James Potter was hungry.

"I am hungry," he said, as he walked into the sun filled kitchen on a blistering hot December morning in the West Country of England. There was nobody in the kitchen. He frowned, upset that there was nobody here to listen to one of his insightful announcements concerning his deepest emotions.

"I am frowning," he said, "because I am upset."

He decided to eat some cereal, as cereal was a delicious snack, that one could enjoy at any time of the day. Also because the cereal was his friend. There were many bits of cereal in an average bowl full of cereal. Bowlfuls, even. Cereal generally meant 'many', as in 'serial' killings. Not just one, but many. James felt as if every crunchy piece of cereal was like a devoted fan. It made him feel as if he had returned to his manly Quidditch days.

He opened the cupboard and located a box of Rice Krispies. Next to the Rice Krispies sat a box of Frosties. James loved both cereals. Now he was in a pickle.

"I am in a pickle," he announced to the assembled cereal boxes. "Fortunately, I do not like pickles, so that will not make this decision any harder."

The cereals did not reply, as they were incapable of speech and human interaction. They could not comprehend human emotions. James was unaware of this. It would have hurt him deeply to learn this callous truth. Lily had been keeping it from him for months.

"I am not aware of this," said James, without really knowing what he was talking about.

His heart told him to select the Frosties. There was a friendly tiger on the box who seemed to beckon to him. James liked tigers.

"I like tigers," he announced. He selected the Frosties. He poured some of the Frosties into the bowl. It was an exquisite sight to behold, his manly arms flexing as he tipped the cereal box in the direction of the bowl. Unfortunately, nobody was around to witness and swoon. This sucked. He had married Lily for this exact reason, and it was unfair that she was now not present to glory in his unending masculine perfection.

"I am pouring the cereal into the bowl," he shouted, lest someone in the house hear and immediately rush to the kitchen to be by his side. The cat entered the room. The cat gave him a scathing look.

"Fear not, cat," said James kindly to the cat. "I know that tigers are of your kind, but it is not the tiger that I wish to consume, merely his wheaten friends."

The cat turned away, disgusted by what he saw.

With the cereal poured, James went to fridge to procure some milk. There was a carton of milk in the fridge. He took it and opened it and tipped it over the bowl.

The carton was empty. Almost as empty as James felt upon realising that he had run out of milk.

"WHY?" he cried, and dropped to the floor. He flung the milk carton at the cat. It was somehow the cat's fault.

"James," said Lily, entering the room with their toddler son in her arms. She set Harry down on the floor and he began to run childishly around the kitchen, as he was a child, and running childishly is kind of what they do. "Don't litter in the kitchen."

"WE RAN OUT OF MILK," James bellowed like an angry trumpet. "HOW WILL I EAT MY FROSTIES NOW?"

"Eat them dry," Lily suggested.

"Eat them dry?" James repeated, sarcasm heavier than the makeup of a prostitute. "Eat them dry? Why don't I just jump off a bridge and have away with it?"

"I'll get more milk later," said Lily nonchalantly. "I used the rest of it to mash up Harry's porridge."

"Blast!" James cried, slamming his fist into his hand. "Why does Harry take everything I love? First your breast, and now this!"

At that moment, there was a large crash. James jumped to his feet and gasped in horror. Harry had pulled the bowl of cereal off the countertop. It had smashed to the ground. Frosties scattered everywhere. James accidentally trod on some, including Clive, James's favourite Frostie, and future godparent to the second child that he and Lily had spoken of one day conceiving, and with a sickening crunch, they turned to dust.

"I am a killer!" he wept, sinking to the ground once more to cradle the remains of his beloved Frosties. "My friends! My comerades! I will never forgive myself!"