Harry's heart somersaulted against his ribs, and he had no idea why. He thought that maybe it was the prospect of finally returning to reality or seeing his friends. The only thing he was sure of was the fact that he had made it; he had reached the end of the trial, and he was going back at last to live life with the knowledge that his soul was undamaged. The figures he saw standing far away and waiting for him were surely his friends—he knew it.

Glancing back again to where Snape had disappeared, Harry couldn't help but crack a smile. Snape had helped him cope with his guilt, and without him he wouldn't be able to move on. He'd probably waste away his remaining life stuck in the vast blackness with nothing but self-condemnation as company, but he didn't have to dwell on it anymore; he was glad that it was all over.

Harry turned his attention back to the path straight ahead of him, only to realize he was suddenly surrounded by fog that created moisture when he rubbed his hands together. He stopped walking and looked around. When he couldn't see his surroundings clearly, he was certain that his eyes were deceiving him.

"Hermione! Ron!" Harry tried to call out to the figures he thought he saw earlier, hoping that they would show themselves right then and there. He waited a moment for them to appear, but his shoulders drooped when they—accompanied by a slight breeze—brushed past him.

Harry stared ahead, worried that he might have lost the two people he longed to see. He let out a sigh of relief, however, when he saw the figures still standing not far away from him now. When he attempted to take a step forward, the fog slowly dissipated, making his way clearer as he went.

A ray of sunlight unexpectedly illuminated him and his path, and he had to close his eyes for a few seconds to adjust to the sudden brightness when he approached the figure.

"Harry, we've been looking for you," a woman's soft but anxious voice spoke a few feet from him.

Harry blinked. That wasn't the voice he was expecting to hear from Hermione. Though it sounded a little familiar, he couldn't remember from whom or where he had heard it. He jerked his head up, trying to see through the bright light before him. He caught his breath when he spotted dark red hair. She also had bright green eyes that were extremely distinctive from his own.

"Mum?" he choked, gaping open-mouthed at Lily Potter who merely looked at him with concern. Harry stood rooted to the spot, his heart hammering fast. But before his mind could work out whom he was really seeing, he heard footsteps approaching beside him.

"Oh, there you are!" cried a male voice this time.

Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and a complex mix of strong emotions came crashing over him; joy, sadness, fear, excitement, love—His breath caught in his throat, and he stood in stunned silence for he was standing right beside his father, James Potter.

"Dad," Harry said in a small faltering voice; his hand trembling.

"Well, Harry," said James, eyeing his son wearily. "Where have you been? I've searched all the shops here in Diagon Alley looking for you. I'd started to think you got lost or something..." He shook his head and continued. "But you're safe, and that's—" He stopped when he saw Harry's dumbstruck expression. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something wrong with my handsome face?'"

Harry blinked again.

"Of course there's nothing wrong with your face, dear," said Lily, frowning at her husband. She then rounded on Harry and said testily, "You had me and your dad worried, young man. We were looking at some owls, and suddenly you disappeared from behind me. Where did you go?" she asked sternly.

"I—" said Harry, uncertain of what to say. None of what was happening made sense to him. Earlier he thought he had finished the task and would finally be seeing Ron and Hermione, but why was he suddenly in front of his parents as though no time at all had passed? The way they stood there and talked to him, he felt as if they hadn't died that one Halloween by Voldemort's hand and been living with him since he was born. What's going on?

James seemed to have sensed Harry's discomfort; he cleared his throat and addressed his wife. "Lily, our son must've gotten too excited exploring Diagon Alley by himself. I mean, who wouldn't if it's your first time, right? Look at him... he looks dead on his feet." He smiled at Harry and gave him a wink.

How can this be? Harry thought. How in the world did he end up here in Diagon Alley? And with his parents? And what was his dad saying, "It's his first time"? He knew for a fact that he had been here before with Hagrid.

Hang on, Harry told himself when he saw his reflection in a glass cabinet. Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, his reflection looked different; he was small, skinny, and young like an eleven-year-old. Harry stared, horrorstruck, at himself. He stepped back, his heart pounding wildly.

"I know," said James with a worried glance in Harry's direction, misinterpreting the look on his son's face. "It's exhausting, isn't it? Don't worry, Son, we'll have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron in a jiffy."

Lily looked closely at Harry, placing a hand to his cheek. "You must be starving, Sweetheart."

"I—I'm fine," Harry mumbled. His voice, now that he had noticed it, had changed, too. It no longer sounded low and deep like a young man, instead it was slightly higher like someone placed a Caterwauling Charm in his voice.

