Chapter Text
The wind slapped across his face as he stood somewhere he knew, but never got to know. It was dark, the old cottages lined along the narrow street, unlit and unalive. Harry was only a year old when his parents died, no, murdered, then lived with his aunt and uncle.
He was told he was nothing, a rag, then within a day, unprepared, he was told he was everything.
He looked around, and although his heart ached he moved forward, everything around looked hazy and unreal. The tiles on the roofs of the old cottages were falling apart, the windows cracked, and again no sign of existence. The streetlight flickered and Harry’s attention shifted towards it, he stepped close to it and when he looked ahead a cottage in front of him was lit and looked so very alive.
He walked closer to it,and looked at the name plate.
“The Potters.” It read.
He wasn't able to grasp what was happening, he might’ve started to hyperventilate, he was in Godric’s Hollow, yes— but how was it possible? It should be in shambles , but now it was bright and glowing like nothing ever happened there, nothing bad, nothing inhuman. His heart and head, both hurt.
This has to be a dream.
He unlocked the gate but it wasn't even locked to begin with. He instantly was engulfed in this warmth like the sun was shining and it was the brightest and the happiest kind of sun, he stood in the yard. He heard movement inside the house, behind the red door somebody or some people were there, definitely. He walked and shuddered to think who might be inside, he wanted to knock and so he did.
His hand went right through the door, he pulled it back and looked at it, that either confirmed this was a dream or Harry Potter was dead and this was..well as muggles said—Heaven, because when he walked in he saw the very two people he always longed to see this way.
And he had imagined this moment again, and again in his head for about a million times, how he'd go home to his house in Godric’s Hollow, he would walk in to see Lily and James, waiting for him. He would imagine them welcoming with the warmest kind of hugs and kisses. And maybe with imagination there was some pointless hoping too.
Lily and James, they were sitting at the table in the kitchen, backs faced towards the door where Harry stood. The whole house was lit yellow, the table was dark brown and had four chairs, two were occupied, they had dark red cushions on them, a very beautiful rug beneath the tables. He moved, unsure and desperate to see his parents' face.
They looked so young and so beautiful—his mother. He wondered if he ever got to call her that. Her red hair, and her eyes so kind, and his dad so brave and he looked just like him. He always liked when people said that.
It was like they were alive through him.
Lily was talking to a baby in James' lap, smiling down at it. The baby had wrapped his tiny hands around Lily’s finger. It was Harry no doubt but he was unscarred.
He reached forward to touch Lily’s hair; it was exactly like Ginny’s. But again it went right through, he placed his hands down on the table his heart was so happy, he never wanted to leave this place. Never wanted to forget.
If he was dead, then be it.
He pulled his hands away like they burned when he realised it didn't go through, so he reached out to the chair, and he could sit, so he sat. Looking at his parents full of love and life.
He could barely make out what they were saying but he tried his best.
“Just your eyes Lily, look at him.”
Tears threatened his eyes, he wiped it up and spoke.
“Everyone says that,” No one looked up at him as Harry spoke, but it was so beautiful to be able to do this and Harry had no idea how? Was it magic? A memory? He did not care.
He sat for so long and watched them move around and he moved along with them, they put Baby Harry to sleep and Lily sang to him, and now they had put music on and were swaying around singing and making dinner.
He might’ve even heard them arguing over whether to cook their dinner the muggle way or not, it had made Harry laugh to see his father give up and cut up vegetables with a knife. He heard a little flickering in the corner, a grin plastered onto his face when he looked at the corner, his grin falling immediately.
It was a black, disoriented fire, taking the shape of a human, it stood in the corner and watched, how long has it been there, no— what was it? Harry had to swallow a lump in his throat to even think that it might’ve been Voldemort. Was this all a trap? He moved behind the figures of his parents against the counters. He did not even have his wand with him, fuck fuck fuck.
The black-fire-human-thing crackled more, and moved forward towards him reaching out his hand to grab onto Harry, the colour drained from his face, he grabbed onto the counters, and screamed panic stricken.
“MOM- MOM-BEHIND U- DAD- JAMES..-”
The real horror came when Harry realised the fire wasn't the part of whatever world he was in, it wasn't here for his parents but for him. He felt his skin prickle as he watched the fire, which stood at a distance, and opened its mouth, but it was only mumbling. Was it an unforgivable curse?
“Hahhhh….eyyyy” A distorted sound made Harry step back further and hid behind his mother, he did not feel very Gryffindor right now.
He felt safe and like he did not have to fight or there were responsibilities he had to fulfil behind his mother, but he was terrified.
“Harr..ryyy!” The voice was getting louder and clearer. He knew it from somewhere. But where?
“Harry! Bloody..” Ron sighs. “Harry!” He shook Harry’s shoulder and he awoke, drenched in sweat, hardly breathing. He grabbed onto Ron’s arm, he wanted to wail and scream at the same time. Instead he cried and cried, trembling, and Ron just lent Harry his support and looked at him with so much empathy that it was nauseating.
“You were tossing and turning all over,” Ron said when Harry seemed to have calmed down from hyperventilating, “another possession-episode?”
Harry shook his head, he felt his scar with his hand, it did not hurt.
“No. It-It was different. I saw Lily and James- it was like they were alive Ron, they were dancing, singing- even arguing.” Harry chuckled in between his sobs. “It was brilliant.”
Ron was smiling down, his red hair reminded of Lily in front of him again, singing.
“But then why were you so scared? Did— you-know-who..?” Ron asked, seeming afraid to trigger him again.
“No." Harry shook his head again."No. Or— I don't think so?”