New world same story

Harry regretted sending the letter almost as soon as the owl took flight. He sat at his desk, staring at the empty space where the parchment had been, a hollow pit forming in his chest. Hermione didn’t need to be dealing with his existential crisis—not when she was pregnant, for Salazar's sake. The thought twisted in his gut, making him feel even more foolish for unloading on her. He should have written another letter, apologized, told her to forget it. But he couldn’t. Instead, he let the silence stretch between them.

The weeks that followed felt heavy. Days blurred together, and Harry barely left the house. Trixi, ever the dutiful house-elf, forced him to eat when all he wanted to do was drown himself in Firewhiskey. The alcohol dulled the ache, but it didn’t numb it completely. He knew he should call Bobby for a new job or at least reply to one of Sam's texts—join them on a hunt or something to shake him out of this fog. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was in a mood, and nothing seemed to pull him out of it.

His mind healer would call it depression, and Harry could already hear the words forming in his mind, ready to snort and say something sarcastic. 'Life is a series of unfortunate events and accidental miracles. Life is all depression.' It was the same deflection he used whenever she tried to pry deeper. She would scold him for it, tell him he was deflecting as usual. But she wasn’t here now. No one was. And all Trixi could do was place a plate of food in front of him when the drinking got too much, her large eyes watching him with concern.

Death hadn’t returned either. It had been months since Harry had last seen him, and part of him didn’t know whether to be grateful or resentful. Death had been a companion for a time, a reminder of the choices Harry had made, but his absence left a strange void. Without the pull of the afterlife at his back, Harry felt more alone than ever.

When the silence in his head grew too loud—when the emptiness swallowed him whole—he found himself digging through the chest he had buried so long ago. The resurrection stone, cold and weighty in his palm, gleamed faintly in the low light. He had tried so hard not to use it. Death had warned him, told him it was both a gift and a curse. Never leave the dead in our world for longer than half an hour. Never more than a few times a year. Try never to use it at all. Harry had taken that advice seriously. Years had passed since the last time he had turned the stone, and he had sworn he wouldn’t again.

But tonight, the whiskey-fueled courage pushed him to do it. He turned the stone thrice in his hand, the action familiar yet foreign after so long. At first, nothing happened, and Harry wondered if it worked differently in this world. Maybe it wouldn’t work at all. But then, he felt it—a hand on his shoulder, light but solid.

Harry turned, and there she was. His mother stood before him, a sad smile on her face. His breath caught in his throat. She looked just as she had in his memories, her red hair softly glowing in the dim light, her green eyes—the same eyes he saw in the mirror every day—brimming with love and sorrow.

To her left stood his father, James, his glasses slightly askew and his grin soft yet familiar. And there, to the right, were Sirius and Remus, their faces etched with that same bittersweet expression. It was overwhelming. The room seemed to shrink around him, the weight of their presence pressing on his chest.

They had never been able to touch him before. Not like this. They were always distant, specters more than people, flickering images that faded when he reached out. But now—now they were here. Solid. Real.

Without thinking, Harry launched himself forward, crashing into them. His arms wrapped around his mother, and for the first time, he felt her warmth. Felt her. The others crowded in, pulling him into the tightest embrace he had ever felt. The weight of it, the overwhelming sensation of being held, of being surrounded by the people he had lost, was too much.

He buried his face into his mother’s shoulder, shaking as tears soaked into her robes. His father’s hand rested on his back, firm and reassuring. Sirius squeezed his shoulder, and Remus patted his head like he used to when Harry was a boy.

They didn’t speak right away. There were no words to describe what Harry was feeling—the combination of joy, grief, and longing all tangled together. For what felt like an eternity, he just stood there, enveloped in the warmth of their love. The hole in his chest felt less jagged, though it still ached.

Finally, after what felt like hours, his mother pulled back just enough to look at him, her hand cupping his face gently.

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve carried so much.”

