Hello! This first chapter is long, but I didn't want to devide it. It was a pleasure to write about Harry's life and I'm excited to have him meet death, and have him jump in his timeline to find the one point of divergence to avoid the catastrophe the wizarding world is set to see happen. Hope you enjoy reading, reviews and favs are much appreciated!
Point of Divergence.
The magical community was thriving. Right after the war, the dead had been laid to rest, the world mourned but step by step, they picked up the pace and rebuilt their world. Hogwarts was restored, bigger and better. They expanded the curriculum and their staff. Each year more children attended. Hogsmeade was expanded. They, the Ministry that is, weeded of bad apples and now properly constructed without corruption, had worked together with the muggle authority and secured the land surrounding the little village. New houses and shops were built, most of the Diagon Alley shop owners decided to move their business and eventually a branch of the hospital found their home in a new complex too. The shift had taken years. The result was a large city for the magical population, with more ground purchased and manors being magically moved to the outskirts. Eventually, the whole of the magical community had taken part of the land and removed themselves completely from the muggles. In the end, their old settlements went abandoned as even the bank and ministry moved and the hospital was expanded.
Once done, it was a fairytale. Yet, the road to get there was harsh. Funerals, so many and even later on, when people just couldn't cope with their losses, their permanent injuries and varied other reasons. Death eaters were still on the run, causing havoc and contributing to more pain and sorrow but they got there eventually. It was a slow process, by the time they were truly separated, those that were young and fought in the last war, had grown old, beyond old. But the city was a fact. Although, for all the pretty tales they told about the city, Harry knew the truth. "Fear. It was fear," He sighed deeply, suppressing a shiver. "With a small community spread out, they couldn't keep an eye close enough. They bundled us all together so no repeat could happen."
Harry Potter stood atop of the Astronomy tower. He leaned on the ledge, looking over the town turned city in the distance. It was early in the evening; the sun was down, but the dark hadn't arrived just yet. Still, it was cold. The warmth of the day was gone. Harry shivered slightly, pulling the woollen snuggle coat he wore over his clothes tighter as the wind ruffled his hair. "It's only October, it shouldn't be this cold." He murmured to himself and wondered if it had just been his age, making him complain. He felt weary and tired and had been feeling so for weeks. As he stood there, looking over the city, he thought about his life.
Harry Potter remembered it well. They, the Ministry and other big names, wanted him and with that, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley to be the figureheads. The face of their rebuilding of the community and Hogwarts, of the cleansing of the Ministry and to promote the idea of the new city, to make a separation be seen as a splendid idea. They respectfully declined. Harry had his doubts about the separation but as a whole, the magical community had stood behind the idea and it slowly had come to live, even without them.
While this was happening and where everyone was helping, Harry went his own path. He went on a path no one expected him to take. They all figured he was going to an Auror or choose a profession a little less dangerous like a medi-wizard. They all speculated about things he could do that fit his perceived personality of a brash Gryffindor with a hero complex and dying for danger, someone who couldn't live steady, repetitive and boring.
There was a time they thought he was going to be snatched up as an Unspeakable, or be a detective for the cold cases the Auror Department no longer actively tried to solve. More speculations were that he might join the military forces they were trying to set up, just in case there was ever a need for an army or that he was set to become an instructor at the Auror force. "That one had come close." Harry murmured as another shiver ran through him. Still, he stayed where he was and marvelled at the rumors he hadn't thought about for centuries. There had been plenty of other guesses, not taking in account what they thought would fit him but going off his hobby in school, like being a professional quidditch player or a broom tester right up to the more ridiculous ones ranging from running for Minister to being a stripper. Harry snorted at that one. "As if."
Harry remembered he had seen it in the newspapers, heard people speak about it in line at the bakery and would blatantly stop him in the middle of the street just to ask. It was beyond irritating, he hated being bothered. Whenever it happened Harry just shook his head, turned around and went out less and less, slowly pulling himself away from the magical community. He liked the anonymity he got from the muggle world. He wasn't one from many, even Hermione and Ron moved together as a happy couple at the start of new life into the new houses built. They wanted to soly love amongst the magicals. Harry on the other hand bought himself a small cottage far away after selling the dreaded Number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Harry's home stood on the edge of a forest far away from any civilisation, be it muggle or magical. It was a quaint place, small and homey with yellow curtains and a thick, hairy rug in front of the fireplace. One bedroom, one bathroom, and an open kitchen in the tiny living room. The plush brown couch a pull-out bed for the nights Hermione and Ron stayed over. He chose his own path. One night, after some drinks and laughter with Hermione, as Ron had his first overnighter as a trainee-Auror, he'd asked her. "I know what I want to do, but I don't know where to start, can you help me?"
