Harry and the Six Virgins

DrT

Story Summary:
The summer after OotP, Harry spends time with six of his attractive classmates as he goes on a quest through time for the one warlock who has the power to help him defeat Voldemort. Will Harry find love, or at least have a good time? Featuring Ginny, Daphne, Susan, Eloise, Hermione, and Luna in a very unserious tale.

Harry and the Six Virgins Epilogue

Chapter Summary:
The summer after OotP, Harry spends time with six of his attractive classmates as he goes on a quest through time for the one warlock who has the power to help him defeat Voldemort. Will Harry find love, or at least have a good time? Featuring Ginny, Daphne, Susan, Eloise, Hermione, and Luna in a (mostly) very unserious tale.
Posted:
02/11/2004
Hits:
8,899



Chapter XVIII

Tuesday, July 19, 2146

"But Grandfather, maybe you should rest. . . ."

"Yes, I'm almost a hundred and sixty-six, but I am NOT in my dotage! I'm as capable now as you are, which is a bit of a decrease on my part. . . ."

"Grandfather!"

"They should have named you Percy," Harry Potter grumbled at his oldest grandson.

"He's worried about your emotion health, not your physical capabilities," one of his granddaughters-in-law told him. Harry smiled at her. One of Ginny and Neville's granddaughters on one side, and of Eloise Midgin and Oliver Wood on the other, she was one of his favorites.

"Please be careful, Pappy," his favorite descendent asked him. In large part, it was her bubbling personality. In part, it was because she was descended from all six of the women Harry had spent time with a hundred and fifty years before.

Harry had married Luna the year after she left Hogwarts. Hermione had lived with Harry for the year before and for Harry and Luna for two years, before she left them to work for, and live with, a universal rights activist from Canada. Daphne had married George Weasley, who had left much of the day to day running of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes to Fred and become a powerful mover in the European wizarding business world. Susan had married Ernie Macmillan.

And now, Luna was gone, and had been for several weeks. All the girls, all his close friends, were gone, except for Ginny, who now most sat in a rocking chair and oversaw a huge extended family. Harry, on the other hand, looked in magical terms about a hundred, or in his mid-fifties by Muggle standards.

Harry had done everything that was expected from him. He had fought against Dark magic for nearly a hundred and fifty years, starting at age 11. He had fought for the rights of werewolves, house elves, those of mixed human/giant/elf/goblin/others, Muggle-borns, and to preserve the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. He had been a good husband, a good lover, a good friend (even to Ron Weasley, when he came back to Britain in 2010), a good parent, and a role model.

Harry was tired of doing what was expected of him, and so he was taking a vacation, despite the pleas of his decedents and the warnings of two or three of them. Harry finally just waved goodbye, and let himself be drawn to the small cabin in the northeastern part of North America.

Harry found himself in the woodshed. A small colony of free and retired house elves lived in two small areas of the valley, and kept the cabin clean and functioning, and the wood piles full. Harry took a deep breath, and walked over to the door. He rang a small bell that was hanging on the wall.

"Master Harry!"

"Hello, Meadow," Harry said with a slight smile. Meadow was his favorite elf, a granddaughter of Dobby who had inherited much of his kind nature but not the manic portion of that nature.

"The elves are sorry about Mistress Luna."

"Thank you, Meadow. I plan on staying for a while."

"We will organize the food, Master Harry. Do you wish a cook, or to cook?"

Harry thought. "Help with dinner would really be appreciated, Meadow."

"As Master wishes. Meadow will arrange. Shall Meadow also move in wood? Some evenings are chilly."

"Yes, thank you."

Meadow bowed, and disappeared.

Harry smiled and walked out of the shed and into the house. He had remodeled the kitchen just three times, the last time in 2130. The rest of the house had, for the most part, just been reconditioned every twenty years or so. Harry walked into the parlor and past the fireplace. Through the arch leading to the hallway, he could see the guardian of the house.

"Harry!"

"Hello, Daphne." Harry had wondered, back in 1913, what Daphne had been up to. She had had three wizarding portraits made of her in her silk evening robe. She had kept one, giving one to Harry and the other to Cassiwallan. Harry didn't know about the others, but his could, and often did, remove her robe just for Harry.

"Hi, Harry!" a choir greeted him. Harry wasn't certain how Casey had arranged it, but when Harry had first visited the cabin over the Christmas holiday in 1998, he had found a second painting on the wall next to the life size portrait of Daphne. This one had each of the six girls he had traveled into the past with, as they had appeared in the past and in their period costumes.

"Good morning, ladies."

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Luna, I'm sorry, but you died three weeks ago."

Luna in the painting pouted. Ginny, however, gave a small cheer. "Ginny!" Hermione and Susan admonished.

