Harry lily and James potter finally meet

Image Credit: Norma S., El Paso, TX The author's comments: This is just a little something that I've been working on.I was inspired by my friend Julie to start this story so this is just the first chapter of the story. I hope that this will show you that if you work together you can do anything. Chapter 1 “James, do you think that Serious Black is watching Harry for us?” “I don’t know maybe Lily, I mean it has been 21 years since we last saw him.” Meanwhile at Harry & Ginny’s house “Morning, Ginny.” “Morning, Harry.” “Where’s the kids we’re going to be late.” “Upstairs, still getting ready.” “James, Lily, Albus, come on we’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.” “Coming.” The Potters left for platform nine and three quarters. They met Ron, Hermoine, and Rose when they arrived. The kids took off to go have some fun before the train leaves. Harry’s scar starts to burn but he ignores it. Suddenly He-Who-Can’t-Be-Named appeared to finish off Harry for good. “Harry get the kids, we’ll keep him distracted.” Harry went to get the kids, when he did they begged him not to go. He tried to tell them that their parents were in danger and he needed to help them. They wouldn’t let him leave, so finally they watched as Harry fought to protect them. After the fight was over Lily went over to tell them that someone was here to talk to them. They all went to see who it was. “Who are you, what do you want?” “Don’t tell me that you forgot about me already.” “Professor is that you?” “Yes Ronald it is.” “Dumbledore oh it is so good to see you.” The kids got onto the train and Serious came into the room that they were in. Their parents and Dumbledore were on their way to Harry’s and Ginny’s house to talk over tea. On the way out of the train they met Hagrid who is the grounds keeper at Hogwarts. "Hi ya kids, it seems like just yesterday that your parents started school here." "Hey Lily watch out for Snape and Malfoy." "Oh I will, I'm not scared of Snape or Malfoy." "Albus come on don't be a scaredy cat. We don't have all night."



KRISTA ROBEY: Birds of a Different Feather

Displayed in front of the Catholic school assembly, Lydia felt like an ostrich: swollen belly perched on teenaged stork-thin legs, dying to bury her head in the sand. Afterwards, the nuns expelled her. It was then she decided “pro-life” was a crow veiled in a habit, not an olive-branched dove. Krista Robey is an unapologetic … Continue reading KRISTA ROBEY: Birds of a Different Feather →

MELODY LEMING-WILSON: Balloonman

The Balloonman presents the poodle, smiles and begins another. The child lifts it overhead; refracted color splashes his face. Autumn engulfs the horizon—the carnival sags. The Balloonman squints as summer burns itself out. The swan completed, he bows to one last girl, sighs, and turns toward evening and home. Melody Leming-Wilson lives and teaches in … Continue reading MELODY LEMING-WILSON: Balloonman →

LOIS ROSEN: Before My Second Wedding

My father-in-law-to-be mowed our yard with his tractor, transforming the tangle into a park. My son sobbed, He killed my favorite blackberry bush. “But there are more,” I argued. “Look, they’re all over.” He wouldn’t face where I pointed. I wish I’d said, “It’s painful to lose what you love.” Lois Rosen’s poetry books are … Continue reading LOIS ROSEN: Before My Second Wedding →

KENT OSWALD: Color Him Unimpressed

She farted the color yellow. She perspired the color blue. Her most angry thoughts created a greenish aura around her head, while both her lusty imaginings and lightning-like pangs of envy created an orange fog around her feet. Her tinder date was color-blind. It might have worked. It did not. There are no answers at … Continue reading KENT OSWALD: Color Him Unimpressed →

CHARLIE SWAILES: Assemblage

I’ve been collecting things since I was very small. Conkers, feathers, snow globes. Then onto stamps, butterflies, coins. It was only natural for me to progress to larger, more beautiful and precious things. Hard to find, harder to keep. People demand their freedom in a way that stamps never did. Charlie Swailes writes short and … Continue reading CHARLIE SWAILES: Assemblage →