It started with his lower back. It would ache every now and then, not too bad, but enough to bother him. The aching back turned into groaning knees, and groaning knees turned into graying hair. His children never said it, but he knew he was growing old. His grandchildren were now in their mid-twenties, some with children of their own.

One after the other, he watched his friends die. Ron was the first to go, he was forty-five. It was so long ago, but Harry still remembers the pain and sadness he felt when he heard the news. It was cancer that killed him. Not even magic could cure that, not yet. Harry had cried for weeks, Hermione right by his side cradling Hugo. Rose was devestated. It hit Ginny hard. Probably harder than the rest. After Ron's funeral, buried at Hogwarts in a white tomb next to Dumbledore, Ginny took off and traveled the world, leaving Albus and James with Harry. She didn't come back for three months.

He didn't blame her, not really. It hit everyone hard-George didn't talk for a week- but when she came back pregnant, Harry had his suspicions. He never said anything, and he always loved Lily as if their were no questions as to who her father was, and Ginny never said anything to Harry about it, but he did the calculations. He knew. Lily still doesn't know, and Ginny never knew Harry was any the wiser. Through their whole marriage, Harry loved Ginny unconditionally. She died when she was sixty-five, laid to rest, like all the war heroes would be, in a white tomb, next to Ron and Dumbledore.

Hermione went next, followed by Neville and Luna a few years later. Harry was beginning to hate taking that long trip in the train- he's too old to fly now, even apparition is hard- all the way up to Hogwarts, just to put a friend in the ground.

He was never alone on the trips though. All his remaining friends and family would take the train with him, even Draco Malfoy came to all the funerals. It took a few years after the war for people to really accept the Malfoys back into society, and by that time, the only Malfoy left was Draco. He married Astoria a few years later and had Scorpius. Surprisingly, Draco had become a sort of friend to Harry and the rest.

It got harder and harder each time they sealed off a white tomb. Molly and Arther, Bill then Fleur, Dean and Seamus(married at 25), slowly but surely Draco and Harry watched their friends die. Each time, after the funerals, they would walk through their old school, revisiting places of memory. It had become sort of a tradition to them, sometimes George would walk with them, until it was George's turn to be sealed off, next to his brother's tomb.

Draco was the last to die. That was the last time Harry walked the halls of Hogwarts after a friends funeral. There were no friends left to lay to rest. There was no more reason to go back to Hogwarts, or her grounds.

Harry had his tomb constructed at the same time as all of his friends had theirs. They had joked about it then, having their final resting places build before they died. But as the years flew by, and one by one the tombs were filled up and sealed off, Harry found he didn't find it much of a joke anymore. More like a count down. How many tombs would be sealed before it was his turn?

Fifty-four. That's how many. There were fifty-five white tombs constructed, one for each war hero who wanted to be laid to rest at Hogwarts. There was only one left empty. Beside Hogwart's Black Lake, the once open space was now a white field of graves. Draco's was number fifty-four, right next to Ron, Hermione, and Harry's tombs.

Draco's funeral was the last time Harry saw his own empty grave. Three years ago.

Last year he lost the use of his legs.

Tonight, as his great-grandchild tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead goodnight, Harry closed his green eyes for the last time. The last of his generation, died off.

When he opened them again, he was not scared. He had been here before, only once, but he knew this place. The only difference was that Dumbledore was not here to greet him this time. As before, Harry was stark naked. He willed on his clothes, and stretched, noticing that his body was now young again.

Kings Cross station was a bright and clean as he remembered it to be, except in one corner. In said corner, shadows seemed to pool into one mass of swirling black darkness, almost like a flowing cloak. On closer examination, Harry found that he could make out a skeletal figure amongst the shadows, beckoning him with a bony finger. Harry smiled.

"Hello, Old Friend" He said as he walked-oh how he missed walking!- towards the shadow.

Death spread his arms in what seemed like a welcoming gesture and crooked his head to the side.

"I suppose this time I don't have the option of turning back."

Death slowly shook his head.

Harry laughed. "That's quite alright. I think I'm overdue to meet my family again anyways."

Death laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, not a threatening gesture, but sort of like a reunion of long lost friends. Death turned, guiding Harry into the shadows, where he was to be reunited by all the friends and family he had missed over the years.

Back in the living world, the last of the white tombs were sealed off forever, and the last remaining hero of the Second Wizarding War was mourned by a community that didn't even know him that much.

A/N: Reviews are nice, and appreciated :)