Ch. 18: In The Daily Prophet
The next day thousands of witches and wizards received a rather nasty shock when they opened their copies of the Daily Prophet. At the top of the first page in large bold print was a headline that was so unbelievable that many simply refused to believe it. "Boy who lived dead at age 125." Below the headline sat a photo of the grand old wizard. It had obviously been taken not long before his death as he seemed to be dozing. Below and to the side of the photo was an article that told the story of his lifetime of trials and accomplishments from the time he was orphaned by the dark wizard Voldemort up until the time of his retirement. At the bottom of the page was a note that his obituary could be found on page 3. All over the magical world people seemed to turn to page 3 at the same time.
Boy who lived dead at age 125
Harold James Potter passed away quietly last night at his home in London. Long known for his distinctive lightning bolt scar Mr. Potter is best known as the boy who lived as a result of repeatedly defeating the plans of the dark wizard Voldemort whom he finally killed in battle in the year 2008. After the war Mr. Potter went on to have a successful career as an auror and later assumed the position of headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a position which he held for almost fifty years before going into retirement. He is survived by four sons, two daughters and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He was preceeded in death by his parents James Potter and Lily (Evens) Potter and his husband Ronald Weasley-Potter. Final funeral arrangements are still pending at this time, but it is rumored that the services for Mr. Potter will be held in the great hall of the aforementioned Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Ch. 19: Reunion
The first thing that attracted his attention was the sound of many voices. The last time he'd heard that many voices at once was before he'd stepped down from the position of headmaster at Hogwarts some ten years before. No sooner had he thought that than his vision seemed to clear and he found that he was in the great hall of Hogwarts. Odd. Had he perhaps been invited to visit? His memory wasn't what it once was, but he couldn't recall any such invitation. So why was he here? And more than that why didn't anyone seem to notice him? He'd never been one to seek fame, and in fact he hated being recognized by people he didn't know from Merlin, but normally when he put in an appearance somewhere he was in danger of being mobbed. Not this time though. Strange. Even odder most of the other people in the room seemed too old to be students. In fact some of them seemed to be almost his age. He allowed his eyes to follow the line of people. They seemed to be moving past some sort of display. As he moved closer he saw what the display was. A coffin. So that was it. Someone he knew had died and he was here to pay his last respects. That left the question though. Who had died? Most of his friends were already gone. It couldn't be one of the children that he'd watched over during his time as headmaster, could it? No. Displays like this were for public figures and the like. He remembered professor Dumbledore's funeral. There had been so many mourners that it made the world quiddich cup during his fourth year look small by comparision. The line moved forward. In a minute he'd see whom everyone was mourning for. Then he saw it. The thinning grey hair, the thin scar over the right eye, the closed eyes that hid eyes of emerald green.
"I'm dead," he said.
"That's right Harry."
That voice he'd know it anywhere. He turned. "Ron?"
"Who else would it be Harry. I've come to get you. The others are waiting."
"The others?"
"Um-Hmmm. Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, mum and dad, our friends, and of course, your parents. Come on love, it's time to go home." His beloved held out a hand, and he took it.
No one seemed to notice as the massive wooden doors of the great hall opened and then quickly closed again. Nor that an unearthly light seemed to spill through the gap between them as they did. A lone owl on its way to deliver a letter noticed the two wizards, one with hair of fiery red, the other with hair of darkest ebony as they walked hand in hand up into the early evening sky, but of course since owls can't talk no one ever knew about it.
----The End----
The next day thousands of witches and wizards received a rather nasty shock when they opened their copies of the Daily Prophet. At the top of the first page in large bold print was a headline that was so unbelievable that many simply refused to believe it. "Boy who lived dead at age 125." Below the headline sat a photo of the grand old wizard. It had obviously been taken not long before his death as he seemed to be dozing. Below and to the side of the photo was an article that told the story of his lifetime of trials and accomplishments from the time he was orphaned by the dark wizard Voldemort up until the time of his retirement. At the bottom of the page was a note that his obituary could be found on page 3. All over the magical world people seemed to turn to page 3 at the same time.
Boy who lived dead at age 125
Harold James Potter passed away quietly last night at his home in London. Long known for his distinctive lightning bolt scar Mr. Potter is best known as the boy who lived as a result of repeatedly defeating the plans of the dark wizard Voldemort whom he finally killed in battle in the year 2008. After the war Mr. Potter went on to have a successful career as an auror and later assumed the position of headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a position which he held for almost fifty years before going into retirement. He is survived by four sons, two daughters and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He was preceeded in death by his parents James Potter and Lily (Evens) Potter and his husband Ronald Weasley-Potter. Final funeral arrangements are still pending at this time, but it is rumored that the services for Mr. Potter will be held in the great hall of the aforementioned Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Ch. 19: Reunion
The first thing that attracted his attention was the sound of many voices. The last time he'd heard that many voices at once was before he'd stepped down from the position of headmaster at Hogwarts some ten years before. No sooner had he thought that than his vision seemed to clear and he found that he was in the great hall of Hogwarts. Odd. Had he perhaps been invited to visit? His memory wasn't what it once was, but he couldn't recall any such invitation. So why was he here? And more than that why didn't anyone seem to notice him? He'd never been one to seek fame, and in fact he hated being recognized by people he didn't know from Merlin, but normally when he put in an appearance somewhere he was in danger of being mobbed. Not this time though. Strange. Even odder most of the other people in the room seemed too old to be students. In fact some of them seemed to be almost his age. He allowed his eyes to follow the line of people. They seemed to be moving past some sort of display. As he moved closer he saw what the display was. A coffin. So that was it. Someone he knew had died and he was here to pay his last respects. That left the question though. Who had died? Most of his friends were already gone. It couldn't be one of the children that he'd watched over during his time as headmaster, could it? No. Displays like this were for public figures and the like. He remembered professor Dumbledore's funeral. There had been so many mourners that it made the world quiddich cup during his fourth year look small by comparision. The line moved forward. In a minute he'd see whom everyone was mourning for. Then he saw it. The thinning grey hair, the thin scar over the right eye, the closed eyes that hid eyes of emerald green.
"I'm dead," he said.
"That's right Harry."
That voice he'd know it anywhere. He turned. "Ron?"
"Who else would it be Harry. I've come to get you. The others are waiting."
"The others?"
"Um-Hmmm. Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, mum and dad, our friends, and of course, your parents. Come on love, it's time to go home." His beloved held out a hand, and he took it.
No one seemed to notice as the massive wooden doors of the great hall opened and then quickly closed again. Nor that an unearthly light seemed to spill through the gap between them as they did. A lone owl on its way to deliver a letter noticed the two wizards, one with hair of fiery red, the other with hair of darkest ebony as they walked hand in hand up into the early evening sky, but of course since owls can't talk no one ever knew about it.
----The End----