"Nonsense," said Lily, dismissing Harry's reply with a wave of her hand. "I don't think you'd want to pass up the chance of drinking your favorite pumpkin juice and eating treacle tart, do you?"

Harry couldn't really feel his hunger at the moment, and how could he when everything was different and unclear? He wanted answers, but he doubted whether his parents knew what he would be asking for. Should he attempt and question them? What would they say if he suddenly asked about Voldemort? Before Harry could go on with his thoughts, he heard his dad from behind.

"Isn't she gorgeous?"

Harry turned around and saw his dad peering at a cage with a snowy owl perched inside it. "Hedwig!" he blurted without thinking.

"Hedwig?" James asked in bewilderment. "You know her?"

"I—I just," Harry stammered. "I just thought the name fits."

"Oh."

Harry winced at his dishonesty. He was well aware that he was unprepared for this world, and lying seemed to be the only option for now to get on without them becoming suspicious.

They quickly left the Eeylops Owl Emporium after purchasing the snowy owl; Lily insisted that Harry should have it instead of the rat his father would want him to have. At that precise moment, however, Harry wondered whether his parents knew Peter Pettigrew who happened to be an Animagus. But that thought ended when Harry found himself being steered left and right by his parents, who both seemed eager to show him around and lectured him about the different items of each shop. Their excitement was contagious and Harry was about ready to do anything with his parents by his side even though everything that had been happening to him was still black and white and confusing.

Just by observing his parents, Harry could already piece together what their personalities were like, and how he had naturally followed in their footsteps. While he certainly inherited James' wit, he was positively mild-mannered in comparison to his father, a trait which he presumed came from his mother.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" James exclaimed excitedly, his eyes beaming at the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies where several broomsticks were on display.

Lily turned sharply in James' direction. "You've got to be kidding me!"

James raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"You've got plenty at home. You don't need any more."

"I didn't say I'd buy it," he argued, looking scandalized. But he added in a low voice so that only Harry could hear, "For Harry I will."

Harry beamed at him, but he had to stop himself when he remembered he already got a Nimbus 2000, only it smashed on the Whomping Willow and was badly broken to pieces. With a sinking feeling, he thought of his Firebolt that he had lost. "It's fine, dad. You don't have to purchase it," he whispered.

"You're right," James said, looking sadly away from the display of broomsticks. "It's no good arguing with your mum. She'll skin me alive if I did." He shrugged. "But who cares? She won't be able to if we're up in the air and she isn't. We'll be hard to catch."

"She's got a wand, Dad." Harry reminded him, pointing at Lily's cloak where he could see the end of a stick poking out.

"Oh, right." James dropped the subject.

Looking curiously at his father, Harry couldn't help but be fascinated by how much he resembled him; James' hair was untidy like his own; he wore glasses as well on his thin face. Harry swore he could disguise himself as his father if age would let him.

Harry and his parents fought their way through the jostling crowd which, like them, was eager to do their shopping while at the same time admired the endless and interesting assortments of magical items they could lay their eyes on. Even though Harry was already familiar with most of them, it was satisfying to realize how exciting everything seemed to be when explained by his parents. James couldn't stop himself from whisking Harry to a nearby item each time and tell the tales of its uses without bothering to stop himself to breathe for a moment. Lily, on the other hand, would give side comments to either correct James if he got so full of himself or to share more knowledge on the matter.

Harry had the best time of his life with his parents. He had been dreaming about this moment ever since he had first walked into Diagon Alley at eleven years of age. What he would have given to have his parents with him then instead of Hagrid or his friends! And here he was, finally fulfilling the dream he had thought wasn't possible. He still couldn't fathom the oddness of it all. Was this still part of the ritual—a task he needed to take? The way his parents held his hands or rested their own on his shoulders, the way they hugged and kissed him on his cheeks ever so often, they felt so... real. He would gladly trade his old life for this. Who wouldn't? Harry thoughtfully argued. He finally had his parents back and was that too much to ask?

They had just exited Mr. Ollivander's wand shop and were heading towards the Leaky Cauldron when Harry decided it was time to ask his parents about Voldemort. It had been driving him crazy, especially when Ollivander had rummaged for and found him a wand that was completely different from his own. Its core was no longer a phoenix feather; instead it was a unicorn's hair.

"Mum?" he asked apprehensively.

"Hmm?" Lily replied distractedly as she scanned the Daily Prophet's newspaper cover that a wizard held in his hands.

"Do you know Vol—"

"Oh, I can't believe it!" Lily exclaimed, interrupting Harry's question while she looked at the newspaper with an awed expression. "He's done it!"

