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What would happen if Voldemort died when Harry was a child? What if, instead of the killing curse backfired and it simply killed the evil monster? The questions constantly rounded Harry's head along with many others, most including the word 'why'. As it was, Voldemort was very much alive, only locked away. The only thing that remained was the undying memory that had latched its self to Harry's mind that night. Harry sat up in bed after another hellish night of screaming and sweating. Hermione had put spells on his room a long time ago so he wouldn't wake the others in the house anymore. Remus and Sirius, Harry's gay uncles had become increasingly distressed when Harry told them he saw Voldemort. Hermione and Ron were upset too but, as they had not lived with the horror, not as much. Remus and Sirius would come running into the room nearly every night to wake Harry from his nightmares. When he assured them he was fine they would return to the room they shared. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley had moved their family into the house when Remus and Sirius had finally admitted they couldn't handle Harry's situation on their own. Fred and George had bought their own flat with the money made from their joke shop. Ron and Hermione shared a bedroom constantly although Hermione refused to move in. Ginny had left to live with her twin brothers and paid rent for them by working at their joke shop. All the other Weasleys had moved out a long time ago.

"Good morning sleepy head!" Tom said leaning against Harry's bureau. He was a head taller than harry with thick brown locks. He wore a Slytherin uniform. Ignoring him, Harry grabbed his clothes from the chair next to his bed. He got up and changed into jeans and a tee. "Ignoring me are we?" Tom asked casually. "Well, you should go out for breakfast today. Uncle Sirius may have good intentions for making breakfast but if I have to watch you eat any more of his food I think I'll throw up." Tom continued.

"Can ghosts throw up?" Harry asked, stepping out of his room and shutting to door behind him and Tom.

"I'm not a ghost Harry. I am a memory." Tom said, frustrated with Harry's misconception.

"Never mind." Harry said sighing.

"Good morning Harry!" Hermione said cheerfully stepping out of the room she shared with Ron.

"Cheers." Harry said sourly.

"Voldy again?" Ron asked, following Hermione.

"That is not my name." Tom said flicking Ron in the head, his finger going right through Ron's face.

"Tom says we should go out for breakfast." Harry said walking down the stairs toward the kitchen. There was two distinct smells in the air, smoke, and bananas.

"I hope Sirius hasn't found a way to burn Bananas." Hermione said sniffing.

"He was trying to make banana bread." Tom said, following Harry to the kitchen, while trying not to get walked through by Hermione or Ron.

"Tom says he burnt banana bread." Harry said over his shoulder. He cast a second glance over his shoulder and saw Tom make a face at Hermione as she stepped on him, her foot going right through his leg as if it wasn't even there. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Where are we going for breakfast then Harry?" Tom asked jumping in front of harry and walking backwards so he could face Harry.

"Can't you go plague someone else for a while?" Harry snapped.

"I would very much like to but as it is, I am locked away in this crazy head of yours. Oh, I feel that hate you have for me boiling away inside you but there is nothing either of us can do about it. We are stuck with each other." Tom said with an evil grin.

"Bogart face! Your mother was an ugly banana!" Sirius's voice could be heard, yelling from the kitchen. Ron, Hermione, Tom, and Harry stopped right outside the door, none of them brave enough to enter. They were soon joined by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and last came Remus.

"I'll go in then." Remus said after some squabbling among them began as to who would go first. Remus opened the door and a cloud of black smoke burst out. Coughing and waving his hand in front of him, Remus entered. After a while Remus called for the others, telling them that it was safe to enter.

As the six of them opened the door and walked in hesitantly they were greeted by a clean kitchen and the smell of fresh pancakes. Remus, still in his pajamas, had donned an apron and was flipping pancakes on the stove. Sirius sat at the table pouting with black soot covering him from head to toe.

"OH PANCAKES!" Tom squealed, running up to hug Remus, his arms going right through the waist of the taller man. Remus turned to Harry, a searching look on his scarred face. Hermione cast a quick spell and in an instant Sirius was clean, and fresh; all the debris gone. Harry let himself smile, he loved magic.

"I'll get the butter and syrup." Mrs. Weasley bustled over to the refrigerator, taking out the butter and syrup and putting them on the table after Ron quickly set the table with silverware. Hermione grabbed napkins and put them around the table as Harry passed around plates.

"Harry, I really want you to like me." Tom said as Harry sat down to eat. Harry looked up at Tom searchingly before rolling his eyes and cutting up his food.

"How is my favorite godson?" Sirius asked sitting down next to Harry with a wide grin on his face.

"I'm your only godson." Harry said dryly.

"You're avoiding the question." Sirius sang, putting his arm around Harry. Sirius pulled Harry into an awkward hug before eating his food. Everyone's attention turned to Harry, waiting for his answer.

"Say You're fine. That's what they want to hear." Tom whispered in Harry's ear.

"I'm fine." Harry lied. He was tired, and last night's dream had really upset him. Usually Harry dreamt about Voldemort; Tom could control his dreams and took advantage of it most of the time. Memories never sleep so Tom had nothing better to do other than plague Harry all through the night. Usually Tom simply talked on and on with no end, but sometimes there were images of a snake, or people dying. Last night Harry had watched his parents die. Harry had watched the night through the eyes of his parent's killer.

Harry stalked up to the house. He knew who it belonged to, he had seen it before. He opened the gate with a casual wave of the hand. He walked up to the door with snake like movements. Taking out his wand, he unlocked and opened the door. James Potter was on the stairs, and turned around, startled by the sudden intruder. He quickly produced his wand, but Harry was too fast. He watched as James' body twisted and contorted on the floor into unnatural angles. A cry of pain erupted from James' lips and a lone tear made its way down his cheek. His glasses fell off as he hit his head against the floor. James was trying to kill himself by banging his head against the hard wood stairs. After all that pain Harry finally killed him. All that marked the end of the hero that was James Potter was a flash of green light. The night outside was left unchanged, the darkness blanketing the little town outside never wavering. Harry stepped over James' lifeless body with his bare feet, skating up the stairs to find Lilly looking at him, a horrified expression on her face. There was a crying infant in her hands as she clutched him close to her. Sweet Lilly Potter had witnessed her husband's torture and eventual murder. She screamed and then turned to run. She rushed into Harry's first bedroom and slammed the door behind her, as if that could stop someone like Voldemort. As Harry blasted the door open Lilly fell to the ground. She hugged her baby close, crying uncontrollably, her red hair falling into his scrunched up little face. With a simple flash of green she too was ripped from this world. Harry watched as the light consumed his mother and took her away from him, never to return. Lastly, he turned to baby Harry, the crying little boy who had just rolled out of his mother's arms as she died. He pulled himself into a sitting position, looking up at Voldemort's cold eyes. There was so much hate and evil in those dark eyes. Harry raised his wand, preparing to kill the small babe. The green light erupted from his wand and speed towards the crying child but instead of engulfing him, it bounced off as if repelled by his skin. It bounced off baby Harry and sped towards Voldemort. It engulfed his body and as he fell to the ground in a crumpled heap he felt the little remaining warmth leave his body. He felt his consciousness rush towards the child and felt his conscious mind resonate with the mind of the baby. Was he a ghost attached to the child he wanted only a few moments ago to kill or was he a memory that was only accessible to the child?

Harry sighed, remembering the dream. He turned around to look at Tom who was standing behind him. Why had this teen turned into such a monster? Why had Tom showed Harry the memory of his parents' murder? Why was Harry the only one that was able to see Tom? Why had it been Harry that was plagued with the unending memory of man that killed his parents?

THE END