The Next Adventure
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is an amazing writer, it's all hers.
Author's Note: I wrote this extremely quickly so its not exactly what I was hoping for, but it came to me last night and I just had to get it out. I realize I'm creating a pattern of describing the first moments of waking up in the morning, but these moments are sometimes the most meaningful of the day. I'll break out of the pattern with the next story I promise. Hope you enjoy. R&R!
The sunlight blared through the half drawn windows of the circular room. Slowly, its gold tones spilled over the worn carpet and eventually climbed the four posts of an elaborate bed.
The two figures under the covers shifted slightly as the sun's rays gradually overtook them. Finally, the sunlight crept over a wrinkled and faded scar on the man's forehead. Perhaps in his youth it had resembled something of a zig-zag shape, but over the years it had almost disappeared entirely, only to be revealed under the proper shades of the sun.
Below the scar were two closed eyelids, heavily wrinkled and hooded with age.
Suddenly, the man opened his eyes, exposing the depths of jade, sea foam green, and deep tranquility all in a single gaze. He squinted as the sun burned into his retinas, becoming nothing but white, reminding him of a single day deep into his past.
"Harry Potter," he said softly. His voice may have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."
None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting.
It was as if life itself had stopped. Harry realized that in only a few moments more, it really would stop, for him at least.
Somehow, facing his own death, Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his-
Voldemort had raised his wand.
Harry forced himself to look back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear, before he thought of missing her forever.
He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.
Then Harry found himself surrounded by white, in a place he wasn't sure was real, speaking to his former Headmaster, the piercingly blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles serenely examining him in the same way he always had in life.
And Harry was confused, angry, and wanted to know everything.
Eventually, he did.
Then Harry had a choice no other mortal would ever experience, he could control his own destiny; either go back to life or join all those he had lost to death.
"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."
These words reminded Harry of all those still alive, all he still loved who couldn't go on without him.
Mostly, he thought of her. The thought of her in danger made his stomach clench.
Of course he had to go back then. He had to leave the sanctuary of his King's Cross in hopes of a happy ending.
End it for good. For her, for all of them.
But now, eighty years later, Harry could sense the call of King's Cross once more. He had lived through many happy memories and thought maybe it was time at last to return to the station. He was tired and, even though he was long past boyhood, longed for his mother's touch at last. Something deep within him sensed it coming closer.
After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.
Harry, after 97 beautiful and challenging years, was prepared for another adventure, or so he thought.
After lying there for what seemed like forever and nothing more than mere seconds, Harry opened his eyes once more to the glare of the light and groped around the nightstand for his glasses.
Putting them on his nose, he opened those green eyes once more, which, despite all his previous thoughts of death, still twinkled with the delight of meeting another new day.
"That's better," he sighed to himself as the blurry world became pristine and detailed.
The man looked to his right and gasped with astonishment. The light illuminated the small figure of his sleeping wife, who had also shown the wear of the years, but, magically, not in this moment. Age spots were transformed to the freckles of her childhood, the wrinkles were smoothed and in the gold shimmering light her white hair was ablaze with a fiery red.
Harry could do nothing but stare. Warmth rushed through his entire body. She was the same girl who, once upon a time, captured his heart in front of the entire Gryffindor common room with a single kiss. She was the girl who understood when he had to leave her behind. She was his last thought before he felt Voldemort's curse flow through him.
She was always the only one.
Suddenly, Harry realized he wasn't done living. Not while the adventure was right here beside him.
Without Harry's noticing, Ginny slowly opened her hazel eyes.
"What's wrong Harry? Nightmares again?"
"Not at all," the old man replied, "it's just a beautiful day."
She smiled, and they both faced the day together.