1 Death is just the beginning
NOTE: Some of you told me you cant read the chaps cause of some webnovel update shit. I also publish in Archive of Our Own and Fanfiction.net Same story title and same user name.
***
Liam McGareth was proud to say that he is one of the best Healers in the world.
Liam graduated top of his class at Ilvermorny, he completed a four year apprenticeship in healing magic in three years. His mentors include the legendary Dahlia Gaunt, America's greatest healer and sister to the headmaster of Ilvermorny.
After several years of practicing his profession, he specialized in Contagious Magical Diseases. His team created a cure for the deadly Dragon Fever!
He is not an arrogant or vain man.
He doesn't brag about his success.
His greatest satisfaction is seeing his patients recover and return to their daily lives.
In his office the possession that he is most proud of is not the Medical Innovation Award he received at the age of 26 years old, nor his many diplomas and prizes. It is a drawing made by a four-year-old girl, Daniela Frost: the daughter of his first patient.
That's why when one of his patients doesn't make it, he feels the loss personally.
He knows how unprofessional that behavior is. He was scolded for it multiple times. As a healer he is not to become emotionally attached to his patients. Liam has broken that rule a million times, each loss breaks his heart and a part of him is determined to follow the Healer`s code next time. But he always gets attached to his patients.
Is especially painful when the patient is young, in this case a man barely twenty-eight years old.
"And what a tragedy this is." Liam mutters as he looks out the window.
His patient is the most prominent man of the 21st century in the Magic World.
The hero who defeated the tyrant who plagued Europe for decades.
The-Boy-Who-Lived turned into The-Man-Who-Conquered
Harry James Potter.
***
"You're going to be fine mate. You'll see, you'll get out of this" The redhead's voice comes out broken, the moisture in his eyes and the desperation with which he holds the hand of his best friend show the pure terror he feels in this situation .
There is nothing he can do.
This situation will not be resolved by defeating a dark wizard.
Neither his skills in combat nor his strategic mind are of any use.
Ronald Weasley did not live a quiet life. He had a hundred adventures, most of them in the company of his best friends. He is used to the tension, the stress of a near death situation.
But what he's not used to is the sheer helplessness he feels right now.
In the past things have always worked out, there have been some close calls but the golden trio have always persevered. Between Hermione's intelligence, Harry's perseverance and his own strategic mind the three always won.
None of that matters now.
Neither he nor Hermione can do anything.
They are completely powerless.
They can only watch as their best friend withers beside them.
***
"You have the best healers in the world working day and night on your case Harry. It will all be fine."
Like her husband, Hermione grips one of Harry's hands tightly, afraid that if she lets go of him even for a second he will vanish into thin air.
It had been 17 years since she met the scrawny but brave boy with the broken glasses. That day on the train she could not have predicted that those two boys would become the most important people in her life.
For almost two decades the three have been inseparable. Sure as adults their lives took different paths but their friendship only grew stronger each year. Even when they lived on different continents, they spoke every day on the phone, and the three of them spent at least one weekend each month together in the same city.
She never thought that they would part like this.
Even during the war when Harry selflessly sacrificed himself to stop Voldemort she knew, in her heart, that her green-eyed friend perseveres.
Because that's what Harry James Potter does. He perseveres. Always. No matter the situation, Harry always keeps moving, he never gives up. An abusive childhood, a million assassination attempts, a war,... Nothing could with Harry.
She always thought that she would be the first to die, Hermione is the eldest of the group after all. Then, after a few years, Harry would die in his bed surrounded by friends and family and finally Ron. Ron the last, too stubborn and loyal to leave his best friend behind. The redhead would survive out of sheer stubbornness, and then pass away with a smile on his face. In the afterlife, the three of them will be reunited with all their deceased friends and family, and Ron would brag about being the last one standing.
The Legendary Golden Trio.
Things weren't supposed to be like this.
But life is cruel, Harry contracted a deadly disease at the age of twenty-eight. Within a few weeks the disease almost consumed him completely, now the savior of the Magic World lies in a bed connected to various machines, with intravenous lines connected to both arms. Those potions are the only thing keeping him alive.
***
Harry smiles weakly at them, clasps their hands together and tells them:
"Is okay. A wise man once told me that death is nothing but the beginning of the next great adventure." He starts to cough. Ron lifts his head and Hermione gives him a potion. Harry winces at the taste but drinks it without protest. "I've never had a big adventure before without you by my side, either physically or an apparition away. But it's time for me to fly on my own, I can't go through life holding hands with my siblings forever." The dark-haired man smiled at his own joke.
Ron chuckled and Hermione smiled, shaking her head.
"Idiot."
"Nothing new there Mione."
"Yeah, we've been your idiots for almost twenty years."
"Don't tell me you haven't figured that out yet."
"It can't be Harry! The brightest witch of her generation is slow on some subjects."
