Harry Potter and the Next Great Adventure

Chapter One: Five Years Later

It'd been just over five years since the final battle, the Battle of Hogwarts, where the second Dark Lord was defeated and the magical world could once again breathe easy. However, the darkness never rests, a fact one Harry James Potter knew very well. His defeat of Voldemort guaranteed him a position at the Auror office of the Ministry of Magic, and it was a given that he'd continue doing the only thing he'd ever really known, fighting dark wizards.

Harry Potter, age 22, put his fist to his back and bent backwards. Desk work was a necessary evil, even for the Boy (now a man) Who Lived. A wave of his wand later, he filed away the stack of paper into his desk drawer, stood up, and began walking out of the office, his work day officially over. An uneventful ride on the magical lift later, he found himself walking through the Ministry's atrium. At least they did away with that pompous bloody monument of Thicknesse's, he thought as he passed the new Albus Dumbledore Memorial Fountain. The marble statue of the greatest wizard of the past century loomed over atrium, its right arm outstretched and its wand sending a constant stream of water quietly, serenely into the fountain below.

As Harry mulled over the minutiae of his day in his head, he remembered in a flash that today was important, but for what reason? Oh hell! Its Hermione's birthday today! He jogged to an empty fireplace and, grabbing a quick hand of Floo powder, said abruptly, "The Leaky Cauldron!" A flash of green fire and an unhealthy amount of spinning later, Harry stepped out of the fireplace and walked quickly through the inn as Tom the Barman bustled about, seeing to his patrons' dinners.

Walking past Diagon Alley, and taking that narrow turn down that little, dark tunnel, Harry remarked at the rebuilt Knockturn Alley. "They really did a number on this place, after that Dark tosser died, didn't they?" he said quietly to himself. "Not that anyone would notice nowadays, since they cleaned it up and turned it into cheap flats. Cheap flats without Floo access."

After a few minutes' healthy trot, Harry was standing at the door of Hermione's flat. He touched the knob and whispered his name, and the door unlocked, permitting him entry. Leave it to Hermione to figure out how to password lock her flat, he thought as he walked in to the relatively nice, one-bedroom abode in which his friend lived.

Hermione looked up; the silent alarm charm on her door had told her who was entering. "Harry!" she half-yelled. "It's so good to see you! You haven't visited in months!"

Harry bowed his head slightly and rubbed the back of his head, "I've been having a hell of a time at work. We think we've finally managed to get the last of the serious Death Eaters locked away in Azkaban." I should know, he thought. I personally led the last raid today.

"I realize you're a living legend and all," she huffed, "but eating away at your free time just isn't called-for! I ought to have a talk with Kings-er, Minister Shacklebolt, and tell him how poorly his office is handling their 'rising star.'"

"Never change, Hermione," Harry said as he laughed. Inside, he was warmed by her slightly overbearing attitude where he was concerned. Then, he noticed something, "I see Ron isn't here. Again."

Hermione's face turned into an angry frown as her least favourite subject was brought to the fore, "I can't help it if he's being slow in dealing with the situation."

Ginny had apparently been listening in Hermione's loo, as she took that moment to appear, still idly rubbing her hands together to get them dry. "My brother's being a spectacular prat, like always. He says he's still not over how you two broke up," she snorted. "I swear, he still acts like a ruddy teenager, sometimes."

"And that's why I left!" Hermione insisted. "He refuses to grow up! He's still living off his parents and making nothing of his life! It's as if the thought of a proper job had never even occurred to him!"

"Is someone talking about ickle Ronniekins?" George said, sauntering into the flat with a distinct swagger and carrying a case marked "Ogden's Finest." Trailing just a meter behind him were Luna and Neville.

After that, things became markedly more pleasant. After Hermione opened her presents, Harry had given her a muggle book on physics, George cracked open the case of Firewhiskey and poured everyone a glass. They all raised their glasses for a toast, led by Harry. "To Hermione, the most intelligent witch the world has ever known!"

"To Hermione!" the others echoed before taking a drink from their glasses.

