There was only one thing in the entire world that truly belonged to Harry James Potter. It was a figurine. Small and carved from a rigid resin, painted in bright reds and white, a soldier of the Napoleonic era. With a musket in his right arm and a sword in his left, the tall hat of a solider with a plumed feather on the front.
For years it had stayed with Harry. It had rested on the small board near the front of his cupboard under the stairs, and then later it took pride of place on his nightstand in hogwarts and in Dudley's second bedroom. It was the only toy that Harry had ever had that was his. Vernon had wanted to take it away though Petunia hadn't cared. It had been Dudley who had caused his uncle to let him keep it. Dudley who had, in childish cruelty, declared that Harry wouldn't know just what it was he wasn't getting if he could never experience it. Vernon let him keep the toy.
It went with Harry everywhere and, as soon as he learned a charm to make it unbreakable, he even kept it on his person at all times. Ron and Hermione never got him to tell them why that little toy army man meant so much to him, not until after it was gone.
Harry stared down at the broken figurine in disbelief. It was cracked in two, the tip of the musket missing and left arm long gone. The legs were separated from the body and the stand had bent at a funny angle. It had been hit by stray blasting curse somewhere during the battle in the ministry. Maybe Lucius or one of the Lestranges, his mind supplied. It didn't matter. He waved his wand, the whispered "Reparo" bringing the remaining pieces together, straightening the stand and seamlessly merging the legs and torso.
The tip of the musket was still missing, as was the left arm, though the feather from the hat emerged from the pocket he had kept it in and reattached itself with the spell. It wasn't enough.
With a shaking hand, Harry reapplied the unbreakable spell, picked up the largest shard of Sirius' mirror, and wrapped both items up in a pair of over-large, mustard yellow socks. Reverently, he placed both items in the bottom of his trunk and sat back down heavily on his four-poster bed. Slowly, he curled in on himself, his shaking hands collapsing into fists in his hair as his frame was wracked by heaving gasps and shuddering sobs. Silently, so as not to make too much noise.