Harry nodded, unable to speak, his throat too tight. He looked at them—his family—and for the first time in weeks, maybe months, the weight pressing down on him lightened just a little. But he also knew it couldn’t last. It never could. This was a borrowed moment, and like all borrowed things, it had to be returned.

“I’m so proud of you,” his father said, his voice soft but strong, the same voice that had echoed in Harry’s mind during his darkest moments. “We all are.”

Sirius grinned, ruffling Harry’s hair. “You’ve done better than any of us could’ve, mate.”

Remus nodded, his eyes warm with pride and affection. “You’ve lived, Harry. You’ve truly lived.”

But Harry couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at him. He had survived, yes. But at what cost? So many of them hadn’t.

“I miss you,” Harry choked out, the words finally escaping his lips.

“We know,” his mother said, pulling him into another hug. “But we’re always with you. Even when you can’t see us.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold on to this moment for as long as he could. He knew it was fleeting. He knew that the stone could only bring them back for a short time, and already he could feel the pull of the afterlife tugging at them.

“I’ll be okay,” Harry whispered, more to himself than to them. “I’ll try.”

His mother kissed his forehead, and he took a deep breath he didn't remember holding. It felt foolish, a grown 30 year old man crying with his parents on his bed like a toddler. Then again, he never got to do it as a toddler.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off as his mother, father, Sirius, and Remus gathered around him. They all sat with him, like a comforting shield against the dark thoughts that had haunted him for so long. Harry chuckled softly, wiping at his wet eyes. "You know... I’m older than you now, Dad. That’s mad, isn’t it?"

James grinned, a bit of that boyish charm Harry had only ever heard about. “Yeah, you’re officially older than me, mate. Hard to believe I died so young, huh?”

And suddenly, the weight of that realization hit Harry, sinking in like a rock in his gut. His father had died at 21—barely older than a kid. The sadness overwhelmed him, choking him with its intensity. But before the wave could crash down completely, his mother’s firm voice cut through.

“No, don’t you do that, Harry James Potter,” Lily said, her voice filled with both love and a quiet strength. Her green eyes, so much like his own, shimmered with emotion. “Your father and I died so you could live. We don’t regret that moment. If we had to do it again, we’d change nothing.”

James shifted awkwardly next to her. "Well... maybe we’d change trusting Peter as the Secret Keeper.”

Lily rolled her eyes and smacked James on the back of the head. “You know that’s not what I meant, James.”

Sirius, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, laughed, tossing his hair back with that trademark rebellious grin. “Yeah, Jamie. You know better than to test Lily.”

Lily glared playfully at Sirius, and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle through his tears. The familiar banter, the easy camaraderie between them, it was like a balm for his broken heart. He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing them like this—alive, joking, being the family he never truly got to know.

Lily turned back to Harry, her expression softening. “Harry, we love you. Don’t be sad that we’re gone. Be happy we lived. Life is a gift. You spend so much time wondering if it’s worth it, but it is. We died young, yes. But now you have the chance to live all the years we never could. To do things we never got to do!”

Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, like she was pouring every bit of motherly advice into him. “See the world. Fall in love. Fall out of love. Get hurt. Get bloody, and get back up again. Because life is hard, son, but it’s worth it. Because one day, whether it's now or a hundred or a thousand years from now, it’ll be over. And when that day comes, look back and have no regrets. None.”

Remus shifted closer, his eyes filled with that quiet wisdom Harry had always admired. “Harry, I know you blame yourself for a lot of deaths, but that’s foolish. It was my choice to stand in that war. It was Tonks’ choice to stand by me. We fought so the world would be safer for Teddy. Maybe if we hadn’t, someone we killed that day would’ve killed you, or the war might’ve dragged on. We’ll never know the full reach of our choices. You can’t carry that burden.”

Harry swallowed hard, his chest tight. He had blamed himself for so long—for every loss, every casualty. But hearing Remus say it… there was a weight lifted, if only a little.