Harry looked bewildered. He turned his head to the paper and read the cover: AT LAST! THE MUGGLE PRIME MINISTER IN ALLEGIANCE TO MINISTER TOM RIDDLE TO PROMOTE PEACE AND SAFETY FOR EVERYONE

Harry's jaw dropped. He thought at first that he must've misread it. Tom Riddle, a Minister and promoting peace? And that wasn't all that was making Harry's head burst with disbelief, Tom was also promoting safety for everyone. Harry frowned. How on earth could this have happened? Surely there must be some mistake. Harry highly doubted that Voldemort would perform such noble acts; it wasn't in his character to do that. But why? Harry wondered. Is there some sort of hidden agenda between Tom Riddle and the Prime Minister?

"What were you asking, Harry?" Lily had turned her attention back to him with a questioning look.

Still frowning, Harry shook his head. "It's nothing."

"He's amazing, isn't he?" Lily beamed, her eyes brimming with admiration at the picture of Tom Riddle shaking hands with the Prime Minister.

Harry raised his eyebrows, still in disbelief. "Has he always been like this?"

"'Like this' you mean an awesome old chap?" James interrupted, his eyes darting from the picture to Harry.

Harry nodded somewhat reluctantly, not entirely convinced that Tom Riddle was amazing in any way.

"Oh, yes..." his father answered thoughtfully. "He was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement back when he was still young. Ruthless, he was! I never saw that side of him until I captured dark wizards and brought them to the Ministry."

Harry reeled backward. "You're an Auror?"

James glanced down at him. "What's with the look of surprise?" he said appraisingly. "You've seen and known all along that I'm an Auror, Son. You even told me you'd like to be one so you could show your support to Riddle as well, remember?"

Harry wanted to say "No," but he urged himself not to speak. Instead, he tilted his head back to stare at Tom Riddle's picture once more.

"Anyway," James continued as if Harry had not interrupted him in the first place. "Riddle despised them and the Dark Side, you see. He said he'd give his life just to get rid of this filth in our world… and then he became the next Minister. We're all so proud to have him take that position, I'm telling you."

Harry thought his father's words of praise didn't seem right. He still couldn't get his head around the fact that Voldemort was against the Dark Side. He tore his eyes away from the picture, feeling as confused as ever.

Lily cleared her throat. "Yes. He and his wife, Bellatrix—"

"What?" Harry asked, shocked at the news. "Lestrange?"

"Er… yes," she replied, frowning at him. "I can't believe you've forgotten already, Harry. We invited the Minister and his wife to our house to celebrate your dad's promotion in his department, don't you remember? Riddle and your father used to work together as Aurors."

How many more shocking revelations Harry would've had to deal with? He didn't know whether he could take them any longer. This world had turned his head upside down, and he thought he'd explode. However staggering these pieces of news may seem to be for Harry, he couldn't deny the relief he felt upon knowing that no danger had struck his family—that they were altogether safe.

"I think I do now," Harry answered untruthfully, hiding the fact that he didn't have a clue or a single memory of this world, and instead, he felt numb at the idea that his parents were close to the Riddle's.

"Well, don't worry about that," said James with a smile while opening the door and entering the dark and shabby-looking Leaky Cauldron. "You're too young to remember stuff well, anyway."

It was impossible to find seats; it was packed with people all having their lunches. But James, Lily, and Harry found a table for themselves in a corner. It was so convenient, Harry thought the table magically conjured itself there.

Harry sat silently, watching his surroundings with interest. He couldn't stop himself, though, from feeling like an outcast, but he strangely welcomed it, knowing that he could finally go wherever he wanted without being gawked at and talked about at mealtimes as the Chosen One who killed Voldemort.

Without warning, a family with unmistakable, silvery white-blonde hair entered the pub. Lucius Malfoy scanned the place for a moment before his eyes landed on the Potters. His lip curled suddenly into a sneer.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He felt a hot surge of anger as the Malfoy family drew closer to where they sat.

"Well… well… well," said Mr. Malfoy slowly when he reached their table. "If it isn't the famous Head Auror."

James stood up abruptly, and Harry thought for a moment that his father would whip his wand and curse Mr. Malfoy right then and there. He stared at his surroundings looking alarmed, but people seemed to be minding their own business to notice anything else.

"Lucius," James acknowledged coldly, his eyes locked at Mr. Malfoy as he strode over to him.

Harry's stomach gave a huge jolt when Mr. Malfoy and James suddenly burst into laughter and embraced each other like brothers. He stared at them, open-mouthed.

