The End and the Beginning

I, Harry James Potter, am tired.

I had lived a long life. Too long some might say. Well, most would probably say considering all of the tragedies I have witnessed. As I trudged along the dark empty corridors in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, I couldn't stop my mind from reflecting on the past. On the foolish young boy I was, the stupid man I became and the events leading up to my current circumstances.

After Voldemort was defeated I thought everything was finally going to get better. I believed that I was done and that I could finally rest without the weight of the Wizarding World on my shoulders. I thought I could just date Ginny, maybe play professional Quidditch and generally just live my life free of responsibility.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

After Voldemort was defeated my fame only seemed to climb to greater heights. I may have had a load lifted off of my shoulders, with no longer having a homicidal Dark Lord dedicating himself to my death, but that didn't mean the Wizarding World was prepared to let me go into a peaceful retirement.

No, on the contrary, they propped me up. The Wizarding World decided that Harry Potter was the new Albus Dumbledore. The only reason I went along with it was because Hermione insisted it would help make rebuilding the Wizarding World easier. She convinced me that we needed someone who could be a poster boy for the changes that needed to happen in the wizarding world. She was right, as usual.

I tasted something bitter as I recalled how many times I fought with her about taking more power. I felt nauseas as I remember how childish I acted over taking more responsibility. In the end I still did it, but maybe if I did it less reluctantly then the world wouldn't be the mess it is now.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head clear of that particular thought. There's no use dwelling on what ifs...

After a few years I had finally fully accepted that I would never be a normal wizard. That's when I really started to train at magic. It's also when I realised I had stopped aging.

That had been difficult to swallow.

It got even more so when I walked off a dark wizards AK.

Eventually I adapted though. After a few years I retreated from the public and threw myself into studying different wizarding and muggle cultures around the world. I met various interesting people and had a lot of flings and relationships. After a while, I stopped moping about the curse of immortality so much, and I started living to enjoy life. My friends had families and they were happy. Even though I wouldn't age or die with them, I was okay for now because I still had many years with them because wizards generally lived longer than muggles. The British Wizarding World was the most stable it had been in centuries and was finally making some progress towards equality of magical species. It was slow progress but it was there. Things were moving forward and life carried on. Or at least it did for about fifty years after I had graduated Hogwarts. Then the damned muggles fucked everything up.

Overpopulation became a massive issue all over the planet as a lack of resources drove people to become desperate. It wasn't long before war started among the muggles for resources. The war was damaging but it was possible to recover. Or at least it was until some idiotic muggleborns decided to expose magic to the world as an answer to the muggles resources problem in the hopes of getting them to stop killing each other.

The muggle governments immediately started kidnapping and experimenting on magicals in order to discover how magic works.

In the beginning very few wizards and witches were caught as we remained secluded in the wizarding world. However muggleborn children were being targeted and either being killed or experimented on. This of course greatly angered the governments of the wizarding world.

I tried to talk the wizarding government into retreating from the muggle world completely except to bring muggleborns into our world when they first showed magic. I figured that if we hid for a few years and came out every now and then to subtly wipe muggles minds of magic, we might eventually be able to convince the muggles that magic isn't real. Or failing that, I told them we needed to find a way to coexist with the muggles.

I came close to being successful. Perhaps if I focused more on seizing power and didn't try to give it back whenever I could I would have succeeded. Most of the wizarding world seemed like they would be happy to be permanently be cut off from the muggles at that stage. The problem was that the wizards that ran the governments had too much pride to retreat from people without magic.

It wasn't long until the wizarding world and the muggle world was at war with each other. However this war was much more devastating than the last. With fear and paranoia running rampant a new witch hunt began. Some muggles in very religious countries started stoning and killing other muggles who they accused of being magical in extreme and violent ways. Others took advantage of the chaos for their own goals, others added to the chaos as they saw a chance to seize more power…

Hundreds of millions of muggles died when the muggles fought each other. Hundreds of millions more died in the new witch hunts. Billions died from starvation. At that stage things were terrible but eventually things would heal.

It wasn't until a bunch of wizards decided to burn down the city of London that things reached a tipping point.

The muggles decided to retaliate by launching a nuke at where they believed Hogwarts was.

After retreating from the muggle world many British wizards and witches moved to the town of Hogsmead. Therefore when the muggles dropped the bomb ninety percent of the magical population of England died. Including Ron and Hermione. When the bomb hit I also died briefly. For a moment before the bomb hit I had a brief hope that I would join all those souls on their journey. Alas it was a brief hope, I was reformed somewhere nearby a few minutes later.

That was the day I knew I would never get to join my friends or family in the afterlife.

The magical world was so enraged by what happened that a week later a dozen more cities burned.

It wasn't long before the muggles were launching nukes everywhere. The bombs themselves wiped out majority of the human population that remained. The radiation from the bombs spread everywhere until it killed off almost all life. The life that remained was so sparse and mutated that most of it is disturbing to look at.

After a few years of searching for signs of human life all over the globe I finally decided that I need a way to end my torment. End the loneliness. That's what lead me here, to what was once the magical object I hated most but now is nothing less than the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes on.

The Veil of Death.

I could feel my heartbeat speed up as I approached the archway. The whispers coming from the other side were no clearer than they were the last time I was here. Stopping in front of the veil I close my eyes and all the faces of all those I've lost flash through my mind.