Sirius leaned forward, his voice serious for once. “And my death? That wasn’t on you either, Harry. I made my choice. I chose to push you out of the way. I chose to go. It was my time. I wish it hadn’t been, but it was, and I don’t regret that moment. Fighting alongside you—hell, it was like fighting with James one last time. It felt like being a kid again, doing what we were born to do.”

Harry sobbed softly, unable to hold it in anymore. “I wasn’t brave like all of you. I ran away. I left.”

James wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him close. “You left for you. You needed to start over, and you did it for yourself. That was brave, Harry. To leave behind everything you knew, to dive into the unknown—that’s bravery.”

Harry shook his head. “But I’ve been selfish.”

His father’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “You’re allowed to be selfish. You’re allowed to love and fail and fall and rest. You’re allowed to cry. To break. To be weak. Life is about living for yourself sometimes, not just for others.”

Lily nodded, her soft smile breaking through her seriousness. “Stop worrying about the world, Harry. Just live.”

James leaned back, looking his son squarely in the eye. “You want to fight this war with Sam and Dean? Then fight it. Give it everything you’ve got. And at the end, whether you win or lose, you’ll know you did exactly what you wanted. And that, Harry, is what matters.”

Harry felt the warmth of their words, the truth in them. Even if he couldn't save everyone, it would be okay. As long as he lived for himself. For those he lost.

A thought struck him and he sighed, “Hermione hasn’t written back yet,” he admitted, the worry in his voice clear. “I don’t know if she’s just busy, or if something’s wrong.”

Lily let out an amused scoff. “Son, when I was pregnant with you, I forgot where I put my own wand daily. Once, James found it in the fridge.”

James chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “Yeah, and I didn’t think twice about it. Just opened the door for a butterbeer, and there it was, chilling right next to the pickles.”

Sirius grinned, jumping in with his own tale. “I once found your mum crawling around the house looking for her wand… using her wand with a Lumos spell to light up the search.”

Remus snorted. “And let’s not forget the time she cried—literally sobbing—because, and I quote, ‘I forgot what I wanted to name Harry!’” His voice took on a teasing tone, and Lily elbowed him in the ribs.

“Alright, you three,” she said with a smile, rolling her eyes at their teasing. “The point is, she’s pregnant, and she’s probably forgetting her own name half the time. She’ll write back, Harry. Just be patient. She loves you, and that’s not going to change because she’s dealing with a bit of pregnancy brain.”

Harry smiled slightly, the corner of his lips twitching upward, though he was still deep in thought. “So, even though I know I’ll outlive them all... should I still make friends? Fall in love?”

Lily’s expression softened. “Baby, I lived through the first war. You think I didn’t know that falling in love with a Gryffindor show-off and his merry band of troublemakers meant he probably wouldn’t live through it?” She glanced fondly at James, who grinned back at her. “But I still loved him. Because even if you only get a week with someone you love… it’s more than some people get.”

She paused, her voice more serious now. “Severus loved me. I was his only love. He never loved again. And he never got to tell me how he truly felt. He never got even a moment of having the one he loved love him back. Think of how miserable that made him.”

Harry swallowed hard, his heart heavy as he thought of Snape’s lonely, unfulfilled life.

“And then think of George,” Lily continued. “He’s sad, heartbroken even, that he lost Fred, but he can still look back at all the time they had together. The memories they made. And he can still smile, even through the pain. Which would you rather be, Harry?”

Harry nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “It’s just so hard… losing people,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly.

Sirius leaned forward, his hand resting on Harry’s shoulder. “They’re never really lost, Harry. They’re with you, always. You just can’t see them. And one day, you’ll reunite with everyone you’ve ever lost. But don’t give up on life now, just because you know that later might be hard.”

Harry nodded again, his eyes damp with unshed tears. He felt the warmth of their presence surrounding him, comforting him in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for years.

