Isn't it strange when everyone knows who you are, but not knowing who they are? That's how Harry Potter first felt when he was discovered the Wizarding World.
Imagine the feeling of no one knowing who you are, but you remember, but they look upon...
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'She will get cold, let's just take her back home.'
She grabs the hand of the small child and turns her back to the stairs of an abandoned cathedral. Her husband moves quickly in front of her, stopping her from taking another step.
'It's not fair, but we have no choice, we can't keep her safe.'
He kneels to be eye level with his daughter and adjusts the red scarf around her neck.
'Give me the paper, quickly' he gestures to his wife to come towards him, she walks over whilst staring blankly at the child. Holding out her hand, she shakes and stifles her sobs, trying not to distress the girl, but it doesn't work.
'Mummy, are we going home?'
Her father responds before her mother. 'Here, this goes into your pocket, do not take it out and do not lose it, understood?'
