A Harry Potter who gets addicted to dreamless sleep potion
A Harry Potter who sometimes can’t get out of bed in the morning, who doesn’t see the point in his life anymore because ever since he was 11 he only ever saw Voldemort as his future
A Harry Potter who looks at the faces of other mourners and blames himself for not getting it done quicker
A Harry Potter who for once gets looked after by his friends who comfort him when he goes through withdrawal symptoms, who comforts him when he has the worst nightmares he’s ever had, who pause everything to look after each other
A Harry Potter who still has a bag packed and is ready to run because he’s sure this isn’t the end, because he’s sure that Voldemort will come back and ruin everything again
A Harry Potter who can’t sleep without the sound of Ron’s snoring or Hermione’s breathing
A golden trio who sleep in Mrs Weasleys front room for months after everything because they feel unsafe without the others there
A Harry Potter who finds it incredibly hard to deal with the war and its only his family that can help him, even if it is just to hold him whilst he cries
A Harry Potter who is broken and scared and doesn’t understand the future but for the first time in his life is surrounded by people that will help him
A large estate, with red and white roses blooming in the front garden. It’s a large house, but some how it’s modest. It’s homey. The chimney expels white smoke into the crisp morning air.
Lily Potter stands in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea. Her stomach is almost about to pop, the new baby close to coming into the world. James wonders down the stairs, blurry eyed as he sits on on the kitchen bench, kissing his wife on the forehead.
“Its Potter now, James.” This was how they greeted each other every morning.
“Padfoot owled me last night, I forgot to mention. He wants to come over for breakfast? We can invite Moony and Worms as well?” James asked.
“I assume they’ll be over in ten minutes, no matter what I say.” Lily smiled. “ Quickly floo them and tell them it’s a PJ morning. No proper clothes.”
James grinned and went to the fire place.
It was a wonderful morning.
Harry can see it so perfectly in his mind. His mother, no makeup and hair up in a bun from sleeping. His dad the same, his hair somehow defying the laws of physics.
He can smell the pancakes cooking, Remus laughing with Lily as she flipped them. James, Sirius and Peter having an in depth conversation about the recent Qudditch match. He can smell morning breath and flowers and the smell of morning air.
He can see it as he stands in the ruins of the Potter estate, the one his family lived in for generations.