Lily leaned in, cupping his face gently, her touch soft and motherly. “Harry, baby, for me… forgive yourself for all the loss. Let it all go. It isn’t helping you—it’s hurting you.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest loosening just a little. “I’ll try, Mum,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll try.”

And for the first time in a long time, he felt like he truly could.

Sirius, ever the tease, leaned back casually against the bedpost, his signature mischievous grin spreading across his face. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he let out a mock sigh. "And that Winchester boy, eh? He's a handsome one," he said, giving a playful wink. "Reminds me of a younger me in my prime. A strapping lad in a leather jacket. It's like looking in a mirror, really. Don’t you think, Moony?"

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically, shaking his head in exasperation. "Yuck, Padfoot! I didn’t want to think of him looking like you!"

Lily giggled softly, her laughter a pleasant melody that immediately softened the mood. She sat beside Harry on the bed, her smile warm and reassuring. "Well, he is handsome, Harry," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Reminds me a bit of your father when he grew up."

James, clearly pleased with the comparison, puffed out his chest slightly and straightened his posture. "I wasn’t so bad," he said, his grin full of pride as if he were still the young man he once was.

Remus, always the thoughtful one, nodded. "Dean looks at you the way James used to look at Lily sometimes," he observed, offering a soft smile to Harry. "You should go for it, Harry."

Sirius, clearly eager to push the conversation further, clapped his hands together dramatically. "Exactly! Even if it blows up in your face, love is always worth it. Trust me," he said, his grin never faltering.

Harry let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I might. But who knows if he’s even... into guys?" He looked down at his lap, his fingers nervously tapping.

James's face lit up with mischief, his eyes twinkling. "You never know until you try, mate. I did some experimenting back at Hogwarts, you know."

Remus winced, visibly recalling some not-so-pleasant memories. "Yes, James, we all remember. I walked in on you and Davie... twice! Wanted to burn my eyes out of my sockets," he added, shaking his head.

James just shrugged, unapologetic. "Well, who told you to come in?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Who didn’t lock the door?!"

Sirius threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Girls, guys, it’s all the same to me, really. It’s about the adventure," he declared, his voice filled with that usual carefree attitude.

James let out a nostalgic sigh, his eyes growing a little distant. "Now, I don’t mind a bloke, really," he said, almost contemplative, before breaking into a teasing grin. "But there’s just something about a woman’s body. The curves, the softness, the way the valley of the hips dips down when you—"

Harry immediately threw his hands over his ears, his face turning bright red with embarrassment. "Okay, ew, yuck. I do not want to hear this! I definitely don’t want to know about Mum’s body!"

James chuckled and winked at him. "Come on, sport, I never got to give you the birds and the bees talk."

Harry grimaced. "I’m older, shouldn’t I be the one giving you the talk?"

Sirius leaned in, grinning ear to ear. "Oh please, your dad went through half the Gryffindor students by fourth year."

James’s face flushed a bit, but his grin only widened in pride. "Oh, come off it, Pads. You’re just jealous you never got a ride on the 'magnificent steed' that is myself. You threw yourself at me in the dorms, and I said no."

Sirius froze for a moment, his eyes wide in mock horror. "Hey! I came onto you once! Just one time, James! And I was wasted! Doesn’t count at all!"

"Oh, James," Sirius said, mocking a romantic tone, "You looked so majestic frolicking in the moonlight."

"I never said that!" Sirius snapped, his voice breaking.

Remus, who had been listening quietly, snickered, his lips twitching in amusement. "No, no. I believe his exact words were, 'James, if only you could see how the moonlight dances across your antlers as you frolic about.'"

Lily, who had been quietly enjoying the banter, burst out laughing. "Don’t forget, 'I'd love to buck up against you sometime!' You said that one too!"

Sirius’s face turned a deep shade of red, his embarrassment palpable. "I WAS HAMMERED! If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times... that DOES NOT COUNT!" he protested vehemently.

