I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I pretend to.
Harry smiled at his younger son. He had just brought him home from the eye doctors, and he had gotten glasses just like his father's.
Albus Severus was the spitting image of Harry, and now they were even more alike. His glasses made him look like a younger Harry.
"Dad look! We look alike!" he exclaimed.
"We do, don't we?" Harry smiled.
"Wait," Albus said. He dashed out of the room and upstairs into the playroom.
Harry stood, watching his son. They looked alike, except for the scar. The lightning scar on his forehead. That scar that had caused him so much pain. The scar that had marked him as an equal.
Before Harry had time to dwell on that fact, Al came running back into the room, marker in hand.
"Dad look!" he pushed back his black bangs, revealing; a thin red lightning bolt on his forehead. "Now we really look alike!"