They looked up to see a door appearing between number 17 and 19, which grew into a large white house. Paint was chipping from the outer walls, and the inside was completely dark. Harry took a deep breath and approached the door, Ron and Hermione following directly behind him.

Harry stumbled on the front step, placing his hand on the doorknob. He twisted it, pushing the door open ever so slowly. Behind him, Hermione was shaking, and she had placed her hand on Ron's shoulder to steady her. Harry's stomach lurched as he pushed the door open to reveal a dark, empty house. He pulled his wand from his pocket, muttering "Lumos." His wand ignited, lighting their way. A table sat in the front entry way, a picture sitting upon it. Harry picked up the picture, holding his wand close to it. There stood Lily and James, both smiling widely, Harry in Lily's arms. Harry hardly recognized himself. His forehead lacked the scar he'd gotten so used to seeing, and he had yet to wear glasses. He had little hair, yet it was still poking wildly in all directions. Harry was looking around curiously, a grin on his baby face. Hermione and Ron peered over his shoulder, smiling.

Harry peeled his eyes away from the photograph and wandered up the stairs. Dust had settled on the carpeted floors, giving the house a very musty smell. Ron and Hermione followed behind him, curious as to what lie ahead.

When Harry reached the top of the stairs, his heart was beating so hard he was afraid it would beat right out of his chest. There were four doors leading off the landing. He opened the first to reveal a rather small bathroom with a bathtub, toilet, and large counter that held the sink. The mirror was larger than most. He stepped in front of it, watching his reflection. He hadn't seem himself in ages. His hair was messier than ever, and his face was dirty. i I need a shower /i , he thought silently to himself. His scar poked through his ellongating hair. Looking at it in the dusty mirror, his stomach lurched. This was the place where he'd gotten the scar fifteen years earlier. It was an extremly weird feeling. He was filled with anxiety.

Hermione and Ron stood on the two top steps, watching Harry examine the house. He exited the bathroom and opened another door. This one revealed a small linnen closet. There were several shelves filled with blankets, towels and sheets. He closed the door, seeing as it was really of no importance to him.

The next door he opened enclosed a medium sized room that held a two-person bed, a dresser and a desk. He walked in, looking every way. This had to be his parents room. He entered, dragging his fingers along the desk as he passed, making his way towards the dresser. There sat another picture; this one made Harry's stomach lurch, and his knees buckled. This must have been of his parents' wedding. There stood Lily, in a long, beautiful white dress, hugging James, both smiling huge smiles. Next to them stood a man Harry immediatly recognized and smiled at; Remus Lupin.

Remus, in this picture, looked younger - of course, he would, since he had aged more than fifteen years since this picture had been taken. His hair was brown without a speck of grey, only a single scar on his young face. Next to Remus stood another man with black hair, who was tall and appeared to be laughing.

Sirius had also aged severley between the time of the picture and the day of his death - having spent twelve years in Azkaban in between, Harry had to look more closely before realizing it as actually Sirius. He had lost a large amount of weight in Azkaban, and his eyes had sunken into his head a bit. His hair was smooth and shining in the mid-afternoon light.

On the end of the line of people stood another man. Again, it took Harry a minute to realize that it was Peter Pettigrew.

The Peter in the picture was, again, much different than he was now. He had a similar build - short and stout. He still had the same rat-like nose and bucked teeth, but his hair was much fuller, lacking any bald spots, and actually had color; a chestnut color. Harry loathed Pettigrew. No, Harry thought, I despise him. I hate him.

Harry's stomach did summersaults as he looked into the eyes of the people in the photograph. Only two of the five people pictured were still living - Remus and Peter. Only, Peter was the one Harry wanted dead; all the rest, he wanted alive. Since his parents had died at a young age, Harry looked to Remus and Sirius for guidance, along with Dumbledore and Hagrid. He shook at the thought of loosing his last adult confidents - Hagrid and Lupin.

Harry was suddenly shook from the photograph when he heard stirring from the doorway. His head snapped up to see Ron and Hermione, standing uncomfortably outside the door. He left the room, securing the door behind him.

The thought of the last remaining room shook Harry. He feared what he might see. He opened the door to a young child's room, with a crib, changing table, and mobile. He smiled faintly into the bedroom he had once slept in. He stood in front of the crib, running his hand along the railing. "My mum stood here," he said quietly. Hermione wiped tears from her eyes, and Ron placed his arm around here.