Heyy! I've been told I'm not allowed to post song lyrics in my story (weird rule if you ask me) so I've had to take them out. This story was based on the song He Lives in You from Lion King.
Albus Severus Potter looked around the dank and dismal room he was sitting in. It was horrible, he thought, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Destroy-Voldemort dying in a tiny, dirty room with only his middle, and least successful son to keep him company. He should be in a lavish room, surrounded by all of his friends and family, dying with a smile on his face as he thought of finally meeting his parents.
But no, his wife Ginny, had died in a car accident a few weeks before Lily's graduation from Hogwarts, and after that, the family had just fallen apart. Harry had become prone to small bouts of depression after the war had ended, and devastated by Ginny's death he had fallen into an unresponsive state. They had tried to get him to come out of it: hiring the very best doctors and physicians, prescribing him all sorts of potions, but in the end they had all given up and forgotten about him.
Molly Weasley had become a famous cook, and had published hundreds of homemade recipes before she died. Arthur had invented, completely by accident, a way to make technology work with magic, and sold it to countries across the world until he eventually followed his wife to the afterlife. Charlie had become a fully qualified dragon trainer; Bill started up a multi-million warding company; George set up WWW stores all over the world; and Ron achieved his dream of becoming Head Auror. To be fair, Hermione had stuck around for a while, trying to help Harry, but in the end she had also given up, and became head of Wizarding/Magical Creature Relations.
Teddy was traveling the world, publishing papers on magical civilasations he finds; James became Captain of the English Quidditch Team, and had won the Quidditch World Cup; and Lily, she became the youngest Headmistress of Hogwarts ever, while also expecting twins with her husband Frank Longbottom II. But Albus, dear old Al, always the overlooked and forgotten child, had stayed.
It was getting late, and Albus knew his father didn't have much longer. He went over to the window. Outside, children were being called in by their mothers, and the nightlife was starting up.
An owl flew up and Albus gave it an owl treat from his pocket before untying the message and reading it. A lone tear ran down his face as he shook in anger. He closed the window and shut the shabby curtains, before hurrying back to Harry's bedside.
He refused to leave Harry, despite everyone else doing so. Albus had decided long ago that he would stick by his father, who had always noticed him even though he was quieter and less noticeable than James and Lily.
Albus was always the one left out of games, the last one to be chosen. He wasn't sporty like James and Dominique, cute like Lily, brave like Teddy, clever like Rose and Lucy, boisterous like Hugo and Louis, popular like Victorie, confident like Fred and Molly, perfect like Lucy or funny like Roxanne. He was just average, nothing special. But Harry treated him like everyone else, even when the rest of his family overlooked him.
People always said that James looked just like Harry, or that Lily was a perfect Gryffindor just like him, but Albus hoped that he took after Harry in a way that was, in his opinion, better. He hoped that he had inherited Harry's kindness to everyone, his selflessness and modesty. Albus hoped that his father would be proud of him, despite being a Hufflepuff, not a Gryffindor.
Albus looked down and reread the message he had received from his brother. Earlier on he had sent a letter to James and Lily begging them to put their lives on hold for one evening as it was a family emergency. But James had just sent a note back saying: "Hey! Sorry little bro, can't come. Some people actually have jobs and important lives, for example, me. I'm at a party at the moment, got to dash. Bye!". Lily hadn't even bothered replying. It was no use, Harry was going to die here, in this horrible room, with the only son that actually cared about him for company.
Albus was furious. Furious at his siblings, his cousins, the rest of his family and the rest of the Wizarding world. He hated how they could just abandon their saviour to his death. Without Harry, they would still be at war, at least half of them would be dead, with more dying every day. He couldn't believe that the Wizarding World could just forget about their hero. It was ironic, the one time that Harry needed the world, it turned it's back on him. Oh, Albus knew that later on, when he informed everyone that Harry was dead, they'd be a big fanfare and everyone would try to show the press that they were mourning him, but it'd be too late.
Albus hoped that one day he'd be known as the one who stuck by Harry until the end, it'd be nice to get some recognition for once from someone other than Harry. He just wished he could show the world the true faces of his family, the backstabbing glory seekers they were, but he knew that he wouldn't be believed. He'd only be shunted into the background and have to listen to all of the oh so subtle jeers and whispers behind his back that he was the stupid one, the jealous one.
"Albus..." Came a strangled voice. Albus looked down to see Harry gesturing at him. He leaned forward and Harry whispered "I'll always be proud of you, son" before closing his eyes for the very last time.