Disclaimer: J. K .Rowling owns Harry Potter and his world.

This complete book contains 3 parts, approx 191,800 words.

Note: that this book contains sex scenes, both male/female and male/male.

Summary: It sounds as if it would be good to stay young indefinitely. But what when your children die of old age? And then your grandchildren? Harry finds it too difficult. He becomes sad and lonely, leaves home and wanders the world. It takes a very long time for him to find himself again.

Notes for the convenience of the reader: Harry's children: Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, Beth, daughter of Luna, and Adrian, son of Harry and raised by Julie and himself. Current wife, Julie.

Part 1/Chapter 1

It was a sports game - a Quidditch match. The indoor arena had a high roof, limiting the height to which the competitors could soar, and it was also a little cramped around, so that an overshoot could mean an uncomfortable collision with the walls. The actual pitch, however, was the same size as the usual outdoor Quidditch pitch. Harry Potter's property was too open to fly outdoors - and for witches and wizards to be seen flying broomsticks was not a good way to remain inconspicuous. The enthusiastic crowd sat on seating surrounding the marked pitch area. Half a dozen dogs wandered around, although they apparently knew to keep away from the dangerous central area. Two cats, a tabby and a ginger, sat on top of a high cupboard, and regarded the flying broomsticks with what appeared to be disdain.

Some of those barracking were not of the world of wizardry. Some of Harry's employees were without the power of magic - muggles. And for the first time, too, Harry had yielded to temptation and to the persuasions of his son Adrian, and invited Ian Maguire and his son Connor, friends and neighbours, also muggles. They knew that Harry's family were wizards, but Ian had discreetly ignored the indications of magic that he'd accidentally observed at various times. Adrian and Connor had been close friends for years however, and had no secrets.

For the first ten minutes, both Ian and Connor just watched, open-mouthed, a game more fast and exciting than they could have believed. Harry was next to his friend Ian, and had intended to explain the game as it proceeded. He should have known himself better. From the first play, he forgot his friend and followed every move with total attention. Only twenty minutes into the game, Adrian and the other Seeker raced, diving for the Snitch, both of them tumbling over on the ground, before slowly getting to their feet, shaking their heads, dazed. Then Caradoc apparently remembered what it was all about, and raised his hand, holding the Snitch. The capture of the Snitch ended the game. Harry's team, the 'Employees,' was still champion.

The Quidditch matches at Harry's place had become a regular thing. There were five 'Family' teams as well as the 'Employees' team. For Harry had a numerous family. His daughter Margaret had nine children, and several of those had large families. His other children, Victoria, James and Beth, had only one child each, but those children all had grown up children as well. Then there was Adam Bourne, his step-son, Adam's son, Trevor Bourne, who had married a grand-daughter of Harry's and their five grown up children. Now the 'Family' teams were known as 'Abercrombies,' 'Davenports,' 'Bournes,' 'Parkers,' and 'Potters,' although none, aside from Adrian, in that team, was actually called Potter.

Ian was watching his strange friend with fascination. Aside from white streaks in his long black hair, Harry Potter looked young. There had always been a few rare wizards and witches who aged more slowly than normal, and sometimes achieved great ages. Harry's headmaster when he was at school, and later his friend and mentor, Professor Dumbledore, had died at the age of one hundred and sixty. It was beginning to appear that Harry's daughter, Beth, might be like this, as well as an illegitimate son, a Swede, called Helmer Roos. There was another relative, too, a witch called Cissy Diefenberger, now thirty-nine, who looked young for her age, although it was too early to tell for sure. There were no others apparent in Britain at the time, although there was one supposed to be in Denmark, and a few in the Arab countries.

But Harry was different again. Harry was unique. Unclothed, one would guess him to be in his early to mid twenties. His face was a bit thin, and the glasses he always wore helped make him look a little older, and there was that white in his hair. But that white was a sign of past traumas. It was not a sign of ageing. Harry did not appear to have become any older in his body than when he was maybe twenty-five. He was now ninety-five.

Ian didn't know his chronological age, and was amused as he leapt up and down in his excitement as he barracked on the Seekers, seeming unable to decide whether to barrack loudest for his employees, or for his own son Adrian. Harry was young in his enthusiasms. He had trembling attacks now and then, usually once or twice a day, sometimes more often. It was a legacy of an old illness. But he ignored these himself, and only told others if they commented, that they were to take no notice. It meant nothing, he'd say, although it did sometimes betray agitation. An even older handicap meant that he occasionally had problems with his balance. If very tired or sick, it would manifest itself in a tendency to stagger to the left. Steering a broomstick, or even a car was difficult for him. But he'd long since accommodated himself to that handicap, and it seldom showed itself except in exceptional circumstances.

