Disclaimer: I own nothing but a box of Cheez-its and Monopoly board. Harry Potter and his world are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling.
Harry Potter and the Lost Library
Chapter 1: Half Life
It had been ten years since that fateful battle for Hogwarts, and the memories of that day still haunted Harry Potter like a persistent poltergeist. Although his victory over Lord Voldemort had ushered in the most peaceful and united time since the founding of Hogwarts, the cost had been the lives of many great witches and wizards. Harry's circle of friends and mentors had been decreased by half. Sirius had been the first to fall, and now Remus Lupin was the only surviving Marauder. Ron and Hermione endured, but Ginny and Neville had not been able to escape the Death Eaters. Dumbledore had survived to head Hogwarts, but it was now without Hagrid's gentle presence. Tonks had escaped the battle with only a slight limp, but Mad-Eye had fallen by the lake. Finally in a cruel twist of fate, Professor Snape survived to teach and torture students, but Professor McGonagall's starched voice would never again be heard in the halls of Hogwarts.
The Weasley's had lost two children in the war, Percy and Ginny. No one spoke of Percy or his passing. After three years spent distancing himself from his Weasley heritage, Percy's greed and ambition had gone to far. He became a Death Eater and sold ministry secrets to Voldemort. He was killed at the Battle of Hogwarts and buried in shame in the Forbidden Forest with his cohorts. Ginny, on the other hand, had been mourned and glorified in death.
Of all the friends he had lost in battle, it was Ginny's death that left Harry with the most guilt. He had dragged her to her death, but he had never respected her in life. Time had made him understand that fact. Ginny had fought courageously beside him on three occasions, she had often acted as his sounding board, and yet he had always placed her beneath Ron and Hermione. He hadn't realized how much her friendship had meant until she was gone. Now there was a hole in his chest that was filled with regret.
Despite all of the loss, life continued on. Harry spent the first six months after the war in a state of bewildered grief and guilt. Then he traveled the world for a time trying to forget or at least come to terms with the war. When he finally returned to England, Harry decided that it was about time that he started living life. He tried out for and won the seeker position for the Chudley Cannons. He played professional Quidditch for two full seasons. In his third season with the Cannons, Harry took a bludger to the face that left him with a blind spot. He was forced to resign his position, and the Cannons lost all hope for a national cup.
With his Quidditch career just a memory, Harry thought that maybe it was time to start a real career. He entered into the Auror training program. However, when it came time to actually start tracking dark magic again, Harry found he had lost his taste for it. Feeling tired and lost, Harry retired to write his memoirs.
The memoirs had been Hermione's idea. She believed that writing down his life story would help Harry deal with his feelings. Harry found the whole idea appalling. Spouting literary prose about his own exploits, it reeked of Gilderoy Lockhart. He understood that most of his "heroic" deeds had simply been a product of circumstance and not skill. He saw nothing in himself that was greater or braver than the other witches and wizards who had fought Voldemort. He didn't deserve to be placed on a pedestal when so many had sacrificed their lives in the war.
Despite his disgust with the very idea, Harry had announced to his friends that he would be taking time off to write his autobiography. Why? Well it was simpler than explaining that he just wanted to stare at a wall for the next twenty years. Writing had proven to be an ample source of useless small talk, and he could easily explain his recent inactivity with two words, "writer's block."
Harry's personal life had been just as unfulfilling as his professional one. He'd always had his share of girlfriends. There were the exotic affairs he'd had during his travels, the girls who hung around Quidditch pitches, and those women anxious to be seen and photographed with the Famous Harry Potter. Yes, Harry had learned to be polite, romantic, and generous with his current amour, but his relationships never lasted longer than a few months. In his entire life, Harry felt he had only really connected with two women, and both of those relationships had not been romantic in nature. Harry had come to the unfortunate conclusion that he was meant to remain single.
Using the money he had inherited from his parents and Sirius, Harry had purchased a castle in Yorkshire eight years ago. A strange wizard named Avery Floogle had built it nearly five centuries ago. The average Muggle driving by would only notice a determinedly uninteresting pile of boulders or perhaps a bug infested marsh. The wizards and witches in the area saw a labyrinth of walls and towers that seemed to have grown at odd angles from the ground. Floogle Castle was the haphazard fortress equivalent of the Burrow and definitely offered more in the way of charm than comfort.
