[ EU ] Harry Potter is sitting at home sixty years after the battle of Hogwarts , an old man now , when suddenly his scar hurts .

He noticed to his surprise the candlelights had gone blue and lowered the Daily Prophet to further examine them. Just then, his scar split as if lashed by a cracking whip. 
 
 *Have you learned nothing in my absence, Potter? * 
 
 The terrifying voice seemed to issue from all corners of the room. A whirling wind threw open the windows, howling like a pack of wolves. The candles died. The fire roared in the wind and was extinguished. The moonlight through the window had faded. Harry fell out of his chair on his knees and grabbed his trusty old wand so tight that his hard old knuckles gleamed white. This could not be happening. Yet suddenly it all made sense: the dull itch that had squirmed in his forgotten scar for months, his grandchildren's recurring nightmares, the disappearances. 
 
 *Oh yes. I waited - until the years murdered you. * 
 
 Harry's books went flying. Albus' owl shrieked and took off. He felt a stinging pain in his chest. 
 
 `` You are dead,'' he wheezed, `` You're dead.'' 
 
 *I am dead*, the voice admitted. 
 
 And out of the darkness he came. Seven horrible translucent faces overlayed, faintly swimming like masks in the gloom. 
 
 `` How? How? How did you do it?'' Harry pleaded. 
 
 *The years have not made you wiser, old fool. How did Nick do it? How did the Bloody Baron do it? How did the Fat Friar? How did that stupid girl I killed in my second year? If they could do it, then how not Lord Voldemort? * 
 
 `` A ghost? - ghosts ca n't hurt people,'' Harry shouted, but the wind howled, doors slammed, and the seven-sided shade of Voldemort seemed to grow in stature and his shadow was cast through the room. Harry's chest burned with terrible pain. 
 
 *I am Voldemort. I have tread fields of magic none even knew existed. But you're right, in a way. I wo n't hurt you. Three times I tried it. The first time I almost died, the second time you simply survived, the third time I killed myself. I will not make that mistake ever again. * 
 
 The shape bent over him. His sockets were empty. 
 
 *That's why I waited. * 
 
 Harry's chest was about to burst, and he realised his heart was failing. 
 
 `` Expecto Patronum,'' he whispered voicelessly, but nothing came. `` Expecto Patronum.'' 
 
 After some time the wind died down, the candles sprang to life again, but Harry Potter lay dead on the floor. 
 
 BONUS ENDING 
 
 `` Dad?'' - `` Harry!?'' 
 
 The door burst open and in came grey old Ginny and her son Albus. They saw the scene, the dread spectre raised its predatory head and something eerily like a wand appeared in its hand - `` EXPECTO PATRONUM'' - twin animals exploded against the abomination and it was thrown through the window into the street where it dispersed like fog. Harry's broken form lay shuddering in the ravaged room. Ginny knelt next to him and jammed her wand so hard against his chest she heard one of the old ribs crack. 
 
 `` Vulnera sanentur.'' 
 
 `` What was that, mum?'' 
 
 Her eyes were wild, her lips moved with short syllables, spell upon spell of healing. Finally Harry stopped shuddering and breathed wheezily. Albus sighed with relief. 
 
 `` What was it? A Dementor?'' 
 
 `` Shush now Albus. Take your father to St Mungo's, be quick about it. He's had a heart attack and needs help.'' Her voice shook only a little. 
 
 Albus bent over his dad and clutched his withered hand. 
 
 `` And Albus? I'm borrowing your owl. I need to mail Ron and Hermione.'' 
 
 Albus nodded, and with a crack like a whip he and Harry disappeared, leaving Ginny panting in the ravaged room. 
 
 -- - 
 
 Old Ron was sitting in the yard smoking a pipe, watching his grandchildren toss the garden gnomes into the fields. The morning sun warmed his bald head. One of the children threw a gnome so far it became a speck in the air and disappeared from sight. 
 
 `` Where'd it go?'' asked one. 
 
 `` There it is!'' said another. 
 
 `` No stupid, that's an owl.'' 
 
 And yes, it was an owl. An owl travelling at great speed which more crashed than landed into Ron's chair, sending his pipe flying. 
 
 `` Blimey! Alright alright, sit still you bloody bird.'' 
 
 The owl was insane, Ron concluded, taking the hard fought letter into his badly scratched hands. The bird would n't stop screeching while Ron read the hastily scrawled letter, his face turning paler and paler. Then when he finished he ran into the house to fetch Hermione. He found her in her reading room. 
 
 `` You'd better read this,'' he said.