Hermione nodded and she taught him the basics over breakfast. In the afternoon, Harry set to make his own newfound dream a reality. Harry started a self study. He wanted to know everything and anything about using magic to destroy and defend. This included offence and defence spells alongside their counters. He learned, duelling wizards, creatures and beasts and even dipped into ward building and rituals.
But it wasn't limited to just that, he travelled the world, studying muggle fighting styles, from boxing to sword handling and studying foreign spells and techniques from wizards happy to teach and any books he could get his hands on. Harry lived and breathed to learn, day in and day out. It had taken almost all his 20's and 30's doing just so.
Sometimes, when he was at home, he still saw rumors about a job even though it was clear he was on a road of study of his own interest. None of the guesses became the truth - Harry went further and began studying under Masters of several branches of magic. He went to study under his old Professor Flitwick in Charms and continued on to Transfiguration and Potions. He even studied a while with one Graham Flutewill, a master in Herbology and also by the Goblins, masters of Warding. He didn't do so to learn everything there was about the branch as a whole but the core of their magical theory, the basics and what applied to him and other aspects that caught his interest. He loved exploring magic.
He moved to different masters, from different countries and documented each step along the way, collecting trunks full of handwritten notes and books to keep. Once he reached his 40's, he came back home. He built a library by his cottage. There he sat in a comfortable armchair by a rickety desk in candlelight and wrote several books about his travels, weekly entries for scholary magazines along with seven new books for seven years at Hogwarts. Once he'd written those, he applied for a teachers position at the school.
He loved his travels, he loved his house, but the school would always be his home. Now armed with the knowledge he had, he was accepted as a Defence against the dark arts teacher and taught the subject from then on.
While Harry had worked on his quest, Hermione had gone into the Ministry and became the head of the Magical Creature and Beasts department, becoming the most efficient liaison known to date and Ron finished his training, became an junior Auror and while offered a senior field position, he choose a desk instead. "He too, was bloody well tired of putting his life on the line."
Ron and Hermione married late, started their family late, two beautiful children. Harry had the pleasure to teach them both. "Bloody smart but bolstrious, those two were," Harry muttered. "Little Rosie and Hugo."
Harry finally moved away from the ledge. Beyond the city lights shining bright in the dark of the night, there was nothing much to see anymore from his vantage point. He shivered, straightened and let out a small curse as his back popped painfully. "Those two kids, had kids, and then, I think them kids are now reaching the age of having kids." Harry sighed, almost confusing himself. He kept on muttering to himself as he slowly made his way into the warmth of the castle.. "How long ago was it that they graduated? Three, maybe four? Almost five years by now, I think."
The parents, the older people and the teachers he once knew were long gone. Most of his classmates were gone. Ron too, Harry thought of his best friend with a pang in his heart. He died young, like the rest of the red headed family, all around the age of one hundred and twenty. Their children luckily still around, and most still wrote to him occasionally. Hermione too was still around, although age had caught up with her. She barely remembered her own name, stuck in a nursing facility to life out her final days. Harry missed her deeply but the pain of her not remembering who he was hurt too bad. The memory always remained vivid as he replayed it in his head. The last time he visited her he went to see the head nurse that runned the floor she stayed on. He stood by her desk, pinking away tears and asked her. "Will she know? Will she miss me? Will she feel the same hole in her heart as I if I stop coming to see her?"
The head nurse was a lovely lady in her forties. She was fresh in scrubs and blonde hair in a playful braid and had to think for a moment, then she asked seriously. "How frank do you want me to be?"
"I don't care as long as the answer is honest." Harry choked out.
"Her mind is broken, it has been a long time and her memories are gone, they won't return. As time passes, she'll remember less and less until there's nothing left. She won't miss you." She spoke softly, but it was a harsh truth. "You come here, but it's not for her. It's for you and because you are her friend, because you remember her. You're not within her memories anymore. To her, you are just a stranger there to entertain."