Neville raised his glass next, and said in a bombastic voice, "To good times, and good friends!"

"Hear, hear!" Harry said as he downed another mouthful and savoured the faint burning sensation going down his throat. After a few minutes of laughing conversation and reminiscing, Harry asked a question that'd been burning in his mind since he'd been told that Hermione was having her party at her flat. "Hey, Hermione…why are we doing this here instead of at Hogwarts? Do they not give rooms to their Arithmancy professors?"

Hermione laughed, "Harry, I specifically asked for a day away from school so I wouldn't have to do this on school grounds. Could you imagine if another professor came knocking while we're all sitting here half-drunk? I'd never be able to look McGonagall in the eyes again."

Luna looked up, a healthy rose tint creeping up her pale cheeks, "Plus, the Fump-Gizers in a place like Hogwarts would reproduce like mad in our heads."

Neville nodded sagely at Luna's words, while George's face belied the battle going on between his urge to laugh at Luna's words, his better senses, and a fair portion of hard liquor. Liquor won out, and George burst out laughing like a hyena while broad smiles spread across the room, even managing to reach Luna and break through her normally serene, yet spacey composure.

The party lasted several more hours, between everyone complaining about work (even Luna, in her own odd way) and food. After everything was said and done, it had been a fun experience for all involved, even though Harry could see the slightly sad look in George's eyes as the party ended and everyone was preparing to go home. I don't think he'll ever stop missing Fred, especially at times like this, Harry reflected sadly. As he got to the door to bid Hermione a good night and a safe trip back to Hogwarts, she managed to eke out a promise from him to see her more often.

"You know, Hermione," Harry began with a mock sigh that ended in a short laugh. "You're as bad as Mrs. Weasley used to be when you want someone to do something."

His friend blushed slightly at the compliment and bade Harry a good night. He walked out of her building and looked up at the perfect, cloudless sky above him. Reflecting on the war, on everything and everyone he'd lost, and on the many good people still in his life, he pulled out his wand and disapparated, heading to his home in Godric's Hollow.

The sleepy little town had changed little since Harry had first come here during the time he and his friends were hunting for those little bits of Voldemort's soul. Some of the shops had changed places, and a few new homes had sprung up, but Godric's Hollow had never lost its small-town charm. It was one of the reasons Harry chose to live here; it made an excellent contrast against his hectic childhood and dangerous career. As he walked to the front door, he pulled the key out of his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside his home.

Even three years after its completion, Harry could still smell the faint whiff of fresh sawdust and paint. A small portion of the Potter fortune to which Harry gained access when he came of age ensured him a small, well-protected house just a few blocks from where his parents had lived. The old Potter house was still there, standing as mute testament to the horrors that organized, militarized hate could create. Wiping away the sad memories of the people he lost in the war, Harry prepared for bed, looking forward to the weekend off he'd managed to negotiate with his head of office.

A hot shower later, Harry climbed into bed and thought over all that happened today. One thing managed to stick out in his mind from the party. I really need to talk to Ron tomorrow, it's been a while since I've had the chance, and maybe I can finally get him to see reason, he thought as he felt the calming warmth of his comforter send him off to sleep for the night.

Author's Notes:

The story will continue soon, I promise! I've got a few projects going, right now, so my time's a bit divided, at the moment. Don't worry, my stories aren't going away. I should have the next chapter done inside a week, with any luck. I only need maybe two more scenes, four at most.

To answer potential questions:

It isn't very mysterious or horrifying right now, I know. I need to get the foundations laid, first!

Yes, I'm ignoring the epilogue. In a world without bullshit plot justifications, the two big canon pairings (Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny) wouldn't have lasted very long. Unlike magnets, opposites don't attract, and you don't get much more opposite than Ron and Hermione. Ginny would likely miss the adventures her older friends went on, and is now trying to do that while Harry, tired of adventure, would want to settle down and do what he does best.

Knockturn Alley was destroyed shortly after the war. Don't worry, I'll have some exposition to explain this, probably in Chapter Three or Four.