"Sorry, Harry, but Luna and I have been fighting about who would last longer for over thirty years." That was when Eloise, who had gone first, died.

Harry smiled. "That's alright. I understand." The painted girls had elements of the real women, but were very competitive with each other, in friendly ways. It was one way to get them to function together. "I just wanted you to know. . . ."

"You're not leaving already, are you?" Luna asked.

"Oh, no," Harry assured them. "I think I might stay for a few months, actually. I'm going to change and go flying."

"Be careful with those Wonky Faints," Hermione admonished. "You aren't as young as you used to be."

"I will," Harry said with a smile. It was good to have Hermione tell what to do again.



Harry flew back to the house some three hours later, hungry. Still, he wasn't totally surprised to see a full buffet laid out, and Cassiwallan sitting down at the kitchen table, having a roast beef, tomato, and horseradish sandwich, along with a beer.

"Hi, Harry. Long time, no see."

"It's been almost a hundred years since the last time I saw you, but I've seen your work more recently," Harry retorted, making himself a ham sandwich.

"Really?" Casey retorted, with exaggerated surprise.

"Really," Harry retorted drily. "It was you who destroyed that Muggle Soul Center a few years ago. I recognized your magical signature."

"I didn't destroy it! I just shorted one of the memory fields for a tenth of a second, so that the so-called souls stopped imitating the people they were based on. All the data was still there."

"You mean souls weren't being stored there?" Harry asked, curious.

"No," Casey answered. "The whole idea is flawed. You can copy the data of a human memory, and even imitate the personality. But, as you know, the brain is destroyed in the process. I don't know with absolute certainly that there is such a thing as a soul. I believe there is, for I sense something leaving when an intelligent being dies. And if there is, it flees during that damnable process. It did not reside inside that machine."

"I thought as much. That's why I didn't mention you."

"Thank you," Casey said, before going back to his sandwich. The pair ate in silence for several minutes.

Harry studied Casey. The man seemed not to have aged a minute in the hundred and fifty years since they had first met. Casey caught him looking, and smiled. "Haven't changed much, have I?"

"Not at all," Harry admitted.

"So tell me, Harry, have you had a decent life?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know you just lost Luna, but the pair of you were married for almost a hundred and fifty years. You had a good relationship with Hermione even after she moved away from you and Luna. You stayed friends with the other four girls. You made up with Ron Weasley, and stayed friends with him until he died. Your children and other descendants seem to have turned out well and had moderate to very successful lives. You were very successful in your career." He paused for a moment. "Let me put it this way, which would you have preferred? Your life as you have lived it, or your defeating Voldemort at the end of your Seventh year and your dying soon thereafter?"

"Well, when you put it that way, I guess I don't mind my life too much," Harry said with a slight grimace.

"What more could you want?"

"From before I met you? Quite a lot. But since then, well, it's been far from perfect, but I don't have any major complaints." Harry paused in thought. "I guess I did pretty much what people hoped I would. I would have preferred more friends, more celebrations, and fewer Dark wizards, but some one had to take on those wizards." He shrugged. "Why? Are you offering to take me back to try again?"

"No," Casey replied. "I'm not that powerful. If I was, I would have restored Sirius to you. You're really the only person who knows even a little about the real me. There are only a few dozen people and a few score goblins and house elves who even know that Cassiwallan exists. You know the real me best."

Harry felt a little sorry for the powerful being. But just a little. "Tell me, how well do you remember Merlin?"

"I have an excellent memory, so I remember him very well. Why? Wondering how long you'll be remembered?"

"Something like that."

"You've had a long and successful life, Harry. You'll likely be remembered, to some degree, for quite some time. Who can say for how long?"

Harry just stared.

"What do you want to do with the rest of your life, Harry? You have somewhere between forty and sixty years. Care to come live amongst the Muggles with me for a while? There are a couple of places that aren't as sterile as so much of advanced Muggle society has become, or as depressingly impoverished as much of the rest of it."

"Still going through the motions, using sex as a distraction?" Harry half asked, half scolded.

"Well, the motions are usually pretty nice."

Harry decided to ignore that. "I know I'm old and fragile, but the one thing I like to do is fly. I know it's something of a meaningless activity, but I'd just like to fly as much as I'd like to, and work a bit on my memoirs."

"Harry, if life has deep meaning, you have fulfilled your duty to the world many times over. If life had no real meaning, then flying is as good an activity as any other. At least it doesn't harm anyone."

"True!"

Cassiwallan stood up. "Perhaps I'll see you later, my young friend."

"I know you'll see me, you sneak," Harry teased. "I just might not see you."

"True. Farewell, Harry. I promise, I'll long remember you. And coming from me, that means something."




Author notes: THE END