this is for bree (a beautiful catastrophe) because she is wondrous and i love her to the end of time.


in memoria
out here, the good girls die —dustland fairytale, the killers


Lily's heart fails, as simple as that. She finishes her morning coffee (black, of course) and keels over, stone cold sober upon the tiled floor. For someone so wild and unpredictable, it's a pretty mundane ending.

At her funeral, Albus says that her body couldn't possibly hold the wild, roaming, relentlessly beating spirit of such a vibrant girl because no one had ever thought in a million years that something as ordinary as a heart attack could finish off such an extraordinary girl.

But, really, her heart just ceases to beat and they can tell themselves that it is the power of her spirit that surpasses her body's strength, or that she is now free to roam as far and as wide as she pleases all day long, but at the end of the day they all know the truth. Her heart stops. It fails her.

There is nothing poetic about that kind of death.


Albus spends his Hogwarts years writing poetry, drinking cheap whiskey and falling for the wrong person. He writes feverishly and furiously, until his eyes are blurred and the sonnets he sculpts for his lover are etched onto his very core. Scorpius Malfoy sees straight through the layers of sharp sarcasm and brooding eyes, Scorpius sees every verse Albus has ever composed for him and every beat his heart has ever wasted on him. Scorpius finds Albus' vulnerability.

Albus is twenty-one years old, all set to become Poet Laureate or maybe even Minister for Magic, when he is found dead inside his own flat.

Drug overdose, the Healers say. Suicide, the investigators murmur. Insane, they whisper. The Earth loses a might-have-been legend. The Wizarding World mourns the loss of such talent. The Potter family say goodbye to their son.

The remaining Potter family withdraws behind closed doors. The hysteria around his death slowly subsides, the papers move onto bigger stories, better stories: the trial of a famous ex-Quidditch player caught rigging a bludger; a new "Dark Lord" who happens to be some con artist from Germany. Slowly, Albus Potter is forgotten by all but a select few, as bigger and more pressing issues take centre stage.

His family never forgets, and Ginny never forgets the doubt she feels. No note, no goodbye, a brilliant boy, poised on the edge of becoming legendary. Hermione says it can happen to the most unlikely of people. Ron nods and tells them that you never quite know what is going on behind closed doors. Ginny never really believes that he took his own life. Harry just stares into space.

Five years later, one Scorpius Malfoy is arrested on suspicion of hoarding illegal substances. In his North London flat they find a book of Albus' poetry, a hurried letter and a small bottle of the very deadly drug that killed Albus. The case reopens. Scorpius Malfoy is charged with the murder of Albus Potter.

The papers go wild – the son of a Malfoy killing his father's old enemy, after an illicit affair. It's cited as a love affair gone wrong, a trace of their parents' rivalry seeping down the generations. It's used as a symbol – a symbol that not much has really changed since the battle. Really, it's something about vulnerability and power play, something about Scorpius' underground business and Albus getting in the way.

This time, the Malfoys retreat behind blacked out windows and Scorpius rots in Azkaban. Albus' death sparks new legislation and investigation about the black market. The Potters visit their son and daughter's graves and place lilies on the tombstones. Ginny starts screaming in her sleep. Harry stops speaking. The Potter family starts to fall apart.


James outlives them all.

Harry and Ginny slowly waste away, stricken by grief and fade away only a year after Scorpius is chucked into prison, within two weeks of each other. They couldn't bear to be apart for a moment, even in death.

James is happy. He has a wife and children, friends and a house, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but he never has siblings or parents again and sometimes, he hates himself for living in their place, but other times, he is thankful that he got what his family never got – a life.

James is happy but eventually, he is lonely. He is the last one left and although he has his children and their children, they all have their own lives to be getting on with, but they smile sadly and tell him they understand, "we know what you have to do, Dad. We love you. Never forget it."

On the 17th September 2113, aged 108, James lies down on his double bed and he closes his eyes and he remembers Lily's red hair and Albus' laughter, Ginny's hugs and Harry's stories, his wife's kisses and his grandparents' home, before he drifts off to sleep.

James awakes on the top of a hill, eighteen again and his family envelope him in a bone-crushing hug. The papers print a small eulogy for the last remaining Potter, his children bury him beside his wife and the Potters look down from the stars, reunited once more.