'Who was Harry Potter?'
They knew who he was.
'No, who was he really?'
A friend. A brother. A protector. A hero. A lover.
Truly selfless, very philanthropic, stubborn, tactful and courteous. He was endearing, charismatic and smart.
Angry too. He had a terrible temper. But he was also kind.
And he had lived quite a life, made friends from around the world, enemies along with them, but he was respected.
Like everyone, he had secrets; albeit, secrets so large that lesser men would be bursting out to talk about them.
It was quite a turnout.
The death of the Boy-Who-Lived, the Man-Who-Conquered, the Chosen One was dead at the hands of a vampire.
His funeral was held in the town he had called home for little over a year – Mystic Falls. People from all over the world ventured out here to pay their respects to the legendary man who had lived, as he died, for others.
For once, in over quite a few millennia, people of the magical community united as one to fester in their grief for the young man. For the first time, they turned their rage to the bloodsucking menace which had cost them their cherished saviour.
The funeral was served in a barn, but only because of the sheer size of the people who had shown up to the venue. People from Russia, Britain, Greece, France, Africa and Greece were just among the few ethnicities there.
In the front was the coffin. The Druidic Priest, the same man who had married the deceased's parents spoke the vows of death and rebirth before burning sage and incense.
Well-wishers came up and rested upon the coffin, whispering their condolences to the people whom called the young man a friend, a brother and a lover.
When the wishes were over, the Will reading was commenced, and Ronald Weasley barricaded the barn doors from those whom the Will did not pertain to. His wife, Hermione, used magic to protect the entire barn from being breached to interlopers.
Through all of this, Elena stared at the rich mahogany coffin. In her arms, silly as it may seem to others, was her lover's shirt. Her favourite shirt… his Quidditch jersey.
His smell; an earthy scent with a wooden polish extract and a hint of cinnamon, reminded her of the last time she had been in his embrace. She had been going off to meet with Klaus, a vile creature, when Harry had protested to it. Before Klaus could do anything, she calmed him down. Using a manner of knock-out serum she had discovered in his home, she had injected her lover. As he fell, she fell with him, his arms still locked around her; her lips still upon his.
Then Klaus had whirled her away. After initiating the transition of his hybrid side, Elena felt her energy leave her when she noticed that Harry was there.
Klaus' head was on the floor, blood everywhere, and she met his passionate green eyes before her vision became one of darkness.
She was later told by Bonnie, one of her best friends, that the man had been killed by Elijah as recompose for killing his brother. Elijah, her would-be ally, had plunged a hand into Harry's chest and tore out his heart.
Then he had fled into the night.
Elena choked back a sob. She had lost her birth father, her adoptive aunt and her boyfriend in the space of twenty-four hours. And what was quite possibly the worst thing? She hadn't died with them.
The Druidic Priest cleared his throat. 'Those whom are present are eligible for the Last Will and Testament to one Harry James Potter…'
There was a beat.
'Let it be known that any who is not eligible to this reading will be evicted from the ceremony with reasonable force.'
Nobody moved and no force of magic came forth to strike down sneaking interlopers. Several moments passed and the priest, appeased, tapped a wad of parchment.
Harry's laugh came out of it.
'Hello all… sorry for putting you through this.'
A smoky apparition of her lover formed over the parchment.
He smiled cheekily. 'I didn't want to do this, but then I realised that if I didn't, the Ministry could get their grubby paws on my stuff and that isn't going down well with me.'
He cleared his throat. 'So, without further ado, my last will and testament, yada, yada, yada.'
Harry glanced at something out of the corner of his eye. 'Bit grim this, isn't it?'
Tyler's voice boomed back; 'It was your idea!'
Elena smiled shakily at the sight, tears spilling over her flawless cheeks and she clutched the Quidditch jersey tighter to herself.
Harry turned back. 'Right, so… To my two best mates, Ron and Hermione, I leave you the cottage I got to building up in Wales; it's non-refundable and in your name, so don't let my hard work go to waste.'
The couple chuckled emotionally, the red-haired man pulling his wife into a tight hug. 'Of course, there's enough room for several sprogs, so get as promiscuous as you want, just ignore that I purposely purchased a perverted painting installed it in the parlour.'
Harry cleared his throat again and smiled. 'To the Weasleys'; my second family. The only thing I can offer you is my thanks for looking out for me. As well as a sizable increase in your Gringotts Vault.
'Fred and George, unless you want my stake back from your establishment, the only thing I can say is give them hell.
'Bill, Fleur; I found the silverware of the Potter's in one of my vaults – they bought them off your ancestors a few centuries ago Fleur – and now they will be returned to you. It's quite a bit, I'm not going to lie.'
After a few more possessions were given away to both the gathered Weasleys and all of Harry's close British friends, his American friends were bestowed with gifts.
Matt received Harry's ancient 1961 Jaguar E Type; Tyler got Harry's godfather's old motorbike.
Jeremy got the money for tuition in an art college in New York; Caroline got an unlimited credit card (because he knows what she's like), and Bonnie received a small empty book.
'It's charmed to never run out of pages and to be featherweight. You're always skimming through your ancestor's grimoire; how about you make your own?' the girl had sobbed a laugh at his suggestion.