Harry groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Alright, no more on that topic! Please, no more. I really don’t need this."

"And for the record, boys can be soft too! Like that pretty bloke you went out with once... Kyle, was it?" Sirius added, elbowing James.

James tilted his head thoughtfully. "Yeah, but isn’t it the appeal of a man that he’s not soft? He’s hard, strong, but still gentle enough to curve against you."

Sirius grinned mischievously. "At least one part of him better be hard," he teased, and Harry immediately clamped his hands over his ears, his face flushed red with embarrassment.

"La la la la la," Harry sang, his hands firmly planted on his ears. "Not listening until this subject is changed!"

Lily, her smile soft and loving, reached out and gently lowered Harry’s hands from his ears. "Alright, love," she said softly, her voice turning more serious. "Time is running short." She looked at him, her eyes full of concern and warmth. "You’ve been carrying so much, Harry. I know you feel the weight of it all. But life... life is more than just surviving. You’ve got to start living it. The way we never got to."

Harry’s throat tightened as he looked at her, his heart heavy with emotion. "I just... it’s so hard, Mum. Losing people... it’s harder than dying was. Dying is as easy as going to sleep. But grief is like a wound that never closes."

Lily let out a soft, sad sigh, squeezing his arm gently. "Oh, Harry," she said quietly. "You’ve been through so much, and you’re doing the best you can. Don’t let the past weigh you down. Don’t let the loss keep you from seeing the beauty in the moments you still have. You’re so much stronger than you think. Death is easier, but that’s what makes living a miracle. A gift."

Harry, his voice barely above a whisper, asked, "Any advice in the few minutes we’ve got left?"

Sirius pushed the others aside, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulder as he leaned in close. "I do!" he said enthusiastically. "Alright, my boy, never drink the bong water, no matter how thirsty you are or how many cleansing charms you use... it always tastes vile. And no matter how many times a girl tells you she doesn't need a birthday or Valentine’s Day present... you always get one anyway. It’s a trap, don’t fall for it. And, when you're on your bike, never wear a helmet. It ruins the hair. Bikes are a turn-on, but helmet hair is not. And last, when you're blowing your guy and you’ve got him all worked up, take your finger and just—"

Lily immediately cut him off by slapping the back of his head. "Alright, enough life lessons from Padfoot. Moony, your turn!"

Remus chuckled softly, his voice calm and steady. "I don't have anything as wild as that," he said, smiling fondly at the group. "But I'll give it a go. My advice is this: when it all gets to be a little too quiet, seek out friends to make some noise. If there are none to call, put on some music... dance around. Sing! Happiness is a choice, and sometimes it’s harder than others. And when life gets to be a little too heavy, accept what you can’t change and change the things you can. Lonely? Make friends. Thinking too much? Distract yourself. Bored? Change the scenery. Change the things you can, and let go of what you can’t. Or it’ll always haunt you."

James, looking thoughtful for a moment, smiled at his son and gave him a hug. "I’ve got loads of advice," he said, his voice softening with sincerity. "We won’t have enough time for all of it. But here are my top few: When the beautiful redhead with the twinkling eyes—or maybe, in your case, the handsome leather-jacket-wearing monster hunter—tells you you’re being a dick, best listen. Never go into battle without someone you trust behind you. And never trust someone who’s proven themselves unreliable with your life, or the life of your loved ones. When people betray you, or show you cowardice, or lie, or even gossip... they’re telling you who they really are. And when someone tells you who they are, son, listen to them."

Lily, her voice warm and comforting, gave Harry a tender smile. "And my advice, my darling boy, is to get hurt. Stop worrying about getting hurt and accept that you will. Let yourself hurt. Body, mind, soul, heart... let the pain happen. Then heal from it. Learn from it. And keep living. Don’t let the fear of sadness keep you from happiness."

