The canonical characters from the "Harry Potter" books and movies belong to Joanne K. Rowling, as does the Wizarding World and all associated concepts. Ms. Rowling is utterly unaware that I or my stories exist, and is probably happier for it. This story is written to serve as nothing more than an outlet for one of my hobbies. I'm doing it because I felt like it and am not planning to realize any sort of monetary award for it.
The plot for "Harry Potter & The Search For Peace" is mine.
Harry found himself surrounded by nine Weasleys (Fleur included), a Granger, a Tonks and a Lupin. The interview had ended with Kingsley announcing that any student of Hogwarts who had fought in the war would receive their OWL or NEWT in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He also announced that any such student who was of age or would be of age before September 1, could join the Aurors.
"Would you like to hold your godson?" Harry turned his attention to Andromeda Tonks. Of course, he wanted to hold his godson but he had never held a baby before. He didn't want to hurt him. He wanted to be there for him. He wanted to do all those things for Teddy, no one had done for him, when he was younger.
As if understanding his inner turmoil, Mrs Tonks helped him hold his godson. Harry looked at him as the child's hair changed to match his. Harry's breath hitched. It was like looking at a miniature version of himself. Two orphans of the war, parents died to protect their kid, alone…
"It will not be the same," Harry heard Ron, "He will not be left with his muggle relatives who hate him. His Godfather will not land himself in Azkaban. He will grow up with a grandmother who loves him." Mrs Tonks smiled. "His Godfather will always be there for him," Ron continued, "We will celebrate his first Christmas, his first birthday. We will take him to Quidditch matches. We will celebrate his first accidental magic, his first Hogwarts letter."
"We will tell him how brave his parents were," Hermione whispered.
"We will teach him pranks," George muttered.
"We will teach him how to play Quidditch," Ginny spoke.
"We will be there when he goes to Hogwarts," Mrs Tonks smiled.
"He will always have a room in any house I own," Harry announced.
Harry entered the Burrow, returning from the funeral of Colin Creevey. It had been a week since the Battle of Hogwarts. The funerals had started. Harry had been invited to almost all of them, everyone wanted the Boy Who Lived to say a few words of comfort. No one saw how much comfort he needed, how broken he was.
"You don't have to attend all of them," Harry heard Mr Weasley tell him. He looked at the man who seemed to have grown older. Maybe it happened when you bury your young son. The funeral had taken place a few days ago in Ottery St Catchpole. Harry had also arranged a funeral for Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. They were buried in Godric's Hollow, next to his parents. Mrs Tonks had insisted on a funeral for Sirius too. His grave was next to James Potter's. It was empty.
Another empty grave was amongst the graves of Black family members. Mrs Tonks wanted to say a proper goodbye to Regulus Black. When Harry had asked her why Sirius was not with them, she had proudly told him that Sirius's true family was with James Potter and Remus Lupin. The three of them were brothers in everything but blood. She told him many storied about them. Harry had made it a point to visit his Godson every day. The child would always know that he was loved.
Harry, Ron and Hermione had trouble sleeping in the night. Their dreams were filled with Dark Curses, Death Eaters and Voldemort. Ginny too seemed to have a hard time sleeping. Hogwarts had not been the same that year.
George and Percy too were no better. One was missing his twin while the other thought it should have been him. "It should have been no one," Bill had said, "That is what we would have preferred." George too had admonished Percy for such thoughts, "It was a war. We knew what we were getting into. We knew this could have happened. Stop thinking stupid things, Percy. And you too, Harry. It was not your fault."
This was one thing that everyone had been telling him. Yet he couldn't stop thinking like that. Maybe he could have surrendered earlier. There must have been something he could have done to save all those lives.