There was a flash of bright green light, a scream, a high-pitched laugh, another flash … and silence.
Harry Potter bolted up right in his bed, panting heavily. Sweat poured from his brow, slowly dripping down his neck. Closing his eyes, he tried to steady his breathing, attempting to convince himself that it was nothing more than a dream instead of a reoccurring memory. Reaching over, he picked up his water glass slick with condensation and drained it in a few long gulps, his deafening pulse blaring in his ears. He opened his eyes and blinked towards the window. It was morning already. The air around him was hot and stuffy, suggesting a very humid morning with an even more suffocating afternoon. If that were true, then a long list of outdoor chores awaited him.
Harry groaned to himself and dragged his aching body from the bed. This morning, like all other mornings, would be spent working out in the yard. Unless he got up now, he’d face the wrath of his aunt and uncle. His feet touched soft carpet and his hand found his glasses. Putting them on in one expert swing, he turned and reached for his robe. He was still thirsty and really didn’t care what the Dursley’s did to him if he showed up downstairs not dressed properly for the day, at least he was up. They could go live out eternity in that shack by the sea for all he cared.
In no time, he was at the bottom of the stairs, then in the kitchen, and finally taking a seat at the dining room table. He knew that any moment now, Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice would reprimand him for his actions. Over the years, however, he had become numb to it. That’s why it surprised him beyond belief to hear a plate placed in front of him followed by the smell of freshly made bacon and eggs reaching his senses. Harry snapped his eyes open and stared disbelievingly at the hot food in front of him. At best, he got a slice of burnt toast and a glass of milk, on good days it was a bagel or an English muffin. In all his seventeen years things had never changed nor had they reason to. In fact, nothing happened to have caused this vast amount of difference. Perhaps Aunt Petunia wasn’t herself today and had forgotten how she normally acted towards Harry. Perhaps she received a blow to the head and had a completely new outlook on things. Perhaps ”
“Harry, dear, eat up before your breakfast gets cold. Your father wants to practice Quidditch with you again today and you need to have a full stomach.”
Freezing in his thoughts, Harry slowly raised his gaze to the person addressing him. Lily Potter stood there, no less than five feet from him, wearing an apron and a warm smile. His heart nearly stopped.
“Mum…?” he croaked out.
Lily’s smile faded a bit, but remained. “Yes, Harry? What is it? Is something wrong?”
Harry was speechless. He had no idea how to react to this. His parents were supposed to be ”
“There’s my boy! Ready for another grueling day of practice?” James grinned as he seated himself across the table from Harry.
At that, Harry bolted from his chair and ran to the nearest bathroom. Not even bothering to turn the light on, he placed his forehead nearly an inch from the mirror and swept back his bangs. He had no scar. Not even a scratch. Harry’s breath nearly stopped right then and there.
James appeared at the doorway then and crossed his arms, leaning on the frame. “A fine time to be looking for spots. With the way you fly, I doubt you need anything more to impress the girls.” He laughed and dodged a spatula aimed at his head.
Harry closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath through his nose, held it, and let it out again. “Dad?”
James straightened himself and glanced at his son. “Yes, Harry?”
“This may sound a little insane, but … did anything happen on October 31st when I was one?
James looked at his son with a look of utter confusion on his face. “Why do you ask?”
“Just … please answer me.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he shook his head. “Why do you ask?”
“And Sirius, how’s Sirius?”
“He’s fine. You just saw him yesterday. What, did you hit your head getting up this morning?”
Harry smiled. “One more question. I know you probably already answered it a long time ago … but … where’s Wormtail?”
His father smiled at that, a vague look of remembrance existent on his face. “Wormtail… I haven’t heard that name spoken in a long time.” He looked to his side, his smile vanishing, before turning his attention back to Harry. “Peter was taken to Azkaban a long time ago, when Dumbledore finally defeated Voldemort. I trust you still remember why?”
Harry’s smile turned into an exuberant grin and he spun on his heel to face his father. “I remember. Thanks, dad.” The name still felt foreign on his tongue. However, perhaps everything he remembered, his parents being dead, Sirius falling through the veil, perhaps all of it was nothing more than a dream and everything he experienced now was reality. Perhaps this world he was suddenly thrown into was the truth, and he lived as any other normal wizard boy did. No more being the infamous “boy who lived.” No more of this crazy scar business. Everything was finally right in the world.
“Why are you asking me all this, Harry? Is something wrong?”
He shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “No, dad, nothing’s wrong. Just some dream I had last night. Got me worked up is all.”
“Well, whatever you two are talking about, finish it at the table!” Lily called from the kitchen. “Your breakfast is getting cold!”
James turned and grinned at Harry. “Well, you heard the banshee ”” The spatula he had dodged previously came whizzing past his head again from the opposite direction. “”Let’s go eat.” As Harry walked past him, James put his arm around his shoulders. “And don’t worry about that whole spots deal,” he whispered into his son’s ear. “We Potters don’t need to worry about that. We have our good looks to win the ladies over, just look at how I got your mum.”
Harry laughed and took his seat again, instantly diving into the still steaming food before him. He looked up to see his parents gaze at each other and pass a small, loving kiss. This was life. Trying incredibly hard not to grin from ear to ear as he ate, Harry slowly took in his surroundings. The room he woke up in was his room, his. He had his own set of dresser drawers, his own trunks, wardrobes, desks, even a carpeted floor. Of course, he would miss his hiding spot under the loose floorboard beneath his bed, but everything else made it seem trivial.
The dining room he currently sat in was adjacent to the kitchen, with double sliding glass doors beside him leading out to a rather large patio. From there he could see a decent size back yard ending in a row of trees that marked the beginning of the forest. In that forest was where he and James practiced their daily Quidditch inside a magically created clearing, away from prying Muggle eyes. At times Sirius and Lupin would come for a visit, Lily would serve lemonade and they would reminisce about their Hogwarts days while Harry sat quietly and listened, piping in when things changed or to comment on how it was the same. Then Harry would have his turn saying anything he forgot to earlier about what he, Ron and Hermione did in school. The Troll incident still seemed to be Sirius’s favorite story to hear. Lupin tended to be fond of the singing midgets in replace of cupids in Harry’s second year, although reciting it always ended with a brilliant flush on Harry’s cheeks. His third year seemed the saddest, as Lupin had come and gone. Then he told the well-known story of his fourth year with the Triwizard Tournament that no one, even though most were a part of, seemed to tire. That year, like the first one, had some crazed, loyal servant to Voldemort who had tried to kill Harry in order to cripple the remaining members of Dumbledore’s old army, mainly Harry’s parents. The fifth marked yet another attempt and a none-too-joyful reunion with Sirius’s cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. She had been put away in a mental institute and left to her own thoughts. From that point on things were normal for Harry.
Engrossed by such memories, Harry was oblivious to everything around him until he snapped back to reality and realized that breakfast was over with and he was already walking into the clearing with his father.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Harry? You’ve been quiet this morning.”
Harry blinked and looked up at his father, shielding his eyes from the blinding early morning sun with his hand. “Of course, dad, I’m fine. Just thinking about next term is all.”
“Ah, yes, in little less than a month you’ll be in your seventh year. Then off for training, I see. Are you sure you want to be an Auror? It’s rather strenuous work, or so I’ve heard. Arthur says that his friends in that department never get a break. You know, everything I have will go to you one day, you can just follow in your old man’s footsteps and do nothing for the rest of your life,” he commented with a wink.
Harry laughed heartily. “Yeah, well, what happens when all that runs out? We have to have some sort of income. And I can’t depend on you and mum the rest of my life, I have to do things myself.”
“Sometimes you say things that make me wonder if you’re actually seventeen or older,” James smiled as he shook his head.
Harry grinned at his father and mounted his Firebolt, his Christmas gift from Sirius. “Race you the rest of the way there?”
“Like you could beat me.”
And they were off. Harry won, of course, regardless of what James said about letting him. Then Sirius appeared with Lupin and they played a small game of modified Quidditch. By the time lunch arrived, all four men were dripping with sweat and returning exhausted to the house. Like clockwork, Lily had placed two glasses out for each of them, one with ice water and the other with lemonade, as well as a few dozen towels, always freshly washed. All the while, Harry couldn’t stop smiling to himself. This was life.
Around three in the afternoon, the entire Weasley family decided to pay a visit. Some respectably apparated on the porch and knocked on the doors. Others simply turned up in chairs and conjured whatever drink they wanted. Then there were those, namely Fred and George, who apparated in the air above Harry and pounced on him. Much wrestling followed on their part before Mrs. Weasley magically pried them off Harry to let him breathe. He nodded his thanks and glowered at Ron, who had been sitting off to the side, enjoying the whole spectacle and receiving reprimands from Hermione and Ginny for him not going to help Harry. And this was life.
