To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: aye, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come…
[William Shakespeare.
It was a beautiful sunny day in the height of July. Everything the sun touched seemed to blossom with life: the colourful flowers planted all around the large garden, the honey bees visiting each brightly coloured bloom, the gentle breeze that seemed to whisper as it passed through the trees, waving their dark green leaves. That being said, it could have been any such day throughout the long, hot summer, if only something extraordinary wasn't going to happen that day.
Harry sat watching the children playing a game, running around and shrieking with laughter, their faces alight with happiness. It was now many years since his childhood, and the life that had once pounded so resolutely through his body had diminished somewhat. Nevertheless, his heart leapt with the joy of seeing his family so happy, so content.
It had all been worth it. All his trials and suffering, the burdens he had had to bear; it was all worth it for this perfect moment, and for the ones that had come before, and for the countless ones that would come after.
He had not lived as long a life as many wizards, but he had lived longer than some he knew, including his beloved wife, Ginny, taken from him eight years ago. Now approaching his ninety-seventh birthday, he felt stiff in his joints, and his eyesight had grown dim, though the green eyes behind his glasses still shone as brilliantly as ever.
His eldest great-granddaughter-in-law came out of the house carrying her newborn son. She smiled at Harry, still feeling slightly intimidated by him, this great wizard whom she was now related to by marriage, although of course he had never given her any reason to feel intimidated by him; it was more a sense of awe, that she got to meet the man behind all the tales, got to be part of his family.
She placed the baby in Harry's lap, and Harry gave a soft chuckle as the baby immediately closed his tiny hand around Harry's little finger. She offered Harry a drink, then left the two of them to sit there, basking in the sunlight, not a care in the world.
Harry listened to the clamour of voices coming from inside the house; they belonged to his children, his grandchildren and some of his great-grandchildren, the youngest of which were still playing on the lawn outside. And his friends were there also, the best friends he had ever had in his life, and in that moment, surrounded by his entire family, he had never felt so loved, so happy.
Harry closed his eyes and cradled the baby in his eyes. It was all for you, he told the little one silently. It was all for you, so that you wouldn't have to live in a world of pain and insecurity, so that your future could be happy and certain and long and full. And it was completely worth it.
The baby snuffled slightly. Harry opened his eyes to look at the child, and when he smiled at him, inwardly laughing at the way his crop of thick, dark hair already stood up at the back, the baby gurgled and smiled too. He had only started smiling a couple of days ago, and the sight of it warmed Harry's heart.
He lay back in his chair on the patio, overlooking the garden. He closed his eyes once more and let his thoughts drift, taking him into the blissful oblivion of sleep.
He woke up suddenly when a hand gently grasped his shoulder. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked a few times, just to be sure.
'Hello,' he said hesitantly.
'Hello Harry,' said Albus Dumbledore.
Harry looked at him and sighed.
'This is it, isn't it?'
Dumbledore merely smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. Harry had almost forgotten how piercing they were. He looked solid, just like he had the last time they had seen each other, only he seemed to be shining with a faint, silver light. Harry looked out once more at his great-grandchildren, at the future.
'You've led a very full life, Harry,' said Dumbledore softly. 'Don't you feel in need of a rest?'
'Yes, I suppose so,' Harry murmured. He lowered his head and gazed at the baby, still content in his arms.
'A beautiful baby,' smiled Dumbledore.
'My first great great grandchild. He's named after me you know,' Harry stated proudly.
'And a fine wizard he will turn out to be, I am sure. Just like his namesake.'
Harry didn't reply. Dumbledore waited patiently beside him, and neither of them spoke for a long while. Finally, Harry forced himself to turn his head and to look up into Dumbledore's eyes, and Dumbledore smiled so kindly and he was so full of understanding that it might have been eighty years previously, as though Harry were no longer an old man; it was as if he were the student again, the teenager seeking the advice of the greatest wizard of the day.
'It's strange,' Harry said quietly. 'I was quite ready to die so many times when I was growing up; I quite often wished I was dead. There were times when I would've given anything to lie beneath the ground and not to have to worry about … about anything. But now that the moment's finally here, I wish I could have just a little longer.
'But I know a little longer would never be enough, for even though this moment in time could be perfect, there may always be a more perfect moment ahead,' he laughed loudly this time. 'I suppose it's just life's one last joke!'
Dumbledore looked at him and smiled again. He moved round the chair and stood directly in front of Harry and held out his hand; Harry took it, with only the slightest split-second of hesitation.
And in that split-second Harry made his choice, though he barely knew it was offered to him. He chose to go on.