Remus Lupin, Ron, and Hermione had moved in with Harry when he purchased Floogle Castle. Remus had moved out two years later when he was offered the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. His heroic actions in war had been enough to over come his being a werewolf. Ron and Hermione had remained living in the castle even after they were married. Although this decision seemed strange to the outside world, it made the three friends happy, and that was all that mattered. Floogle Castle became a replacement for the Burrow, which had been destroyed in a retaliation attack several years earlier. All of the Weasleys had lived under Harry's roof at one time or another, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.
Harry sat brooding in his library, or at least Hermione would have called it brooding. Harry liked to think of it as "contemplating reality." Ron, on the other hand, would have called it "going nutters" as Harry was having a nice debate with himself.
"You're twenty-seven years old and what have you done with yourself?" asked a voice in his head. This was the voice that tended to point out that his tie was crooked and his socks didn't match.
"Well," answered another voice, "You did defeat the greatest dark wizard of all time." Harry had to admit he liked this voice better. It was the one told him that he was entitled to another helping of pudding or that he could sleep for another five minutes.
"Tish-tosh," replied the first voice. "That was ages ago. What have you done lately?"
"Well," hesitated the second voice.
The first voice pressed its advantage. "See what I mean. You've by lying about the country letting the grass grow under your feet."
"You did help Fred and George out when they expanded their business," the second voice interjected. "They wouldn't be England's number one joke shop if it wasn't for you."
"Yes, yes, yes," griped the first voice. "You invested some Galleons and made a load of Galleons in return. Bully for you!"
"Now, now! There's no need to get snarky!" snapped the second voice.
"Hmph!" grunted the first voice. "Look at Ron. He's got a good job at the ministry, and he and Hermione are expecting their first child."
"Stop going on about Ron and Hermione," demanded the second voice. "You're very happy for them."
"Of course you are! I was just using them as an example," said the first voice. "I mean there's a guy who's been through the wringer with you, and yet he's still been able to get on with his life."
"You are getting on with your life," insisted the second voice.
"You're drying up like an old prune," barked the first voice. "You never finish anything you start."
"That's not true," reassured the second voice. "Look at everything you've done with Floogle Castle. It's been totally redecorated."
"Hermione did most of that," the first voice reminded.
"You cleaned up the moat," declared the second voice.
"And now it's infested with kelpies," inserted the first voice.
"The garden..." began the second voice.
"A series of mud-holes that the gnomes won't even go near," interrupted the first voice.
"Cheeky!" snapped the second voice.
"Bloody Mary Poppins," retorted the first voice.
Harry's internal debate was interrupted when Hermione strolled into the library. Despite being nearly seven months pregnant, she still insisted on carrying around huge stacks of books. Harry rushed forward to help her.
"Oh I'm sorry Harry," she said, "I didn't see you there."
"I can't imagine why," he quipped winking at her over the tower of leather bound volumes. He set them down on the edge of his desk. No doubt Dobby or Winky would put them away later. "What are you working on?"
"Oh," Hermione murmured, "Some new material for my lectures." Hermione had taken over Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration classes at Hogwarts. But by allowing Professor Lupin to become head of Gryffindor House, she'd reduced her responsibilities and didn't have to live at Hogwarts. She was able to go to work in the morning and return home each night using floo powder.
Harry raised his eyebrow at her. The fact that she couldn't meet his eyes told him she was lying. He glanced over at the book titles. There was "When Magic Goes Wrong" by Leonard March, "Why Crossing the Streams is Bad" by Egon Spengler, "Spell Interference" by Kathryn Bartholomew, and about a dozen or so similar titles. "Are your students really this horrid?" Harry teased.
"What? Oh no, this is just a something I'm working on," she mumbled. Hermione was absently fingering the edge of her jumper. After nearly twenty years of friendship, Harry was now convinced Hermione was hiding something.
"And just what are you working on?" he pressed.
"Oh my goodness," Hermione gasped. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. "I don't feel so well. I think I better go lay down." Before Harry could even open his mouth, she swept through the library door.
"She's bluffing," the first voice sneered.
"She's as healthy as a horse," the second voice agreed, "She never even had morning sickness."
