Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or things that come from the book. However much I wish I did JK Rowling does. Enjoy!
Harry loved the silence and yet hated it. Those precious moments when he could just think. Think about all the things he had lost. In those precious moments he didn't have to worry about Ginny and the kids. In fact he didn't have kids in those moments. And he didn't know anyone called Ginny either. He wasn't an auror.
He was a child in those moments. Only a child. A little boy who wanted his mama. He wanted to be the little boy who was flying around on his toy broomstick again. Like it used to be when that photograph that he found at Grimmauld Place was taken. He now was the little boy. His Godfather came over quite often to visit and Bathilda Bagshot doted on him. He got scolded by his mother for nearly killing the cat but she ended up laughing. His father made pretty lights come out of his wand.
But then he heard a scolding voice of Ginny telling James off for a prank he did on Albus and it all came back to him. He didn't have a mother or father. Sirius and Bathilda were dead. It had been an awful long time since he had ever ridden a toy broomstick. He hated the silence because it had to end. The photograph tore him up more than anyone though it did.
This is my first HP fic so it might not be that good. Please review!