"Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full, except for the one at the very end of the train.

This only had one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep against the window…He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed…" (Rowling 82-83)

Harry glanced at the man again, some sort of familiar feeling in his gut. He missed whatever Hermione said next, too busy staring at the ill man. A sudden thought drifted across his mind.

Mooooey!

"-what were you going to tell us? Mate?" Harry blinked, and jerked his head back towards his two friends who looked nervous.

He shook his head. "I'll tell you later.' He drifted into thought as Ron and Hermione ate and read, respectively.

He turned to look out the window, watching the man out of the corner of his eye, and realizing he was the DADA teacher. Although it was a person who could potentially harm him-look at the other adults in his life-something about the man made him feel safe and protected. He shook his head in annoyance. Safe, Harry? he asked himself with a snort. Yeah, I bet he tries to kill me by spring. And yet. His intuition about the other two teachers hadn't been wrong. He turned to face the man fully.

Light brown hair flecked with gray. So probably prematurely, based on his face, Harry mused. The rest of his face was sprinkled in scars, the biggest going across his nose horizontally. It was old, from what Harry could tell, based on experience. And yet his face had a sense to it that spoke of a younger man than his qualities would have people believe.

Harry turned back towards the window and watched the clouds, feeling almost content, and forgetting about the serial killer who was on the loose and looking for him. He closed his eyes and slept.

A man is holding a baby. The baby smiles with bright green eyes and laughs as the man throws him up in the air. "There we go, Prongslet!" the man whoops loudly. "You were born to fly even before a broom, eh?"

"Padfoot!" Another voice scolds the grey-eyed man. "Be careful! Lily will be cross if she finds Harry on the ceiling again." He raises his eyebrows and holds his scarred arms out for the baby. "C'mon, Harry. It's almost naptime."

Tears start to bloom in the baby's eyes as he recognizes the last word. The scarred man rocks him slowly on his shoulder, as the grey-eyed man smiles, and the baby's eyes start to droop. A hum begins and the baby yawns. "Ni' Paddy. Ni' Mooey," his voice slurs as he falls asleep.

Harry is awoken by a hand on his shoulder. "Hey mate. We figured you were famished; trolley's here."

Harry took a moment to stretch as his brain woke too. For a moment, he remembered a part of his dream: a feeling of being content, but it washed away as he moved to place his order of sugary sweets.

Works Cited

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. USA: Pottermore Limited, 2015. Print.