I open my eyes and grin. "Well, onto the next great adventure."

I step forwards.

The sensation was the most peaceful feeling I had ever felt. My feet lifted off of the floor as I floated further and further along. As I moved a few feet from the arch my awareness started to slowly change. It felt like I was floating along a calm river made up of pure energy. The further along I went the more of the rivers currents I started to feel. After a few moments I started to feel as if I was starting to sink in to the currents of energy. To become part of the whole as just another drop in the river. As I floated along the current I became aware of the other drops in the river. Each one was different. Some were much bigger than others, some more full of colour or more substantial. All of them floated along the currents of the river however.

There seemed to be two main currents in the river, one that was peaceful and seemed to be near the surface of the river, which I was on, and one that had looked much more rough and uncomfortable deeper down. As I paid more attention I noticed some new drops join the river. Some seemed to sit near the top or only sink a bit while others sunk like stones to become part of the more rough current.

As I started to gain even more awareness of the current I was floating along I became more aware of the river. The two different currents split at a fork in the river. The lower rough current seems to split from the calm peaceful one at the fork. Afterwards I can only see one current.

Huh, it looks like Heaven and Hell might be real after all.

Before I am able to reach the fork in the river I suddenly feel myself being flung out the side of the current. My calm peaceful journey suddenly becomes chaotic as I feel like I am no longer floating on a river and am rather being pushed through a pipe. It feels like the pipe changes direction constantly as I go along. I am also aware that I am becoming less and less aware as time goes on. It feels like I am slowly falling asleep. Until suddenly I hit a wall.

Winterfell – 280 AC Rickard Stark POV

Rickard Stark loves his family. Everything he does is for his family. To keep them safe and protected.

He knows that while House Stark rules the largest Kingdom of Westeros, it is also one of the weakest. Which is why he decided when he first started to rule Winterfell, that he would do whatever it took to make the North strong.

Over the years he believes he has succeeded in making the North stronger. The population all over the North seems to be higher than when he was a child. Most of his bannermen are happy with House Starks rule and things were stable.

He's not deaf, he knows some of his bannermen groan about his southern ambitions. Unfortunately he knows that there's not much more he can do for the north without southern alliances and gold. Alliances and gold which will go a long way in making sure the Starks are secured even from the mad Targaryen on the throne.

He believes that he is doing his duty to the North and his family, which is why it is so frustrating for Rickard Stark that his oldest son decided that he wouldn't go along with his plans.

When Brandon ran away and got married to Barbrey Ryswell he nearly disinherited him for his brother. The only reason that he didn't is because he knows that it would greatly insult one of his stronger lords which is something that he cannot do lightly.

Now as he stands outside the birthing chamber with his son those thoughts of southern alliances are far from his mind. Instead all Rickard Stark is feeling is nervous and impatient. It doesn't help that his idiot of a son has not stopped pacing for the last hour.

As Brandon walks back in front of me for the hundredth time I finally feel my patience snap. "Will you please-"

The door opening interrupts what I was going to say. I look over to find one of the birth maids in the doorway with a solemn face." Milord, you might wanna come quick. The birth was hard. " Brandon doesn't even let her finish speaking before he pushes past her into the room.

I take a deep breath before entering myself. Once I'm past the threshold I look upon the birthing bed.

Barbrey Ryswell does not look well. Her skin is clammy and sweat is pouring down her face. She is as white as snow and surrounded by a pool of blood. I know just from a look that it is not looking good. A glance at Maester Walys shaking his head at me confirms my thoughts. She won't live much longer.

I decide to stand a bit away from the bed in order to give Brandon and Barbrey relative privacy in order to talk. I can't make out what they are saying to each other as they are whispering and I don't try very hard to listen in, as they deserve to be able to say goodbyes properly.

The tears that stream down my sons face as he is handed his child before he leans over to kiss her is not a sight I believe I will ever be able to forget. I hear his breath hitch when Barbrey goes still.

After taking a few moments to gather himself, Brandon moves towards myself with the child.

"Im so sorry Brandon." I state softly. Although I was angry with him for running off and getting married, I find that I can't bring myself to care anymore. Not when I too know what its like to lose my love in such a way.

He just smiles a fragile smile with tears in his eyes before looking down at his son. "Father, I would like you to meet my son. Your grandson. His mother named him Hadrian. Hadrian Stark."

Looking down at the boy I can see the Stark in him. I smile. "He has his grandmother's nose." When he opens his eyelids and I see his grey eyes gleaming with curiosity and an awareness that is not found in babies I smile softly. I could not have asked for a better heir for my son, regardless of his father disobeying me to have him.

"Oh, yes. You will do great things, Hadrian Stark. Great things indeed."

After a moment I release a breath and carry him out the door." Come Brandon; let's go introduce the newest Stark to your brothers and sister."

I hear a strangled laugh as he follows me out the door.

Hello everyone I am back with a new story. I have already planned a lot of this story out so hopefully it comes out alright. I plan on adding one chapter a week onto this site for this story so look forward to updates on Thursdays. Please support me on pat_(r) (slash)TheLifeandTimes in order to give me extra motivation to write. I will try my best regardless but motivation will probably help a lot. Criticism is welcome as long as it is constructive.