A 7 year old Harry Potter was locked in his cupboard as a punishment for being caught on the school roof. As he sat there he wondered miserably what he had done to make his aunt and uncle hate him so much, as he had indeed had to duck the frying pan aunt Petunia had aimed at his head and his uncle had again threatened him with his belt. In his state of misery he felt the need to call out for someone, anyone, which could make him feel better. However he was all alone, the little orphan buy that no one loved or wanted. As he curled himself into the foetal position, he suddenly heard a voice calling out to him,
"Harry, Harry can you hear me sweetheart?" the voice was soft and feminine, a strangers voice, and yet… he somehow recognised it. Suddenly another voice broke through,
"Prongslet, Harry can you hear us?" this voice was different, loud and male, another strangers voice that he somehow recognised.
"Who are you?" he whispered softly into the dark, he knew he should feel afraid but somehow the voices didn't seem threatening or dangerous, they felt safe, they felt… like home?
"Oh sweetie…"it was the woman's voice again and it sounded as if she was crying. Little Harry didn't understand what was going on but he felt the need to give this woman a hug, which was ridicules, after all how can you hug a voice?
"Who are you?" he whispered with more urgency, his curious nature getting the better of him.
"We're you're parents Harry" the male voice again which Harry noticed sounded exactly like his own, if a bit deeper.
"Mum? Dad?"