The drawback of the rules of Quidditch, was that the duration of the match was so unpredictable. It ended with the capture of the golden winged ball called the Snitch, whether that happened thirty seconds into the match, or they had to play on and on for days, or even longer. In practice, except for National and International games, a halt was usually called once it started to get dark, and the team with the most points was declared the winner. At Harry's place, with its confined indoor area, the final capture of the snitch almost always occurred within a few hours of the beginning of the game. They usually had two matches in a day. This time the break was early, and Harry's wife, Julie, only just had time to organise the erection of three large marquees to shelter the gathering as the spring rains began again.

It was a laughing, happy crowd, and Ian and Connor watched, bemused, as umbrellas were casually conjured, and the company returned to the gardens where a lavish morning tea waited.

Connor was with Adrian, who had quickly recovered from his tumble. Adrian was lightning fast when playing Quidditch, but so was Caradoc, and Caradoc was a lot more experienced than the fifteen-year-old.

"Well, Ian?" asked Harry.

Ian still looked a little overwhelmed, and now he shook his head slightly at the sight of all the witches and wizards in their capes, and said, "Yes. Well."

Harry was concerned. "Is it too much? Should I have not invited you?"

Ian laughed, still feeling dazed. "I wouldn't have missed it for worlds! And I couldn't tell anybody anyway! Who'd believe me?"

Harry was relieved, and offered his friend a plate of sandwiches. The dog beside him, whined, and Harry gave Tammy a sandwich, too.

There was a brief lull in the constant light rain, and Julie suggested to Harry they take advantage of the break in the gloomy weather to return for the second match. Most returned then, to watch the Davenports against the Abercrombies. But the matches were no longer a novelty, and Hermione Granger, Harry's long time friend, decided that a warm fire indoors was more to her liking than a Quidditch match, no matter how comfortable the chair.

Hermione was long widowed, and had lived at Harry's place for some years. There was always a strong arm ready for her support, usually Will, one of Harry's employees, who idolised her, but this time, she was accompanied by her grandson, Charlie. Hermione was Harry's oldest friend, the same age as himself. She was now very frail.

There was an accident in the second match. Helga Davenport couldn't pull up from a dive, and ploughed into a couple of spectators. Helga was fine, and resumed play, but two cousins were taken to Hermione, who was a healer. They were not much hurt, and Hermione merely used spells to fix a broken arm and a few broken ribs, and dabbed some pink lotion over a few bruises. They were back even before the match ended, to the surprise of Ian, who had been unable to comprehend the casual attitude of those around him. But Harry only said that Hermione would fix them, although he had supervised their transport back to the house.

Ian quizzed Harry, especially about the arm that had been so obviously broken. "It's a standard spell that healers all know," explained Harry. "It's even taught in First Aid courses, but a healer's better, of course, when one's available, as novices can make a mess of it."

Ian knew Hermione, and knew that she was very old. "Can she still do magic, then?" he asked.

Harry didn't think the question strange. Very old and sick wizards could seldom work powerful magic. Even wizards who were confused, or mentally ill, very quickly lost the ability to do magic. He answered that Hermione appeared as competent as ever - and she'd been a very much respected healer. "We're so lucky to have her." He'd wanted to marry her once, after she'd lost her husband, Ron. But Hermione had refused. They'd been in their sixties then, she and Harry, but Hermione was ageing, and Harry was not. Instead, several years later, he'd fallen violently in love with Julie, eighteen at the time.

Harry Potter was unique in his unmatched magical power and in his apparent total lack of ageing. He was also unusual, if not unique, in his intellect and in his telepathy. If he chose, he could know the minds of those around him. He was always very strong on ethics, however, and never did that without a very good reason. Sometimes a particularly strong thought would come to him whether he intended it or not, but he couldn't help that, and just tried to ensure that he would not embarrass himself or others by showing it.

