Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Peter Pan. They are property of their respective authors, publishers, and Warner Brothers Disney, and other movie companies et al. I am making no money from this fan fiction.
About the Fic: This story was inspired by my friend during our three day Harry Potter Movie Marathon. She mentioned to me how Harry Potter reminded her of Peter Pan, and said I should write something about it. Fifteen minutes later, and this short fic was born. Thanks DaysKnight!
Enjoy everyone!
Harry Potter had been compared to many people in his life. He had been told he looked like his father, that he had his mother's eyes, that he had the ability to do great things like one Tom Marvolo Riddle, but he had never before been compared to a fictional character. His young great-granddaughter had compared him to a strange boy named Peter Pan.
She seemed to think it hilarious that all through his life, even at the ripe old age of 105, he still had the horrid title of the Boy-Who-Lived. Not the Man-Who-Lived, nor the Guy-Who-Lived, he would always be the Boy-Who-Lived. She said that it was like the Wizarding World wanted him to forever be the young hero, forever their eternal saviour.
Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for Harry, he did not have magical pixie dust that allowed him to fly, nor did he live third star to the right and straight on 'till morning. He was not forever living with his band of lost boys in Never-Never-Land always tormenting one Captain James Hook and trying to feed him to the giant crocodile. He didn't know a girl named Tiger-Lily, though they often called his Lily a tiger with her mischievous streak a mild wide. It was known to rival her uncle Fred and Georges from when they'd been young. He'd lost his Wendy-bird a few years back. His beautiful Ginny was gone, waiting for him beyond the veil with his parents, her parents, their friends and professors, Sirius, Remus and Tonks, the Weasley brothers, and Ron and 'Mione. They were all waiting for him on the other side.
As such, it was absolutely ridiculous that his 10-year-old great-granddaughter should compare him to this foolish boy who would never grow up. Harry had grown up faster than most. They all had in those days, what with the war. He didn't think that he'd have wanted to stay a boy forever anyways. His boyhood had been terrible. The best years of his life had come much later, when he was grown and a married man with children of his own.
When he thought of Peter Pan the only person he thought of was actually two people. Fred and George Weasley seemed the type that would have been suited to remain as boys forever, causing mischief, tormenting the cranky old pirate in Never-Never-Land. It was much better to think of them living forever than it was to think of the one other person he knew of who had tried his damnedest to live forever, at a great cost of lives and happiness of many people in the past.
So whenever his great-granddaughter compared him to the fairy-blessed boy, Harry Potter simply smiled much like his favourite professor had all those years ago, his eyes twinkling.
He would lean over to her and say, "But if I had remained a boy forever, where would you be my dear?"
His great-granddaughter would stare at him oddly and laugh, "You are strange Popa."
He would simply smile at her again, leaning back in his chair. "Am I? Oh well."
'Living forever,' he mused to himself. He would leave that to those who were not content with their lives. He however, was perfectly content with his, and he wouldn't trade it for anything, even eternal life.
'Afterall,' he thought. 'No one can live forever.'
End.