The War was over. Voldemort lost. But the wounds he had inflicted had yet to heal. Even so, Wizarding Britain seemed to thriving again. Diagon Alley was bustling with activity, crowds of children gathering around the outrageously coloured Weasley shop.
Fleur, Delacour again, a widow at only twenty one, having lost her husband to a stray curse at the Battle of Hogwarts, watched the hub of activity that was Diagon Alley, enjoying her break. The Goblins paid well but were harsh taskmasters.
Many of her friends and comrades have found their purpose in the vigilant peace and rebuilding. Ron was helping his brother with the shop. Hermione was doing her best to climb the ranks at the Ministry, Alicia, Katie and Angelina joined their old captain, making Puddlemore into a truly formidable team.
Yet, now she couldn’t help but smile, as she finally spotted one Harry Potter hurriedly walking down the Alley. He was a mystery, many thought he was gathering influence for an entrance into politics. He was spotted approaching many different people, having hushed conversations with them that they never repeated to anybody. It was a diverse group that Harry kept in contact with, yet they had one thing in common. All were especially skilled at various aspects of magic. Nobody knew what Harry actually did. And today, she was determined t find out the truth.
She was quite unnerved, however, watching Harry enter St. Mungo’s Hospital. Was he ill? Questions danced in Fleur’s mind, conjuring images of Harry suffering from old curse wounds in secret, looking quietly into the possibilities of a cure. She spotted him leaving the hospital, looking around quickly and disapparating
Next time she caught him, he merely shrugged and invited her for a tea to his home. His story? He volunteered at the Hospital. There were many children left without a family to care for them, suffering from magical maladies, forgotten by the world at large. And so he helped out, visited the children, did his best to raise their spirits. His visits to skilled magicians? Asking for favours, crafting toys.
Yet that is not the only help Harry provides, the now solemn Fleur finds out. For many children, the Hospital is the final place they will ever reside in, they bear dark curses and magical diseases for which there is no cure yet. With his unique experience and perspective, Harry volunteers to comfort the children who found themselves at the end of their journey, making sure that their final moments are peaceful and calm, telling stories of Grandpa Albus and of Silly James and Uncle Sirius, making sure the children would know that a friendly face would await them on the other side. And if they ever get lost, they may call for Hedwig, for she always can find her way.
A story of a man offering comfort where no healing may help yet, whose tenderness was tempered by war and death, and of the woman who finds herself falling in love, after she thought she never would again.
Drabble
Just imagine the scene, a girl, perhaps Annie, all of eight years old, a little fighter, but her time has come. The healers come to Harry because Annie called for him, personally. Her parents want nothing to do with her, having abandoned her.
She's lying there, under potions and charms to dull the pain, she beckons Harry to come closer. She wants to whisper him a secret.
"I am scared, but I don't want to scare the healers too."
So Harry takes her hand, while smoothening her hair, and tells her, of Albus, the kind grandpa who loved children above all else, but died of an illness. He mentions James and Lily, with Lily scolding James whenever he does anything that Sirius goads him into.
Slowly, gradually, he calms her down, assuaging her fears, but one.
"What if I can'f find them? Will they let me through?"
Harry just smiles tenderly and tells her to call for Hedwig, the majestic snow-white owl, because Annie will be carrying a message.
"What message, Mr Harry?"
"Tell James and Lily that their son Harry loves them."
A smile spreads across Annie's face and then her breathing stills, her brave little heart finally giving out.
Harry smiles tenderly and closes her eyes. He looks at the window to the room, seeing a blindingly white bird taking off.
"Fly free, little dove."