A/N: This was written for my English class, and I'm actually planning on working on it. Like, the assignment was literally "Write an extended ending to Harry Potter/Re-write it with a different plot." So this is Next-Generation. Go nuts. :D

P.S. There are like a billion different allusions to the first Harry Potter book in this chapter alone. Let's make a game out of finding them. :P

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters/places, though it would be nice if I could get some credit for the story line.

Chapter One

The Grey Tomb

The sky appeared to be mocking the mourners outside of the church of Godric's Hollow. The sun was blazing, and soft, billowing clouds only added to the perfection of this beautiful spring day. James Potter grasped his sister's hand, forcing a smile for her sake. Lily smiled back, but there were evident tears in her eyes. She gently wriggled out of his grasp and strode over to Lysander Scamander, who met her halfway. He placed an arm around her shoulders, and she freely rested her head on him. Though he couldn't see her face now, James knew she was crying. Lysander himself appeared to be fighting back tears.

The shock still hadn't worn off, really. It was still very much present, though more and more now he had to remind himself that he would never see his father again. James had never really paid much attention to the huge impact his father had played on so many people's lives. Standing not far away was Hermione Weasley, who at this moment was weeping without shame. Her husband was not present – Ron had died only months ago. Like James' father's, his death was suspicious. Her children Rose and Hugo stood by her, embracing one another in an awkward, three-way hug. A couple standing close to Lysander and his brother Lorcan were both looking extremely distraught, especially the woman. She cast a glance at him, and at once, based on her faraway-gaze, he knew she was Luna Lovegood, whom her father adored. So much so that Lily had taken her name as her second. Her husband, Rolf Scamander wrapped a comforting arm around her waist, and with another long, drawn-out stare, she looked away.

"Peaceful, isn't it?" a hollow voice said from behind him. James turned to look at his mother, who was smiling sadly. Her vibrant, youthful air was not completely absent, but she looked washed-out and tired. Ginny Potter looked away from him for a moment, not really expecting an answer anyway. She glanced back at him.

"It looks like they'll be beginning soon."

As the crowd made their way through the maze of gravestones, James cast a gaze to the cemetery's gate. Several people were walking around, enjoying the outdoors. They were muggles, but James knew well enough that a few simple cloaking and silencing spells would make it seem like the graveyard was entirely void of life.

Someone conjured a number of chairs, and everyone sat. The placement was odd; many people were side-stepping grave markers to sit down. Eventually everyone had made an oval around a spot in the cemetery, surrounding a bare patch of land and a somewhat aging marker, which clearly read the names Lily and James Potter, who had perished on Halloween of 1981. Reading the marker sent chills down James' spine. He was staring at the marker of his grandfather, who he shared his name with.

Before he had noticed it, a hushed silence fell over the large crowd.

Neville Longbottom, with a grace that was unknown to his identity, stepped forward from the crowd. In any other situation, he would have been terrified, but it appeared that grief overrode fear at this moment. In his hands, which were calloused and large from the hours he put into slaving over the Hogwarts Greenhouses, he carried a bundle of blankets. Nestled in the blankets, though not visible, was a grown man.

When everyone looked back, there was an addition to the oval. A large, stone table rose out of the ground. When it ceased rising, Neville placed the body on it and stepped back, wiping his eyes hastily. Everyone sat there for a moment, not knowing what to except.

Suddenly, a breeze picked up. After a moment, it turned into a full-blown wind, which shook a nearby cherry blossom tree, blowing thousands of pink leaves into the air. Suddenly, the ground quaked. Some people jumped, others gasped. Out of the ground sprung hundreds of brilliantly green, gentle vines, which immediately began to wind themselves around the table and, eventually, the blanketed body. The vines began to rise on their own, forming a very square and geometric shape. It was not a particularly frightening sight, but there were still several gasps of shock. Suddenly, the wind subsided, as did the vines. In their place stood a brilliant grey tomb, which appeared to be tightly sealed.

Anti-climactically, several people from the group rose and stepped away in silence, regrouping together to speak several feet from the gravesite, which stood so firmly in place one would assume it had been there forever. James made to step away as well, but Ginevra stopped him, holding a firm hand on his shoulder.

"You don't know the impact your father had on the world, James," she said simply yet sternly, as though the conversation was vitally important. "You don't understand how many people wanted to be here to see him, and how many will see him over the years. You have importance to your name, James. A reputation. Expectations." Tears were glistening in her eyes, and she sucked in a deep breath.

"You can be great, you know. It's all here. In your heart." She placed her small, young hand on his chest momentarily, and then let go, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I guess we can't have sheltered you forever. Though words can't really describe the magnitude…I suppose soon enough you'll see." The conversation didn't make much sense to James, but he nodded and stood, walking over to see his brother, Albus.

Hundreds of miles away, there was a much different mood in the air.