How’s it going, Snivellus?”
Snape took no notice of him and strode past the Marauders as he stopped in front of Lily and started talking to her.
“Now, really, Snivelly, where are your manners? This happens to be my house, you know,” said James, shocked. The other Marauders were laughing their heads off, while Harry was already eating his breakfast.
“It’s your house as much as it is mine!” said Lily, offended.
Snape plain ignored them and resumed talking to the pretty lady.
“Fine! Have it your own way! We are going out!” It was unbelievable, thought Lily, how childish her husband could be. “Let’s go, Harry!”
Harry eyed reproachfully the remaining pancakes, but followed his father, his Firebolt held tightly in his hand. Peter, Sirius and Remus were coming, too, all of them with their own broomsticks in hand. James was so proud that his son was such a talented flier.
As Harry was almost at the door, his mother called him back and kissed him quickly on his forehead, wishing him fun at the Quidditch game. That’s when Harry remembered. “You know the weirdest part about my dream? After my first encounter with Lord Something, a backfiring curse had left on my forehead a lightening-shaped scar.”
THE END
A/N: Like it? Hate it? Think it’s complete rubbish? Whatever you feel at the moment, feel free to review!!! Anyway, didja notice I even ended it with the word ‘scar’? I’m telling you, this could be the perfect last chapter! Hehehe…
Helen