A big thank you to my bestie, Em, for giving me this plot line. We were supposed to be working in class at school when we were really whispering and scribbling the plot for this story. I have to say, this was the quickest I've every written a chapter or story for that matter, so it's really thanks to her that it exists.
Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter, blimey, I don't even own half this plot!!
A Mother's Love
Some say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes, your entire life squeezed into a single second of memories. All the most important people that you've ever met and known, show themselves to you. Others say that it's almost instantaneous, happening within a matter of seconds. But then again, how would they know? Since when has it become a common practice for humans to die and come back to tell us what happened to them?
At age one hundred and thirty-four years, eight months and two weeks, Harry was barely young. He had long ago defeated countless dark lords and was hailed the hero of the wizarding world many times. After his conquer of the Dark Lord known as Lord Voldemort, he was immediately thrust into the Auror department. 10 years later, he was promoted to the Head of said department.
Everywhere around the world, young and old wizards and witches alike knew the name of Harry Potter. His great-great grandkids, great-grand kids, grandkids, kids and in-laws were all kept tabs on by the media. Everyone related to the famous Harry Potter considered themselves famous. But Harry himself still hated the fame. Sure, he got over his crazy teenage 'love scandals' that were cooked up by the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, but they only moved onto how his love life was progressing, his marriage to Ginny Weasley even made first page. He and his wife tried so hard to shield their kids from the horrors of both Harry's life and the media. But it always backfired on them. Friends and family were helpful enough, but sometimes just not quite enough.
After managing the Ministry of Magic and Britain's Wizarding public for a number of years (50 to be exact – the longest serving Minister for Magic in the history of such a title), Harry moved back to his old school, to assume the position of Headmaster. Many faces from the old days had grown old and died during his long lasting position here, he had beaten his favourite Headmaster's record by nearly double.
So now, his whole life was fully completed. He had enough niece's and nephews to last a lifetime, what with having the Weasley's as his in-laws, an even larger number of great-nephews and nieces, plus his own grandchildren. And once those grew up, he added a hefty number of great-grandchildren nieces and nephews. The Potter/Weasley family had grown so much, to just border under triple digits, with it growing almost by the month!
Harry had always expected he'd die young, in a battle of sorts, maybe against another dark lord or two. He never expected to be the last one living though. Nearly everyone from his time at Hogwarts was dead, all of the Weasley's were dead (Molly, Arthur and their six sons) his wife was dead, both his best friends were dead, but Harry, The-Boy-Who-Refuses-To-Die, had not had his time yet. Instead, he was forced to attend nearly hundreds of funerals, burials and forced to grieve over the loss of every one of his teenage hood friends.
This morning, Saturday, 13th April, was a significant date to Harry and his family. (His many descendents were still alive, save his own kids). It was the day he married Ginny and they became a family. After almost five years out of school, three years after Ginny officially graduated, (Harry never went back after the Final Battle of Hogwarts) they finally joined together in matrimony. With this, followed by the births of his three children, James Sirius, Albus Severus and Lily Luna Potter, his family was complete. His two best friends, Ron and Hermione followed suit six months later and had their fair share of children, Rose and Hugo Weasley.
Every other day was significant in one way or another, his many friends' birthdays, death-days, anniversaries, or other important things. Days that he was promoted, appointed Minister or Headmaster, killed certain evil dark lords. Every other day there had been something, something to make the date last in Harry's memory. On such occasions, he would do something special for them, but today, the most important day of all, he planned to just relax, take a breather and attempt to slow down his crazy life.
It was when he woke up this morning that he noticed something different about himself. In the past few weeks he had become forgetful, forgotten who people were or what day it was, why there were students running around the castle or what he was doing there. His Deputy, Amanda Potter, his Great-grand daughter, had frequently had to tell him to slow down, and see the Matron in the Hospital Wing. But he didn't trust this lady as much as he had Madam Pomphrey, who had died thirty years previously. So he kept things the way they were.
Frequently as a teenager and in his early twenties, he had wondered aimlessly whether everything that had happened to him and his friends would catch up to him. Injuries at Hogwarts that would prove fatal many years later or Quidditch accidents, or even just the chasing of the Horcruxes he had done in his 'seventh year'. Many times he had asked various Healers and specialists after a particularly nasty battle with dark wizard, whether it would all come back at him as he aged. They had never been asked such a question before, so hadn't given him a complete answer. Now, however, he knew the answer to his question.
