thebravedoe replied to your post: I’m proud of you, my sweet boy.
Lily had fought, standing by Harry’s side through his life, watching him grow, wishing she could hold him when he was sad. But she was here, now, even if only for a little while. “Harry.. turn around, my love.”
Harry turned, facing the woman with uncertainty in his eyes. His hands fidgeted at his sides as he looked at her, conflicted as to what to do at this moment. It was very possible that it wasn't really her. After all, he'd seen her in the Mirror of Erised along with his father. Perhaps, after so long, his most inner desire had finally taken on a life of it's own and that product was what he was seeing now. Maybe he was finally going mad.
But whether she was real or not, Harry saw her and felt a rush of emotion surge through him. His mother. She'd died protecting him. And she'd still managed to keep him safe all these years without actually being there. He wished it were different. He would have given anything to have had her there when he was growing up. Her and his father.
He took a tentative step toward her, part of him wanting nothing more than to run to her and hug her, if not for comfort than to just see what it was like to be held by his own mother, but he held back. Another part of him, a part of him that was already so world-weary at such a young age, was wary. After last year, when Voldemort had gotten into his mind and projected Sirius' death to lure him to the Department Of Mysteries, he wasn't going to put anything past him, not even his mother.
