NOTE: After HP 7. IF YOU HAVE NOT READ- CONTAINS SPOILERS.

Normal disclaimer applies.

Celebration And Mourning- Years After


Harry Potter decided he was getting to old for his own good. He lay sprawled out in the down bed that enveloped him, his hand resting in the warm spot Ginny had left a few minutes earlier; now she was getting ready for the day.

There was a large window covered by emerald green curtains, but the gleaming sun had somehow managed to get through and land on Harry's face. He squinted, sighing and rolling to the side. This morning, was not a morning he really wanted to face.

And then he heard the little pounding footsteps, quick and fast through the hallway. He groaned.

The little Lily Potter, a full 9 years old, green eyes bright, curly red hair fling everywhere dressed in a long cotton nightgown squealed, "Happy Harry Potter Day daddy!" And jumped on the bed to give him a huge hug.

Harry groaned again. This day was not happy, nor did he really want to deal with the crowds and parades celebrating his victory over Voldemort. Why couldn't they just recognized everyone who fought? His mind wondered to old, deceased friends, and those who were hurt, and all the trials he had gone through. There was nothing really happy about this day for him

But for his little girl, his little bottle of joy, energy and plenty of mischief, it was a day for her to tell the world SHE had the best-est father ever. And, for Harry, it filled him with pride that she admired him so much. He ruffled her hair with a smile and a "Good morning."

"What'cha going to do today?" She jumped up and down on Ginny's side of the bed, curiosity radiant in her eyes. Every year sense she'd been old enough to realize that her family had its very-own special day, she'd done this, sprinting into the room and trying to figure out what festivities she could take a part in.

"You, Lily" Ginny said, leaning up against the bathroom door in a beautiful sundress, brushing out her long red hair slowly "Will be spending the day with your Uncle Ron."

Lily's face fell, and she stopped jumping on the bed. Her bright green eyes pleading with her moms before she even got the words out. "But mom…"

"No buts…we have to go do very important things today, and you and Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione and whoever else is going will be in Diagon Ally, having fun."

She seemed kind of torn. Lily knew- that her parents always did something special, and every year she was never allowed to go. "But why can't I go with you?"

Harry sat up and pulled his little girl close with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Because, if you go with us, you can't go get the Ice Dragon Pops at Mrs. Persihi's place. Now, go get dressed, Uncle Ron is going to be here soon."

It didn't take long until a mass of red-heads had clustered into their huge living room. Ron, George, a mass of children all under 11, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, had all entered through the Floo network, and now were chattering with Hello's, how have you been and other pleasant talk.

Ron, dressed in a Potter's # 1 T-shirt under his dress robes grinned at his long time friend.

Harry looked at it in distain. "Please don't tell me you actually bought that."

Ron gave a teasing grin and shrugged. "Actually, it was Hermione's idea."

"It was not! Don't you start lying this early in the… Oh , Willow, don't do that" She was interrupted by one of the children trying to pick up a glass vase from one of the counters.

"Ok, so it was a gift from my oldest." There was something about the way Ron said it, a sense of pride that can only be heard from caring fathers.

"Well, your oldest defiantly inherited your taste then" Harry grumbled.

"Okay troupe!" Mrs. Weasley's voice conquered the chit-chatter-chaos of the Weasley clan. "Youngest to oldest, through the Floo network. Everybody take their powder, to Diagon Alley where we're going. Everybody stay with who they are suppose to stay with today, and no wondering off!"

"Yes Grandma" Lily chirped back. Mrs. Weasley after their 20th grandkid still sometimes look startled. Harry sighed as one by one they disappeared into the green fire, and it became quiet again.

He ran his hand through the hair he hadn't bothered to comb, still the thick curly black mop it had been sense he was eleven. He pulled Ginny into a hug. Ginny could feel that underneath is formal dressrobes, he his muscles were tense, and from the tight grip that he had, he was a bit sad. He sighed. "Every year."

Ginny pulled away. And looked up into the eyes she could easily get lost in for years to come. "It is because you saved all of us."

"But…what about the people who saved me?" He had that boyish uncomfortable look that hadn't vanished with his growing age. This argument happened nearly every year- the man who always thought of others before himself. Ginny knew, that he felt such sorrow that they weren't recognized on a national level like he was, those who gave more for him than he gave to them, or so he felt. She remained silent, nothing she could say would really justify or make their losses less. Over the years the pain had become more of a remembered fact, though there were moments that sorrow intensified for those who survived. Today, Harry-Potter Day, for the one and only boy-who-lived-twice was about recognizing those who gave their lives for him, his friends, near family, and those he didn't even really know. Those Wizards and Witches who believed in the cause, who stepped up for the belief in good.

Ginny took his hand. "Lets go." And they popped out of their living room with a silent apparition spell.

They reappeared, moments later in a graveyard, where a few people milled between gravestones, placing flowers quietly in remembrance. Not only was it a day of victory for Wizzard-kind, many men and women lost their lives on the same day. Harry had been adamant, that all be buried in a burial ground created for the specific purpose for honoring those who fought. The sun glowed brightly, the weather a perfect spring day, it was beautiful, though the contrast seemed to minimize the loss that was symbolized here. There were stone markers for each and every victim of Voldemort, from his first rise of power until the day he had been destroyed. He'd not recognized all of the names…but so many he knew, and for each one there was a powerful sadness that sat inside his heart.

