A/N: The Harry Potter books, world and characters belong to JKR. I take no credit for any repeated quote or event from the original source.

A Blue Starred Sky

Prologue

He slightly leaned on the blade in his room, still recuperating from the excessive amount of magic and mental strength he'd used but a day before.

He did it! Finally, he could rest knowing that he succeeded! Voldemort was dead! Vanquished even! He thought as he snorted at the foreshadow. Decades of struggle and he had finally achieved it!

It still hadn't quite sunk in, that he could finally die with some sense of peace and fulfilment after all these years.

Finally, join the few he had considered family. The pleasant thought running through his mind as he slowly walked out of Minerva's office, absorbing what remained of his home with an equal amount of passion as he had held when he had walked into these very same walls all those years ago.

Minerva. Friend, mentor, family, confidante and aunt. There were many words he could use for the woman that he had grown to admire and respect, but none of them was negative. After Dumbledore's death in his fifth year during the battle inside of the ministry she had taken charge of Hogwarts immediately and raised the war wards that had remained dormant for decades.

She had then immediately asked him to speak privately and, to his surprise, had apologised. The proud women that had never taken much interest in him, and if anything, been much more strict towards him than the rest, had apologised. Oh, and how much had changed after that. She had explained how Dumbledore had for forcing her to swear an oath to never approach him first by using his authority as headmaster. And until his death, that had been the case.

How much he had grown to dislike the old man after that day. Not that it could change much at this point, but it still hurt him to know that Dumbledore had lied to his face, robbed his identity, hidden his status and probably a thousand other things that he had yet to find out. It wasn't as much what he had done that he had actually done it. Harry had loved him, and he had abused and used him at every turn in ways that made him want to scream and cry while destroying everything in his path.

He probably would have if it hadn't been for his two closest friends, Hermione and Dora. Thinking of the two made him want to cry all over again.

He had met Hermione on the express all those years ago and, to his everlasting same, had initially avoided her simply because Ronald had wanted to. Of course, that friendship hadn't lasted long when Ronald had asked why he had gone and saved the know it all from the troll Harry had snapped and punched him in the face. Minerva had later admitted that she had awarded him house points for that sole action.

The golden duo had been formed, and without him during anything that Ronald said they should, his grades had skyrocketed to second place of their year. Then they had met Dora during their fifth year, who at the time had been undercover for the head of the DMLE, who hadn't known of Harry's map that always showed the truth. It had been entertaining holding that bit of info as the year had passed, which formed the golden trio.

He had asked Dora to date him just a year later, and his fear of being rejected had proven to be pointless since she had said yes. Ironically nothing could ever get normal for him since not a year later, both had started dating Hermione as well. It may have been the pressure of the losing war, but it had felt so wrong to exclude Hermione in the relationship that they had decided to give it a try.

It probably would seem strange to an outsider, but the three of them had been raised living a life of solitude and had initially clung to each other to the point where they had started sleeping next to each other before he had even started having feelings for Dora.

Everything had changed after Dumbledore's death. Unlike for most people, for the trio, it had been for the better. Because when Harry had visited his newly discovered family vaults, he had discovered that Dumbledore had placed blocks on his magic limiting it at a quarter of what it should have been. Just another stab in the back from the old man.

Once that had been removed things had turned a 180 degree for him. Magic was so easy to understand, to use. Allowing it to flow through him gave him a feeling similar to the freedom that flying gave him. And even though the family had been murdered right and left, he had foolishly thought that maybe, just maybe, they would live through this.

Hermione had died first almost 16 years ago, half his soul had been torn out there and then. To the everlasting pride that he held for Hermione, she made sure to leave a present for her murderers, tearing part of Voldemort's face with fiendfyre alongside a section of his inner circle.

Dora had lived nine years longer, dying from her psychopathic aunt's poisonous blade after she had blasted Bellatrix. He felt so empty after that.
Both of them had made him promise to keep moving on. And he had done so, making sure to take out Voldemort even if half the world laid in ruin. The irony in that statement wasn't lost to him.

He sighed in affection to those rare happy memories that he held. Turning the world out with music, a poor attempt to live with the void that he felt inside of him, but one none the less.

At the very least he could now understand Mr Weasley's love for muggle contraception's. In the short decade, he had been in the magical world they advanced to the point where he could now listen to music with tiny earphones, alongside a billion of other things, but the most important for him was music.

He opened his eyes one last time taking in the beautiful scenery, one of the last the world he lived in had. The beautiful sunset on the horizon of the sea, lying on the very tree that was next to both of his lover's graves. He slowly closed his eyes, embracing death as an old friend, with the affectionate memories he had of the few people that he had loved.

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o

Harry groaned softly in pain, slowly opening his eyes as if he had slept through days. If this was the afterlife then it really wasn't what it was all lived up to be. He wasn't sure if he would go to heaven, but he doubted he would go to hell...Maybe it was because of the deathly hallows they had found?

He was lying on a tree right next to the sea that he didn't recognise. Unlike the one he had died on, it was lacking the two graves, or for that matter, all the enchantments he had placed on them. It was almost complete pitch black, and only the faint light rays of the moon allowed him to just barely work out his surroundings. Moving his hand to his hip he felt the storage cube he and Hermione had made all those years ago, which meant at the very least he hadn't been robbed.

But he could only find his holly wood wand, the elder wand, or for that matter, all three deathly hallows were missing. Maybe he really was dead?

Deciding against starting a philosophical debate about life and death in, what was possibly the afterlife, he stood only to almost lose his balance as he lied on the tree. His body felt incredibly strange, soft and thinner. One point to the maybe dead side, if he was missing all the scars he had received throughout the decades then it was probably the afterlife. Confused as to what had just happened he barely managed to wobble his way to the sea as he cast a wandless Lumos.

The first thing he noted was that everything seemed slightly bigger than what it usually did. However, that specific thought was saved away as he saw his own reflection.

"Huh, my chest is bigger" He commented in a very monotone-like voice.
Staring back at him, through the reflection was, in every form of analytical skill that he had developed throughout the years, was a girl.