Second chance

This story began on that unfortunate day when.... In fact, that day was one of the happiest for Harry James Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World, proud father and happy husband. Harry lay surrounded by his large and friendly family, waiting to meet his mate, Death. He knew that day would come one day, but he was not afraid of it. As a young man, he had already had to look behind the veil of life, and what he saw there did not frighten him. He treated Death as an equal, like his ancestor, who had gained the powerful artefact of the invisibility cloak from it through wit and cunning. Harry realised that he would not escape death, but he was still sorry to say goodbye to his family, to the love of his life, Ginny, to his beloved children and grandchildren, but old age was taking its toll. There was silence all around. The room was lit by the soft light of candles. The old man's eyes were closed, but his heart was still beating, reminding him that life goes on. Harry smiled, knowing that his family would take care of each other after he was gone. The strength was already leaving him. Taking one last look at his family, he whispered: ‘I love you all.’ His heart stopped. The great dark wrestler, the fighter against dark forces and the hope of the entire magical world was gone. It was a momentous and tragic day for every wizard on the planet.

***

Harry felt a pleasant lightness in his body, but he was in no hurry to open his eyes. He knew where he was. King's Cross Station. This was the very spot where his last conversation with his mentor, Albrus Dumbledore, had taken place many years ago. It was here that he had learnt the truth about himself, that a piece of the Dark Lord's soul had been living inside him all along. It was here that he found the strength to continue to fight evil. It was here that he became free. However, something was wrong. Despite the number of years that had passed, Harry distinctly remembered that it should be very quiet here. But somewhere in the distance there was a strange noise that sounded like laughter. Potter opened his eyes abruptly. What he saw didn't fit the image of the Station in any way. This was his bedroom in Gryffindor Tower, the one he had shared with his friends for six whole years. And the place was clearly bustling with life. There were clothes (cloaks, socks, ties) and textbooks scattered all over the room. Harry got up from his bed and walked over to one of them. It was the ‘Standard 1st Class spell book’. But why? - Ran through Harry's head. It certainly wasn't supposed to be here. The questions didn't lessen as he cast a casual glance at the large mirror against one of the walls. From there, a short, skinny boy of about eleven with mussed black hair and bright green eyes looked back at him. It was Harry himself at the age of eleven. How is that even possible? - He wondered. - Why am I here? Am I already dead? But no one could give him answers to these questions. The old man, now a boy, made up his mind to find out right now, and without a second's hesitation he left the room, walked up the spiral staircase and into the common room.