Summary: A picture paints a thousand words....but the memories they can bring forth are far more than that. Moments from the lives of the Next Generation, as they inherit the world their parents saved for them.
This story involves characters already introduced in my previous story, Spring's New Dawn. If you haven't read it, that might make this make more sense....I will just briefly reintroduce them, however.
Rose Weasley - Ron and Hermione's daughter, Sorted into Ravenclaw
Alice Longbottom - Neville and Hannah's daughter, Sorted into Ravenclaw
Albus Severus Potter - Harry and Ginny's son, Sorted into Gryffindor
Scorpius Malfoy - Draco and Astoria's son, Sorted into Gryffindor
Lorcan Scamander - Luna and Rolf's son, Sorted into Gryffindor
Lysander Scamander - Luna and Rolf's son, Sorted into Slytherin
Lia Creevey - Dennis Creevey's daughter, Half-Blood, Sorted into Hufflepuff
Aisha Siddiqui - Muggleborn, Sorted into Slytherin
The story starts on their very first night in Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: Would JK Rowling really publish a story about the Next Generation for free, when she could do it to an audience of millions in print? No. These characters and settings are not mine, other than Alice, Lia and Aisha, who are :D
She has seen more loss in her lifetime than most, although not as much as the wizards and witches who came a generation before her. The deaths she has watched have been natural, too, at least for the most part.
Not that that made them hurt any less.
Eventually, with age came the acceptance that everyone has their time. And now everyone has had their time, but her. Parents, grandparents, siblings, friends and now, finally, her husband.
They'd shared so much. Good times, bad times. Moments which had dulled in her memory, or been cleanly forgotten. There were still a few that shone bright – births, weddings and deaths. In the end it came down to that.
There were a few other moments too, ordinary days and instants that echoed in the world around her. She lived in a world of ghosts now. The smell of vanilla still brought a tear to her eye. The taste and texture of ice-cream could make her hear a laugh so vivid and distinctive that she would nearly look around to find its maker.
It was impossible to remember exactly what happened, but you could try. She'd never been one to cling onto the past – she lived for the future – but she still had a few records. Not the legions of diaries that Alice had written, nor the Pensieve that Rose had maintained. Not the poems Lysander had written, and thought nobody knew about. Not the voice recordings Scorpius had made, fearful of forgetting just how he felt.
Only pictures. Photographs, snapshots. Mostly wizarding, a few Muggle. Not taken by herself – she had little skill with a camera, nor drawn by Lorcan, who had considerable talent with a pen. Usually photographed by Lia, who was better than most, having the patience and the empathy to provoke the right response from a subject.
Not many, either. They hadn't even filled the album she had kept them in. And which she now took them out of, allowing herself one last lingering look before scattering them over the graves.
She visited three cemeteries. In reality, the remains of her friends were strewn across three continents, but their gravestones were not, and it was here that she left pictures. Pictures of unlined faces, hair which had not yet greyed.
Very different from her own, as her hand, shaking with arthritis and spotted by age, let the photographs fall. As she let go of them, she brought back the memories she had pushed down for ease of living. Allowed the spectres of the past which had only accumulated with time to rise up and accompany her as she left for her final journey.
But not alone. Dead, her friends might be. But their friendship had been a bond beyond that, and they were not separated. Only waiting.
Sorry, this is just a prologue. It'll make sense if you keep reading until the end :D