Occasionally, Ginny would smile over at Harry and blush before glancing away and seemingly becoming intrigued by a design in the carpet or someone’s mundane conversation. Sirius and James would wink at Harry and nudge him in her direction, though he wouldn’t budge. Ginny, with previous dream memories or not, was still like a little sister to Harry and being anything more with her would seem rather awkward. Instead he would focus his attention on Ron and Hermione, who’s friendship had just recently blossomed into something more. Harry mused to himself how they never seemed to fight as much, and him not getting in trouble with Voldemort anymore seemed to be a good enough reason for them to resolve their differences and calm down. Everyone’s aching ears were praising whatever higher power above them that allowed such a miracle to take place. Then he remembered that such instances and memories never existed and he fell back into the swing of things.
However, though it all, something solid still nagged at him….
“So, when are you going to settle down with a girlfriend, Harry?” Fred grinned.
“I mean, seventeen and never once having a girlfriend? That’s a bit abnormal, don’t you think?” George finished with a wink.
“Oh, he’s already found one, isn’t that right, Harry?” Ron grinned.
Harry flushed a deep crimson. “You shut up!”
“You have! And why weren’t we told of this?” exclaimed James. “So who’s the lucky witch?”
“Actually, we’re not even sure if ”” but before Ron could finish his statement, Harry pounced on him and covered his mouth with his hand.
Laughing nervously, and running a hand through his untidy hair as was custom when he reached an uncomfortable state, Harry quickly finished Ron’s statement for him. “Ah, it’s nothing really. Just some girl Ron and I happened to see while in London the other day. No big deal. Didn’t even talk to her. It’s nothing.” And again he started to laugh.
“Really?” Sirius flashed a Cheshire-like grin. “And what did this girl look like?”
“Well,” Ron began before Harry clamped his mouth shut again.
“Oh, not important. I’ll never see her again anyway, so it’s nothing. Just one of those once in a lifetime things, is all. So, er, who’s up for another round of Quidditch?”
He could see, as well as feel, all the stares boring holes through him. How he wished they would stop. He hated it when people stared at him, almost as if he were something to goggle at in a zoo.
Again, something solid nagged at him.
This was life. And yet… this was wrong.
“Actually, I think I’ll take you up on that offer of Quidditch,” claimed Lupin, who had remained silent all through his time spent there. “It’s still a long while until night, and I’ve taken my potion for today, I should be fine.”
“Moony, I completely forgot it was that time of the month for you!” James exclaimed. “Are you sure you can handle it? It’s nearly dinner. And the moon rises even when the sun is still out.”
Again, the nagging feeling struck. This time, however, Harry got a headache. Not just any normal pain, either, this time it emitted from the exact place his scar would’ve been. However, this time, as with all others, he brushed the feeling aside and remembered to take his hand off Ron’s mouth. The latter, who had been eyeing Harry very suspiciously the entire time, turned to Hermione and whispered something inaudible to Harry’s ears.
Lupin chuckled and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. “In all the years you’ve known me, Prongs, you still have doubts?”
“No, no doubts, simply concerns.”
“Right, the juvenile-turned-Head-Boy has concerns over a prefect, how appropriate.”
Everyone in the room laughed at that and continued chuckling all along the way to the clearing. Harry loved every moment of it. At that exact time, however, he felt a tug at his shirtsleeve. Looking over he met Hermione’s concerned gaze.
“Harry, we need to talk.”
Furrowing his brow, Harry nodded and allowed Hermione to pull him aside and behind the group. James, seeing this, turned his head and watched them for a moment.
“Harry, is there something you’re not telling us?” Ron asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“Harry,” Hermione started. “We’re your best friends. We can tell when you’re acting … well…”
“You’re a bit off, mate.”
Harry blinked at his friends. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Harry,” Hermione whispered as they dropped back more. “Really, is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Hermione, okay?!” he hissed, trying hard not to gain the attention from everyone else. “For once everything’s perfect. Why can’t I enjoy it?”
“What do you mean, for once?” Ron asked suspiciously. “You see, this is exactly what we mean.”
“Look, it’s nothing, alright?” Harry spat and he increased his pace some. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Even Ginny mentioned how you weren’t yourself,” he heard Ron comment softly. This caused him to snap his gaze back at his best friend. “And your parents see it. They’ve been keeping a close eye on you all day. Haven’t you noticed?”
