POA Movie Spoiler!!! Just to let you know if you haven't seen the movie yet. But it's not spoiling any major point in the plot. First HP story, mind you. It's a one-shot... Adding a little bit more to the scene where Harry is sitting in his room after he blows up Aunt Marge. Looking at the picture of his parents on the dresser. All right? Have fun and review when you're done!

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The door slammed shut as thirteen year-old Harry Potter stormed into his room. Emotions were pulsing through his veins and striking his heart. Hatred mostly, and a little pain, and a small amount of shock. He didn't mean to blow his aunt up. However, Harry wasn't regretting what happened to his horrible Aunt Marge, after what she said.

Harry stomped to his bed and flopped down angrily. Thoughts buzzed through his head, puzzling him mostly. He could still hear the shouts of Uncle Vernon downstairs in the backyard, calling to his sister who was freely floating around the night sky. Harry glanced around his room and his eyes fell on the picture of his parents resting on his nightstand.

The figures were edged in a warm oak frame. This was no ordinary picture however, because the two people in the photograph weren't posing, they were moving, just like any other picture in the wizarding world.

Harry couldn't hear the rustling of the falling leaves that cascaded towards Earth. He couldn't understand the words James was whispering into Lily's ear as they twirled among the leaves, but Harry could tell that they were loving words by the adoring expression on his mother's face. He couldn't hear Lily's laughter as James spun her around in a makeshift dance. He couldn't feel the early winter wind biting their faces, nor the clicking of Lily's heels on the concrete. The two lovers looked up at Harry from their captured place in time with smiles that stretched easily to their eyes.

Harry couldn't perceive anything in that moment. But he could feel his love for his parents while watching them enjoy life. They weren't deadbeat parents, even if Harry had never grown up with them, they had loved Harry with all their hearts and had proved that the fateful night they lost their lives to protect him. Harry didn't have as many memories of his parents as he would have liked, but the stories people told of them were just like memories. His father wasn't a drunk as Aunt Marge had so mistakenly assumed. James had been the best father, as far as Harry was concerned, he had fought courageously for Harry's life. There had been nothing wrong with Lily either; the fact that Voldemort couldn't touch Harry was proof of his mother's love for him.

Harry was so proud of his parents. He was constantly told that he looked just like his father, except for his eyes, which came from his mother; and he took that compliment with honor and nobility. Whenever he looked at those photos of them, his heart swelled with love, and he realized how much his parents had given him in that one night. He missed them so much.

Harry stood up abruptly and began packing. He wasn't going to stay in this horrible muggle world, a place his parents probably wouldn't have wanted him to live. Harry threw his belongings in his trunk unceremoniously. Just as he was about to slam the top closed, the picture caught his eyes again. He strode over to the nightstand and grasped the picture in his hands and went back to the packed chest. Harry laid his remaining memory of his parents into the trunk carefully on top of schoolbooks and wrinkled clothes. They were still dancing and smiling and laughing. Harry smiled for the first time in days since Marge's arrival and slowly closed the lid. He grabbed the handle and pulled the trunk out of the compact room he occupied, heading to his parent's world, away from the place he despised the most, and towards his real home, his parent's home.

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Hope you like it!! Review!

--Pendragon4--