I was in the writing mood. This is not how I intended for it to turn out, but I like it. Please review and let me know what you think!


It was one of those rare and beautiful days – due to the absence of the Dursleys – where Harry had the rare treat of a day spent outside with little responsibility.

Maybe Aunt Petunia had simply forgotten, or maybe it had been the way Harry sat and stared longingly at the sunlight streaming through the window for the past few weeks; seeing the beauty but enable to become emerged in it. Either way, the list of chores had not come, and Harry looked forward to the day spent to himself.

Days like this were almost non-existent at this point.

There were always cars to clean and dishes to clean and a never-ending list of some-god-forsaken-item-or-another to clean and although Harry was never one to complain, sometimes it all got very exhausting.

But now was not the time to dwell. It was going to be a good day, the raven hair boy decided; there was a world to explore and adventures to be had. Turning away from the entrance hall as he opened the door, the eight year old exited.

He knew exactly where he was going, too. It was his favorite place in the whole world, ever since he found it two years ago.

Harry was going to see his parents.

There was a forest nearby, with a small meadow and a beautiful view of the sky, where—

Well. He knew they were dead. He did. But…he could somehow feel their presence. And that was enough to keep him coming, despite the countless knarred roots that had been tripped over and cuts from thorns that marred his skin.

Harry was smarter than most kids his age, and he knew that going into the forest was dangerous, especially alone. But it wasn't like the Dursleys cared about his safety…and the risk was worth it, he reflected, as he entered the meadow and sat on the damp grass.

Besides. If anything bad happened…maybe he'd join them fully once again.

The small boy could not remember their death—with the exception of green light—but he'd often imagine it.

Dissolving, he believed. They had probably dissolved into the cracks of the ground; disintegrated into the rays of sunlight, and let the earth consume them whole. And one day, the earth would consume him whole, too. Harry could already feel himself disintegrating, slowly.

And maybe that's why he felt them now, sitting here in this little meadow, watching the clouds as the beginning of a storm rolled in.

They were in the caress of the wind as it blew against his cheek, and the whisper of the blowing trees. They were in the warmth of the ground on this chilly day, and in all the shades of the sky. They were the earth, and they were truly nothing, yet everything at the same time.

And when the clouds parted and began to cry –big drops of water splashing against the surface of the earth—harry could feel his parents crying. Crying because they missed him.

And he could feel the wetness of their tears against his eight year old cheeks. Or maybe he was crying because he missed them too.