I woke up. I blinked one, two, three times to get my bearings. I was on a bed that screamed comfort with over three blankets. The smell of fresh food flooded my nostrils and lured me out of bed. Through the arch of the doorway stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman with rich red curls and a flawless complexion sprinkled with freckles. Her voice curled around my ears like honey when she called for me to come with her. A man came into view. He curled an arm around the ladies waist and gave a brilliant smile. Kind eyes hidden beneath thin frames of gold. A tear slipped from the woman's green orbs. A sad look adorned both of their faces. I didn't want her to cry, or him to be sad. I rushed towards her; aching to feel the aura of love again instead of the crushing sadness. As I got closer I felt lighter. One two three steps up. When I reached out a hand I felt truly weightless. I never took a step back.
Not far from where this happened police sirens could be heard getting closer. When they arrived, they found a sad sight. A man brought out the starved body of a boy. Every rib can be counted and every bruise could be seen on the unhealthily pale skin. His green eyes unseeing and his black hair matted with blood. The officer took agonisingly slow steps. One. two. Three. Every neighbor gasped when they saw the face. Four. Five. Six. The body was moved onto a gurney. One, two, three, steps back. The one two three inhabitants of said house had fled one two three hours ago. Eventually one of the neighbors called worried about what had happened. The paramedics had tried but the lads heart fluttered one two, three,times, then stopped. The crowd dispersed until there were one, two, three people left. One with a letter, Two with tears. And all three with regrets. Because in one, two, three minutes, young Harry Potter would have been told his legacy. But now the young man would be forever eight, nine, ten.