Hey! Mrs. Norris here! This is a kind of short but sweet story about Harry's joyous meeting with someold friends Just to tell you, this is Harry's last year at Hogwarts and he has just defeated Voldemort ::cheers:: YAY HARRY! Ok well, here's the story
Last Goodbye
Whipping the liquid silver invisibility cloak around his shoulders, Harry opened the door to the portrait hole, the note still clutched in his sweating hand. He had found it on his pillow earlier that day, just a somewhat messily scratched out note that read "Meet us at the Whomping Willow at midnight," and nothing more. Harry had at first thought it was Sirius, but it couldn't be Sirius was free now, he didn't need to have secret meetings with Harry. Then again, it could have been Malfoy, but then Harry received information that he had detention all night long for putting a spider in Ron's sheets.
Now, Harry wondered if it could be Voldemort but no, he was dead now, and he wasn't coming back. Harry shook his head decisively and continued on his way, though his heart was racing in his chest.
Pushing open the door to the outside silently, he slipped into the warm breeze of late May. The trees of the Forbidden Forest loomed ominously in the distance, reaching their long arms protectively over the forest floor, as if they were guarding a hidden treasure. Hagrid's dark hut also stood across the schoolyard, though it was much more welcoming. Harry turned and started for the opposite end of the yard, the thrashing willow tree eventually coming into view,
He was there.
The willow tree flailed its branches in the humid night air, as if it could cut straight through and open a hole in the sky. Harry waited a moment, then crept several feet closer, getting as close to the tree as he dared. He scanned the area, squinting his eyes behind his round glasses, which still had traces of masking tape on the nosebridge,
Suddenly, Harry whipped around. A faint babble of voices could be heard, surrounding him, getting closer, yet they could hardly be heard. And just as suddenly as the voices had started, the willow's branches stopped their wild flailing. The tree's tantrum halted, as a child's tantrum eventually stops after a long time. The Whomping Willow appeared to be relaxed. Is it asleep? Harry wondered. Surely trees couldn't sleep. Someone must have touched the knot but who? There was no one there; Harry's only company was the whispering babble of the voices. And then, there she stood.
"Mum?" Harry said, though no sound came. "Is- is that you?"
A second figure beside her came into view, someone taller, with black hair
"Dad?"
The figures nodded simultaneously, smiles on their faces. He had never really gotten to look at them. There were pictures, there was the mirror of Erised, but nothing so real as this. His mother was beautiful. Her wavy auburn hair fell past her shoulders. Her slender body was draped with flowing blue robes and a darker blue cloak with sliver embroidery covered her. Her eyes looked so familiar, and Harry remembered that they were the same eyes he saw every day in the mirror, emerald green, deep and glistening.
James stood proudly beside Lily, his smile ever more widening. He looked almost just like Harry, except his eyes were the twinkling blue of Dumbledoor's. His sturdy, protective body was well-built and muscular, and his hair stood up in the back, just like Harry's.
Harry suddenly realized that his mother was crying, but she was still smiling and though her eyes were clouded with tears, Harry could see the laughter in them.
"James," she said, her voice ringing into the night like a song. "He's really our son."
And she held out her arms to him. Harry ran gratefully to her and she enveloped him in her embrace. He felt his father's arm on his shoulder as he proudly gazed down at his son.
"Now we're finally a family, right?" said Harry hopefully.
James and Lily exchanged nervous glances and Harry realized that this was just a visit.
"We can't stay here long, Harry," said James. "But we, uh, well, we wanted to tell you that we're- we're so proud of you."
Grasping him in another hug, Harry heard a faint whisper from his mother. "I love you."
His father's hand rested on his shoulder again, and Harry replied, "I love you, too."
There was never such a moment. The stars danced in the heavens, singing, swirling. There was never such a connection of human love. Body and soul combined, emotions running through the three, never ending. Tears mixed with laughter, sadness and joy. one feeling of jubilance and celebration. Hearts and minds uniting, eyes and ears, and the single feeling that is far beyond feeling itself, but something much, much more.
And then there was air. There was silence. There was emptiness. Harry stood alone on the soft grass, the tree beginning its thrashing once more. He felt the emptiness entering his body, he felt the silence, he felt the lonliness.
And yet he was full, more full than he had ever been. He was complete, even though the old emptiness was still there. But it was a full kind of emptiness. And the single tear fell down Harry's cheek. It was the tear that contained his old fears, his old worries, his sadness, his anger. The tear trickled down his face and fell to the ground. Another tear fell, another, and another, ridding Harry's body of all traces of pain and hurt. He stood there, the one complete body, and silently let the tears leave him.
And Harry smiled.