Harry and his sister Rosie play Hide and Seek…

Harry held his breath, pressing both hands over his mouth to keep from giggling. Rosie was never going to find him here—never. She wasn’t very good at hide-and-seek, but she tried her best. He hugged his knees and grinned. The closet was cozy, with Mum’s robes brushing his head and a faint smell of flowers in the air.

He heard the door to his parents’ room creak open and froze. His mum’s voice cut through the air, sharp like when she scolded him for climbing the kitchen counters.

“James, this can’t wait. We need to talk about it.”

Harry frowned, tilting his head. He didn’t like when Mum sounded like that. He hugged his knees tighter as his dad groaned.

“Lily, not now. Their birthday’s tomorrow. Can’t we just—”

“No,” Mum interrupted. Her voice was firm, not loud, but still the kind that made Harry’s stomach do a little flip. “Harry told me something last night.”

“What did he say?” Dad’s voice sounded tired, like after a long Quidditch game.

Harry squirmed. Mum told him? He hadn’t meant for it to be a big thing.

“He said he thinks you don’t like him as much as you like Rosie.”

Harry blinked, his chest feeling funny. He hadn’t wanted Mum to say it like that. He’d just told her because… well, because she always listened.

There was a long silence, and Harry held still, not even breathing. Finally, Dad sighed.

“That’s not true,” Dad said, quieter now. “I love Harry. You know I do. I love them both.”

“Then why does he feel that way?” Mum asked, her voice tight. “Why does our five-year-old think his father doesn’t like him?”

“I don’t—” Dad started, but Mum cut him off.

“I’ve seen it, James. You’re gentler with Rosie, quicker to laugh, quicker to comfort her. With Harry, it’s… it’s like you’re expecting more. Expecting him to—”

“I’m not expecting anything,” Dad snapped, and Harry flinched. He hugged his knees even tighter, his heart thumping. “I’m doing the best I can. Do you think I don’t know what I’m like? That I don’t feel guilty every time I look at him?”

Mum’s voice softened. “What do you mean, ‘guilty’?”

Dad sighed again, and Harry could hear him pacing.

“Because every time I see Rosie’s scar, Lily, I think about how close we came to losing her. It’s like… it’s like I have to protect her. Every second, I feel like I’m going to mess it up. And Harry—he’s strong. He doesn’t need me the same way. He’s always been…”

“Strong?” Mum said sharply. “James, he’s five. He’s a little boy.”

“I know,” Dad muttered. “But I… I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. Like I have to keep Rosie safe no matter what. And Harry’s fine, isn’t he? He’s fine.”

“No, he’s not,” Mum said firmly. “He feels forgotten. He feels like you don’t see him, James. And if you don’t start paying attention, he’s going to pull away from you, and you’ll lose him.”

“I don’t want to fight about this,” Dad said, his voice rising again. “It’s their birthday tomorrow, for Merlin’s sake. Can’t we just—”

The words hit Harry like a bucket of cold water. He wasn’t fine. He wasn’t strong. He was just Harry, and he didn’t like hearing them talk about him like he wasn’t there. Before he could stop himself, he threw open the wardrobe door and jumped out.

“I’m not fine!” he yelled, his little fists clenched. Both his parents turned, startled, and Harry’s cheeks burned, but he couldn’t stop now. “I’m not strong all the time, Dad! And Rosie’s not better than me!”

“Harry…” Dad knelt down, his face pale and his voice soft.

“I need you too!” Harry’s voice wobbled, and he stomped his foot. “You always hug Rosie more, and you laugh at her jokes, but I’m funny too! And I’m not strong all the time—I’m just me, and I don’t want you to forget me.”

Mum knelt beside him, pulling him into a hug, but Harry didn’t look away from Dad. His chest heaved, his fists still clenched.

“Oh, Harry,” Dad whispered, his voice cracking. He reached out, pulling both Mum and Harry into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know you felt that way. I’ve been wrong, and I’m going to fix it. I promise. You’re my son. You’re my brave, clever boy, and I love you just as much as Rosie.”

Harry’s bottom lip trembled, but he nodded. “You promise?”

“I promise,” Dad said, his voice steady now.

“Okay,” Harry whispered, leaning into the hug. “But you...you mean it?” He ask, looking up through his eyelashes shyly.

Mum laughed softly, and Dad ruffled his hair. “I do, kiddo. I mean it.”