Summary: Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, known for being the defeater of the Dark Lord, has watched a fellow Hogwarts student and champion die before his very eyes which led to events on the Dark Lord being ressurected. But the others, especially the Minister for Magic didn't believe him. And in turn left him to wallow in grief, misery, and self-pity on his own. On the summer of his fourth year, he went out one day... and met someone he can relate to. But he didn't know that he has helped that one person that helped him as well. And this is where our story starts...

Disclaimer: Well, I obviously don't own Harry Potter. A wonderful person that I owe my eternal gratitude for creating Harry Potter and the rest of the Wizarding World named J.K. Rowling does. :D Besides, would I be writing fanfiction if I did?

A/N: This is not anyhow related to my other story, "Time and Fate, Love and Hate".

Critiscms and encouragements are always welcome... ;)

The Boy in the Picture

"I hate you, mum!" with a passion. I slammed my bedroom door shut! I can't believe she did that AGAIN! I packed some of my clothes – not caring which one – and packed them inside my backpack. I did that while murmuring all the curse words I know of. I was about to leave through the window when I heard a sound of a motorcycle. A MOTORCYCLE! And then I saw the familiar mop of jet black hair and glasses. I even had the chance to look at HIS emerald green orbs once again. I had to pause and gape at what I just saw. An owl was also flying not far behind him. And… was that a giant by his side in the motorcycle? Wait… a FLYING motorcycle? Could this get any more bloody weirder? But that was not what I was gaping about. I didn't even register that flying motorcycles don't exist. What I was shocked to see was HIM. Memories passed through my head like a whirlwind. It was like my past has came back to haunt me.

I wanted to take pictures of the ducks in the lake. But as I turned my camera to the left, I was confused with what I saw. It was a boy around my age. He was standing on the bridge overlooking the lake. He was alone. He had messy jet black hair and glasses. He also had oversized clothes on. But that was not what caught my attention. As my feet dragged me closer to him, I saw something in his eyes. It was not tears. It was more of a look like one of his loved ones had died. It was kind of depressing to watch to be honest. I didn't know what came over me then, but I found myself taking a picture of him - it was the first picture I had with my new camera that my grandma gave me earlier this morning. It was not brand new, but it still worked like it is. The previous user was my grandma herself. So, there's no need to wonder why it still works properly after all these years. She told me to go take pictures using it and bring it back to her so she could see them. She knew that taking pictures was my hobby… unlike my mother. Unfortunately, I forgot to turn off the flash. He quickly turned his face in my direction with wide eyes and hand reaching for a stick in his pocket. What did he bring a stick for anyway? But when his eyes found the camera hanging on my neck, his eyes softened and his hands slumped back to his side. And then he went back to looking at the lake. Strange. I thought I just saw a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Again, I didn't know what came over me, and I found myself walking closer to him, made him face me, and brushed off his fringe to reveal a strange-looking scar. My thoughts were proven correct. It was a lightning bolt scar. His reaction was fast and aggressive. He slapped away my hand with eyes full of hatred. Is it even possible for a person to hate you that much when you've just met him for mere minutes?

"Sorry. I didn't know what came over me." He was probably the silent type for the reply I got was a grunt. But I wasn't discouraged. I wanted to know what his problem was. And even help him in the process. I hated people being all depressed all the time – I have been there; and I didn't particularly like what it feels like. "So, what's up with you?"

"Huh?" He was as confused as me. Did he really forget me that easily? What was he thinking about exactly?

"I mean, why are you here all alone with that look in your eyes?" I couldn't help it. He just looked so lost, betrayed, and abandoned. But what I didn't know then was that he really was.

"What look?"

"That." I pointed to his eyes. But he probably can't see it without a mirror that can show people the emotions lurking about in their eyes.

"Oh." He turned and watched the ducks in the lake - a mother duck and its little ones. I was also looking at the ducks by then. It was a nice thing to watch. It makes you… peaceful.

"I killed them." He finally answered after a couple minutes passed. I didn't expect him to answer. But when he did, I still wasn't enlightened.

I opened my mouth to ask but he beat me to it.

