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The first time Harry was visited by a ghost, he was a terrified little eleven-year-old. He had thought Quirrel had someone come back– and brought Voldemort with him. It was in the dark of night, when Harry was alone in the bathroom. The man seemed to appear out of thin air, and was almost translucent. Harry had thrown a bottle of shampoo at him. At least he can look back and laugh, now.
He vanished after roughly ten minutes, and Harry was immensely relieved. They all only last ten minutes. Sometimes that’s a blessing, and sometime’s a curse.
The next ghost that visited him was Cedric, a week after the incident. Still not used to these happenings, Harry screamed, and began to cry. It was still so fresh, so raw, and Harry thought it to be a prank. It was only Cedric’s reassurances and words that calmed him down, ad soon they began to chat. Cedric told him it was okay, and to tell his dad he loved him. He vanished moments later. Harry spent a week in bed afterwards.
Then it was Sirius, beloved Sirius. Harry was expecting it this time– anticipating it, really. He wasn’t as daft as people assumed, he could recognize patterns. It took longer, but after a month, Sirius came back. Harry wished desperately to be able to hug his Godfather, but alas, the world wasn’t that kind. It felt as if his chest was being ripped open when Sirius disappeared, and Harry wished the ghosts would last forever, even if it meant dealing with people like Quirrel forever.
Dumbledore’s ghost was something else entirely. The sheer surprise on his old face was jarring on its own– Harry didn’t know it was possible to shock the old man anymore. They spoke– but nothing of importance came up. Harry didn’t feel the need to push, not when they were busy having a pleasant conversation about lemon drops and the calories in them. Harry didn’t quite want to face the reality of the situation. He thinks, now, that maybe he should have asked Dumbledore about the whole ‘seeing ghosts’ situation.
When Mad-Eye Moody came lopping up to Harry, Hedwig perched happily on his shoulder, Harry’s knees gave out. He stared longingly at Hedwig as Moody greeted him, and only tore his eyes away from the snowy owl when Moody expected a returning greeting. Moody’s visit was a bit rougher– the astute man thought he hadn’t died, simply because he was far too powerful an Auror to die. Harry didn’t have the heart to explain the truth to Moody, so he instead let the man ramble about missions and Voldemort, while watching as he pets the ghostly owl absentmindedly. That was the first time Harry considered joining them.
Harry wasn’t ready for it, when Dobby visited him. It was only a day after his death, and he had less time to prepare than when he’d seen the others. Dobby knew he was dead, and was simply grateful for a chance to say goodbye to Harry, and check in on his favourite wizard. Harry cried openly as they spoke. Dobby never mentioned it.
Vincent Crabbe wasn’t someone Haryr thought he would be seeing. There were rules to all this– rules that Harry didn’t necessarily understand, but still, there were rules. Harry thought one of the rules was the ghosts could only visit him if their lives were intertwined when they were alive. He was proved wrong when the portly Slytherin boy appeared suddenly in front of Harry. He jumped, and it took him a moment to recognize the boy. Thankfully, he did not have any grotesque fire-related scars on his body. He was quiet, and content to simply follow Harry around for his ten minutes. In the end, his only words were spent telling Harry to tell Goyle he missed him.
And then, in the blink of an eye, the war was over. They had won– though Harry didn’t particularly feel like he won. They had lost so many– too many. Harry didn’t quite know what to do with himself, so he decided on wandering. Muggle London first, and then Ireland, and then he went off to Romania with Charlie for a week or two.
Harry stood at the edge of a cliff, staring off into the crashing waves below. It was a truly beautiful sight, so he sat down to take it in more. He didn’t think about jumping– he was Harry Potter, the Chosen One, he wasn’t allowed to have those thoughts.
That was when Fred appeared. He was sitting right next to him, his bare feet swinging in the wind. Harry vaguely wondered how he could change clothes in ghost form. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Fred finally spoke.
“You shouldn’t do it, you know.” Harry cast a confused look at the taller boy. “Jump, I mean.” Harry’s shoulders stiffened and he began stammering excuses. Fred was quick to intervene.
“I mean it, Harry, I know it’s hard, but you’ve gotta keep going. For me. For everyone.” Fred settled Harry with a firm look.
“Get out there, live, breath, relax. There are things out there for you– don’t waste them.” Fred waited for Harry’s tentative nod before he stood, and Harry could only watch helplessly as Fred began slowly vanishing, his feet going first.
When only the boy's chest and head were visible, Harry finally found his words.
“Thank you, Fred! I will! I’ll live for you all.” Harry just caught Fred’s smile, before he was gone, nothing more than a breeze.
Harry was about to leave when Ron suddenly showed up. Harry didn’t know ghosts could visit him so soon after one another.
“Ron,” Harry swallowed thickly, staring at his brother in desperation. “Harry, hey.” Ron moves to sit where Fred sat previously, but his feet are covered, as are his legs.
“I– I agree with Fred. You should live– for us. And, take care of Hermione for me, will you?” Harry reassures him that he’ll always take care of Hermione.