"Come join us!" Lily said brightly to the Malfoy family before turning to Harry. "Can you pull up some more chairs, Dear?"

But Mrs. Malfoy shook her head vigorously, stopping Harry from getting up. "Oh, no need for that. We only came to say hello."

"Leaving already?" James asked, glancing incredulously at her. "We rarely see each other nowadays."

"I know," Mrs. Malfoy responded sadly. "Lucius got a huge job in France and we're heading there this afternoon. We only thought to come by Diagon Alley to purchase what we needed for the trip when Draco here—" Draco waved shyly at them before hiding behind his mother's back. "—saw you come in here."

"Are you sure we can't keep you from leaving so soon?" Lily asked with a hopeful look at Mr. Malfoy.

"Sorry, Lily," Mr. Malfoy replied with an apologetic look. "It's quite urgent, and we need to leave right away. Next time, perhaps?"

Harry could have sworn loudly that there shouldn't be a next time, but he didn't voice it out and kept his head down.

"Of course," James said approvingly. "I wouldn't want to miss that, would I?"

Mr. Malfoy snorted derisively. "No, I daresay you wouldn't. You have an indefinite amount of achievements to boast about that I'm sure will ruin your big ego if not shared quickly with friends."

James laughed. "You still haven't changed, Lucius. Always a downer, you are! Well," he patted him on the shoulder. "I won't prolong this conversation. Don't forget to bring us back some souvenirs, okay?" He winked at him.

Lucius rolled his eyes before turning around to leave. His wife and son followed behind him after giving James and Lily a hug. Harry had to hesitantly smile at Draco when he looked at him before they walked away.

James sat back down on his chair, grinning. "Lucky man. I always wanted to go to France." And then he glanced at Harry with a curious look on his face. "Why were you so quiet, son? I was expecting you and Draco to catch up."

Harry gaped at his father. Since when had I become friends with Malfoy?

As if James had read his mind, he said, "We used to visit their manor all the time when they were in the area. You were always so eager to see him."

"Inseparable, you two!" Lily piped in.

"I—I was just," Harry stammered.

"I understand," said James with a nod. "Seeing him for the first time after a very long time can make you apprehensive."

Harry didn't speak, and James suddenly changed the subject. He held the menu in his hand and scanned through it. "I wonder if they have new lunch specials… Oh, I could do with a Toad in the Hole and Tongue Tying Lemon Squash—that sounds delicious."

By the time they finished lunch, Harry couldn't believe how much food he had eaten. He could feel his stomach bulging from under the table. He felt drowsy, too. He kept closing his eyes and opening them again. Must be the effect of overeating, he told himself when he shut his eyes for the tenth time.

After a while, he felt someone shaking him gently.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," said the voice of his mother. "You can have a nap later when we get back home."

Harry groaned and opened his eyes, expecting to see the crowded pub. He was startled at the sudden sunlight hitting his eyes. He blinked. He was no longer at the Leaky Cauldron. Instead he was standing in line outside of Flourish and Blotts. He couldn't have slept that heavily.

Lily stood beside him and was rummaging for something in her bag when Harry spoke. "Mum, what are we doing here? What happened at the Leaky Cauldron?" Astounded, Harry found his voice deepened slightly.

"What are you talking about, sweetie?" Lily asked, looking bewildered. "We haven't been at the pub just yet. We only just got here to get your books."

Harry frowned. "Books? But didn't we just buy them earlier?"

Lily stared at him. "Don't be silly. We haven't bought anything yet. Your Lockhart books this year are quite a lot and expensive." She frowned, looking impatient at the closed sign hanging at the door. "I think we arrived too early."

Harry scratched his head. "Lockhart?" He was well aware that his former professor was being cared for at St. Mungo's. Had he been released?

"Yes. Isn't he your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"But... what about Quirell?"

"Quirell?" Lily asked with a raised eyebrow. "You never had a professor named Quirell. Gilderoy Lockhart has always been your teacher." She brought her hand to Harry's shoulder with a concerned look on her face. "Are you alright, Love?"

Harry stared at the paper with list of books he hadn't known he was holding in his hand; one book was labeled Defensive Magical Theory Year 2. Harry was shocked to see that he was starting his second year at Hogwarts. How could that have happened? One minute he was shopping with his parents at Diagon Alley before his first term started in September, and suddenly time seemed to have moved faster than a Cornish Pixie that he couldn't remember what had transpired in the past year.