"Mum, Dad, Cedric… They're gone. They're all gone because of ME!" Tears began to streak down from his eyes. And fucking Dumbledore wouldn't even tell me what's happening! He's avoiding me… Even my so-called friends!" By now, he picked up a stone and threw it into the lake which disrupted its calm and peaceful appearance. And by now, he was sobbing uncontrollably. He picked up a pile of stones, and threw one onto the lake with each word he uttered. "I. Saw. Him. Die. With. My. Two. Own. Eyes. And. Then. Voldemort. Was. Resurrected. And. They. Won't. Even. Believe. Me!" The ducks were scared by now. I could tell. I even had a little fear come across me. But curiosity took over.

"I believe you." He was in the middle of throwing another 'innocent' stone and drowning it in the lake. But then when he heard what I said, he slowly lowered his hand down, still clutching the stone. He was also sweating.

"How much did you hear?" His voice was harsh. It was cold. But it was also spoken as a whisper.

"Everything." I found myself whisper back.

"You aren't… scared?" He asked. Caution evident both in his tone of voice and the emerald orbs that were his eyes.

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe because I can relate to you." I can't believe I divulged that information to him. I know I did, but I didn't care.

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"I mean that I can relate to you." He was still confused. You can tell with his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words how.

"H-how exactly? How can you relate to me? IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'VE SEEN SOMEONE DIE WITH YOUR OWN TWO EYES! IT'S NOT LIKE YOU KNOW THE FEELING OF BEING THE CAUSE OF THEIR DEATHS!" He was quick to criticize others. But instead of being angry, I told him my story.

"I was four years old then," I was still looking at the lake, but to me, it seemed like I wasn't looking into anything. I was stuck inside my memory of the day I regret the most. "My dad was driving. We were heading home from the zoo. It was my birthday. I was so naïve." He finally became silent once again and resorted to listening to my story… very intently. "I was all smiley, and not to mention I was also laughing. While he was driving, I covered his eyes. But I was still giggling mad, not knowing what would happen if I did that. It was a stupid way to say thank you. He kept telling me to get my hands off of his eyes. But he was also smiling. I thought he was having fun as well. But it was not a happy kind of smile. It was a nervous one. He was sweating. And panic was evident in his eyes. But being young, I didn't know any of those things. Everything happened in a blur. There was a dump truck heading our way. I didn't see it. My dad finally struggled my hands loose and when he saw what was heading our way, he shielded me. In the end, he died, and I was unfortunately alive. He gave me the best birthday I ever had. And how did I thank him? I killed him. My mum was never cheery after that. Even though she said she doesn't blame me, I know she did. But I also know that my mum loves me. And I love her. She's the only family I have left. And there was nothing I have ever regretted before." He was looking at me strangely by now. Anger was non-existent in his eyes. What I saw was… an apologetic look. Despite the sad story I related to him, I found out I wasn't crying. But I was smiling. He was the first person I ever told this story to. It felt good telling someone. "That's how I can relate to you."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. What's past is past." I gave him an encouraging smile.

"But you don't look sad?"

"Oh, I am sad. I just don't want to get all depressed again. Trust me, I've been there before. And I didn't like how it felt."

"Yeah. I guess you're right." He also gave a smile. Weak, but it was still a smile. And a genuine one to be exact.

"Besides, what's the point on dwelling on the past? It's not like you can change it, right?"

"Probably not," but there was a certain look in his eyes. Determination? God, this guy has a lot of emotions and frustrations dwelling inside him. Did he really think time travel can be possible?

"So, you're alright now, right?"

"Yeah, thanks." Another smile was present. 'Kinda forced. But it was still a smile none the less. And then we went back to looking at the lake. We were silent. But I found it comfortable.

After a moment, I joked: "You're not going to be all 'depressy' anymore, right?"

My answer was a snort. Perhaps he still is going to be.

But despite that, he joked as well : "Well, it is my birthday today."

With a smile: "Well, happy birthday then!"

He gave a bitter chuckle at what I said.

I gave a sigh, "'Wanna talk about it?"

He though about it for a few minutes and gave an approving nod.

"Let's take a walk."

