Choices of the Heart

Choices of the Heart - Chapter 1

Summary:

Immediately after defeating Voldemort, Harry begins to have strange dreams, dreams that pull him once more into the realm of the newly dead. At first, the dreams are only a curious mystery, and Harry sets about putting his life back in order after the war. But when Harry dreams of Narcissa Malfoy, his life suddenly goes in a much different direction than the one he'd always imagined.  This story ties up the loose ends about the Elder Wand and the Deathly Hallows.

Written for the following prompt: "You are the true master of death, because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying." 

Note:

This story contains conversations with dead people in dreams, most of these are older original characters, but there is one OC child. No actual deaths are portrayed and no canon characters die except for those who have already died in canon.

 I understand that death may not the easiest thing to read about for some, but I want to assure readers that I have tried to handle the concept of death in this story in the most uplifting way possible. This is not a story about loss and angst, but about finding hope and love, making choices, and trusting in the beauty and synchronicity of the universe, even if one crosses the boundaries between life and death. 

It also has, like almost everything I do, a generous share of silliness.  There are also four hidden jokes/plays on words in the fic. ;-)

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"The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing . . ."

~Pascal, Pensées, translated by A.J. Krailsheimer

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Chapter 1

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The place Harry had once described as 'like King's Cross station' was filled with a shining white mist, as if light itself had acquiesced to have form. This time, the high arched windows glowed with colour like stained glass, and as Harry stood again in this place of waiting, he was transfixed by its serene beauty. This time, nothing marred the silence of the high, hallowed space. And Harry, after gazing up in awe for several moments, looked down at his white-robed, barefooted self, and wondered why he was here.

As if his questioning thought stirred the air, the mist swirled and formed and parted before him. Figures walked towards him out of the mist, seeming almost to form from the mist as they came. Harry held his ground, waiting. He felt no threat here, no sense but a dreamy, still peacefulness. The figures came closer, nearly fifty or so of them, and suddenly Harry knew them. His heart soared and he stepped forward to meet them gladly.

Here were Fred, and Lupin and Tonks, and Colin, and all of those who had died fighting Voldemort and his followers at the Battle of Hogwarts. They crowded around him, and whispers of "Harry," "It's Harry," "Harry Potter," "No, it can't be!" "No!" began to echo through the vaulted room. The faces of all these fallen comrades were sad, angry, heartbroken.

It was Lupin who finally spoke. "Harry?" he said, his eyes filled with regret and disbelief. "I had so hoped we wouldn't see you here."

Tonks stepped up and took Lupin's arm. "Wotcher, Harry," she said, in a cheerless, subdued parody of her living self. "We all hoped... you wouldn't..."