Harry looked around the 7th years' dormitory bedroom. It was hard to believe he was leaving Hogwarts after all these years.

As he packed, he grew more and more nostalgic. He remembered, as he passed the the window, when he had climbed out of it in his sixth year to get to a Quidditch match when he had overslept. The West Ham soccer team poster reminded him of the fight he and Ron had had about soccer in their first year.

Yeah, he thought as he gathered his parchment and inks slowly from the bedside desk, it was going to be hard to leave Hogwarts after all these years. His trunk got heavier and heavier as he packed, making sure he had left nothing behind.

When his trunk was finally full, Harry closed it and looked around one last time at the sanctuary that was his from the Dursleys for seven years. On an impulse, he got out a quill, got down on his knees, and crawled under the bed. On the wallpaper, in his best handwriting, he wrote,

Harry James Potter.

Then he turned to get back out from under the bed - what Ron would say if he found him there - and found a surprise. He dropped his quill and it rolled away as he stared in shock.

On the underside of the bed, in neat cursive, was the name,

James Harry Potter.

His dad! His dad had had the same bed, and he'd done the same thing as Harry!

Harry stared up at the neat, faded ink, and felt very strange. His dad..

Someone burst into the boy's dormitory, and Harry scrambled out from under the bed, brushing the dust off himself quickly. It turned out not to be necessary, however.

It was Hermione, and she was clutching something in her arms and looking very strange, as if she might cry.

"Hermione - you're not supposed to .." Harry trailed off as he saw the look on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Harry," she said, and her lip quivered as she handed the something in her arms to him. "I found this when I was packing.."

Harry looked down at it. It was a faded Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans Box. But there was something written on it, in very old ink. He rubbed the dust harder off it.

Lily Potter's Memories

His heart gave a funny jolt. He felt Hermione's hand on his arm, and he looked up at her.

She looked back at him, her brown eyes full of sadness, and then kissed him softly on the cheek. "I think you need to be alone." She slipped away.

Harry sat down on his four-poster and opened the box. A small locket fell out. He picked it up. It was a small gold heart on a chain. Engraved on it were the words, Lily and James - Forever.

Next there was a small blue journal. Harry set that aside - he didn't want to read it just yet, somehow.

Last there was a single sheet of paper, covered in cursive handwriting in blue ink. Harry picked it up and looked at it.



To my future child:

Dear, I love you more than anything, and you're not even born yet. James and I both love you, I want you to know that.

Dumbledore's said we won't live very long after having you. I'm sorry, my child. I just hope you know we love you more dearly than life, if it comes to that. I'm writing this to make sure you know that. I'm putting this in the girl's dormitory, where I used to sleep, and someone will find it. If it is a Gryffindor girl, she will know to give it to you.

James and I fell in love many years ago, I think, but we were good friends even before we discovered our love. That made our love stronger, I believe, and it is a wonderful feeling! I hope you fall in love, dear, so that you can know this joy and passion! James and I will have a short life, but in that time, we will have loved a lifetime's worth.

Don't blame yourself for our deaths. I will do what I have to do out of love, and I will not act out of foolishness, anger, or fear. If James and I die for you, it will be worth it, for a child is the most precious thing in the world.

Keep that in mind, my love, and remember that James and I love you, and that we're watching over you. Every moment we share with you, every triumph, every failure, we will share them with you, because there is no parents who ever loved their child like we do. Such a bond can only result in happiness, not sorrow.

We love you, Harry.

Lily Potter, May 12th, 1981.



Harry stared at the blue cursive for a long time. Then, slowly, a tear slipped down his cheek and stained the paper.

The letter fluttered from his hand, and he began to cry.

* * *