Harry, sitting between his parents, felt the weight of their words settle in. He wasn’t alone. He never had been.

Lily's voice softened, but there was an undeniable firmness in it. "Alright, love, it's time," she said gently. "Any longer, and we risk your mental health."

Harry nodded, a deep breath leaving him. "I know the rules. Half an hour, never more." He pulled each of them into one last tight hug, lingering a bit longer as if trying to absorb every bit of them, imprint them in his memory.

Finally, he stepped back, feeling the cold stone in his hand. His throat tightened, but he forced the words out, watching them fade away one by one. As the last of them disappeared, Harry wasn’t overcome with the usual heaviness of grief. Instead, an unexpected calm washed over him. The silence was no longer suffocating; it was peaceful.

He walked to the record player and set the needle down, the gentle crackling filling the room before the soft music began to play. Harry let the melody surround him, a small smile forming on his face. The familiar sounds were comforting, almost like they could erase all the weight he carried.

He moved instinctively, his body swaying to the rhythm as he let the music guide him. The emptiness didn't feel quite as sharp now.

"Trixi!" Harry called, the word almost bouncing off the walls.

The small figure of his house-elf appeared at the door, her large eyes peeking in with curiosity. "Yes, Master Harry?" she asked, her voice soft and concerned.

"Come dance with me," Harry said, grinning broadly as he held out his hand. "I know you're not much of a dancer, but I need a partner."

Trixi hesitated for a moment, folding her arms, her large ears twitching. "But Master Harry, Trixi is not good at dancing."

"I’m not good either," Harry chuckled, his smile widening. "It's not about being good. Just come on."

With a small sigh, Trixi stepped into the room, her reluctance melting away as Harry gently guided her into the dance. The two of them clumsily spun around the room, occasionally stepping on each other’s feet but laughing all the while. For the first time in a long while, Harry’s laughter was free, unburdened.

The dance continued, a mess of missteps and giggles, but it was exactly what Harry needed. The laughter felt real, the kind that bubbles up naturally. He grinned, forgetting for a moment about everything else.

Suddenly, the quiet was pierced by a soft chime, like the sound of a bell. Harry froze, his heart skipping a beat as he glanced toward his desk. His enchanted box had just emitted the sound that meant only one thing: a letter had arrived.

Trixi’s eyes widened in recognition. "Master Harry, has a letter!"

Harry quickly crossed the room, eager to see what news Hermione had sent. He reached into the box and retrieved the letter, the parchment already warm from its magical travel. With a grin that stretched across his face, Harry eagerly unfurled the letter, his fingers trembling slightly in anticipation.

As the familiar handwriting filled his vision, Harry couldn’t help but feel a sense of joy bubble up. Whatever Hermione had written, he was sure it was just what he needed.

Harry James Potter!

How dare you apologize for going away when it was what you needed! I had half a mind to send a howler to yell at you! You are a war veteran! Of course you deserve a break from expectations, obligatory meetings, and duty! I'm not mad at you for leaving you idiot! Neither is Ron!

Now, the pregnancy is going well. Ginny loves her job, and bossing people around is a plus. Ron is doing okay, long hours are stressing him out but he never was good with stress. He'll get over it, or I'll sick Molly on him. George is Happy and thriving and Teddy is LOVING school. Seriously, he has the fire of a Gryffindor but he studies like a Ravenclaw. Would have put ME to shame.

Now, only more important matters: Harry your mental health matters. More than how badly I miss you. More than Ron wanting to catch a beer with his best mate. More than I want you to meet your god child and hold them in a few months. You. Matter.

And of course I didn’t buy that story! You disappear off the face of the earth, and yes I do mean face of the earth because I used every tracking spell known to wizard kind, and got back nothing! Not to mention no owl could find you! Then suddenly an owl shows up with a stack of letters from you, saying you're traveling the world to study dark magic! You?! Harry James Potter you couldn't study your way out of a brown paper bag without me! And travel the world?! You whined and moaned the entire time we hunted horcruxes about the weather and the tent and the cold and the hot…you wouldn't last one day traveling the world backpacking.

