A/N: Written for the QLFC
Season 5, round 11
Team: Holyhead Harpies
CHASER 2: Write about a death on a spring day(s) OR a birth on a winter night(s).
Optional prompts: 4. (song) I Hold On - Dierks Bentley; 6. (sound) sobbing; 13. (phrase) walking down the road
The Loss
Winter lasted long this year. It was already well into May, but the cold wind was unrelenting. Harry Potter woke up cold and stiff, his joints hurting. He fumbled for his glasses on the night table and put them on, then realized a window had blown open some time during the night or early morning. He waved his hand at it and the window flew closed, keeping out the cold. Letting out a relieved sigh, Harry turned to give his wife a kiss… but she wasn't responding. She just lay there, unmoving, her eyes still closed but her mouth open somewhat. Harry noticed she was cold to the touch and worse, she wasn't breathing.
"What happened, Healer?" Hermione asked. Harry had been in shock, understandable really, so it had been the Potter's House Elf who had popped over to Ron and Hermione's to ask them to help 'Master Harry'. Soft sobbing could be heard from the kitchen, where Ron sat with Harry, keeping him company. Hermione had offered to deal with the body.
"A natural death, Mrs. Granger-Weasley," the Healer said. "All signs point to old age."
"That is ridiculous," Hermione protested. "She is… was… a year younger than I am."
"And yet, her systems all shut down naturally. Mrs. Granger-Weasley, I took a look at her medical records before I came here. Were you aware the late Mrs. Potter had suffered from possession by a soul leech in her youth?"
"Of course, the whole Slytherin's Heir business..." Hermione let out a gasp. "You don't mean—"
"That is my best guess. Her life force, if you will—or you might also call it her inherent magic—was severely drained. It would seem Mrs. Potter just ran out."
In the end it was having to tell their children that brought Harry back from shock, he didn't want to let that responsibility fall to his friends. Fortunately, relatively speaking, all three were old enough to understand death now… James was graduated and married, Albus was also out of school, and 'baby' Lily Luna was in her N.E.W.T. year. The four remaining Potters found solace with each other and with the extended Weasley clan, as well as friends. Gradually life went on, just without the vivid energy of Ginny Potter.
x-x-x
To an outside onlooker, nothing seemed to change for Harry. He still slept in the same bed, still woke up occasionally from the cold… still missed his wife. He had learned to adapt, that was all. Having his career in the Auror corps and being in regular contact with his family helped. Still, it didn't make waking up alone any easier, especially not on May mornings that reminded him of that horrible one where he had become a widower at a young age.
"Morning, Jippy," Harry greeted his House Elf once he came down to the kitchen. Kreacher had finally died of old age a few years ago, but in his last days he had suddenly turned up with Jippy, a young Elf that reminded Harry somewhat of Dobby in how excited he could be. "Kreacher's replacement," the old Elf had said, clear that was all the information Harry needed. Not two weeks later Kreacher had not been there in the morning and Jippy informed Master Harry that the old Elf had gone to his final rest. Harry and Ginny had buried him in the back yard of their home, next to where they had buried the stuffed House Elf heads that had once hung over the stairs, so Kreacher could be with his ancestors.
"Jippy be having Master Harry's breakfast ready," the Elf said, snapping his fingers. A breakfast tray hovered over to the kitchen table and Harry sat down in his favourite chair. The Daily Prophet was already lying there as well and he opened it to check the latest news… or gossip.
When he finished reading the newspaper Jippy had already cleaned up the remains of his breakfast and was holding out Harry's coat for him.
"Master James is expecting Master Harry this morning, will Master Harry be taking the floo?"
Harry shook his head. Floos and he still did not mix.
"I'll apparate and walk, Jippy. It's not that far."
"Master have a good day," Jippy said, bowing.
Harry put on his jacket and took an old scarf from a pocket, tying it around his neck. With an almost inaudible popping sound he disappeared from his kitchen and re-appeared just outside of the village of Godric's Hollow. He took a moment to reorientate himself, noticing the war monument—and the restored Potter cottage where James and his wife now lived—were to his right… and the church was to his left. Harry hesitated for a moment, then went left.
Walking down the road towards the old church he felt the cold wind chill his bones and he ducked his head down a bit into the old scarf. It didn't help that much, but it was better than nothing. A couple of minutes later he walked past the church's closed doors and onto the graveyard grounds. Harry passed by the now familiar graves of long dead families, Muggle and wizard, smiling a bit when he recognised the grave of Ariana and Kendra Dumbledore. Someone had recently cleaned the gravestone up a bit. He knew that if he took the path left from here he'd find the old Peverell grave, but that wasn't what he came here for. Straight ahead were the graves of James, Lily, and Ginny Potter.
"Hey, Gin," Harry said, standing in front of his wife's resting place. "I miss you, so much. We had all these plans… by now you'd be ready to retire from Quidditch, and I'd take a long sabbatical from the Aurors so we could visit the world. A month or two touring the Americas, a couple of weeks in Asia, maybe visit Hermione's parents and siblings in Australia..." his voice trailed off as he felt his eyes tear up.
x-x-x
"Dad? Why are you standing here in the rain?" a voice startled Harry. He turned around to see his son, James Sirius, walking up to him and holding an umbrella.
"Oh… I didn't notice it started raining," Harry said, taking off his glasses and wiping his face. He hoped James didn't notice the tears.
"I just had to say 'hi' to Gin before I walked over."
James rushed over, handing the umbrella to his father. "Come, Dad, you're shivering. Here, let me at least cast a warming charm over you."
Harry sighed as the spell warmed him up. "I should've thought of that."
"Yes, you should've. You also should get a better scarf. That thing looks like it's older than Professor Marchbanks," James quipped as they started walking towards his home.
"I wouldn't trade this one for one made of acromantula silk and hand-woven by Goblin maidens," Harry countered, pulling the scarf closer. "Your mother made it for me while she was pregnant with you."
James was silent for a moment, before he apologized.
"It's okay, son," Harry said, patting him on the back. "I miss her, too."
