Two years later.

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Lily looked at the bag full of children's books that she had bought. A bright smile, like the soft light of a sunny day, shone on her face like a beacon. She had finally found something that would occupy Harry, something that would prevent him from staring at the ceiling all day.

It was better than the screaming James and Sirius were used to in their youth, if only by a little. Still, it couldn't be healthy doing nothing all day like that.

And thus she took action and bought him some children’s books. Those bright moving pictures would share some of their light with Harry, or she hoped at least. Her son was so silent it was impossible for her not to get worried. Those eyes of his when she looked at him! She knew her colors, and that Harry’s eyes were green, but the darkness! Sometimes when he gave him a passing glance she could see a void in there. The shadowy emptiness that showed a boy- no, man, far older. He would laugh sometimes, seeing something that wasn’t there. Other times he would scream. It was almost as if his soul was gone, sucked out by a dementor in a final kiss. She shivered despite herself, crossing her arms.

No, a mother’s foolish fears would not be good for her, for Harry. She would need to control herself. There was no way something could happen to him, there was nobody there to kill him. Who would want to harm a child in his second year of life? There was him, but he was dead, Dumbledore said. But Dumbledore could be wrong, a small part of her warned. Lily shook her head, no, she was being paranoid. Harry was learning to laugh and scream, just like an ordinary child. Even if he was anything but ordinary. She opened the door, waving the books. “Harry! Look what mommy got you!” She shouted. “Harry?”

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Then she saw the burn marks. Lily’s heart leaped in her chest as she raised her wand, the books falling on the ground with a thump. The house burned, or was burning, before a flood had put it out. Water was everywhere, coating the walls and carpet. Household appliances laid strewn over the wooden floor, forks, spoons, and knives alike. It was as if a robber had broken inside. A robber, or a death eater, Lily realized.

“Harry!” She screamed, almost slipping as she ran towards his room. She grabbed the doorknob, and jerked. The room was empty, there was nobody there, and the lights were off. Her heart sinking, Lily ran to her rooms, to the living room, to the kitchen, and saw that nobody was there. Her face was red as her hair, which fell down her shoulders in a disheveled state of disarray.

It was then that she finally found him, staring blankly at the ceiling atop a chair. He sat by the dining table, or at least what used to be the dining table. The wood had cracked and fallen away, and the ash covered ground was soaked in water. Harry’s chair lay in the puddle, his hair and clothes damp as the house he lived in.

Lily rushed to him, throwing her arms around Harry as she sobbed. “Oh Harry, my goodness. You’re okay, you’re okay. Mommy’s here.” She cried, unsure if she was comforting him or herself. Harry snapped to life, his green eyes staring up at her.

“Mommy, I... I… I think I burned the house down.” He said, his voice quivering like only a child’s could.

“Oh Harry. It’s fine, it’s all fine. As long as you’re safe, as long as you are okay.” Lily breathed, taking a few breaths to calm herself. “Harry, what happened?”

His head lowered in a deep bow. “Mommy, I’m sorry. I…”

She listened, blinking furiously to dry her tears.