Dear Mum and Dad,
Another year has gone by so fast!

Nope.

Screwing up the parchment, Harry shook his head. That wasn't right.

The young boy thought for a moment before dipping his quill into the black ink once more.

Mum and Dad,
I can't believe how fast this last year has gone. So much has happened, you wouldn't believe...

No, no, no.

Frustrated, Harry flung the latest two pieces of wasted parchment into the bin to join the other five, and wondered why he was finding this whole process so difficult.

For as long as he could remember, Halloween had always been the same: whatever mundane happenings the day involved, followed by dinner and homework, before Harry would sit down to pen a yearly letter to his parents.

Other children his age were out collecting candy or gorging themselves on pumpkin pasties. But for Harry, who had no real memories of his mother or father, this was his tradition and it was one he was careful to stick to.

But this year, he couldn't quite find the words.

This year, something was different.

True, the tone of his letters had changed a lot over the years, from childish scribble done from the confines of the cupboard under the stairs, to his excited scrawl exactly a year ago, which detailed the adventures he had had with his new friends and a fully grown mountain troll just hours before.

That letter had been bursting at the seams. Hogwarts, Hedwig, being picked for the Qudditch team, his Nimbus 2000, Ron, Hagrid, Potions, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts....

Yet this year, he could barely write a sentence.

It wasn't as though he was short on news, and the start of his second year at Hogwarts had been just as eventful as the first. It was just...

Something is different.

But what?

For the longest time, Harry stared at the fresh sheet of parchment in front of him, as if willing the words to write themselves.

Why was it suddenly so difficult? In the past it had been the easiest thing in the world.

In the past, he had needed those letters.

What else did he have? Who else did he have? Harry couldn't go home after school and tell his parents about his day, and it wasn't as if the Dursleys cared. He couldn't owl his parents from Hogwarts, or floo call them, or return home for Christmas.

Those letters had been the only thing he had- the only way he could truly talk to his parents, allowing all the feelings he had bottled up to spill out onto the page, sharing the good news, or the bad.

He had needed those letters. He had needed...

At that moment, a deep, silky voice from the hallway brought Harry from his thoughts.

“Harry? Supper is ready.”

Of course.

Depositing his final piece of parchment into the bin, Harry replaced the lid on his inkwell and stood up.

“Coming, Dad.”

Yes, this year, something was definitely different.

This year, Harry James Potter had a family.