SIYE Time:19:30 on 23rd October 2018

He Will Live On
By My Wicked Quill

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Genres: Drama, General, Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 11
Summary: This was written for the Firgment Harry Potter Fanfiction Contest. Harry Potter will live on forever in the hearts of those who remain loyal to him, not as the Boy-Who-Lived any longer, but as the Boy-Who-Lived-Again.
Hitcount: Story Total: 2853

Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.

Author's Notes:
This was written for the Figment contest, and was inspired by the ending of the Harry Potter world wide phenomenon. I had been wondering what I wanted to write about for the contest, and it wasn't until the ending of Harry Potter 7 part two at the midnight premier, that it hit me. What better way of sending Harry off, than by celebrating all the years he was with us? What did we learn with him? How much have we gone through with him? What are we taking away from the Harry Potter story? The answer is: everything.


“I never thought that my life would be half of what it is today. Not even when I received my very first Hogwarts letter and realized that I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life inside a cupboard under the stairs. When I was a young boy I dreamed of nothing more than just having a family and understanding the concept of love firsthand, because I grew up without it. Or so I thought.

“Many people have asked me how I ended up being such a good person despite the way I was raised. I honestly never knew how to answer that question; my time with the Muggles was lonely and I grew up ignored and disregarded. So, to many, who I am now doesn’t really coincide with who I should have become under those circumstances.

“I think, however, now I understand why I never really gave up hope on finding that love or why I never became a heartless, juvenile delinquent. It was because the love from my parents in my first year of life was strong enough to sustain me for the following decade. I never knew who my parents were until I was eleven- I was even deceived and told they died in a car crash. In retrospect, I believe I always knew that it wasn’t true, deep down I knew my parents. Deep down I still felt their love.

“I suppose that, subconsciously, that was the reason I kept fighting so hard. Through my time at this school I trudged through obstacles and came across death at each corner. Many times I felt my suffering wasn’t worth the reward of fighting, but somehow I never gave up.

“I was turned back on, on several occasions, I was slandered and called a liar, but by a miracle I had met some people who stood by me and supported each move I made. For the first time in my life I knew there was someone I could trust, people who really did love me unconditionally, even when I had trouble believing it. I learned here, that I was not, am not, and never will be alone again.

“I wouldn’t change any of the time I spent here for anything in the world, because here I was accepted, I made friends, and I became part of a family.

“I kept fighting to stop families like my adopted one from being torn apart. I kept fighting to protect the love I knew existed; I kept fighting so that I would have a chance to feel that love again. I kept fighting not only because it was the right thing to do, but because for me, it was the only thing to do.

“A wise man told me once that we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy. My choice was simple, I could fight or I could not. I had a destiny, but I still had my free will. Even though I had moments of weakness, as we all as humans do, I never thought I would ultimately not continue to fight. It wasn’t easy, but I couldn’t imagine an option that would entail leaving thousands of people to die, and let Voldemort blind our world from light and love. It wasn’t a decision I was guilted into, or one that I was reluctant to make.

“My choice to fight against Voldemort was nothing more than choosing between good and evil, and as Albus Dumbledore told me, it is our choices that show us what we truly are far more than our abilities. It doesn’t matter that I had the power Voldemort didn’t, it never mattered what amount of power I would need to bring him down, all that mattered was my choice to actually stand against him. The power he didn’t understand is what fueled my motivation to end him, as I explained: it was love.

“If the time comes I will fight all over again. Like my father did, like my mother did, like my godfather, my mentors, my teachers, and my friends did, I would valiantly go down fighting for the greater good than live knowing I didn’t do all I could. Perhaps that is the Gryffindor in me talking, but I don’t think so, because even Slytherins- the alleged opposite of Gryffindor- can have that trait. I would know, the Sorting Hat wished to put me in Slytherin my first year.

“The same man once said that it doesn’t matter what someone is born- all that matters is who they grow up to be. Whether, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin our differences mean nothing if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. Our aim now is to build a new Wizarding World were purity of blood means nothing anywhere than just in a family tree. Where what family you belong to means nothing more than who you love and go home to at the end of the day. Where being in different houses means nothing more than being sorted where you will find friends and people with personalities much like yourself. Where discrimination goes no further than what Quidditch team you root for.

