It was Christmas at Hogwarts. Harry sat in an armchair in the common room and gazed into the jumping flames of the fire. Ron and Hermione were off together and Harry didn't want to know what they were doing. Ever since they had become a couple, they had started going off, to 'study' apparently. Harry wondered what he would be doing if things were different, if Voldemort hadn't… Harry refused to let that last thought finish. He might be at his home in Godric's Hollow having a traditional family Christmas with his parents. Harry picked up Hermione's library book off the table and tossed it from hand to hand. So much for studying, Hermione, he thought to himself. His friends were so happy together. Harry had no one. Sure, last year he had had a crush on Cho Chang, but after the TriWizard tournament… Every time he looked at Cho, he could see the sadness in her eyes… every time he saw her face; he also saw Cedric's face … 'Kill the spare'… why did he suggest they take the Cup together…Cedric's eyes, blank and cold … people died because of him, his parents, Cedric… Cedric talking to him as an echo … dead… Cedric was once learning magic like every one else… now cold, a body buried in the ground… gone… gone forever… 'Avada Kedavra!' … dead…'Avada Kedavra' …
Gone…like Harry's parents. How Harry wished for them to be alive. He missed them so much. It was like an empty little gap inside him that could never be filled. I should be with them, celebrating Christmas, Harry thought. But Voldemort had stolen that from his family 14 years ago… his parents had died because he had lived… Harry was now alone in this world… he didn't even have memories to look back on of his family… he had been too little… he only had what he'd been told by others… why did this have to happen to him? Why couldn't his parents be alive? Why did Voldemort have to want him dead? One day, Harry thought, I won't be so lucky, my mother won't be there to save me, Voldemort can touch my skin now, how do I know there'll be a portkey to safety? As far as Harry was concerned, he was just lucky.
Every time in his life, whenever he could make a wish, he'd wish for his parents to be alive. He wished on all the stars in the sky, every time he saw the sun rise, he'd wish for his parents to be there. It was only when he got older, he realised that the wish was impossible and it would never come true, his parents were dead and they couldn't come back.
A gust of wind blew through Gryffindor tower and the fire flickered and died, and Harry was sure a little part inside him was dead too. As he closed his eyes to sleep a tear ran down his face, and Harry made a wish once more.