Dominus Mortis

Prologue

Voldemort's second reign of terror ended on the 2nd of May, 1998. The Final Battle of Hogwarts, some called it. You-Know-Who, defeated by the Boy-Who-Lived, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter. The Ministry, now under Kingsley Shacklebolt, was reformed in favour of tolerance, peace and unity. Harry Potter, now named by the public, "the Man-Who-Lived", lived up to everyone's expectations and became a decorated Auror, quickly rising up the ranks to become Head Auror. 

For 20 years.

Then, without a word to anyone besides the very closest of his friends and adopted family, he quit his job and left the country. To avoid mass panic, he sent a brief, vague letter to the Prophet, explaining how now that he's done his duty, defeated Voldemort and rounded up all his followers, he wanted to travel the world. Should there ever be a need, of course, he would return immediately to protect them all, but for now he would travel, and learn more about the magics of the world to better serve Magical Britain. His letter was published in the Daily Prophet, a special edition, the day after he left and it assuaged peoples' worries enough to mostly let him be. People searched, of course, but none managed to track him down, and Harry sent updates every 3 months to the Prophet, assuring them he was still alive, happy and knew more than ever, ready to protect them if the need ever arose, so that they would stay away from him.

It worked, too. Harry spent 138 years travelling the world, from India to Brazil to Japan and everywhere in between, learning about more magics than he ever knew existed. As it turns out, Britain was way behind the times. India had mastered wandless magic, wands now used only for the most powerful of spells and for small children just learning to cast. In Brazil, most of the magical population were animagi, and Japan had managed to make muggle technology work with magic, without becoming weirdly sentient (Mr Weasley's car still weirded Harry out). He soaked up all information offered to him, then went in search of more, relishing in the feeling of not being kept out of the loop, in the dark. He was powerful now, powerful enough that no one would step on him, keep him in a cupboard again. But at the age of 177, he could feel Death getting closer and closer, and so he moved back to Britain to see his friends and family one last time. 

His friends, dissatisfied with the few-hour visits and brief letters he'd been sending them, were overjoyed to see him. He spent a month and a half with them before he passed, happy with his life but regretting so much. He wished he'd spent more time with his family instead of running around the world without them. He wished he'd gotten to know Sirius, wished that he'd had more time with him. He wished he'd been able to talk to Hedwig and Dobby one last time. But as his eyes closed for the last time, surrounded by his friends and family, he knew these were futile wishes. 

You couldn't change the past.

Could you?