Harry's voice turned sombre and he sighed.
'Now the most important of all.
'To Teddy Lupin – my godson – I leave you Vault 317 at Gringotts as a trust fund; it's filled with quite a bit of money so, don't go spending it all in one place. I also leave you the title of Lord Black, which will be yours the minute you turn seventeen. I'd rather you have it than some others. I'm sure your nan would be more than helpful with your lordship…. I also want to say sorry little wolf, sorry for not being there for you when I should have been.
'Elena.' Her breath caught. 'I leave you my home in Mystic Falls as a physical reminder of our happiness together. I want you to know that I love you, and that, under your pillow, is one final gift from me. Thank you for everything… you are one in a million and I'm forever gratified in knowing that you chose me.'
'Right, now how the bloody hell do you turn this damn thing off-?'
There was silence. Elena didn't even realise that she was full on sobbing her eyes out into Harry's Quidditch jersey. Jeremy put his arm around her and hugged her to him.
It wasn't fair. How was it that she had lost so much in such a small timeframe?
That night, she had returned to the home she semi-permanently resided at for the past few months. It was Harry's.
The home was old, but vibrant; alive. The stone was covered with vines and moss, the wood was old yet strong and the windows looked weak. Inside, it was homey and well furnished with a very chic scheme.
She slowly walked up the flight of stairs, her hand trailing the smooth oaken bannister as she so often did. She remembered when he had chased her up these very stairs into his – their – bedroom, to catch her and to make love to her.
He had been passionate and his movements were tempered with experience.
She half-smiled in remembrance about the time that they had fell asleep, her atop him, with him still buried inside her.
Then she reached the threshold of their bedroom. It was exactly the same as it was every morning they woke; bed sheets at the bottom, socks on the floor, a bra or two and a pair of boxers laying across the bottom of the bed frame.
Her eyes settled on the pillow on the left hand side, right by the window. That was his place. Hers was right by the door. So she walked to there and upturned the pillow.
It was a parchment letter.
Elena plucked it off the bed, repositioned her pillow and climbed onto the bed. Her free hand gripped the covers and pulled them up to her chin as she burrowed into Harry's pillow. Her fingers plied the parchment open.
Elena
It's hard to put this down on paper, knowing that, at the end, you'll probably want to grab my tombstone and rag it down. I've learned that it's easier to simply rip off a Band-Aid rather than wait until the bandaged person is ready for it to come off.
So here it goes.
If you don't hate me for leaving you all alone, go to the attic and whisper your name to the locked door. What you're looking for is inside.
All my love,
Harry
Elena reread the letter hundreds of times within the span of two hours.
What did it mean?
Hope swelled in her chest. Was he alive? Was he upstairs, high in the attic?
Before the hope could fester, she swallowed it. Harry wouldn't do anything like that. He would not be that cruel to hurt her like that.
So she stayed in their bed, cuddling his pillow for comfort before she finally decided to have a go at undoing Harry's cryptic message.
The attic door was, as suspected, locked. Her name, however, opened it. What an easy password.
She pushed the door open and entered. Almost immediately, she saw the mirror.
It was a massive thing; it covered an entire pillar and then some.
But it wasn't the size of the mirror that astounded her, it was the sight before her.
It was her, as she was now, but with a small stomach bulge. A bulge which contained life.
Life which, if her assumption was right, was half hers and half Harry's. Their child. She was pregnant. Her lover may be dead in the literal sense, but he had also achieved an immortality that was superior to vampirism; his legacy. His child.
'So love,' said a familiar husky tone, 'do you not hate me?'
Elena froze, hand splayed on her stomach and she spun around violently. Brown eyes wide, she saw the sight she had wished for every day since his death. Harry, smiling as he was, eyeing her with curiosity.
'I will do if you ever pull a stunt like that Harry James Potter!'
Harry's smile wavered. 'I did it so that you and your town remains safe from vampires – magical wardens (people who ward things) prevented any undead creature, Caroline as the exception, into Mystic Falls. I also did it so that no more Originals come and bother you. If I simply vanished, you would become a target. But now; Harry Potter is dead and they, in their arrogance, won't look any further.'
Elena approached him warily.
'I am sorry for everything Elena. Please.'
She embraced him.
'Am I really pregnant?'
Harry chuckled. 'Do you want to be?'
Elena hesitated. 'Maybe,' she said evasively. 'Bonnie told me that she saw Elijah rip your heart out.'
Harry hummed. 'She saw a stone being ripped out of a human golem. It was an illusion.'
The two remained in the embrace in the cool attic.
'Promise me something.' Elena said, pulling back, hand resting on the nape of his neck. Harry's green eyes searched hers questioningly. 'Never leave me again.'
Harry nodded solemnly. 'I promise,' he whispered to her lovingly, and for good measure, he sealed the promise with a kiss.
Elena hummed into the kiss.
All was well.
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AN: Though Klaus is dead, he wasn't slain by the White Oak Stake, and therefore his sire line survives. I know it's confusing, but it makes sense; a White Oak Stake can wipe out an entire line of vampires just by killing the originator? What if Damon was staked with it? Would Caroline, Abbie, maybe even Charlotte die? I would like to think so.