Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Title: The Poet's Wish

Author: ReadingRed

Beta: DukeBrymin

Chapter One: The Poem

Six year old Harry Potter sat on his small cot in his tiny cupboard and looked down at the piece of paper he held in his hand. It was a poem. In school that day his teacher had the class write one for their mothers. It was almost Valentine's Day and the poems were to be gifts for the children's mothers. Harry had tried to tell her that he didn't have a mother but she had him write it anyway, saying with a sad smile that it would help him with his writing skills.

His teacher was a nice lady but the Dursleys were so mean and hateful that any kindness toward Harry would have severe repercussions. After a lifetime of punishment Harry very rarely made a fuss about anything so he dropped the matter and wrote the poem.

When he had first sat down with his crayon and construction paper Harry had wondered whether or not he should write this poem to his Aunt Petunia. He quickly nixed the idea. He knew that mothers were supposed to care for their children and love them and Aunt Petunia did anything but. He spent the entire class time trying to make the poem as good as possible.

He wanted his mother to be proud of him and even though he would never get to give it to her because she was dead, that sentiment still stood. It was the thought that counted.

So there it was, written with a green crayon on a pink piece of construction paper, a poem to his dead mother. It read:

Mummy I miss you really bad.

When I think of you it makes me sad.

Sad because you're not here to kiss my hurts away

or to wish me "have a happy day"

you can't give me hugs

or tell me not to squash the bugs

I know you loved me while you could. I can feel it in my heart

But now you live in a world apart

All alone, I pray every night for a home

I know with you I had a place

The thought of it makes me feel like I won a race

Please come back if you can

I even thought up a plan

We can be together once again

Just ask God to let you be my angel

With that Harry feel asleep, the poem to his mother clutched in his small hand on his chest. Unbeknownst to him someone was watching, and the little poem would be the catalyst that changed Harry's young life.

Ok I hope you like it. Let me know in a review. I plan on writing a lot more to this story unless you all think it's complete as is. I tried to make the poem sound as if a child wrote it so it isn't my best piece of work, sorry. Please let me know of any spelling mistakes I have made. Thanks for reading and again, let me know what you think, good or bad, in a review.