the boy that could have been

eleven years old

Harry lay miserably on the dusty floor, counting down the minutes. Not that it really mattered. He'd never had a proper birthday, not like his cousin Dudley, with his ever-increasing haul of presents and extravagant week-long celebrations. No, not for him, the orphaned boy.

Harry's parents had died in a car crash when he was just a baby, so he didn't really miss them - after all, how can you miss something you never had? Yet, he still often felt a powerful ache of longing. Maybe it was because he was lonely. Thanks to Dudley, he had no friends at all. He just wanted parents to love him the way his aunt and uncle loved his cousin.

Clearly, that wasn't the case, otherwise they wouldn't be holed up in a weird shack on some sort of rocky island, all because of a letter that Harry wasn't allowed to read. It was addressed to him, but that obviously didn't matter to Uncle Vernon. In fact, Harry didn't matter to his uncle. He was convinced that they'd be much happier if Harry disappeared, like the glass in the zoo - although, he supposed, that had reappeared when it trapped Dudley inside.

He laughed quietly to himself as he drew candles onto the cake he had drawn on the floor. Glancing at Dudley's watch, he saw that there were only 10 seconds to go. He was nearly 11! 5...4...3...2...1...He closed his eyes tightly, and although he felt stupid for doing it, he made a wish. I wish that my parents were still here and alive and I had a family. It would never come true, but that didn't stop him from blowing out his makeshift candles. That was probably the only celebration of his birthday he'd get.

At that moment, a loud pop sounded, then the door flew open with a bang. A man came storming in, looking murderous and holding - was that a stick? As Harry adjusted to the shock, a frown spread over his face. This man looked like him! He had unruly black hair - with a bit sticking up at the back, just like Harry's - and he was wearing glasses. Even his nose looked similar! Who could it be? A long-lost uncle?

Dudley awoke with a start and let out a whimper, but the man didn't even look in their direction. Eyes flashing furiously, he slammed the door shut.

"VERNON!" he screamed, causing both Harry and Dudley to jump in alarm, "VERNON, YOU GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Harry could hear whimpering coming from the room that his aunt and uncle were sleeping in - just like Dudley's! The family resemblance was uncanny.

Vernon emerged from his room, trembling at the knees and holding a rifle. Ah, so that was what he'd bought, was it? Harry grew worried for the strange man that had entered; he was sure that Vernon wouldn't hesitate to shoot. However, at the sight of the stranger, both Vernon and his Aunt Petunia (who had emerged behind her husband) let out gasps and paled as though they'd seen a ghost. Vernon whimpered again.

"Y-y-you? B-but h-h-how-" He stammered as Petunia clutched his arm.

"Yeah, it's me." growled the man, "Surprise, I'm alive. And you're gonna pay for what you've put my son through."

Harry let out a gasp, echoing those of Vernon and Petunia. Could it really be his dad? But if so, where the hell had he been? And where was his mother?

The man glanced at him, eyes full of pain, and gave a sad smile and a slight nod. Harry forgot how to breathe. His wish had come true! But how could-

His thoughts were interrupted by a pig-like squeal as the man - Harry's dad! - suddenly shot forward and pinned Vernon against the wall, pointing the stick at the mans throat. For some reason, this seemed to terrify him. Despite being at least three times the size of the man, Vernon was trembling and sweating, cowering beneath the man's steely gaze.

Before anybody could react further, another loud pop sounded, and a red-haired woman ran into the room.