"Bad! Bad boy! Go to your cupboard! Go on, get!" Aunt Petunia yelled at a five year old Harry. Harry tried one last time to explain he hadn't broken the china set; Dudley had, with his remote controlled car. But, as usual, Aunt Petunia was deaf to his protests. She picked him up by the shirt, open the cupboard door, threw Harry in, and locked the door behind her.

Rubbing his arm, where it had contacted with the wall, Harry tried to hold back tears. It wouldn't do to cry. Crying would get him no where. He listened to Dudley whine to his mother

"Mummy . . . scared me so bad . . . Harry wanted to . . . threatened me . . . "

Over and over the word 'Mummy' played through Harry's head. Even at five, Harry realized the huge unjust that had been done to him. Why should Dudley get his parents, when Harry didn't? What did Harry do to deserve this?

Like so many other nights spent in his cupboard, Harry thought about the car accident. What happened? Had they hit something? Someone? Had someone hit them? If so, what happened to the other driver?

Harry felt his mind drift, dreaming about what could have been. His mother, she would be beautiful, perfect at healing cuts and scrapes, at singing a lullaby, at hugs and kisses. At making Harry feel loved. His father would be rugged, and handsome, ever-so-strong, and always willing for a game with Harry, or a bit of rough-housing. He'd have a brother, a younger one. He would be Harry's best friend, the two of them all way going on adventures, exploring, and sneaking cookies from the kitchen together. He would be Harry's responsibility, and Harry would love that. Maybe he'd have a little sister to. Some one to care for, to tease, to beat people up for. Some one to teach him patience.

This family, they'd celebrate each member's birthday properly, and celebrate any small feat someone over came. They'd love each other, and always take care of each other. Life would be as perfect as it could get.

Harry rolled over in his bed, biting his lip. Unable to contain himself, he cried out, "Mum! Dad! Why'd you leave me? Why? What did I do?" Harry sniffed, "I love you and miss you anyway."

Then the tears spilled over, and Harry cried himself to sleep, crying for what could have been, and what truly was.

****

"Oh." A woman whimpered, staring at Harry. She felt her knees give way and slipped.

"Now Lily," a man said, catching her, "Be strong. We have to be. Nothing can be changed. This is the way it is, and we have to make the best of it."

"Oh, your right. I just can't stand this though. He's my baby, James, and never will stop being that. I-I just wished we could be with him."

"We are, Lily dear. Just in a different way. And someday, he'll join us. Until then, we have to be here for him, the best way we can."

"Right." Lily reached a hand out and stroked Harry's cheek. He gave a slight shudder, and rolled over. Lily gave a strangled cry.

"Come on dear, we have to go."

"Give me a moment." Lily leaned down and whispered into her son's ear, "I love you and miss you too. But some day, we'll meet again. Don't ever forget that. It's what helps me get through this." She sat back up. "I'm ready."

"Alright. You go first." Lily nodded and the next minute she was gone. Just like that. James gave one last look at the small, helpless being that was his son and said, "Harry, I'll have you know, your mother is exactly everything you dream he to be. You would have loved her. I know I do." With that, James also disappeared .

Harry rolled over in his sleep, a small smile on his face.