With a confused look on his face, Harry put the piece of paper back into his pocket; his mum still eyeing him worriedly. He didn't know whether to tell her his dilemma or just go with the flow and see what happened next. It had been driving him crazy ever since he'd been there—in this world that was completely different from his own. He wanted answers or assurance that what he was dealing with at the moment was either just a task he needed to complete, or if this world was truly real and the memories he had were merely a figment of his imagination.

"Your school robes are way too short for you now," said Lily as though mentally measuring Harry's height. "I can't believe how much you've grown." She craned her neck on the other side of the street and said, "Oh, Madam Malkin's just opened. How about I take care of your books so you could buy a new set of robes? That way we can go home early."

Nodding, Harry strode towards Madam Malkin's while still in deep thought. He entered and only a few people were being measured. Harry stood in front of the counter, waiting for Madam Malkin who seemed to be in a bad mood already.

"You there!" Madam Malkin called to Harry, beckoning him to stand on a footstool. "Come over here and wait for me."

Harry did as he was told, conscious of the others standing on both sides of him who were looking jaded.

"Don't move too much, dears!" said a woman on Harry's left who seemed to be the mother of the twin boys with red hair.

Harry's mouth hung open. If he hadn't looked properly, he wouldn't be able to recognize Mrs. Weasley, who was eyeing who he thought were Fred and George sternly. Her hair was in a tight bun, and she wore a lime green robe that Harry knew too well as the uniform for Healers in St. Mungo's Hospital.

"Mrs. Weasley?" he asked in surprise.

Mrs. Weasley turned, but she didn't seem to recognize him. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Uh—" Harry began. "Don't you remember me?" When Mrs. Weasley only stared at him with a blank expression, he quickly added, "I'm a friend of Ron's."

She furrowed her brow. "Ron?"

Harry nodded, wondering why Mrs. Weasley looked bewildered. "Yes, your son."

"I don't know anyone named Ron, dear." She eyed him apologetically. "I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken."

"No, no! I'm—I'm sorry."

"That's alright, dear." She turned her attention to her children, who gave him funny looks but didn't say anything.

"Okay, Harry," said a familiar voice from behind Harry. "Turn around so I can see you properly."

Harry craned his head and saw James Potter striding towards him, wearing a sophisticated-looking dress robe. "Dad, what are you wearing?"

"Do you like it?" James asked with a smile. "I want us to be identical, but your mother thought it would ruin your night."

Harry swore that none of what his father said made sense to him. "I'm getting new school robes, Dad, not dress robes."

James frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm waiting for Madam Malkin to measure me up," he replied, turning his head back. But he was surprised to see his reflection in the mirror wearing handsome, dark green dress robes. He looked older, too, like a fourteen year old. He gaped, open-mouthed when he saw that he was no longer in Madam Malkin's shop, but instead he was at Hogwarts. He recognized the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. "How—"

James chuckled, patting Harry's shoulder. "You're just nervous, and that's normal of course when attending your first Yule Ball. Mind you, I miss parties like these. Good thing parents are invited to attend such occasion."

Harry was highly disconcerted at the sudden change. He couldn't work his head around what had happened. One moment he was talking to Mrs. Weasley, and then seconds later he was with his father who seemed oblivious to anything Harry was going through.

Harry swallowed hard. "Dad—"

But James was already steering him out of the room. "Come on, son. You don't want your date to wait any longer."

They descended the stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room. Harry expected it to be packed with students, but upon arrival, his mouth fell open once again; he was standing, not in Gryffindor common room, but at Hogsmeade. Right in front of him was the Three Broomsticks. He shivered slightly, realizing there was snow everywhere.

"Get in, Harry," Lily said brightly from behind him. "We're meeting your dad and Sirius there. Oh, I can't wait to take a sip of that Butterbeer. I'm freezing, aren't you?"

"Si—Sirius?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes, your godfather is probably waiting for us."

Harry was certain that his head was going to explode yet again. He was left unprepared, and his emotions had been going haywire. How many more surprises was he going to take? He wasn't complaining, though. He'd very much liked to be here with everyone, most especially his parents, but he couldn't help but wonder what was going on. He had no memories of what had happened in between scenes, and was not given a chance to react before everything would change once again.

When they entered the inn, Harry immediately caught sight of a boy waving enthusiastically at him.

"Oh, good," said Lily, spotting the boy. "Teddy's here."

"Teddy?" Harry asked, bemused. "You don't mean—"

"Lupin and Tonks must be here somewhere," she said distractedly, looking around.

