OK, here's the deal. I've been trying and trying with that damn truth or dare thinger, but it's just not coming! So I'm going to try a new idea. It's probably been done a gazillion times before, but here goes!

Just so you know, here are some things that happened in this fic that may or may not have happened in the book: Harry's parent's bodies were never found, but they are believed dead. Lily didn't give her love to Harry by dying, but by offering herself instead. That's why he could protect himself up until book four.

P.S. The PoV will alternate between Lily, James, Harry, and third person. Give a shout and tell me what you think and if you want me to continue! (Honestly, if you've seen something too similar to this, or if it just plain sucks, tell me. I want to know.) *~*~*~*~*=view/scene change

P.S. Some things may be unconsistent. I haven't had time to check it over it. Tell me what you find.

*~*~*~*~*

I have a wonderful life. I have a beautiful wife, and a darling child, both of whom I love with all my heart. I have a great job as a photographer for a successful newspaper. Sure, I have to use a piece of shit camera, but I don't mind. It still takes beautiful pictures.

But sometimes, I feel like something's missing. I try to think back on my life and see what could be missing.

Then the memories come.

They come from nowhere. Sometimes they come when I'm awake, but mostly when I'm asleep.

((Flashback))

*~*~*~*~*

With a tremendous crash, the front door fell off its hinges and hit the floor. A dark shadow stood in the doorway, outline by an occasional strike of lightning.

"What the flipping hell?" a man said as he round the corner of the living room, and his eyes fell upon the dark figure.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-"

"Not likely," the figure hissed, and with a swift movement of his wand, the man was plastered to the wall, unable to move his hands and feet.

"No! Run, Lily!" the man shouted. "Please, leave them alone!"

"I don't want you, boy… I want your son."

"NO! HARRY!"

But the figure was already up the stairs, and in the nursery. The man could hear 'Lily' perfectly, but it was agonizing for him to be unable to help her.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl. I don't want you. I want the boy."

"Take me! Kill me instead! James!" But, with a sudden shriek, 'Lily' came flying backwards down the stairs. 'James', the man stretched his neck as far as it would go, and saw 'Lily' crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. He gave a quick sigh of relief when he saw her chest rise and fall, rise and fall.

"Harry!" 'James' screamed up the stairs. "No! Not my boy! My baby!"

The next thing he saw was a bright green light and the house crumpled around him.

*~*~*~*~*

((End Flashback))

I don't know who Harry is. Maybe I should be an author instead, to invent such a tale. A son I never had. Sheesh!

Or at least, I never think I had him. You see, I can't remember anything before 16 years ago, except that all-too-real dream. My first memory is of waking up in a New York hospital with my wife, Lily. My whole life, my name, my marriage, is all based on that one memory. The doctors called it "selective amnesia".

But the memory is so clear. That is the only memory I have of before 16 years ago, and my wife has none.

But now, we're going home.

After 16 years, we're finally going home.

To Be Continued…???

*~*~*~*~*

I seem to be having trouble developing an excuse for them to be completely isolated from everyone else, so that Dumbledore can't reach them. Does this make any sense at all? Please tell me!