Harry Potter always thought of himself as a normal, scrawny boy, with shaggy black hair, which always stuck up in the back, and emerald green eyes. His eyes, his most prominent feature, were a character he inherited from his mother. His aunt Petunia informed him of this, but she only told this one time, when he was very small, and she refused to speak of it again. His eyes, apart from the thin, lightning shaped scar on his forehead, were his favorite feature, and over them, he wore large, wire rimmed spectacles. He liked his glasses, even though the piece over his nose were wrapped in a great many of inches of tape from all the times his cousin, Dudley had punched him in the nose. Harry knew others thought of glasses as a bothersome contraption to mask the ability to see well, but this was not true. His glasses were very good for him, because if he did not have them, he could not find spectacular hiding spots in which to hide from his cousin. His glasses were the only thing that his aunt and uncle had ever bought him, apart from an ice cream that a vendor at the zoo insisted upon, seeing as Dudley had got one, as did his friend Piers Polkiss. He thought of this as quite sad, because the glasses had only cost a few pounds. He always wore them, except at night, and he had gone through a great many things with them. He had been wearing them the night he received his letter from Hogwarts, this was one of the happiest days of his life. He then though, I couldn't have seen Ginny on our wedding day, I couldn't have seen her amazing smile, the lively glow surrounding her, I couldn't have seen her tears, her laughter. He looked back at all the lovely memories he had, and realized, all of them were with his glasses. He looked down at the worn pair of spectacles in his lap and realized that he would not have defeated Tom Riddle if not for the pieces of wire and glass he held in his hand. As Teddy, his godson had pointed out on his fifth birthday; he might have killed Voldemort sooner if he had kept his glasses on during crucial battles. Harry had thought of this before, and after telling Teddy his glasses hadn't fallen off that much, Teddy recommended an elastic strap. It was clear to Harry that the youngster knew what he was talking about, and ordered one off the web soon after. And still, there they lay. About to be replaced. The light in the dark room increased as the eye doctor entered the room. "Mr. Potter, we are pleased to tell you that the results from your tests all point in the direction of some new glasses." Harry looked up at the doctor. "Um, does that mean that I have to get rid of the ones I where now?" He asked. The doctor looked at him quizzically. He sighed at Harry and said, "That is, usually how one goes about this business. You can go talk to Lydia in the optical outfitting department about a new pair, I don't deal with spectacles, just with the eyes themselves." He looked back at Mr. Potter and saw something he'd never seen before. The grown man was sitting in the seat, looking down at the simple, circular spectacles in his hand, and as the doctor watched, a single, glimmering tear dripped down Mr. Potter's long, thin noes onto the scratched glass of the left lens. The doctor looked at Harry for a few more moments, and finally said, "Are you ready to go Mr. Potter?" Harry looked up at him, withdrawing a clean, pressed, white handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping his face thoroughly. On their way down the stairs, Harry asked the doctor, "And you don't think you could do something to let me keep my glasses, I've been through a lot with them, and I would really like to keep them." The doctor suddenly stopped. He turned to Harry and with a kind smile he said, "We'll see what we can do."