Disclaimer: HP & Co are not mine. The characters not mentioned in the
books are mine.
I'm currently in the process of writing two fan fictions for this site, and one on another site. I will try to update as often as I can, and if I don't update for more that a week at a time, I will try to post a note. (No guarantees!)
Please R&R! No flames, please. Let me know if I should continue. On with the story!
When the final battle ended, only a handful of survivors were left. The sight in front of them would haunt them for many years. Among them stood Harry Potter, out of breath and covered in blood, looking down at the now lifeless body of Lord Voldemort. He shifted his eyes in order to look at the sea of bodies around him. Many of the fallen were Deatheaters, but the occasional innocent was lying amongst them. He was exhausted, but he had to make sure it was really over. After a long look, satisfied that the end had come, Harry let the exhaustion overwhelm him, and fell over as a long and peaceful sleep took over his body.
It had been over a week before he woke up. He wasn't ready for the questions that were immediately thrown at him. Whenever he went somewhere he was asked to repeat the story of what happened, and how he had finally defeated Voldemort. He was tired of being famous. All he wanted to do was get away, and that's exactly what he did.
Less than a week after he woke up in St. Mungo's, Harry Potter disappeared.
He wanted to go somewhere where no one knew who he was. A place, he would later find out, that didn't exist. Everywhere he went, it seemed, there was always rouge Deatheater or two that people were asking him to take care of. After 4 years, he was ready to go home. He just had one last stop before he journeyed home.
As in most of the places he visited, he was asked to help them with a Deatheater. It had been an easy duel since the Deatheater was frightened of Harry. Unfortunately, Harry had arrived too late, the Deatheater had killed a young couple that had just moved to the village, leaving their twin boys orphaned.
Right away they stole Harry's heart, and with the villagers' encouragement, Harry adopted them. He vowed to give them everything he had never had. As no one knew their birth names Harry gave them the names Daniel James Potter and Nathaniel Sirius Potter.
For the next nine years Harry would raise his sons with the help of the villagers. On May 5 of his ninth year there, the day the twins turned 11, their Hogwarts acceptance letters came. It was then that Harry knew it was time to go home.
I'm currently in the process of writing two fan fictions for this site, and one on another site. I will try to update as often as I can, and if I don't update for more that a week at a time, I will try to post a note. (No guarantees!)
Please R&R! No flames, please. Let me know if I should continue. On with the story!
When the final battle ended, only a handful of survivors were left. The sight in front of them would haunt them for many years. Among them stood Harry Potter, out of breath and covered in blood, looking down at the now lifeless body of Lord Voldemort. He shifted his eyes in order to look at the sea of bodies around him. Many of the fallen were Deatheaters, but the occasional innocent was lying amongst them. He was exhausted, but he had to make sure it was really over. After a long look, satisfied that the end had come, Harry let the exhaustion overwhelm him, and fell over as a long and peaceful sleep took over his body.
It had been over a week before he woke up. He wasn't ready for the questions that were immediately thrown at him. Whenever he went somewhere he was asked to repeat the story of what happened, and how he had finally defeated Voldemort. He was tired of being famous. All he wanted to do was get away, and that's exactly what he did.
Less than a week after he woke up in St. Mungo's, Harry Potter disappeared.
He wanted to go somewhere where no one knew who he was. A place, he would later find out, that didn't exist. Everywhere he went, it seemed, there was always rouge Deatheater or two that people were asking him to take care of. After 4 years, he was ready to go home. He just had one last stop before he journeyed home.
As in most of the places he visited, he was asked to help them with a Deatheater. It had been an easy duel since the Deatheater was frightened of Harry. Unfortunately, Harry had arrived too late, the Deatheater had killed a young couple that had just moved to the village, leaving their twin boys orphaned.
Right away they stole Harry's heart, and with the villagers' encouragement, Harry adopted them. He vowed to give them everything he had never had. As no one knew their birth names Harry gave them the names Daniel James Potter and Nathaniel Sirius Potter.
For the next nine years Harry would raise his sons with the help of the villagers. On May 5 of his ninth year there, the day the twins turned 11, their Hogwarts acceptance letters came. It was then that Harry knew it was time to go home.