The Death of Harry Potter
By: Darkmoore
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Part I – The Old Man
Professor Harry James Potter is a very old man.
At the unheard of age of 181 years, he is still the Headmaster of the Honeychurch Institute of Magic. A position he has maintained for well over 100 years.
After the death of Angus Evanston, the position of deputy headmaster wasn't filled out of respect and a new Arithmancy teacher was hired, who also taught the Ancient Runes classes, so Madame Edwina Klump, his predecessor could do all the administrative work for the school. Everyone thought she would offer the deputy job to Professor Botolf Proctor, as he was both the logical choice and he was the only one who wanted it. However, it was Harry she offered the position to. She knew who would be able to take care of the school best if something happened to her. Truth be told after his first year of teaching, she thought he did it better than her anyway. Reluctantly he accepted the position, much to Botolf's disgust. It only took him another year before he resigned his position and went to work for another school.
As he lay in his bed reading a book, he paused and looked up at the paintings and photographs he had in his bedchamber. There was Sirius Black, his beloved godfather snoozing in his portrait. There was the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, that Harry commissioned Dean Thomas to paint after the death of his mentor, also snoozing. On his bed table were the photographs of his parents, James and Lily Potter, waving at him smiling. Next to them was a photo of five young men who happened to share a dormitory room at the top of Gryffindor tower, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter all happy together. He still remembered the day Collin Creevey took that picture; he had wanted to smack that kid so bad. Then Harry chuckled at the memory of it.
However, over the mantle of his fireplace was the portrait of himself, his wife and their four children, his favorite of all the paintings he owned. Harry then thought of his beloved wife, who had died years before, living a normal age for wizards and witches. Together they had three sons, James, Sirius and Albus and a beautiful daughter Lily. These four children provided Harry with an abundance of grandchildren, great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren. He loved them all. They were happy there and when the children were small, he never wanted them to grow up. He loved teaching them how to ride a broomstick and how to play Quidditch. Those were the best memories for him, those broom riding lessons.
In fact even when he became the Headmaster of the school that was the one class he refused to give up, teaching the first years how to ride brooms. Harry did it for years until his age forced him to stop riding a broom. Even then he coached them from the ground until he finally gave the class back up to the Quidditch coach to do. However, instead of giving up teaching altogether, he took on a new class room and a new class that he had heard other schools incorporating into the curriculum called "Introduction to Magic." It was for all first year students to introduce them the world of academic magic and to help the Muggle born and Muggle raised children understand the world they were entering. He felt it would be a beneficial addition to the schedule and he was right. After mentioning what a success it was to the current Minister of Magic, Mrs. Hermione Weasley, it had been incorporated into all of the schools in Great Britain.
Harry laughed at his memories, and sighed at all the old friends long gone. Everyone from his year at Hogwarts had already preceded him into the grave. As had the entire Weasley clan he knew as a child. Even one of his own sons died before him and that had been a hard thing for Harry to accept, to outlive a child. He would have died then if he could have from the grief of it. He almost felt like he had failed James when he attended his funeral.
But now Harry was becoming tired and he really needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day, he and his deputy headmaster, Phillip Potter, Harry great grandson, would be sending out the invitation letters to all the incoming students to the school. He knew he needed sleep, because Phillip would be coming to his 'Paw Paw' about everything, even though he was more than capable of doing it all alone.
"Paw Paw." Harry laughed out load. All of his grandchildren and their children and their children called him that. Even the children who were students at the school called him that instead of 'Professor Potter.' He allowed it even though he shouldn't have.
However, the hour was late and he laid his book on his night table, said goodnight to the paintings and soon fell of to sleep.
Harry Potter never woke up again.
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Author's Note: To everyone who reviewed, thanks again...
By: Darkmoore
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part I – The Old Man
Professor Harry James Potter is a very old man.
At the unheard of age of 181 years, he is still the Headmaster of the Honeychurch Institute of Magic. A position he has maintained for well over 100 years.
After the death of Angus Evanston, the position of deputy headmaster wasn't filled out of respect and a new Arithmancy teacher was hired, who also taught the Ancient Runes classes, so Madame Edwina Klump, his predecessor could do all the administrative work for the school. Everyone thought she would offer the deputy job to Professor Botolf Proctor, as he was both the logical choice and he was the only one who wanted it. However, it was Harry she offered the position to. She knew who would be able to take care of the school best if something happened to her. Truth be told after his first year of teaching, she thought he did it better than her anyway. Reluctantly he accepted the position, much to Botolf's disgust. It only took him another year before he resigned his position and went to work for another school.
As he lay in his bed reading a book, he paused and looked up at the paintings and photographs he had in his bedchamber. There was Sirius Black, his beloved godfather snoozing in his portrait. There was the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, that Harry commissioned Dean Thomas to paint after the death of his mentor, also snoozing. On his bed table were the photographs of his parents, James and Lily Potter, waving at him smiling. Next to them was a photo of five young men who happened to share a dormitory room at the top of Gryffindor tower, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter all happy together. He still remembered the day Collin Creevey took that picture; he had wanted to smack that kid so bad. Then Harry chuckled at the memory of it.
However, over the mantle of his fireplace was the portrait of himself, his wife and their four children, his favorite of all the paintings he owned. Harry then thought of his beloved wife, who had died years before, living a normal age for wizards and witches. Together they had three sons, James, Sirius and Albus and a beautiful daughter Lily. These four children provided Harry with an abundance of grandchildren, great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren. He loved them all. They were happy there and when the children were small, he never wanted them to grow up. He loved teaching them how to ride a broomstick and how to play Quidditch. Those were the best memories for him, those broom riding lessons.
In fact even when he became the Headmaster of the school that was the one class he refused to give up, teaching the first years how to ride brooms. Harry did it for years until his age forced him to stop riding a broom. Even then he coached them from the ground until he finally gave the class back up to the Quidditch coach to do. However, instead of giving up teaching altogether, he took on a new class room and a new class that he had heard other schools incorporating into the curriculum called "Introduction to Magic." It was for all first year students to introduce them the world of academic magic and to help the Muggle born and Muggle raised children understand the world they were entering. He felt it would be a beneficial addition to the schedule and he was right. After mentioning what a success it was to the current Minister of Magic, Mrs. Hermione Weasley, it had been incorporated into all of the schools in Great Britain.
Harry laughed at his memories, and sighed at all the old friends long gone. Everyone from his year at Hogwarts had already preceded him into the grave. As had the entire Weasley clan he knew as a child. Even one of his own sons died before him and that had been a hard thing for Harry to accept, to outlive a child. He would have died then if he could have from the grief of it. He almost felt like he had failed James when he attended his funeral.
But now Harry was becoming tired and he really needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day, he and his deputy headmaster, Phillip Potter, Harry great grandson, would be sending out the invitation letters to all the incoming students to the school. He knew he needed sleep, because Phillip would be coming to his 'Paw Paw' about everything, even though he was more than capable of doing it all alone.
"Paw Paw." Harry laughed out load. All of his grandchildren and their children and their children called him that. Even the children who were students at the school called him that instead of 'Professor Potter.' He allowed it even though he shouldn't have.
However, the hour was late and he laid his book on his night table, said goodnight to the paintings and soon fell of to sleep.
Harry Potter never woke up again.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Author's Note: To everyone who reviewed, thanks again...
