A young boy, no older than the age of twelve, stood in the attic of 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, staring out of the window, lost in thought. 

Laughter and light banter echoed through the thin walls of the small house he was confined to. He wished they would laugh with him too. Dreaming wasn't a crime, nor was wishing for a different life. 

However, stalking a person whom you barely know for an undefined reason? 

Maybe. 

It was a cold, frosty night. 

The hand of a revenant-like being, slippery and bony, was tightly clasped around hers. It was nauseating, but she could not fight it. 

This was the second incident. She knew the drill. Her feet halted once she reached her destination. Locks of her hair blew into her unmarred green eyes as the wind softly howled, blowing past her as if in a hurry. 

She lifted her head and her gaze locked on the familiar boy who seemed lost in thought. Except this time, his face was behind black bars. 

Why was she here, she had no answer. 

A year ago was the first time she had found herself here. The black hooded figure had brought her here, always beside her, holding her hand, laughing when she cried. 

She did not know what this place was, and she did not want to be there. 

For the second year in a row, she stood outside the house, in the shadows, wondering who this unnatural, inexplicable force was that brought her here. It unsettled her. Scared her. 

Sighing, she cast one last glance at the mystery boy before being dragged away once again, without any answers as to who he was or what role he played in her subconscious episodes. Without any answers as to who the figure beside her was. She tried to sneak a glance at the face under the hood, but everything became so hazy all of a sudden, her eyes hurt. It was so dark. 

She quickly looked back at the ground. 

The phantom hand that was wrapped around hers guided her. 

Her black coat rustled against the bushes, catching the attention of the boy. Puzzled about who the girl was, he only just managed to catch sight of her furry grey muffler and metallic brown hair that appeared light auburn under the incandescent streetlamp, right before she disappeared into the night. 

In a daze, his gaze went to the picture frame he was holding, the only image of his parents he had. 

And before he knew it, his voice slipped out unconsciously, barely above a whisper, barely audible to himself. 

"Mom?"