The men laugh and Hermione smacks each of them behind the head muttering something about children never growing up.
"Hey. Terminal patient here"
"I wish I could use that to prevent her from being violent. I'm telling you Har this woman hits me every two minutes. It's domestic abuse! I should contact a lawyer."
"I wouldn't hit you if you weren't an idiot Ronald."
And so the three friends continued joking with each other.
The gloomy atmosphere in the room lightened and the three of them laughed and smiled.
Harry looks fondly at his best friends.
`Almost twenty years together. Even when I was traveling the world our friendship did not diminish. Always and Forever. Until Potter Luck hit me again.`
***
"-and then Draco told Astor-"
Harry was listening to Hermione recount the latest misadventure of their favorite snake couple.
Who would have thought that his rival at school would become a close friend, the trio would have never guessed.
But such is life: unexpected, always turning.
Draco and Astoria are the couple-friend of the Weasley-Granger marriage. They go out to dinner every week, go on vacation together...
"And baam! The waiter spilled the wine on the 500 galleon suit-" Ron interjects from time to time.
Harry smiles at how in tune his friends are.
`I wish I had had that. Well I did but with the wrong person - no, the right person in the wrong life. Potter Luck striked again, falling in love with a married woman. Such a Potter thing to do.`
Harry loved and was loved but life is too complicated. Sometimes love is not enough. And sometimes a selfless idiot leaves without saying anything, not letting his beloved choose, not wanting to put her in that situation.
`If only we had another chance. If only I had asked her to that ball all those years ago, but I was too young and shy to dare. That and I was focused on the very deadly tournament I was unintentionally participating in.`
Ron was talking animatedly, making wild gestures with his hands. Hermione intervened from time to time correcting him.
Harry smiles fondly at them and closes his eyes.
`Just a sec. So tire-`
At 11:59 p.m. on December 31, 2008, Harry James Potter closed his eyes for the last time.
The Savior of the Magic World passed away with a smile on his face.
***
In a large room with orange walls decorated with expensive tapestries and beautiful paintings a woman is screaming.
"Hold on your Grace"
In a large bed lies a beautiful young woman of about 17 years old, her silky hair, dark as night, is sticking to her face due to the sweat. Her black eyes are moist.
She had never in her life felt such pain.
"Now princess. Push!" Her midwives and the Maester urge her to push.
"You can do it my love." Her loving husband encourages her. It is rare for men to be in the room during labor but their situation is different than most. Her marriage is not one of convenience but one of love.
"Shut up! You did this to me you halfwitted fucker! I'M GOING TO CASTRATE YOU!" The princess screams the last words as she pushes. The Dornish temper is hot and burns as their sun.
She squeezes her husband's hand so hard there's a crack. To his credit, the prince doesn't let out a moan, he makes a small face and continues to comfort his wife.
"Push again your grace"
The princess follows the Maester's instructions.
A few minutes later the Crown Princess of Dorne pushes one last time.
The master picks up the baby and a midwife cuts the umbilical cord.
Silence.
Not a cricket is heard.
"Why isn't my baby crying?! What's wrong?!" The princess's cries echoed in the great room.
"What's wrong with our baby?!" The prince's voice is loud and deep, his panicked golden eyes staring at the maester with terrifying intensity.
"He breathes" The Master hastens to reassure them.
The midwives quickly wrap the little prince in blankets and bring him to the anxious parents.
A woman in her fifties places the baby in the arms of the princess.
The new parents look spellbound at the baby, the soft rise and fall of his chest reassures them and they can enjoy this wonderful moment.
The prince hugs his wife and their baby.
"Why doesn't he cry?" he asks, his voice calmer, softer.
"While it's rare, some babies don't cry immediately at birth. The midwife has to pat them on the buttocks to wake them up." The Maestre's voice is equally soft. "In this case we didn't get to that part, the princess was too eager to hold her child. And no one here in Dorne dares to arouse the Princess of Fire's temper." The Master says playfully.
The princess, who was looking at her son delighted, raises her head and glares at him.
"Maester Wulfric, that is no way to speak to your princess." she scolds him
"And that is not the way for a princess to act, Princess Obella."
The two stare at each other before smiling in unison.
"If you're done joking with your old teacher my love, you should look down."
Obella follows her husband's instructions and looks towards her son.What she sees takes her breath away.
Big black eyes stare at her.
"Have you decided on a name for your son?" Wulfric's question snaps them out of their reverie.
"Our son." The princess murmurs dreamily with a big smile on her face.
"My love?"
"Doran. His name will be Doran Nymeros Martell."Prince Doran was born on the last day of the seventh moon of the year.
July 31 in another world.
And so Harry James Potter began his next great adventure, in the arms of two loving parents.
***
NOTE: Check out my new story. Is another GoT story but very different from anything I have written thus far.
The Revolution of Westeros: https://www.webnovel.com/book/the-revolution-of-westeros_25576593506569105
