Short chapters about what the deceased of Harry Potter do after they die. I own nothing you recognize.
~*~*~*~
Lily & James
It was a peaceful day in the afterlife. The floor of clouds drifted lazily around, and the sky was a clear blue. It was Halloween, and they were expecting some new residents to their land of the deceased.
A faint screaming sound could be heard, and it sounded as if it was coming from far away, yet it wasn't coming from left or right, but up. The yelling gradually grew louder, and several moments later, a man with messy black hair and glasses landed with a thump on the ground. For clouds, they were surprisingly firm.
James Potter stood up and looked to his right. Clouds. Left, clouds. Forward, backward, more clouds. He looked up... even more clouds, though not enough to stand on. How was he standing on clouds, anyway? Then he remembered: Duh, I'm dead!
He knew it was only a matter of time before his wife, Lily, and his son, Harry, came too. Dang Voldemort, being all... Voldemort-y. And how in the name of Merlin did the guy lose his nose? And how old was he, now? All James knew was that Voldemort was old. Fifty-ish, he thought. Wait, who cares how old Voldemort is?
He then heard screaming coming from directly above him, and as it grew louder, he knew that it was his wife. Five seconds later, Lily Potter landed with another thump, not on the cloudy ground, but on her husband.
Lily looked around, taking in her surroundings, before noticing that she was sitting on top of James. Muttering a hasty apology, she stood up and helped him to his feet.
"James!" she cried out, hugging the man (who, if he hadn't been dead already, would certainly be suffocating now). "I... you... Harry! Where's Harry?!" James shrugged, for he didn't know the location of their one-year-old son, either. They waited several minutes. Another fifteen minutes. Surely, Voldemort would have killed Harry by now? Another half-an-hour later, Lily and James slowly looked at each other.
"James..."
"Does this mean..."
"Harry lived?"
It took several moments for this idea to sink in. There was no other solution, their son had to have survived, otherwise he would be there with them. They were both quiet...
"HECK YEAH, MY SON IS A SURVIVER!" James, who still let his child side of him take over from time to time, leaped up into the air and started dancing. Not just flapping his arms a little bit, but the full Chicken Dance. He only stopped when Lily smacked him on the head.
"James, SHUT UP!" Lily was too tired to have to deal with her husband's antics, and she was overjoyed that her baby had survived. Unfortunately, this did not stop James, who was now doing a freaky mix between the Hokey-Pokey and the Robot.
~*~*~
I'll be skipping Quirrell and the Basilisk because neither Lily or James knew Quirrell (I don't think) and he wouldn't have much to tell them about Harry (and you can't really do anything with a Basilisk), so next is Cedric. R&R, please!