Disclaimer: The beloved JK Rowling rightfully owns Harry Potter and co. I only own this story line. :)

A/N: This is my first official non-slash HP fiction. I hope you guys like this. ~ =p This is just a short ficlet about a certain boy we all know named Harry who had just witnessed Voldemort's return. Please let me know what you think, by reviewing!

A SHADOW IN THE DARK

By Moira

Unknown shadows illuminated the midnight sky. The air seemed to be enshrouded with a swirling mist, too thick to see anything past five feet. Not a sound could be heard as he walked onwards with no prior knowledge on where he was going or for that matter where he was stepping on. He found himself in a place that was made up of practically nothing. Only the shadows reminded him that he was somewhere for what purpose he couldn't comprehend. The shadows teased him and kept on beckoning him to come towards them. He shivered but in spite of that, he ignored their call. Like a blind man he walked on and on endlessly. Not knowing when to stop or where. The darkness was confusing him. The shadows were taunting him. They were making him dizzy. But where could he rest? Was there even a place for him to rest? His breathing became more short and rapid. He had to stop now. He couldn't go on anymore. He decided to just lie down for a while. Just for a little while, and then he would move on again until he could find a way out of the darkness.

And then he heard it. A voice. A very familiar voice. He knew what the voice was telling him. He had heard the same lines being spoken to him before. It came from nowhere and yet he could hear it everywhere in the darkness that surrounded him. It gave him the courage to go on. And it spoke in a whisper repeatedly making his hair all over his body go up.

"Your mother's coming…she wants to see you…it will be all right…hold on…"

It was his dad, calling him, no, giving him a spark of light in the darkness. He cried out a reply encouraging the voice to tell him where he could find his mother. But most of all, he cried out asking him to come closer so that he could see him and bring him out of the darkness. But the voice kept on saying the same thing over and over again. And he cried out one more time but his efforts were put to waste. The voice kept on repeating itself, making him even more desperate to reach out to the voice.

His throat felt parched. It was hard for him to swallow. He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks, but he dared not wipe them off. He felt suffocated and tired, so very tired, and frightened. Still the voice kept on saying the same thing over, and over, and over…

STOP!!!

Why don't you answer me?

It became silent. He became silent. Not a voice or a sound could be heard anymore. Only the same still blackness was present. It was then that he wished that he could still hear the voice, his voice. But all was silent and motionless.

From the shadows emerged a solitary figure of a tall man with a very untidy hair. He beckoned to him to move closer, and this time he was not afraid of the shadow. He stepped forward to meet this mysterious shadow. There was something about him that was familiar. He knew in his heart that he should know this shadow. Observing the tall man closely, he could see an exact carbon copy of himself. And then it became clearer to him. The outline of the face, the shape of the nose, the untidy hair it was too coincidental.

Father?

The shadow smiled at him sadly. There was pain in his eyes and grief, but there was also a spark of hope. 

I'm scared Father. Everything's changed. Vold—emort's back. And I don't know what to do.

The shadow-his father just nodded at him. He reached out his hands to him. He prepared himself to feel the coldness in his father's hands as it touched his own, but he was surprised to feel only warmth. The warmth and heat in his father's hands flowed and spread throughout his body, calming him and giving him peace of mind. And with that one small gesture, he felt a kind of fatherly love that he never had experienced before (or if he had he did not remember it).

Thank you.

A single teardrop rolled down from his father's eyes.

He did not know how long he was standing there facing his father and just looking at him. In fact, he didn't care. Just being this close to his presence was all that mattered. He promised himself that he would never forget this moment. He would never forget his sad yet hopeful smile, his warmth as he touched his hand. 

After what seemed like an eternity, his father smiled at him for the last time, and vanished…leaving him all alone in the darkness. But it didn't feel dark anymore. He could see his surroundings now. He knew now where he was going to go. But he still had a long way to go.

And in the peaceful silence that filled the once dark place, he heard his father's voice in the midst giving him hope and encouraging him to move forward.

****

Harry Potter woke up at daybreak, smiling. There was a gentle rap in the window and Harry saw his owl Hedwig looking a bit irritated as she was carrying some heavy objects with her. He let her inside and she dropped three presents on his lap. He gave her some nibblers and she perched herself on his small desk, stretching her tired wings as wide as she could before nestling herself for her slumber. Harry took all this with a gentle laugh. 

It was a brand new day. He wanted to accomplish as many things as he could within that day. But all he wanted to do now was to open up his birthday presents.

 *****

-fin-