The war had ended and Harry Potter felt numb.
It wasn't the kind of numb that came from too much emotion, or the numbness that came from too much pain. It was the kind of numbness that only came over a person when everything was said and done and they just didn't know what to do next.
And Harry, standing in the broken and destroyed ruins of Hogwarts facing the now dead body of the man he was raised and trained to kill, had no idea what to do next.
So, like always, he did what was expected of him. He turned away. He helped rebuild. He tried to force his body and mind to move on, to forget (but at night he could not, never at night when the nightmares hit and the world turned black and all he wanted to do was run and run and run).
Once that was done, the fixing and rebuilding and the moving on, he once again did what was expected: he got married to his Hogwarts sweetheart. He thought 'it's really not so bad' he does love her, in a way, in the way that someone loves an untainted art piece, or the way the sea and the sky are loved. He loved her as something untouchable, far away, something to be admired but never touched (but she wasn't, not in her own mind, in her mind she was just as broken and the nights were just as long, but he could never see that could he? He could never see her for what she was.)
He became an auror because he remembered telling McGonagall once that he wanted to, remembered that that was what his dad did, and thought it couldn't be such a bad idea.
They had a child then, because that was also what was expected, and when he was born Harry didn't know what to do. They named him after family and friends, (because that was what people did right?) and he threw himself into his work. He ignored the child because he didn't know how to react to it, how to hold it, how to comfort it. The only examples he had ever had were his aunt and uncle and he didn't want to be like them, never like them, and so he kept his distance from both the child and his wife until Ginny yelled at him, screamed at him, begged him to try and be a father, to be anything but distant.
She yelled at him a lot back then.
The numbness never went away though, not fully, and he wondered if the killing curse, the last one, had somehow stripped him of emotion, of drive, of want. Because the world seemed so bland, so empty, but he tried and he pushed and he forced himself to keep going. He listened to Ginny and he tried to spend time with his son, tried to be a good father (but not a good husband, he knew that, and he knew he should try, should force himself to touch her, hold her, comfort her, but how could he when he was numb numb numb?)
Then he met a small boy, an orphan, alone and dirty with unruly and nappy hair and with a spark in his eyes that was a little too familiar. He took him home, which wasn't so hard when you had magic on your side, and gave him a new name. Ginny was not happy. They already had one child, one that was still so young ('and you don't help with that one Harry! How do you expect us to keep this new one! I can't do all the work! I can't do this anymore Harry!')
But they kept the child, and for the first time Harry actually felt like he had accomplished something for himself, something that he wanted, not just something that was expected of him. He became a better father to both his sons this time, treated them better, spent time with them, figured things out. (But his eldest son was not blind, he knew he was not the favorite, he knew in the way all kids know. He took it out on his younger brother, with hitting and punching and harsh words, because he couldn't take it out on his dad.)
Years later there was a little girl with red hair and green eyes that reminded him of the photos he had seen of his mother, and so he offered her a proper home, one that wouldn't question the floating books and the frog that was once a boy, and she accepted. (Ginny also accepted it this time without complaint. This, she had finally realized, was the only way she would ever have a big family. This was the only way she could live that dream even if it wasn't exactly what she wanted, even if she wanted them to be her children. Their first son, James, had been a fluke she realized. Something unplanned, she hadn't seen it then, but she saw it now.)
James started school at Hogwarts and was sorted into Gryffindor. Harry felt he should probably be happier than he was about that fact, that he should at least feel something. He didn't. (Ginny comforted her oldest son, explained to him that that was just how his father was. James insisted that he knew, he was used to it, but it still hurt hurt hurt.)
The third child Harry took in was older and looked nothing like either of them - It was the first time anyone but their closest friends and family realized that most of their children were not actually theirs. It was also the point where Ginny stopped trying to save her marriage and just existed within it (Harry did not notice, but she didn't expect him to).
Albus was sorted into Slytherin the next year and Harry felt pride for the first time in a long time.
By Harry's sixth adoption (and they were always Harry's, never Ginny's, they never really had been.) Ginny had met someone else and remembered what it was to be in love and to be loved, properly loved. To be touched and held and kissed, to be loved not just from a distance.
She didn't want to leave the children, because as much as they weren't hers she still felt an attachment to them, especially her oldest son and Lily. But in the end she did, with Harry's blessing, because he understood that there were things he couldn't give her, things he had no capacity to give her, that this new person could. He wanted her to be happy. Perhaps that was all he ever wanted for her.
She took James with her, and Lily insisted too because she loved Ginny as a mother, they got along perfectly (something that would change when she turned seventeen and the fighting started and she wanted to leave home) and so Harry let them leave too, and let them know they would always be welcome at Godric's Hollow
Lily came back, for Christmas and holidays, and sometimes just because, but James never did. Harry was not surprised.
He quit his job as an auror, after all he had four kids to look after at home; and with the money he received from his parents and Sirius it wasn't like he needed to work. Besides, the job had never fit, not really. It had the feel of a shoe three sizes too small that he had tried to force his way into, and leaving it felt like a relief, it felt like freedom.
It felt like choosing his own path.
He took on two more children, twins this time, that he very carefully did not name Fred and George.
He hadn't realized anything had changed until a child was left of his doorstep for the first time. He looked at the baby; no note attached, and carefully picked it up. He did not turn them away.
Godric's Hollow grew then, more rooms were added, expanded, given space for children that needed a home but did not have one, for children who ran away from the abuse people subjected them to just because they did not understand. A place for children to grow up around the magic they produced, where they would not be mocked, questioned, or hurt. A place for children like him ('and like Tom Riddle' he thinks one night and he feels something, he's not sure what it is exactly, but his makes him feel light and maybe, kind of, almost happy).
It was the winter holiday of Albus' sixth year when he returns home (with a number of brothers and sisters in tow) to find the sign above his home being replaced. No longer is there an open mouthed lion and gold plated cast-iron words reading Godric's Hollow, instead the new Iron words are set simply against the stone wall, shining in a deep black against the red brick. The new words read 'Potter's orphanage for magical children'. He smiles widely, waves at the wizard carefully placing the letters and walks into the house. He narrowly misses getting trampled by three six year olds and two eight years old as they come to greet him, asking how his semester had been and if he had brought them candy from Hogsmeade. He laughs and hugs them and promises them sweets later before moving on and lets them greet the other orphans that were returning home for the holidays.
There is a quiet girl in the corner with dull eyes and dark hair, he smiles at her but does not hug her, not yet, not until she is more comfortable in the house. He knows she will come around eventually though. They always do.
He finds his father going through some kind of paperwork in the kitchen as the cook, a sweet elderly lady with nowhere else to go who had been hired a couple years back, prepared a large supper for everyone in the house. A number of free house elves ran about her feet, trying to get the house decorated and plates set up for a welcome home feast.
"Dad, were home." He called out, pulling his attention away from his paperwork. Harry slowly looked up over the rim of his thick glasses, pushing his still unruly hair out of his face before smiling widely.
It was the first smile Albus had ever seen on his father's face that actually reached his eyes.
