Lily lays unmoving on the floor. It aches to look at her. It seems that in none of his lives can Harry be allowed to have his mother. He knows James is somewhere else in the house; on the stairs, if memory serves, from how Sirius told it. Harry wishes he could see him too, even if just his lifeless body. Just once, with his own eyes, in person. Yet, as it has always been, it was not meant to be.