“I’ve noticed….”
“Harry, whatever’s bothering you … we can help. We’re always here for you.”
“Is it because Hermione and I are … more than just friends now? We aren’t leaving you out anymore, we certainly don’t mean to.”
“It’s nothing like that!” Harry spat. This outcry caused some of their party to turn surprised glances his direction, but he shook his head and shrugged them off. “Believe me, I’m perfectly happy for the two of you. Really, I am. It’s about bloody time to be perfectly honest! Nothing’s wrong with me, alright?”
This time there was no retort and Harry, thus satisfied, continued on his way in silence.
Again, the nagging feeling arose within him.
As the party reached the clearing and the twins began setting up the equipment, Harry had the sudden urge to find his parents. He walked up to them, waited patiently as they finished conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, before gaining their full attention.
“Mum?”
Lily stared at her son, worry obvious in her expression.
“Mum … I just wanted … er … listen … I …” Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his mother in a tight embrace. “I love you, mum. I always have and I always will, no matter what happens.”
Lily, completely awestruck by Harry’s actions, returned the embrace nonetheless. “And I will always love you, Harry. But, what is this all about?” She pulled away. “This isn’t like you.”
“Harry, what’s bothering you?” his father asked as he stepped forward. Harry met his gaze steadily.
“Dad…”
“Look out!”
Harry never saw the Bludger. He never even heard the Quidditch case open and the twins cry out in panic as one of the latches restraining a destructive ball snapped. All he knew, all he saw, was his parents’ faces followed by utter blackness and someone screaming his name.
Bright light flooded his eyes and he wearily opened then, raising an arm to shield them before he was blinded by whatever was shining upon him.
“Harry!” he heard someone scream. “Harry! Speak to us!”
“Mum…?” he asked groggily, his voice seeming to come from no where.
“Harry!”
Harry snapped his eyes open, braving the light. When they focused, he could see Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore standing over him.
“So you’re back,” Dumbledore smiled. “For a moment we thought the injury was fatal.”
“Professor Dumbledore? What’s going on? Where am I?” he asked as he tried to sit up. The ground beneath him started shifting and he suddenly felt quite sick, the throbbing in his head not helping any. An arm came from behind him, supporting him as he sat up the rest of the way. It belonged to Ron.
“Careful there, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly. “You took a nasty hit to the back of your head. I daresay one of those Bludgers was possessed again, either that or faulty Beater skills. We were about to call Madam Pomfrey, and it appears you may still need to pay her a visit.”
Harry blinked and looked up at Dumbledore. “Madam Pomfrey?”
“Yes, Harry. That wound of yours, you may have a concussion. We need to get you to the hospital wing as soon as possible before I really hear it from Poppy.”
“But, how can I get there so quickly if I’m home?”
“Home?” Dumbledore looked perplexed. “Harry, you’re at Hogwarts.”
“Hogwarts? What? That can’t be, I’m at home with my mum and dad. Where are they?” He started to look around for them. Ron and Hermione glanced nervously at each other. Professor Dumbledore, on the other hand, merely smiled sympathetically.
“I see. Harry, it’s time for you to remember. You took a nasty hit to the head during a Quidditch game, right after you caught the Snitch and let your guard down. You were knocked unconscious. It seems you were dreaming.”
“Dreaming? No, that can’t be. They were right there!” he frantically started to search for them now, looking every which way around him.
“Harry,” Hermione stated softly. “You’ve been here the entire time. Your parents... are nowhere near you. Oh, Harry, don’t you remember a thing?”
Harry caught Hermione’s eyes. “Hermione, they were right there. I had just hugged my mum, and my dad was…”
“It was all an illusion, Harry,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Now, I believe it’s time to get you to the hospital wing. Up we go now, there’s a good lad.”
Ron hoisted Harry to his feet. He swayed a bit as his brain continued to become accustomed to his surroundings but did not reject to assistance up the lawn to the castle. It was only until they were halfway up the field did he speak. And it was only to Ron and Hermione that he spoke to, seeing as both Dumbledore and McGonagall were ahead of them.
“I saw my parents, I know I did.”
“I’m sure you did, mate,” Ron nodded. “And I don’t blame you for wanting to, after everything.”
“Ron, I hugged my mum. I told her I loved her. She … she said it back …”
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione whispered.
“But my dad …” he went on. “I … I didn’t … I never …”
And for the first time since Sirius died, Harry broke down in tears.