Harry Potter didn't remember his parents.
Sometimes, he had dreams, some so very vivid that it took him a few moments after waking to realize they had been dreams at all. He saw his mother and father in his dreams, and each time he saw them, they were happy. They were laughing, talking, hugging each other, dancing...
It was disappointing when he finally opened his eyes and faced the reality.
His parents were gone.
He had nightmares as well as dreams - nightmares about the day Lily and James Potter were murdered. Nightmares, filled with snippets of his mother's voice, screaming, "No! Not Harry! Not him, please! Kill me instead!" and his father's voice, shouting, "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-!"
A blast of green.
One last scream.
A deep, bone-chilling laugh.
And Harry woke up.
He was in the middle of reading A Wizard's Guide to Deadly Curses (Second edition! Complete with Counter Curses!) when he heard Ron shout from the other side of the Gryffindor common room.
"Hey! Stop!"
Harry lifted his head, just in time to watch as his friend lunged across the room and hit the ground, pinning his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters beneath him. Harry winced at the growling, snarling sounds the book produced and wonder if it would be strong enough to pull itself out from under Ron and attack someone.
"These books-" Ron managed to get up off the floor, holding the book closed so it wouldn't take off his hand, "-are going - to be - the literal - death - of - me-"
"Don't be such a baby!" Hermione piped up from the other side of the common room, looking up from the essay she was writing. "Remember what Hagrid said about the books? Do you guys listen? You have to stroke them!"
"Stroke them!" Ron said, straining to get the struggling book under control. "At this rate, I won't have any fingers left to stroke it with!"
Hermione groaned, slammed her study book shut, and marched over to where Ron stood, her arms crossed. They were lucky the common room was empty besides Hermione, Ron, and Harry, or else, there might have been an audience to watch the quirrel. "Honestly, Ron," Hermione said crossly.
Ron groaned sarcastically. "Okay, fine! Nice book...nice, vicious, biting, monster book...please don't rip my head off, book..."
Harry rolled his eyes and continued reading, although his thoughts were elsewhere. The past few days, his thoughts had been elsewhere, never fully on his work. He kept thinking about the dementors...about his expecto patronum charm to use in defense against dementors...more importantly, about his parents…
"Ron, that isn't how you do it! Give it here!" Hermione ordered, holding out her hand expectantly. Ron looked more than happy to hand over the book, and once it was in Hermione's grasp, he took a step backwards. "Let me see…" Hermione said. "Nice book...gentle book…" She ran her finger up and down the book's cover, and Ron rolled his eyes, muttering, "That's exactly what I was doing…"
"That's it! See, Ron? It worked - OW!" Hermione stopped abruptly, dropping The Monster Book of Monsters and shaking her hand back and forth furiously. "It BIT me!"
"I don't blame it!" Ron snapped, once again chasing his book across the room. "I'd bite, too, if someone talked to me like that!"
"But you were doing the same thing!"
"You told me I was doing it wrong!"
"You were doing it wrong!"
Ron threw Harry a pleading look, but Harry pretended not to notice. He wasn't interested in getting involved with Ron's and Hermione's fights. They'd bickered a lot, more often than usual, in fact, and it was beginning to get unbearable.
When Ron finally managed to catch the monstrous book, he threw it in a trunk and locked the trunk shut, sitting on top of it for good measure. "It's not worth it," Ron moaned. "If I had the choice between staying in Hagrid's class or staying in touch with my fingers and hands, I'd choose the latter."
Hermione groaned. Harry said nothing.
"Well, I'm going down for dinner," Hermione said, "in case either of you two want to know." She shot a harsh glance at Ron and looked back at Harry. "You coming, Harry?"
Harry shook his head. "No thanks. I'll catch up with you two later."
"Got it," Hermione said, nodding. She threw one more sour look at Ron and stormed out the portrait hole. Soon after, although looking reluctant, Ron made a move to follow.
"Sure you don't want to come down, Harry?" he asked, one foot already through the exit.
Harry nodded. "I'm sure," he said. "I'll come down a little later."
Ron shrugged, and was gone.
Finally alone, instead of enjoying the peace and quiet which had become a rarity, Harry stood up, gathered his books, and headed up the staircase, into the boys' dorm.
He wasn't in the mood to study.
He wasn't in the mood to do anything.
The dorm was empty; everyone must have been in the Great Hall for dinner. Harry had to admit, he was glad to finally be alone. He liked his friends' company, but sometimes, it was better to have at least a little bit of alone time.
He put away his books and sat on the edge of his bed, not knowing what to do. He wished he could go see Professor Lupin, maybe try his expecto patronum charm again before it was time to sleep, but he knew he couldn't. Not right now. Besides...he was almost too preoccupied to pay attention to anything.