It was also unusual for a powerful wizard to have much to do with muggles. Most of wizardry scorned muggles, but to Harry Potter, they were just people. He'd once asserted that wizards and muggles were exactly the same, magic being only an extra talent like the talents for making art or being good at sport. But since an occasion when he'd had to look deep inside the minds of several muggles, he'd changed his mind. Muggles were indeed different. Their minds were different, and Hermione had explained that there were discernible differences in various other areas, too. Humans and wizardry interbred easily enough though, indicating that they were very closely related species, if, indeed, one could call them separate species at all.

Harry had never thought twice about the terminology for non-wizard humans, but during the course of his conversation with Ian, he mentioned that normal humans were called 'muggles.' Ian frowned and said, "A bit insulting!"

Harry was surprised, and said that it was only a name, to distinguish one type of human from another.

But Ian said "Muggles! It sounds like some sort of muddling, bumbling inferior!"

Harry thought about it, and it did indeed sound like that. He knew that most wizards regarded muggles as far beneath them, but for the first time, he realised that the very sound of the word conveyed contempt. So he smiled at his friend, and said, "All right, I'll try and change it then!"

Harry Potter may have had unprecedented magical power, but it was a different sort of power that was needed to change a word that had denoted non wizard humans for generations. British wizardry only numbered about six thousand, and almost all their children went to the school at which Harry Potter taught. He was in a good position to make this change. The hardest thing was to think of a more suitable word. It had to be a word that merely meant normal human, without any connotations of inferiority - just normal, standard human. He finally came up with 'Medjkind.' But he'd racked his brains, and he wasn't happy with the word even then. It was worse than coming up with a word for the inventions that still provided a large part of his income. But from the new school year that commenced the following September, 'Muggle Studies Ethics,' which Harry always taught, would be replaced by 'Medjkind Ethics.' And with the help of articles in newspapers, his verbal persuasions, and his own absolute refusal to use the word muggle, the change began to be made.

A few weeks later, Harry was sitting in one of his own conjured armchairs in the staff room at Hogwarts, the school where he taught. His feet rested on a footstool and he was reading a book of philosophy by Caradoc Dearborn, who'd won the Quidditch game for his team. Harry did always three days a week teaching, doing his own subjects through most of the year, as well as remedial work, and he also could replace, if necessary, most of the other professors in their subjects, which made him a very handy extra to have around. Professor Nicholas Bagshott, the headmaster, knew that he was privileged to have his services. Harry had a very wide knowledge of magic, loved to teach, and was exceptionally good at it.

At this time of year, when the vitally important fifth and seventh year exams were approaching, he was very much in demand by the other teachers for remedial work, and now Professor Batterham asked him when he could take three of his students to try and teach them to conjure. "They just don't seem to be able to get the idea!" he said, in an exasperated tone, "And yet, they're perfectly all right normally."

"Sure," said Harry casually, and named a time.

Christopher Batterham regarded him with a crooked grin, "Do you remember the incantation for conjuring a chair?"

Harry hazarded a guess.

"Wrong!" said the professor, to a chorus of laughter. Harry was grinning, too. He was hopeless at remembering incantations. His own magic just didn't seem to work like that.

"Don't worry, I've got a list," he assured the professor. "I won't teach them wrong!" It was a constant mystery that Harry might not appear to work magic like everyone else, and yet he was very good indeed at teaching it.

Thursday, Harry went to his other job - a quick visit to Italy this time. Wizards and witches sometimes did some very nasty things to each other. Spells could cause an enemy to sprout antlers or horns, could make his face resemble a bat or a pig, could give him a tail, or make it so that he could only move at the speed of a snail. And those were only a few of the unfriendly spells that wizards knew. The ancient tradition of duelling was to blame for most of these unfortunate occurrences, and a major component of every healer's craft was that of removing curses from their afflicted patients. There were always some, however, that defeated the best healers. Until Harry Potter came along, the unfortunate victims could not be healed. For many years, Harry had travelled the world, breaking these 'unbreakable' spells, and incidentally reaping profits and prestige for the British Ministry of Magic. But now his young relative, Cissy Diefenberger, did the majority of this work.

Cissy was a very powerful witch. If Harry had not existed, she would have been indisputably the most powerful witch or wizard in the world. But Harry did exist, and it was because of Harry that Cissy had been born. Julie was his third wife, and he had loved each of his wives with all his being. Before his first marriage, however, and between marriages, there were always women. He had another gift that he was not even fully conscious of himself. He could convey, with a change of voice and of expression, an overpowering sexual attraction and desire that had women wanting him. It was not magic. Whatever it was, it was incredibly effective. Often, he would then appear the seduced, rather than the seducer.