Harry physically shook his head. He was definitely going nutters.
Harry Potter and the Lost Library
Chapter 1: Half Life
It had been ten years since that fateful battle for Hogwarts, and the memories of that day still haunted Harry Potter like a persistent poltergeist. Although his victory over Lord Voldemort had ushered in the most peaceful and united time since the founding of Hogwarts, the cost had been the lives of many great witches and wizards. Harry's circle of friends and mentors had been decreased by half. Sirius had been the first to fall, and now Remus Lupin was the only surviving Marauder. Ron and Hermione endured, but Ginny and Neville had not been able to escape the Death Eaters. Dumbledore had survived to head Hogwarts, but it was now without Hagrid's gentle presence. Tonks had escaped the battle with only a slight limp, but Mad-Eye had fallen by the lake. Finally in a cruel twist of fate, Professor Snape survived to teach and torture students, but Professor McGonagall's starched voice would never again be heard in the halls of Hogwarts.
The Weasley's had lost two children in the war, Percy and Ginny. No one spoke of Percy or his passing. After three years spent distancing himself from his Weasley heritage, Percy's greed and ambition had gone to far. He became a Death Eater and sold ministry secrets to Voldemort. He was killed at the Battle of Hogwarts and buried in shame in the Forbidden Forest with his cohorts. Ginny, on the other hand, had been mourned and glorified in death.
Of all the friends he had lost in battle, it was Ginny's death that left Harry with the most guilt. He had dragged her to her death, but he had never respected her in life. Time had made him understand that fact. Ginny had fought courageously beside him on three occasions, she had often acted as his sounding board, and yet he had always placed her beneath Ron and Hermione. He hadn't realized how much her friendship had meant until she was gone. Now there was a hole in his chest that was filled with regret.
Despite all of the loss, life continued on. Harry spent the first six months after the war in a state of bewildered grief and guilt. Then he traveled the world for a time trying to forget or at least come to terms with the war. When he finally returned to England, Harry decided that it was about time that he started living life. He tried out for and won the seeker position for the Chudley Cannons. He played professional Quidditch for two full seasons. In his third season with the Cannons, Harry took a bludger to the face that left him with a blind spot. He was forced to resign his position, and the Cannons lost all hope for a national cup.
With his Quidditch career just a memory, Harry thought that maybe it was time to start a real career. He entered into the Auror training program. However, when it came time to actually start tracking dark magic again, Harry found he had lost his taste for it. Feeling tired and lost, Harry retired to write his memoirs.
The memoirs had been Hermione's idea. She believed that writing down his life story would help Harry deal with his feelings. Harry found the whole idea appalling. Spouting literary prose about his own exploits, it reeked of Gilderoy Lockhart. He understood that most of his "heroic" deeds had simply been a product of circumstance and not skill. He saw nothing in himself that was greater or braver than the other witches and wizards who had fought Voldemort. He didn't deserve to be placed on a pedestal when so many had sacrificed their lives in the war.
Despite his disgust with the very idea, Harry had announced to his friends that he would be taking time off to write his autobiography. Why? Well it was simpler than explaining that he just wanted to stare at a wall for the next twenty years. Writing had proven to be an ample source of useless small talk, and he could easily explain his recent inactivity with two words, "writer's block."
Harry's personal life had been just as unfulfilling as his professional one. He'd always had his share of girlfriends. There were the exotic affairs he'd had during his travels, the girls who hung around Quidditch pitches, and those women anxious to be seen and photographed with the Famous Harry Potter. Yes, Harry had learned to be polite, romantic, and generous with his current amour, but his relationships never lasted longer than a few months. In his entire life, Harry felt he had only really connected with two women, and both of those relationships had not been romantic in nature. Harry had come to the unfortunate conclusion that he was meant to remain single.
Using the money he had inherited from his parents and Sirius, Harry had purchased a castle in Yorkshire eight years ago. A strange wizard named Avery Floogle had built it nearly five centuries ago. The average Muggle driving by would only notice a determinedly uninteresting pile of boulders or perhaps a bug infested marsh. The wizards and witches in the area saw a labyrinth of walls and towers that seemed to have grown at odd angles from the ground. Floogle Castle was the haphazard fortress equivalent of the Burrow and definitely offered more in the way of charm than comfort.