Harry's jaw dropped. His mother must've been joking. The boy who was still overly flailing his arms excitedly couldn't have been Teddy Lupin. He was already like, seven years old. Isn't he living with his grandmother, Andromeda? he asked himself.

"So good to see you, Sweetie!" said Lily, hugging Teddy.

Harry stood awkwardly to their side, unable to register what he was seeing at the moment.

"Harry!" Teddy exclaimed happily, engulfing him in a tight embrace.

Lily chuckled. "You missed your big brother, haven't you, Ted?"

Teddy nodded earnestly.

They sat themselves comfortably around the table. Harry glanced every now and then to Teddy to take a good look at him. He still couldn't believe that the baby he had once known had grown so fast. But then again, he reminded himself that this world was very different from his.

"Where are your parents, Ted?" Lily asked curiously.

"Daddy's coming from work," he replied. "And mommy's—there she is!" Teddy gestured past Harry, his smile widening.

When Harry whirled his body to look, he gasped—

He found himself looking at an obelisk. He allowed his mind to fall into place as he registered the change of scenery. Light shone from the streetlamps, and judging by the semi-darkness, Harry thought it was nighttime. Silvery white moonlight sparkled in the ground, and as he looked up, stars twinkled with light like pearls, adorning the dark blue night sky. Harry, once again, was utterly perplexed. It felt strange to be back in Godric's Hollow. He took deep breaths as he tried to calm himself.

"Why do you look all dazed?" said a voice Harry didn't have problems recognizing in an instant. He looked up to see James peering down at him.

Harry's eyes lingered for a moment on his father, who was starting to look worried when he didn't speak.

"What's wrong, Son?"

Harry inhaled deeply. "Dad…" He paused, thinking of how best to open up his thoughts.

"You must be wondering what's going on," said James as though reading his mind. "I knew your mother and I shouldn't have kept it quiet. I told her many times you'd notice."

Heart beating fast, Harry nodded. He knew it! He knew there was something going on in this world, and his father had no choice but to reveal it to him.

"But don't tell your mother anything, all right? Because you're not supposed to know."

Harry nodded again, his anticipation mounting.

James took a deep breath. "The thing is, Harry… We've decided to throw a birthday party for you this evening at home," he blurted out.

Harry's mouth fell open. "Wh—what?"

"Yes, Son. We know you don't like parties and all, but you just turned seventeen!" he said excitedly. "But before you get mad at us, we want you to know that everyone's gonna be there... even my dear old friend, Severus."

Harry sighed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was disappointed at the unexpected answer given by his father.

"I knew it'd make you speechless," said James, misinterpreting Harry's silence. "Not everyone gets to have a big celebration when they turn seventeen."

Harry didn't know what to say or feel at the moment. He wanted to be in a happy mood just like the one his father was in, but he couldn't bring himself to feel that way. Instead, his body trembled with fear that something was about to happen; a feeling that everything would disappear once again.

"Harry?" his father whispered. "Something tells me that you're not happy about the party. We don't have to—"

"I am." Harry cut him off quickly, regretting the sad look he must've unintentionally let slip to his father. "I'm sorry… I'm just—" He hesitated. The entire situation troubled him more deeply than he let on. He sighed and finally cleared his throat. "It doesn't really matter, Dad. What you and Mum are doing is fine."

"Are you sure?"

Harry gave a curt nod and plastered a smile across his face.

A look of satisfaction flashed across his father's face before he glanced at his watch. "I think we'd better go home or your mum's gonna go berserk if she finds out you're missing your birthday."

Together they walked steadily along the street, passing the church and the graveyard that stood nearby. He remembered visiting his parents' graves as well as how suffocating it had felt for him to see their names on the headstones. Now, it seemed as though it was all just a dream—a nightmare. He glanced sideways. It was incredible to see his father walking beside him, full of energy and very much alive.

When they turned a corner, Harry caught sight the familiar-looking cottage that stood at the very end of the street. It looked very different from how Harry remembered it; there were no weeds covering the entire front lawn but instead, flowers of different kinds lined neatly in the flowerbed; the once empty and dark house was now bright—with all its windows glazed in light from within; and most of all, the upper part of the house where Harry's bedroom was located, was intact and not blown apart.

"Well," said James. "Here we are."

Harry's emotions wavered at the sight of the house. He blinked several times, trying to suppress the tears leaking from his eyes. His gaze landed on the large front window, and he suddenly felt a tremendous wave of emotion. He could no longer deny the simple truth that for the first time in seventeen years, he'd felt like he'd finally come home.