Ginny stood beside him, holding his hand. The wind tugged at her dress and they walked down the isle putting flowers on graves.

There really wasn't much to say, so they walked in silence. The pain, the funerals, the years of memories and sorrow said it all- that the war had been costly and loved ones were lost. It was a tradition of honoring them, a tradition that Harry refused to leave behind year after year.

Some other men and women saw him, walking silently, and there were whispers "its Harry Potter! Look at him!" But, he ignored them, and they let him pay his respects, as it should be done.

Then Ginny burst into a mixture of laughter and tears. There, in a neat row of all the white gravestones laid Fred Weasley's, now a bright lime green which every once in awhile let out a putrid smell. Ginny wasn't quite sure if this had been done by George, or some other in honor of the now famous Weasley store, but it was how Fred would have wanted it. She looked at Harry who shook his head.

His gravestone said "Creating Mischief In The Afterlife"

They spent hours, wondering along the rows, placing their flowers, every once in awhile sharing a story, an event, something special they remembered, until the sun went down, and it was time to pick up their one under-school age child, give greetings to those who had stories to tell of celebrations, and to let them revel in the fact that the world was peaceful and they survived all because of the bravery of one man.

The next day came quickly, the night being filled with stories of Hogwarts and all the trouble they'd gotten into over the years, memories of loved ones, a little to much alcohol, and the joy of a younger generation playing underneath the adults feet. This morning, was no different than the average morning. Lily had taken the affinity of sleeping in late, so every school morning getting her up required the threats of charming her sheets into ice, before she'd arise cranky to head off to a wizzarding elementary school. She'd huff and puff until she got to the floo, and sometimes Ginny would just push her through, ignoring her groans and whines of why she didn't want to go to school that day. She'd most definitely taken after her uncles in the academically lazy characteristics.

Ginny would then smile, turn to her husband and apparate off to her mysterious top-secret job.

Even Harry wasn't quite sure what she did- and Ginny would just smile sweetly when asked and threaten to jinx you if you pushed. Harry learned that the tone of voice she used meant- I'm not going to give any hints and I mean it- and he never really pushed. He'd done some secret research on his own, being a head Auror helped with restrictive access, but even he couldn't get a full picture of what she was up to. He privately held the belief that Ginny was making up for those years when she didn't get to fight and be in on the adventure, by doing top secret Ministry missions and going to god-knows-where. All he knew, is that she wasn't in Britain.

He left for the ministry, which had been rather quiet lately. The European Wizzarding world seemed to be at peace, and there wasn't much for him to do aside from the occasional robbery or rare murder.

Ginny appeared in an alleyway, and closed her eyes. Her body transformed with a pop into that of a bright red cardinal, taking off into flight. She landed on a telephone wire and took in her surroundings.

It was still dark here, the quiet street lit by the occasional streetlight- though they were few and far in-between. It was a business area, tall skyscraper buildings, every-once in awhile an occasional light on from the over-zealous overtime worker, and from those just wishing to stay away from broken families and who-knows-what else. It had always surprised Ginny- Muggles seemed to have more conflict and less unity than their Wizzarding counterparts- though she also knew that the Wizzarding world couldn't afford such conflicts, there simply wasn't enough of them. She flew on, the most exhilarating part of her job, to be able to fly above the streets using nothing but these wings, there was something liberating about it. She flew around a tight corner and landed on a tree branch, overlooking a large fountain-statue of a woman holding a large book with the inscription "Those who know can create change" Now, all she had to do was wait.

It didn't take long. She saw the clear blue water turn an odd green, and out came three Wizzards in t-shirts and jeans. They looked at each other and sat on a bench.

"Are you sure that no one can hear us?" A tall lanky man, maybe 30 whispered. He seemed relaxed in his muggle clothes, but Ginny knew he was definitely a wizard. Calm, and cool, he was rumored to be as vicious as the late Lucious Malfoy and possibly as powerful as Harry Potter himself, not that Ginny believed the latter. But, what they spoke of was disturbing.

As a bird, she couldn't catch every word, but what she did hear frightened her.

Death, destruction, Britain, Brainwashing, Gaining Power, Time for us to reign the World…uniting of all wizards under a single rule… They didn't have specific plans, except to meet back tomorrow, but she could tell something was up that she didn't get from their body language and hushed tones.

They were planning something.

But what?

Ginny knew- it had something to do with them, a whole ocean away. The pieces weren't together yet, they were intentionally vague, they had to be meeting somewhere else also. She inwardly groaned in frustration, she wished she could run this by Harry, but there was no need to worry them, the Ministry would figure this out and close it by themselves; way before the strongest Wizzard alive would get worried, fret and become involved. And Ginny knew, if he was involved, his heart and soul would be focusing on that, creating a burden that she knew he didn't want to carry.

But she wanted to fight, and she vowed to figure out what was happening so she could take her stand.

.