And with that, he told me everything on what was bothering him. I couldn't believe at what I heard. He believed magic was real, and that there was some psycho egomaniac wizard trying to murder him. I would have thought that he was some guy that just broke out from a mental ward, but because of that certain look in his eyes and the tone he used, I listened and believed. He told me about his friends: Ron and Hermione, and their adventures in their school which he called Hogwarts. He also told me about his adventures before Hogwarts. He told me how his aunt, uncle, and cousin treated him. He told me about a half-giant named Hagrid, and the present he gave him. He said it was an owl. He told me that he named that owl Hedwig. Hedwig was his friend. The way he talked about this stories, it was like I was with him as well. It seemed like I was also battling evil wizard; taking part in a human-sized game of chess; getting sorted into Gryffindor; hating a git of a professor called Snape; defeating a troll that was the reason of their friendship with Hermione; suspecting Malfoy to be the heir of Slytherin; battling a basilisk; facing a memory of the teenage self of that psycho murderer, Voldemort; saving Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister; being scared of dementors; facing a boggart that also transformed itself into a dementors, his worst fear at that time; finding the truth about his parents' deaths; being happy about meeting his godfather, a guy named Sirius Black, the guys whom was in famous to kill a dozen muggles that Halloween night but turned out to be innocent; taking part in the Goblet of Fire competition, and being hated by the whole school in the process; finding Hermione was the only one that believed him; and also watching Cedric die in front of him; and finally watching his arch rival being resurrected.

After he told me his story, I found out that I had tears in my eyes. How could a boy as young as him face all those hardships?

But then I remembered something - he said magic was REAL! "Wait… you said magic was real?"

He nodded once. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. You're the first person I ever said these kinds of things to, well, besides Ron and Hermione, I mean. And to think that you're just a muggle." A muggle? What's that? "Look, thank you. Thank you a lot. Thanks to you it seems like I'm lighter again. Seems like I have already gotten over of my 'depressy' mood." He gave a chuckle, but I was still rooted to the spot. Contemplating on what he was saying. "My name's Harry by the way. Harry Potter."

I shook my head to concentrate on what he was telling me. "Th-That's not what I was asking." I had a feeling that what would happen next was not good – if the heavy thumping of my heart and goose bumps on my skin were any indication. "I hope you can forgive me for this. But here, let me demonstrate. OBLIVIATE!"

All of these things passed my head in the span of just mere seconds, and I immediately ran to the window to make sure on what I saw. It was real. What I saw was real! It really was the boy in the picture! It really was Harry BLOODY Potter!

All these years, I know I knew that boy in the picture. I just didn't know that it was this deep. After the last word that he said to me, it seemed like there was something I was forgetting. It seemed like one piece of the puzzle was missing. It seemed like a piece of my memory was missing. So magic was really real. And what he said was some sort of memory charm. Now, I finally understand. After two years, I FINALLY REMEMBER!

As I watched what was happening in the night sky, I was shocked. There were lights of different colors. There were red, there were green. If I didn't know better, I would just say that they were fireworks. But because of him, I believed in magic.

I gasped. The owl that was following him before was shot by a green light.

"Oh no! That must be Hedwig…" I whispered to no one.

I couldn't believe what that boy has gone through. He lost both his parents. And his aunt, uncle, and cousin treated him badly. I'm lucky I still have my mom. She's the only family I have left. My grandma died six months ago; that's why I resorted to drugs with my gang. I felt alone with my grandma gone, but this gang showed up and I never felt alone… but they really were not my friends. They were just a gang. A gang that left me dealing with the police. I felt bad saying those words to her and planned to leave her all alone. And it was just because of a mere party. I should say sorry to her.

And that was exactly what I did. When I went downstairs, I found my mom with red eyes. She must have been crying. I told her I was sorry over and over again and that I loved her. She smiled at me and hugged me. She told me she loved me as well, and that she doesn't blame me for what happened to dad. Her eyes told me she was saying the truth. Both of us were in tears. But they were happy tears for we finally reunited. She's the only family I have left. And I'm not going to leave her. Thank you Harry Potter. Thank you for everything.

Since then, my life drastically changed. I now didn't use drugs, nor did I smoke with my gang. So, that means: no more stealing, and no more crazy encounters with the police. Hell, I didn't even have a gang anymore. They left me, but I didn't care. For I now finally know that she doesn't blame me. Dad, wherever you are, I love you. And I'm sorry.

Who knew it would only take the boy in the picture to change my relationship with mum? The boy whom I took a picture of using the last thing my grandma left me. The boy who lived a man, and who didn't know my name.

Harry, I thank you for everything. And I hope you have never forgotten me, for I will never forget you until the day I am going to be put in a grave.

Somehow, she knew Harry didn't forget her. And that was exactly what Harry did. He remembered her for the rest of his life.

A/N: I've had this story for a long time in my mind now... But I didn't quite know how to put it in words. But viola! I've done it last week for TWO days nonetheless! I was only able to upload it now 'cause my netbook wouldn't let me get inside . Tsk tsk...