Inside were a dozen or so people whom Harry had not seen for quite some time. Most of them were sitting around the table, chatting merrily as though no time had passed. Among them was Sirius Black, who was talking animatedly to Remus Lupin. Nymphadora Tonks, on the other hand, was showing Lavender Brown and Colin Creevey how she could morph her hair from neon to garish; Harry could hear their non-stop laughter. Cedric Diggory and Fred Weasley seemed to be discussing Quidditch when Fred made a hand zooming gesture as though catching a snitch. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, sat Severus Snape, Mad-Eye Moody, and Albus Dumbledore who were conversing silently with smiles on their faces. Out of nowhere, Dobby appeared at the door behind Sirius, carrying trays of food and, at the same time, levitating some more as he went by. For the first time, Harry was surprised to see Dobby wearing decent-looking clothes and shoes that fit his size well. He even wore a party hat for the occasion to round off the look.

The front door opened suddenly and Lily Potter dashed out, looking relieved to see her son and her husband.

"Oh, thank goodness you're both here!" she exclaimed while making her way towards the front gate and opening it. "I've been having panic attacks looking and wondering where you both have disappeared to." She beckoned them to come inside. "Come on. Everyone's waiting."

Harry followed behind his father, but before he as much as stepped over the threshold, he stopped and wondered whether he ought to talk to his parents before losing the opportunity completely.

"Honey?" Lily asked, looking bewildered at Harry, who made no move to step inside.

James turned to look. "What's wrong, Son? Did you forget something?"

Harry shook his head and eyed his parents apprehensively. They must've sensed his unspoken emotion. They retreated back outside, leaving the front door open.

"Harry?" Lily asked again, a hint of worry now evident in her voice. "What's the matter? Are you nervous about the party?"

The question helped Harry regain his bearings, and he took a tiny step backward. "I'm not nervous," he said. "I'm just—" He met his parents' eyes as though seeing them for the first time. "I just don't want this to end."

"Oh, Sweetie," said Lily. She gently touched his arm with a reassuring smile, and Harry felt the sudden warmth of her hands. "I know it's different. Everybody feels the same way when they turn of age, but nothing's going to end. You'll always be our little boy."

James nodded, moving closer.

Harry bowed his head, and his shoulders drooped. How could he ever tell his parents what was going through his mind? How could he ever tell them the truth of his past?

His face must have telegraphed his feelings when Lily said, "I take it that wasn't what's bothering you?"

Harry hesitated for a moment before finally saying in an audible whisper, "No."

His parents exchanged worried glances with each other before turning their attention back to him. Harry decided it was time.

"I've missed you both," he began with his hands trembling ever so slightly.

Eyebrows furrowed, James said, "We've always been with you, Son."

Harry shook his head vehemently. "It's not that." He inhaled sharply before speaking again. "You and Mum—you've not been with me for seventeen years. You both died when I was one," Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

A silence stretched between them, and Harry swallowed. Talking about his parents' deaths was always hard for him. He knew he'd been lying to himself in thinking that he'd moved on. He hadn't. It was one thing, after all, to know that his longing to have parents hadn't changed; it was another thing entirely to face the future with the certainty that it could never ever happen.

"I've… I've never known you until now," he muttered quietly. "Back when I saw you and Dad in Diagon Alley to purchase my owl was the first time I ever truly saw you both—alive and well. You have no idea how—how much that moment meant to me." He swallowed again with great effort, aware that tears were forming in his eyes.

The night breeze picked up, moving through the leaves on the trees like rolling ocean waves. Perhaps it was Harry's shocking revelation that rendered his parents speechless, but he knew they were taking in every word he was saying.

"It was cruel to the point that I'm only deceiving myself," he continued slowly. "I allowed myself to go on with this life because I wanted both of you so badly to be real. It was a struggle to live each day knowing that I don't have parents to ask for comfort or reassurance. I never had that chance, you see... and now you're right in front of me like you never left."

Harry brought his hand on top of his mother's, feeling the solid contact of their skin. The familiar, deep-seated ache—a sadness he knew would never go away—engulfed him.

"It made me wonder how much I'm missing when I'm with you and Dad. I never thought a time like this would come when I can hear your voices, or even feel your embraces." His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "It's made me so happy to the point that I don't want this moment to disappear because I know it's only a matter of time before I lose you both again and I'll be alone."

The moon peeked through the dark clouds, lending an ethereal cast to the entire cottage, illuminating its beauty. Harry stared at his parents, his eyes capturing bits and pieces of the moonlight. He had imagined this moment, the kind of life he knew he'd really wanted. He tried to draw strength from looking at them—looking at what could've been a happy family, but fear was trying to take over, and he felt paralyzed.