“And, you know, maybe reach out to Ginny? She misses you. You two were good together. And, well, mum has always wanted to you be a part of the family, you know?” Harry nods absently. “Sure, Ron. I’ll,” He sighs, ‘I’ll marry Ginny.”
Ron nods. “Alright, good, then.”
It was easier after that– living. Harry moved into a nice apartment, reconnected with Ginny, even got her pregnant. It wasn’t quite what Harry envisioned for himself– but it was something. And more importantly, it was what Ron would have wanted– did want? Harry still didn’t know whether or not his ghostly visitors were hallucinations– dark creations of his twisted, trauma-ridden mind. To torture him or comfort him, now that was the real question.
When Remus appeared, Harry knew he had made a grave mistake.
“Harry.” Remus’s greeting was warm, and his smile fond, but his eyes creased in such a way that had Harry tensing nervously.
Ginny was asleep next to him, one hand curled around her bulging belly, and the other splayed out next to her.
“Remus, oh, you’re here. I didn’t think,” Harry swallowed nervously, his eyes taking in Remus’s figure, trying to memorize every detail, from his scars to his shoes. Oh how he missed Remus, and Sirius, too. Once upon a time, Harry had hoped they could be a family.
“Yes, I wanted to see you.” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, and he was just opening his mouth to question him, when Remus spoke again.
“You’re married to Ginny, then.” Remus glanced at the sleeping woman, before looking back at Harry. His eyes were warm, but knowing, as if he saw right through Harry.
“Yes– Fred said I needed to live, so I am. Err, I’m trying, anyways.” Harry felt the urge to shuffle and kick his feet, almost like a chastised child.
Remus nodded, but said nothing. His eyes held only fatherly love for Harry, no judgement or scorn, and it made Harry squirm.
He breathed a sigh, and nodded. “I know– It’s not exactly what I thought I wanted. But, it was the right thing to do. Ginny– well, we’re in love,” Remus cuts him off, “You were.” Harry swallows.
“Were,” He pauses, glancing back at Ginny. “But then she fell pregnant, and I can’t just leave her– my son needs a father.” Remus raised an eyebrow. “And the Auror application?” Harry grimaced.
“Ginny said I should.” Remus nodded thoughtfully, and Harry was afraid for a moment, thinking Remus was about to rip into him for his choices. He merely shrugged, and Harry felt ice cold with the gesture.
Remus spoke in a soft voice. “If this makes you happy, Harry, then I’m happy.”
Before Harry could speak– before he could protest, Remus was gone.
It’s two years later that he gets his next visit.
He’s living in Muggle London, alone in a cosy apartment, and he’s working at the small, homely bakery down the street. He found a love for baking after his and Ginny’s split. Little Rowan Arthur Potter, Harry’s son, is napping peacefully on the couch, nose covered in flour from their previous baking misadventures.
Harry jumps– he wasn’t expecting it– expecting him . He thought the visits were over. Or at the very least, he figured he would never want to visit Harry. He was proven wrong.
“Professor.” Snape peers up at him imperiously, much like he did in life, and Harry has the startling realisation that he’s now grown taller than Snape.
Snape waves his hand dismissively. “Call me Severus.” Harry’s jaw drops a tick, and his face scrunches up in confusion. Severus gives him an unimpressed look. “For heaven's sake– I’m dead, Potter. There’s no need to keep up formalities.”
Harry nods distantly, and watches as his old Potions Professor sweeps around the room in dramatic strides, observing the entirety of Harry’s sitting room. He stops when he catches sight of Rowan, staring at him with fond eyes. “He is quite cute.”
Harry laughs at the absurdity of the situation, before nodding in agreement. “Yes, he is, isn’t he?” Harry moves to sit down, moving one hand to stroke his sleeping child’s hair.
“You’re happy?” Harry could have never predicted those words to come out of Severus’s mouth, so he can only nod in bewilderment.
It was one thing to have the ghost of your former professor and sort of villain-turned-admirable-man in your sitting room, it was another thing to have him be nice to you.
They lapse into silence, for a few moments. Harry clenches his jaw suddenly, and flicks his eyes up to look at Severus.
“I figured it out, you know.” Severus’s head cocks to the side, and he gestures for Harry to continue.
“I know that you can choose when, and if, you want to visit me.” Severus stills, but gives no further indication that he even heard Harry, his eyes trained on Rowan.
“Why, Severus? Why now?”
It’s silent for a long while, and Harry fears that Severus is wasting time so he doesn’t have to answer. His worries are quelled when the dark man finally speaks.
“I don’t know.” Harry baulks. “You.. don’t know? Really?” Severus nods in the affirmative, and shrugs.
“Just felt like the right time, I suppose. I’m dead, I don’t need a reason.” Severus sends Harry a nasty look, and for a moment he resembles the man Harry remembers from school. But then his face is smoothed out, and he’s giving Rowan that soft, gentle look again, and Harry can only see the Severus from his death-bed given memories. Lily’s Severus.
“I didn’t understand, at first.” Severus raises a single, arched eyebrow.
“Why you still loved my mum, after all this time.” Harry almost chuckles, finding it slightly amusing that he’s accidentally mirrored Dumbledore’s words perfectly.
