A/N- just a short one, but I think we are overdue for a new Potter book. So some hope is always nice! Reviews are welcome! Enjoy :)
"The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well." The woman sighed heavily and put down her pen. It was over. The Harry Potter Era was finished and those were the final words. Sure, there would be the releases of the next movies and stuff, but there was never going to be that feeling again. That warm feeling whenever she picked up her pen and put it to paper and her imagination was put into words. When she wrote about Harry and his world, she felt like she was part of it, if only invisible.
But it was over now; the last words had been written.
Were they the best words she'd ever written? No. Was it the best ending to the best-selling book series and multi-million-pound movies? No. Could she do better? Maybe.
The woman picked her pen up again and, after some thought, began to think about the last few lines. She felt the readers needed some sort of cliff hanger that they could gain hope from. That, maybe someday, there could be another book, another film, another mystery. Maybe.
The woman sighed. She just couldn't think of words that could spark that much raw emotion into the hearts of millions. She'd done it before but that was back then when things were different. Back then she could bring the reader to tears or make them laugh out loud all with different combinations of twenty-six letters. That was then. This was now.
She placed the dark pen delicately back on the shiny surface and took up a steaming mug of tea in her hands. Wrapping her palms around the spotted mug, she gained warmth and encouragement from the hot drink. It is true, she thought, tea solves all your worries. She laughed out loud for a second before looking at the paper and stopping suddenly. For now.
Sparks burst in the woman's brain like something from the end of Harry's wand. It was like a lightbulb moment when all the fog was cleared and she could see it. The ending she'd wanted.
She slammed the mug on her desk, tea slopping over the smooth edges like a tidal wave but she didn't care- she had it! The pen entered it's natural position in her hand and she steadied it only momentarily before scribbling out the last three words that she had hated. Next to it, in delicate handwriting, she etched two words on the paper, dropped the pen and breathed deeply. It was perfect. A small sense of hope tingled up her spine and she knew the readers would feel the same. Harry Potter would not be forgotten. A small smile crept over the woman's lips as she proof-read the last two sentences.
"The scar had not pained Harry in nineteen years. For now."