He knew he didn't need his body anymore, so when he stood up, he left it sat there in the chair, lounging back, with baby Harry still cradled in his arms. All at once the feelings of age left him. His senses were renewed, his joints moved easily, and his muscles felt strong and light. His face broke into a wide smile, and Dumbledore beamed back at him. Suddenly Harry was seventeen again. He felt so alive again, even though he knew he was dead.
Together they walked away from his body, but Harry could not help but take once last look at his family, and the world he had helped create.
'You don't need to worry about them,' said Dumbledore gently. 'They'll be all right, and so will the thousands like them. Let me show you what I mean.'
As one they turned away. They walked, and though a few seconds before Harry would have said that he did not know where to go, the knowledge seemed to come to him now as clear as daylight, as clear as the sunshine in the garden he had just died in.
As they walked, the scene behind him seemed to melt away, the colours fading and the edges of objects becoming hazy. But at the same time, a path, a road, was slowly building up in front of them. Harry didn't know where it went, but he knew it was a road he wanted to follow.
They walked in silence, neither mentioning their destination, but before they had gone too far a figure had materialised in the distance. Harry could see it was sitting down, and as they drew closer he could tell it was a woman, a woman with bright pink hair. She stood up when they reached her and grinned at them.
'Wotcher Harry,' she said brightly. 'Long time no see!'
'Hi, Tonks,' he returned softly. Still grinning, she gave him a hug, and then fell into step beside them.
'Me and Remus want to thank you, Harry, for looking after Teddy. You were the perfect Godfather. 'Course, it wasn't the way we wanted things to turn out, but …' she drifted off, but gave him a warm smile, which quickly turned into a laugh. 'But that incident with the Jarvey! We thought that was hilarious, couldn't stop laughing for hours! Poor teddy,' she added, though she looked ecstatic that her son had had such adventures growing up.
Harry was about to ask her how she knew about that, when it was nothing but a distant memory to him, but to his astonishment he found more people sitting, waiting, at the side of the path that they were walking on.
Some of them were people he had long forgotten, such as his old Squib neighbour, Arabella Figg; some were his old Professors from school, Minerva McGonagall and Horace Slughorn among them; and others were people he knew well: Fred Weasley, joined at last by his brother, George, less than two years ago. They were all smiling, laughing, joking, and they all hugged him before following them on their journey onwards, chattering loudly.
The path ahead of them was materialising just as the way behind them was diminishing. Harry knew there was no going back, but he was not worried by this knowledge. He could now just see, though still some way ahead of them, that a large area was emerging, and a large number of people seemed to be gathered there. When he got close enough to make out their faces he cried aloud in joy and ran forwards to greet them.
Harry was even younger now. As he hugged Sirius, and laughed with him, he seemed no older than fifteen, the time when he had last seen Sirius alive. Sirius looked so well, he looked how he should've been at 35, tall and powerful and healthy, but as Sirius turned to look at his friends he too seemed to shrink in years and became a young man as he grinned round at them all. Remus too took his turn at hugging Harry, and Harry marvelled at how young and healthy he too appeared.
And standing beside Sirius and Remus were the two people Harry had waited his entire life – and now death – to meet. For the first time ever he was able to hug his parents, and they could hug him back, now a child in their arms. They held him close, as though they never wanted to let him go, and Harry knew now that they wouldn't have to, that this was now his present, past and future.
All around him were the people he loved … the family that had been taken from him prematurely, and the family he had built for himself throughout his life. But there was still one person he longed to see.
As he broke away from his parents embrace he became older once more, he turned into the man he had been in his prime. He walked through the crowd of people, greeting everyone he met, but still searching. And finally, there she stood, even more beautiful than she had been on the day that he had married her – if that were possible. She gave him a small smile and his heart leapt with the thrill of seeing her again, and all his teenaged feelings of love and lust came flowing back to him in one moment. He pulled Ginny towards him and kissed her, and in that instant, he knew he was in heaven.
Authors Note: Well, I just bust that out in about 3 and a half hours. I've been thinking about death a lot this past week, as a close friend of the family just passed away. I wondered what Harry's death would be like, so I wrote this one shot. Let me know what you thought!
Disclaimer: My inspiration for this story came from many sources, none of which I own. Primarily, I borrowed the characters of Harry Potter from J.K. Rowling.
The idea of Harry appearing different ages to different people came from The Wind On Fire trilogy by William Nicholson, where the character of Bouncer changes his appearance to how different people perceive him.
The idea of the world disappearing and becoming unfocused as Harry leaves it comes from The Amber Spyglass, the last book in the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman.
The line 'You don't need to worry about them,' is an almost direct quote from Watership Down by Richard Adams, Lord Frith says this to Hazel on the last page of the book.
I would recommend all of these books to any readers :-)