Harry had been drifting.
Drifting through the years. Through worlds. Through universes.
He was cursed.
He had known when he had allowed Voldermort to shoot the Avada Kedava curse at him that he would die... but this was worse than death. A half life, forever as a ghost (and where was that phase familiar...oh wait...).
No one could see him or hear him, he couldn't touch anything or knock anything over to let them know he was there. He couldn't take control of anyone nor could he influence the radio or tv to show his Image. No matter how he screamed in their ears, no one heard him.
Harry had to think that every ghost movie had been utter bollocks.
The only good thing that came from it was that with his death, Voldermort had perished, crumbling to dust.
So he lived invisibly, miserable as all hell, only able to watch those he loved as they grieved and mourned for him. A funeral with an empty casket as his body was never found was a depressing affair.
Hermione thought he had perished in the same way as Voldermort, blown away as dust in the forbidden forest. Ron didn't want to belleve it at first, but the more they searched, hours spent combing the forest floors had him losing hope as the days went by with no evidence or trace of Harry,
Everyone had rejoiced and mourned and it all seemed to come to pass. The more years that crept by the more the Wizarding world seemed to heal and people began to move on.
Harry watched as the Weasley family grew with children of their own. Every night he would lean against the bedroom door frame, listening to bedtime stories and tales of their adventures of 'Your Uncle Harry' with a sad smile.
He stood as guardian over them, always nearby.
And the years all seemed to blur as Harry remained unchanged at 17, as Ron's hair thinned and he gained the bald patch just as Arthur had, and Hermione's hair greyed but never lost its frizzy volume.
He watched over their children's children and before he knew it he was standing by their deathbed as they were surrounded by 4 generations of Weasleys who had been blessed with Wizarding longevity.
Harry had thought that with the passing of his two friends they may join him but as he stood by their bedside and placed a hand on their joined hands, he felt their heartbeats slow and stop in sync and their eyes come to dose.
A whisper of his name left their lips and then they were gone.
Harry wished he could cry as he felt the hands beneath him began to lose their warmth and he remained alone.
Harry hovered by their side, his chest aching with a sharp pain as the only family he had ever known were now gone.
He had nothing now.
He had let out a wall and had crumpled, and as always, the crying people around him didn't notice him at all.
The pain in his chest began to grow and Harry gasped out in shock.
A light began to glow within his chest.
As Harry looked down, seeing the pulsing white within his grey, see through chest, he felt the familiar pull of a portkey before he was whisked away.
That was how it started.
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