Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling is the rightful owner of Harry Potter and its characters.
He Looked at Me with the Gaze of a Stranger
Today was the most ill I'd felt in many years. It could be said that I hadn't felt this ill since my first transformation into the abomination I become at every full moon. I didn't feel the need to throw up, instead I experienced a painful twisting of my intestines. A sinking of my stomach as if it were filled with weights and sagging towards the floor. The feeling of jagged ice sliding down the length of my throat had nothing to do with the sudden appearance of a dementor in the cabin. No, the reason for my illness today was because I saw Harry Potter for the first time in many years. The last glimpse I'd had of him he could barely move about on his own. But here he was, drenched in a cold sweat and shaking uncontrollably from his encounter with the dementor. My heart had stopped for a moment, not because this boy was in danger and in need of my attention, but because for one second, one gut wrenching second, I thought James was in the cabin. The two were spitting images of each other. Lanky in body with tussled hair and matching round glasses. The only difference between them was the eyes. Harry had inherited his mother's alluring and beautiful green eyes. They were the perfect memento to Lily's essence. Her love, curiosity and inquisitiveness lived on through the eyes of her son.
With a staggering thump and a gulp of chilled air my heart regained its normal pace. I began searching my pockets for a bar of chocolate, but my eyes could not leave those of the crumpled boy on the floor. It was not until he looked me fully in the eye that the real wave of nausea swept over me. In another life he would have greeted me with warmth and kindness. In another life I would have seen him grow up, and he may have called me uncle Remus. In another life he wouldn't have looked at me as if I was a stranger.
Author note: It's short but there was nothing more to be said.