Slowly, he stood and turned to the bedside cabinet, pushing his books aside. It didn't take him long to find exactly what he was looking for; the leather-bound photo album Hagrid had given to him two years before. Harry ran his finger over the cover of the album as if he was trying to calm down The Monster Book of Monsters, and after a moment's hesitation, flipped the book open.
The first page had some of the most beautiful pictures; his mother and father raising their hands, waving, almost as if they could see him. Harry had discovered the charming yet queer thing about pictures in the wizard world: the pictures moved. They didn't stay still, like pictures in the Muggle world.
It was a tad odd, granted...but oh so beautiful.
Tears already stinging his eyes behind his glasses, Harry turned the page.
The next pictures were even more happy than the last. His mother and father were sitting at tables in restaurants, laughing merrily. His mother's dark red hair was in a loose bun, and her green eyes gleamed and shone with joyfulness.
Harry was always told he had his mother's eyes, and thanks to the album, he finally saw what they meant. He had his mother's eyes, but the rest of him looked exactly like his father.
A tear rolled down his cheek. He never knew his parents, not really. Not personally. He was but a babe when they were murdered.
But right now...he wasn't crying out of sadness, or out of longing.
Right now, he was crying out of...joy.
He would much rather see his mother and father happy, even in photos, than hear their last screams and pleas before their deaths. He would much rather imagine them full of joy and happiness than fear and terror.
He leaned against the wall for a brief moment before sinking to the floor, his eyes never leaving the pictures in the album. The pictures continued, and Harry studied each one of them carefully. More tears collected in his eyes.
Seeing these pictures...they almost looked real...Harry imagined himself with his mother and father, playing in the events going on while the picture was being taken. He imagined meeting his mother and father, running to them, throwing his arms around them…
He brushed his tears off his cheeks and continued through the album. In the next picture (he was about a quarter way through the book now), he saw a picture with his mother and father standing in what looked like a field. His mother was holding her hand forward, and a silver engagement ring flashed against the sunlight.
Harry put his fist against his mouth to stuffle a choked sob, and turned the page. The next pictures were of his parents' wedding day, and it was a beautiful set of pictures at that. The more pictures Harry looked at, the more he cried, silent tears cascading down his face. He flipped the page, looked at the pictures, smiled, cried, and repeated, flipping page after page after page…
...sometimes, the pictures felt so real. They felt oh so real, and sometimes, Harry imagined himself reaching towards his parents…
...reaching...reaching...reaching...never quite grasping…
Oh, he missed them...he never quite knew them...but this...this album was enough to make him miss them a thousand times more than he missed them normally. He loved the album; he treasured it. It had to be one of his most prized possessions.
Sometimes, it made the agony of knowing his parents were gone a thousand times worse.
But other times, it made the agony more bearable.
His parents lived great lives. They did wonderful things, these pictures were proof - smiling, dancing, cheering, laughing, waving - and for the utmost time, Harry pretended they weren't just pictures. He imagined they were standing in front of him, waving, smiling, dancing...if he tried hard enough, he could picture it perfectly, almost as if it was actually happening right before him…
By the time he reached the end of the book, his face was soaked in tears, and his glasses were sliding off his nose. Harry took his glasses off entirely and set them aside, rubbing his hands over his eyes, laughing softly, much like his parents had done in the photos he'd admired for what must have been an hour.
He looked down, put his glasses back on, and studied the very last paper in the album.
His mother and father, once again, waving at him. They were standing at a dock with a grand cruise ship in the background - maybe they were on a business trip, or maybe they were going on the ship just for fun, Harry couldn't tell.
What he could tell were the words his mother was mouthing...it seemed so real...almost as if she were saying them directly to him…
I love you, she mouthed, smiled, and waved. Next to her, his father mouthed the same thing and waved right alongside her.
Another tear fell. Harry couldn't help it.
"I love you, too," Harry whispered.
Harry Potter didn't remember his parents...not really, anyways…
But he knew that no matter how long they were gone, and no matter how hard it was, his mother and father would always be with him...they would always love him.
And he would always love them back, even though he'd never had the chance to tell them.
Author's Notes:
This is my first attempt at a Harry Potter fanfiction. I just read book 3 in the series, and I can't wait to read more, but for now, I just...I wanted to write about these characters, because they're amazing, and I love them all…
And sadly, they don't belong to me. They belong to J. K. Rowling, obviously, so, yeah. Let me know what you guys think! I might write more Harry Potter fanfiction eventually...I guess it all depends on whether or not you guys think I should continue…
Anyways, that's about it! :)
Until next story!
-BeyondTheClouds777