He was now confined to his rooms, the Matron warning to take it easy. His many generations of descendents visited him. His great-granddaughter, Amanda, was due to arrive in five minutes, by the time she reached him, he had finally moved on. His long life had been splattered across various magazines, newspapers and gossip columns around the world. His fame hadn't just lasted in Britain; it had travelled to Australia, America and Asia, Africa, the Middle East and the rest of Europe.
The entire Wizarding World mourned his death. The hero that wouldn't; couldn't die had died. At 49 198 days and 10 hours, he had left this planet, for good. No more fake deaths to escape enemies, no more visiting 'Kings Cross' upon his sacrifice, and definitely no more chasing horcruxes across the country. Their idol had left them.
A young, twenty-one year old with red hair and startling green eyes was sitting under a beech tree next to the lake. Next to her, a man of the same age sat, messy jet-black hair and hazel eyes, adorned his face and head. They were holding hands, watching the scruffy black dog chase his tail in the shallows of the water. Nearby, a man with auburn hair and half-moon glasses sat talking to his brother, who looked almost identical, with the same twinkling blue eyes. Another man, with his wife was standing, talking about nothing in particular, his sandy brown hair mixed in with her ever-changing hair, her favourite was bubble-gum pink, she had an arm around her son, her personally preferred turquoise. Her parents, were standing with them, her mother had dark hair, and looked uncannily like her deranged sister while her husband was muggle-born.
A massive clan of people were sitting together under a white marquee. All of them with red-hair, a plump lady with her husband, their son, who had a long, red pony tail, and his wife who was part-veela, another son with dragon fang hanging from his ear. A tall son, wearing glasses and his wife were with them, a pair of twins, one with only one ear and a wife hanging of his arm, she was tall, of African heritage and had long black hair. To her side were her friends, one with blonde hair and another with brunette, all three were strong from many years of quidditch playing. To their left, a tall and proud man with his wife were standing. His wife was very smart, she'd won countless competitions and scored top marks in both her NEWTS and OWLS. A girl with dirty blonde hair and had a necklace of butterbeer caps hanging off her neck was talking to these two along with a boy with brown hair, a round face and kind eyes. He was standing with his parents, who had only just met him for the first time since he was a baby, when stupid death eaters had tortured them into insanity for information. They were talking to his father's mother, who was wearing a stuffed vulture upon her hat. A man who was wearing billowing black robes was talking rather animatedly with a small man (about 3-4 foot high) and a stern, tall woman who kept her black hair in a tight bun. Another lady with dirt all over her face and hair was talking to a woman all in white, she was the school nurse from Harry's days at Hogwarts.
A group of old Quidditch players were talking on another part of the grassy lands. Under another tree next to the lake, a grumpy looking, famous Bulgarian player from Durmstrang, a girl of Asian-English heritage and her boyfriend who had been killed upon the return of Lord Voldemort. With them was also the Captain of Harry's original Gryffindor Quidditch team that he joined in first year, he was Scottish and had played for Puddlemere United.
Under another tree, four people were sitting, a mother with red hair, whose family had taken an entire marquee, and her kids, a boy and girl with red hair, brown eyes and a number of freckles littering their faces and the middle son, who was a spitting image of his father.
They all seemed to be waiting for someone or thing. In a second, Harry appeared, fully young again. He looked up and saw his family. The one he had spent such long amounts of time away from. He turned and saw his best friends, smiling at him, he smiled back and scanned the crowd; everyone he knew and loved had been waiting for him. Finally he saw who he was looking for.
"Mum," he breathed.
"I've been waiting to meet you Harry-bear," she smiled at him, her emerald green eyes glistening with unspoken tears of joy. They spoke such volumes of unconditional love that everyone else was a blur to him. He didn't go greet his wife, or friends, he didn't ask the many questions he'd been desperate for the answers to long ago, he didn't say hello to all the people he'd met before he talked to his mother, whom he had never known since he was a baby.
Well, that's all from me for now. If it isn't toooo much trouble, (and it really shouldn't be . . .) PLEASE press that little purple button down there and let me know what you think!!