"You'll never have to face your troubles alone again, son," said James softly.

Lily reached over and touched his cheek gently. "You've done enough, Sweetheart. I can see it in your eyes how much you've suffered… how tired you are… We promise that you'll never have to deal with your worries by yourself ever again because we'll always be with you. Forever."

Harry bowed his head and blinked back tears. Everything his mother had said was true, and he was about ready to give up all the aches and pains of his past life. He wanted nothing more than to get rid of them completely and be happy with his parents for a change. The feeling of separation from his parents had only grown stronger. That realization had been disconcerting when he first stepped into this world, but Harry now understood that. There were no other choices. Love, after all, always said more about those who felt it than it did about the ones he loved.

Forever… Harry could feel the strength of that promise now, filling the distance between him and his parents of the years they'd been apart. He had the strange sense that it was calling to him, urging him to listen. He knew on some level that they had been waiting for him, just as he'd been waiting for them. Harry couldn't imagine never seeing them again; he couldn't release his parents to become nothing but a memory. Fate—in the form of the ritual—had intervened, and when he first met his parents in Diagon Alley, he knew there'd been a reason for it. All of this had to mean something.

The laughter that Harry had been hearing from inside the cottage had stopped, and when he lifted his head to look at his parents again, he saw that his godfather, Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Snape, and everyone else had gathered at the front door as though welcoming him inside. From all the years Harry had spent with them, it was in this moment that he knew he was seeking the solace of their company, that which he wouldn't be able to find from anyone else.

A distant memory, liquid and blurry at first, suddenly began to crystallize in Harry's mind, one that led to Ron and Hermione and the Weasley family with whom he had been spending his life. He'd been content with his friends. Maybe not perfectly happy, maybe a bit isolated, but content. And Ginny—a hard knot formed in the pit of his stomach. How could I have forgotten about her? He had Ginny who cared for him—who loved him—despite his difficult place in the world.

"Come home, Love, " said Lily, breaking Harry's thoughts.

Harry could see all of them waiting patiently for him. Somehow, deep down, he wanted to join them so he never had to look back at his old life. He could be happy here and make new memories. But despite his utmost desire, the life he had known was something he couldn't let go of. It was a long and sometimes discouraging road, but he knew within himself that he'd be okay no matter what.

Harry gave a sad smile before taking another step back. He took in all the faces looking his way, reminding himself how lucky he was to have had the chance to get to know them. Time wouldn't be able to diminish his memories of them. They all did what they could to support and protect him and had renewed his life in a way he'd never imagined possible. And as his eyes fell upon his parents, Harry had to agree wholeheartedly with Dumbledore that their love had given him the resolve he needed to make it through his remaining life.

Harry had come to realize that he now had the answer to the question that he'd been pondering ever since he first arrived at this world. The events had given him the chance to experience life with his parents and had shown him how his life could've been if they were still alive. It was somehow cruel but satisfying at the same time, and he couldn't have asked for more. He was grateful for that chance.

With a steady rhythm in his chest, Harry smiled a true smile even though his throat had tightened a bit. He ran back up to Lily and James and gave them a quick hug. "Thank you," was all he could say to them.

When Harry let go of the hug, an unspoken understanding drifted across Lily and James' faces. They no doubt knew that Harry wouldn't stay, that he had to go back, even if they had no idea it was forever.

"We love you more than you'll ever know," said Lily, giving Harry's arm a gentle squeeze.

"I know," said Harry. "And I love you both, too."

In the moonlight, the smiles on his parents' faces were the last thing Harry saw before their outlines and everything else surrounding him faded slowly into inky blackness. He closed his eyes as tears formed beneath his lashes, for he knew that he would never hear his parents' voices, feel their hugs, or see their loving faces ever again.

Once again, Harry found himself falling back through endless dark space. He kept his eyes closed and took deep breaths, allowing some courage to flow through himself. He began to feel for his body as well, assuring himself that it was still intact.

Just when Harry thought the blackness and stillness would never end, his senses began to wake up when he heard distant voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but they seemed to be arguing. Just then, he heard the sound of waves, and felt a gentle, salty wind brushing his hair. Harry struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, and he was startled to feel his eyes wet with tears. Why? he wondered, trying to remember the reason, but he somehow couldn't.

Frantic whispers erupted around him again, and Harry felt the familiar warmth of a hand holding his. He understood then that, from the moment he opened his eyes, he was home.

THE END

Beta-read by Legacy of Hecate, inspire change, KVeronicaP