“Why wouldn’t I still love her? She was,” Severus pauses, a faraway look on his face. “Your mother was a brilliant woman, and a brilliant witch. She was so light and gentle . She was everything I wasn’t, and I loved her for that. Her memory kept me strong, especially during the wretched days serving the Dark Lord.”
“You can say his name now, you know. It’s freeing, really.”
Severus gives him a look , and Harry smiles.
“I figured something else out, you know.” Severus nods, moving to clasp his hands behind his back as he does. With a quick glance at the nearby clock, Harry realises they only have a minute or so left.
“I finally, finally , figured out why you– ghosts , can visit me.”
Severus hums, looking every bit the aloof, uninterested professor Harry remembers. Except, Harry recognizes the distinct curious twitch of his mouth, and he doesn’t miss the way his eyes sharpen as he stares at Harry. Harry spent the entirety of his sixth year watching Severus, focused on him akin to how one focuses on a puzzle, or piece of art.
“I’m the Master of Death. Would you believe that?” A look of pure bafflement appears on Severus’s face, but Harry has the decency not to laugh. Right as he opens his mouth to protest, Harry intervenes.
“I couldn’t figure it out, at first. Mainly because I only became the Master of Death when I finally owned all the Deathly Hallows. But then I did a little research, and Hermione helped me with this part, we figured out that time is a loop. There is no end or beginning, there is only time. So it doesn’t matter if I only owned all of the Hallows at seventeen– I’ve always been the Master of Death, and I always will be, because there is no end, and there is no beginning, so there is no end to my reign as the Master.”
Severus stands frozen, his jaw opening and closing as his brain processes Harry’s statement.
“So, as such, you are always the Master? Even as time loops again, even as the Founders build Hogwarts for the first time, again, even as you are born, again, you remain the Master of Death?” Harry nods, and Severus’s face twists up in an emotion Harry can’t decipher.
A few beats pass.
“And so, as the Master of Death, I am going to resurrect you.” Severus cries out in shock.
“Potter! What are you going on about? You mustn’t meddle with death, and necromantic magic! You foolish boy!” Harry can only grin at Severus as he slowly vanishes.
He fights it, but there’s not much he can do as the shadow realm takes him back. “At least let me rest in peace!” His mouth vanishes a moment later, and he can only stare down at Harry with pleading, desperate eyes.
Harry speaks, his words reaching Severus just before his ears vanish too.
“But then how will I make you Lady Potter?”
Harry just barely catches sight of the panic-stricken onyx eyes before they, too, vanish.
Severus may be gone now, but he’ll be back, just as everyone else Harry lost will be back. He’ll make sure of it.
As Rowan stirs, and finally awakens, Harry brushes his hair from his face. “Hey, buddy.”
“Daddy! I thought I heard Papa.” Rowan pouts, like the toddler he is, and casts his eyes around, searching. Harry laughs, his voice soft and light.
“Because Papa just floo called! I’m sorry baby, I’ll wake you up next time, I promise.” A deep frown tugs at Rowan's mouth, but Harry is quick to sweep him up in a bear hug before he begins to weep. Rowan shrieks and giggles, before Harry sets him down so he can go get a snack.
Harry follows him into the kitchen, walking past the refrigerator, which has various printed photos on it. It wasn’t that hard, really, to turn memories into muggle-type photos. And now he had a few photos of Severus, both as a schoolboy, and a surly professor, plastered onto his refrigerator.
“Can we listen to Papa’s voice tape again?” Harry scoops Rowan up, who has half of a sandwich pressed into his mouth. “Of course we can, Row. Which one do you want to listen to tonight?”
Rowan takes a moment to consider the choices, his eyebrows pulling down in a childish, almost comical way. “The one where he explains how to brew amortentia?”
That one was Rowan’s favourite, because Severus was uncharacteristically gentle during that class period, and his voice reflected it.
Harry nods, giving his son a wide grin. “Did you know, when he taught that lesson, I smelt him in my amortentia?” Rowan giggles loudly, squirming in Harry’s arms as he carries him down the hall.
“Yes daddy, you’ve told me!” Harry gasps theatrically, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Oh really, what did he smell like, then?”
Rowan is quick to respond, his little face lighting up. “Parchment, leather, and herbs!”
“Rowan! You must’ve read my mind.. That’s illegal! I have to arrest you!!” Rowan scream-giggles, and launches himself out of Harry’s arms, landing on his blue quilted bed with a bounce.
Later that night, when Rowan is fast asleep, tucked away in his bed, Harry sits in his study. On the table in front of him lays the Elder Wand, his invisibility cloak, and the red resurrection stone.
The floo fires up, and Hermione’s head pokes through not a moment later.
“You ready, Harry?” Harry nods and stands. Hermione comes through the fire, until she’s a solid form, standing in Harry’s study.
“I’ll watch Rowan, then,” Hermione pauses, turning to give Harry a determined look. “You bring them back, alright?”
“Of course I will, ‘Mione. Fred, Ron, Remus, Sirius, Severus. I’ll bring them all back. Anyone and everyone I can. I’ll bring them home.”
Hermione nods. “You better. Good luck, Harry.”