Remus Lupin, Ron, and Hermione had moved in with Harry when he purchased Floogle Castle. Remus had moved out two years later when he was offered the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. His heroic actions in war had been enough to over come his being a werewolf. Ron and Hermione had remained living in the castle even after they were married. Although this decision seemed strange to the outside world, it made the three friends happy, and that was all that mattered. Floogle Castle became a replacement for the Burrow, which had been destroyed in a retaliation attack several years earlier. All of the Weasleys had lived under Harry's roof at one time or another, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.
Harry sat brooding in his library, or at least Hermione would have called it brooding. Harry liked to think of it as "contemplating reality." Ron, on the other hand, would have called it "going nutters" as Harry was having a nice debate with himself.
"You're twenty-seven years old and what have you done with yourself?" asked a voice in his head. This was the voice that tended to point out that his tie was crooked and his socks didn't match.
"Well," answered another voice, "You did defeat the greatest dark wizard of all time." Harry had to admit he liked this voice better. It was the one told him that he was entitled to another helping of pudding or that he could sleep for another five minutes.
"Tish-tosh," replied the first voice. "That was ages ago. What have you done lately?"
"Well," hesitated the second voice.
The first voice pressed its advantage. "See what I mean. You've by lying about the country letting the grass grow under your feet."
"You did help Fred and George out when they expanded their business," the second voice interjected. "They wouldn't be England's number one joke shop if it wasn't for you."
"Yes, yes, yes," griped the first voice. "You invested some Galleons and made a load of Galleons in return. Bully for you!"
"Now, now! There's no need to get snarky!" snapped the second voice.
"Hmph!" grunted the first voice. "Look at Ron. He's got a good job at the ministry, and he and Hermione are expecting their first child."
"Stop going on about Ron and Hermione," demanded the second voice. "You're very happy for them."
"Of course you are! I was just using them as an example," said the first voice. "I mean there's a guy who's been through the wringer with you, and yet he's still been able to get on with his life."
"You are getting on with your life," insisted the second voice.
"You're drying up like an old prune," barked the first voice. "You never finish anything you start."
"That's not true," reassured the second voice. "Look at everything you've done with Floogle Castle. It's been totally redecorated."
"Hermione did most of that," the first voice reminded.
"You cleaned up the moat," declared the second voice.
"And now it's infested with kelpies," inserted the first voice.
"The garden..." began the second voice.
"A series of mud-holes that the gnomes won't even go near," interrupted the first voice.
"Cheeky!" snapped the second voice.
"Bloody Mary Poppins," retorted the first voice.
Harry's internal debate was interrupted when Hermione strolled into the library. Despite being nearly seven months pregnant, she still insisted on carrying around huge stacks of books. Harry rushed forward to help her.
"Oh I'm sorry Harry," she said, "I didn't see you there."
"I can't imagine why," he quipped winking at her over the tower of leather bound volumes. He set them down on the edge of his desk. No doubt Dobby or Winky would put them away later. "What are you working on?"
"Oh," Hermione murmured, "Some new material for my lectures." Hermione had taken over Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration classes at Hogwarts. But by allowing Professor Lupin to become head of Gryffindor House, she'd reduced her responsibilities and didn't have to live at Hogwarts. She was able to go to work in the morning and return home each night using floo powder.
Harry raised his eyebrow at her. The fact that she couldn't meet his eyes told him she was lying. He glanced over at the book titles. There was "When Magic Goes Wrong" by Leonard March, "Why Crossing the Streams is Bad" by Egon Spengler, "Spell Interference" by Kathryn Bartholomew, and about a dozen or so similar titles. "Are your students really this horrid?" Harry teased.
"What? Oh no, this is just a something I'm working on," she mumbled. Hermione was absently fingering the edge of her jumper. After nearly twenty years of friendship, Harry was now convinced Hermione was hiding something.
"And just what are you working on?" he pressed.
"Oh my goodness," Hermione gasped. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. "I don't feel so well. I think I better go lay down." Before Harry could even open his mouth, she swept through the library door.
"She's bluffing," the first voice sneered.
"She's as healthy as a horse," the second voice agreed, "She never even had morning sickness."
Harry physically shook his head. He was definitely going nutters.