Not to mention I've used about 12 different dark artifacts to track you from your letters and they came up with NOTHING! As far as magic is concerned you don't exist. You're not dead, you're not alive, you're just gone. So yes, I figured you somehow got yourself from our world and entered a new one.

I figure I can't ask questions about how or where…but let me tell you Mr, you could have WRITTEN SOONER!

Now that that's settled, you're an idiot. Yes Harry, an idiot. You, the boy who lived, slayer of the force lord, poster boy of the new world…as an idiot. Of COURSE you should still fall in love and make friends. Even if you will outlive them. The power you had to vanquish dark lord, the power he knows not…was LOVE for merlin sake. The greatest power within you is LOVE and you want to throw that away because you're afraid of getting hurt!? You?!

The same Harry James Potter who went after the Philosopher's stone at 11! Who ordered me to go back with Ron and send a message to Dumbledore so you could face Voldemort alone! Who faced a BASILISK at 12!? Who fought a bloody dragon! Who broke into Gringotts when everyone said it couldn't be done and rode a bloody dragon out!? You?! Who trained an army of kids and led them into the ministry after a group of literal murderers to rescue your godfather, a fully trained adult wizard!? Who walked into the forbidden forest WANDLESS to face Voldemort knowing he would kill you, then faced him again!? YOU O
of all people are AFRAID OF LOVE!?

Well SUCK IT UP MISTER! You listen to me Harry, or so help me Godrick, I will find a way to cross heaven and earth and the goddess herself to find you at 7 months pregnant and drag your sorry behind back here so I can smack you one last time! You WILL get hurt. It's inevitable! We all get hurt, and don't think you're immune Mr. ‘I'm the master of death,’ because you're not. Despite the paper and the minister claiming you're some kind of God, in case you forgot, I'm the one who used to smack you and Ron around for not studying. You are still human. And we all get hurt.

You are allowed to mourn and to grieve. What you most certainly will NOT do, is let that keep you from living. I miss them too, we all do. I have lunch at the burrow every Sunday with Ron. I see the pain in everyone's eyes…but it doesn't keep me from living because I deserve it. Ron deserves it. And so do you Harry.

This letter is turning into an essay and I'm sorry, and I'm sorry for not writing sooner! Pregnancy brain is making me feel like I'm going crazy! Ron found my wand in the quill drawer this morning!

All this to say, Harry, I love you. We all love you. And you deserve to be happy even when it's temporary, especially because it's temporary. All things end, It makes them beautiful. If the sky stayed painted like a sunset all day it would just be normal, but it's only like that for a moment and that makes it beautiful.

So live. And WRITE MORE OFTEN! Or i WILL find you and even death can't stop me!

Love,
Hermione

Harry read the letter and laughed and cried. He had been an idiot and it took an old friend to make him really see it. He wouldn't stay afraid to live, that would be a mockery to everyone he's ever lost.

He pulled out his phone to call Dean, and ask him out? Or at least join his next hunt! But it rang just as he raised it…Sam was calling.

“Hey man,” Sam said hesitantly, a twinge in his voice that Harry had heard before and it made his heart drop. “It's Dean…He had a heart attack. The doctors, they're saying there's nothing they can do.”

“Send me an address, I'll be there as soon as I can,” Harry said back automatically.

“Alright, they said he's got a few months left. We've been looking for a way to save him, but we don't have anything…I'll text you the hospital's address.”

Harry didn't answer, he couldn't. He hung up and without even yelling to trixi, grabbed his jacket and started up his bike. He didn't even know where he was heading yet, but he knew he had to get there. Casting a few disillusionment charms, a feather light charm to make him faster, and a charm to replenish his gas so he didn't have to stop…he sped off. He needed to get to Dean.