the boy that could have been

home sweet home pt1

The woman smiled weakly, "Oh, we're real alright, and we've got a lot of catching up to do, but let's not do it here. Are you ready to go? Have you got all your stuff with you?

"What stuff?" Harry asked miserably. The woman's - his mother's! - eyes, so similar to his that it was almost like looking in a mirror, flashed angrily and the man's - his dad's! - face darkened, lips tightening angrily.

"Oh, when I come back and-" James began, but he was cut off by a look from his wife, "Okay, okay, not the time. Ready to go son?"

Harry felt a small bubble of happiness inside him at the word 'son'. He didn't really know this man, but he clearly mattered to him! He was part of a family! Wondering how he could ever have hesitated to leave with them, Harry nodded eagerly and jumped to his feet.

"So, how did you get here? Please tell me we don't have to row again, I can't swim very well and the water is a bit frightening." Harry realised what he'd just said and his eyes widened, "Not that I'm scared of course, I'm not a baby! I just meant- I mean- um..."

He inwardly kicked himself. He'd finally found his parents, and here he was making this bad of an impression? They'd want to get rid of him straight away! Maybe they'd change their minds and leave him here. Biting his lip, he put his head down. He didn't want to watch them leave, he didn't think he could take it.

Tears sprang to his eyes, but all of a sudden he felt a reassuring hand upon his shoulder and looked up into his dad's face. His eyes were still sad, but he was smiling at Harry.

"Don't worry kiddo, we're not taking a boat. Now, we have a lot to explain but we'd rather not do it here, so you'll have to trust me here. Hold onto my arm - that's it, very tightly - and don't let go. And, well, prepare yourself."

Harry felt a rush of nervousness, but despite having only just met him, there was a look in his eyes that made him trust James. Sure, there was a hint of mischief there too, but the good kind. He tightly clutched his dad's arm - his dad, his real dad, he was right here! - and shut his eyes in anticipation for - well, he didn't know what, but something.

All of a sudden, a very weird sensation came over him, as though he was being squeezed down some sort of tunnel, except everything was spinning, and he didn't know which way was up or down, or where his head was, or his arms and legs, and the only thing he was aware of was the feel of James' arm.

Then, just as suddenly as it had arrived, the feeling stopped. Harry's legs wobbled and a wave of nausea washed over him. Oh god, was he really going to be sick? Another great first impression.

He stumbled towards a nearby bush - where the hell were they? - and emptied his stomach into it, tears springing to his eyes at the feeling. But, for the first time in his life, there was a comforting hand upon his back, and somebody wiped his mouth with a tissue.

"It's okay Harry, most people get sick the first time. I couldn't stomach it until about the 30th time!"

"Then again," said another voice as his father appeared at his shoulder, "Lily's a girl. I only threw up my first time, and that was only because my best mate got splinched!"

"W-what does that mean?" Harry asked, legs still trembling slightly as Lily lightly smacked James around the head.

"All in good time, my boy. Now, let's just go- oh dear. Why didn't we think of that? Dumbledore was quite clear."

Harry, head spinning with confusion, turned his head in the same direction as James' and saw a partly destroyed house. He felt a curious burning sensation on his forehead, where his scar was, and then the pain intensified to a head-splitting level and he fell to his knees, clutching his head and screaming. He could feel his parents crouching down either side of him and hear their words of worry, but he felt like he was somewhere else. There was a woman screaming - was that his mum? - and a flash of green light. Then there was a baby, a baby that could have been him, and a hand with pale, slender fingers holding a stick like the one James had. There was another flash of green light, another burst of pain upon his scar, then the baby was alone again, except now he had a scar to match Harry's. So it was him.

The pain died away and he realised that he was laying on a bit of grass near the house, his head in his mothers lap as she stroked his hair, and a worried-looking James hovering overhead. They cared! They cared that he was hurt, they wanted to be there for him! They didn't even know him, but they loved him! Was that what family was all about?