"Will she be alright? Is it…" Harry couldn't speak anymore. He grabbed a tissue out of the box on her desk unasked and dabbed his tears.
"She'll be cared for, she'll be loved by our staff and the owners that bring their pets by for cuddles, kisses and treats. She has people like her surrounding her. It's ok." The head nurse came around and squeezed his shoulder in compassion as she led him to the water fountain. "It's absolutely fine if you stop visiting, no one holds it against you. The staff and I, especially I am already proud you held on for so long."
Harry thought of that day often, and even now as he stopped his visits, he wrote her letters and chose her books as gifts. Nevermind she couldn't remember she read it, she still loved reading. He still felt bad, but didn't have the courage left to see her once more; the pain tucked at his old heart.
Harry was one hundred and seventy-four. The average lifespan of a wizard at one hundred at thirty, Harry was old - extremely old; and he had the body to show for it. He had gone gray a long time ago, his skin was rough and wrinkly and his eyesight steadily gone worse. Even after they invented a potion to heal it, he had to wear thick glasses and still saw blurred. He walked with a cane for one bad leg, and knees that could barely bend. His back had gone bent and his fingers were rusty. He hadn't actually practiced magic the last few years, unable to keep a hold on his wand and too jerky in movement to make the necessary swish and flicks.
Reminiscing over the old days, where Hermione's laughter filled a room with brightness and Ron's quick jokes and happy tales held him busy for hours. The cry of babies born in their family as he never had any of his own lightened his heavy heart. Granted, he had Teddy, but the boy grew up in the care of his grandmother, Harry never saw him much. Ron and Hermione's children were almost his own, he'd loved them and spend many a day and night with them. He thought of his own Hogwarts days and later years, when students were hanging from his lips as he taught and told his stories. The world had shone after the horrors and Harry had enjoyed many a happy memory - even when his body began to fail, his memories never had.
Harry was taking a stroll through the castle. He avoided the busy hallways but instead shuffled down the bridge over the lake, down the dusty corridors where no classes were held. The old part of the castle. Harry was getting tired. He sat on a stone bench by an arched window he pushed open to overlook the grounds, and the forbidden forest. The dark didn't let him see much but the tiny lights that danced - Fairies that found their home within the trees and he watched them entranced.
Harry didn't know how many hours had passed, as he went from happy memories to many regrets. He had done many things he hadn't been proud of, and stupid mistakes. Once young, he had a temper and full of foolishness that cost him greatly every once in a while and less so more often, as he got older his own pursuits had him miss important events. He had missed things like Teddy's wedding and too many to count birthdays and family gatherings , things he wished for now and would never have a second chance for. He steered clear of his biggest regret, the one that drove him to tears now he sat alone most days. He never found love.
He knew, once he went for the defence against the dark arts job as a professor, he would never leave the castle again. Harry hadn't. He stopped teaching several years ago, once he realized he became too old. The ability to write, to keep a class under control and to wield a wand were necessary, and once he couldn't do any of those, he gave up but remained at the castle. No one had it in their hearts to ask a professor who taught for over a hundred years to leave when he was nearing the end of his life.
"Happy." Harry murmured as the sun came up. "Maybe some regrets, there has been much joy. So much joy.."
He gave a yawn, and thought to move but never did. "This is the end of the line.."
"Professor?" Young Timmy Welby asked as he neared the old man who technically hadn't been a professor for years. However, respect for the man was high, as such, the students still called him so. Timmy, a third year Ravenclaw, blond with sharp features and a tad overweight became easily overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the castle and retreated. He had been on a stroll. He choose the old and unused part of the school for some peace and quiet, when he saw fresh, shuffled footprints. Timmy had nothing better to do, and thought it fun to follow.
"Professor?" Timmy said louder, knowing the man was hard of hearing but gained no response. He kept his eyes on him, but he didn't even move. Sudden fear gripped Timmy, as he ran up, wracking his brain illogically on the age of the man and subsequently hoped he was actually still breathing. But once Timmy reached him, he cursed his choices of the morning and called for an Hogwarts house elf.
A little elf answered. "Basil has heard student, how is Basil can be helping student?"
"Can you get the Headmaster here?" Timmy asked nervously, glancing over at the old man. He wrung his hands and wiggled his toes. "I think Professor Potter passed away."