All his life, he had chosen experienced women, and all his life, he thought he'd been very careful of contraception. And yet, there were illegitimate children. Not many, but a few. And it was unfortunate that when they met, not knowing of their close relationship, there was a tendency for them to be strongly attracted to each other. Cissy had her power from Harry, and her looks, and she'd always been perfectly healthy, but she suspected that inbreeding was the cause of her two pregnancies ending in apparently perfect, but stillborn children. Harry knew that he was her grandfather as well as her great grandfather. He did not know that he was her great grandfather twice over. His daughter Margaret knew, and she had told Cissy. Neither of them told Harry. The harm was done, and he should not be made to feel more guilty than he did already.

Cissy, known respectfully as Madam Diefenberger, did her spell-breaking work all over the world, usually a week at a time in any one country, with a quick stint in London in between. To appear too different, especially to appear too powerful, brought with it dangers, and the Ministry provided bodyguards from its Auror Department. Aurors were the policemen and soldiers of the world of wizardry. Competent, highly trained, physically strong and fit, they were the elite. Cissy was always allotted two aurors and a Coodinator for her trips. Harry, however, had more dangerous and persistent enemies than Cissy, and when he travelled, as Cissy now did, there were usually four aurors as well as those provided by the host country, who regarded his visits as an honour and a privilege.

This Thursday in Italy, for the first time in a month, there was a patient Cissy hadn't been able to cure. It was only a few weeks ago that she'd discovered that she could raise the intensity of her own magic to the level that was felt as a tingle in the air, and she was then able to cure those patients who seemed to need more than a wave of her wand. But when Harry did the same, the power must have been slightly more, as the patient was quickly cured and was ushered out. Cissy and Harry were finished for the week.

"Ice-cream?" Harry suggested to Cissy.

Cissy smiled at him. "Yes, please."

Married couple, Tracy and Louis, were the aurors assigned to Cissy, but Franz, the head of the Auror Department had joined them, and now protested, "They've raised the reward again. You should not go out!"

Harry took notice, but only paused, looking into the distance for a moment, before assuring Franz that he couldn't feel any enemies close.

Franz breathed a sigh of exasperation, but he knew Harry would not listen to orders. Harry's abilities were legendary, and no-one had been rash enough to directly try and kill him for years, aside from an occasional attempted poisoning. Some people wanted him dead because he was a monster and a freak, others wanted him dead because he was seen as an obstacle to them gaining political power, and a few because they were inclined to the life of a Dark Wizard, who would be so powerful that none but the great wizard could stand in their way. No-one knew exactly who had offered the reward, but it had to be someone extremely wealthy. Many wizarding families were very wealthy.

Franz, Louis and Tracy were all offered ice-creams as well, and Tracy, at least, was inclined to yield to temptation. But Franz frowned, and now the three British aurors surrounded them at a short distance, very alert, watching for threats. There were aurors from the host country, too. These ones were trying to remember their duty, but too many watched instead the great wizard with the famous Madam Diefenberger. But the pair were simply enjoying their ice-creams, and discussing Cissy's horse stud. Harry sat with his back to the wall out of long habit, and scanned the crowds every few minutes from the same long habit. Harry had always lived a dangerous life.

Franz was very aware of them. Their faces and colouring were so alike, although Cissy didn't wear glasses. She was small and slight, with a vivid, expressive face. Harry was of average height, lean, and in vigorous good health. They were alike in more ways than their looks, and were now enthusiastically discussing the big horse show in June. Harry regretfully declined to attend. It was too risky for him. Cissy would be there showing her horses, and Simon and Beau Barnes, who worked for Harry, would be there, competing in the showjumping. Adrian's friend, Connor Maguire, was also having a lot of success, and would go with them.

Harry, very aware of his surroundings, noticed the British Minister for Magic approaching even before their bodyguards, though a couple of the Italian aurors, at a greater distance, were already respectfully greeting their own Minister, who accompanied him. Two others were with them, and Harry and Cissy were shortly shaking hands and being introduced. Cecil Drysdale, the new Minister for Magic, was pressing Harry to join them for the formal dinner that evening. He was not surprised when Harry declined. Harry Potter's hatred of formal functions was well known. The Italian Minister was disappointed, but at least he'd had a chance to shake his hand, and he hadn't expected even that.