“Because inside we are all human; we all feel the same pain at losing a loved one. We all have magic inside us no matter how it was inherited.

“And so as I stand here, in front of all of you, in this very spot where a year ago we all had a hand in finishing the Dark Lord, to remind you to never forget what transpired here. If we forget the past, or block it out we can’t move forward and we will be doomed to make the same mistake once again. We must work together to create a world where a young boy won’t feel the need to hate so strongly and grow to kill so many for the silly reason of race.

“We must remember the many witches and wizards who died so that we would have the chance to make this new world possible.

“As for me, I’m glad to say I have found all that I was missing since my parents were murdered- since I got this scar. I’ve found love, a home, a family, and hope for a future I never thought I would have. I want to thank this school, and thank each and every one of you sitting in this room, for helping me, for standing with me and for shaping me into the man I have become. In eight years I learned more about the world, more about myself, more about people and the ability to love and hate, than I ever would have stuck in the muggle world I never felt I belonged in. There, I was an outsider; I was a freak, here- though I get more attention than I wish for- I am part of something bigger than me, bigger than any of us.

"Our story hasn’t ended, this isn’t a goodbye. This is a new start. My story, the story of ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ might be done, but now the story of ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again’ is already on its way. None of this will ever leave us. Hogwarts will always be here to welcome us home, and give help to those who seek it.”

The room was as silent as it was still when the man with the lightning bolt scar finished his speech. After a moment the crowd erupted into a grand applause. Slowly stepping away from the podium at the front of the grand Great Hall of Hogwarts, he began to descend the few steps and proceeded to walk on past the familiar faces of the people who had at one point or another affected his path.

He hadn’t intended on delivering a speech at the one year memorial service of the Final Battle of the Second Wizarding War, but in the end he knew that though it wasn’t easy, it was the right thing to do.

An elderly woman with a stern and strict face and a black witch’s hat was seated in the front and center of the crowd. As the man passed he gave her a small nod of appreciation, and she couldn’t help but stifle a smile. There was something about that boy that warmed her heart.

A bushy-haired brunette, with tears in her eyes and the red headed man beside her-her fiancé- smirked as they watched their best friend walk away.

Another red haired man with a missing ear began to hoot and holler.

The odd girl with snow white hair that reached her waist and piercing grey eyes that twinkled with curiosity clapped happily with the rest.

The half giant with a full grown black beard had been crying from the beginning of the speech and continued to do so as he clapped.

An older couple with graying red hair gazed proudly at the boy, now man, they loved as their own.

Another tall dark haired boy stood from his seat, courageously taking the initiative that got everyone to their feet in a standing ovation. There was nothing shy or unsure about this man any longer.

A dark-skinned wizard watched the boy retreat, hoping to recruit him for the Aurors someday soon.

Yet another red haired man with horrible scars on his face- a sign of war- stood with his French wife as they wished the best for the man that was very much a part of their family.

There were countless others cheering as The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again walked past, countless faces that were part of his story- that were a part of him. But there was one above all that meant the world to him, and she was seated in the last seat in the back, purposely, so that she could easily slip out with him as he fled.

That girl, with long red hair which curled at the bottom, knew that day was hard enough for him and she knew, since she knew him so well, that he would not want to linger nor socialize.

What she did not know, however, was that the man with the lightning bolt scar planned on proposing to her that night. He was ready to start his new life, with her, and the other faces in the crowd by his side.

Harry Potter walked into that castle the first time as a little boy curious to learn about magic. Eight years later he walked out of the castle a man, knowing that it was not the end; there would still be many more choices to make, many more demons to put to rest, many more mistakes to make and paths to take. He knew, as they all knew, that it wasn’t the end; it was only a beginning. Harry Potter might not be immortal, but he would live on forever in the hearts of those who remained loyal to him.

Reviews 11

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