I really have nothinh to say about this one, it was just a thought i had late one night that i rather liked actually... and i hope you do too. Thanks to the wonderful Alix33 who deals with my utter lack of grammar and other such important writing skills :-D

Albus Severus Potter stared at his father in slight disbelief.

"You did all that?" he asked, in a voice that emulated shock.

Harry Potter, older and wiser, with slight gray shot through his unruly black hair, stared down through the round glasses at his youngest son.

"Well... not all of it. Your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione were mostly it."

"But You.... you killed Voldemort?"

Albus watched his father wince lightly at the name.

Harry was slightly ashamed that he had shown that much emotion at just a name. But even after nineteen years, he was still leery of saying it and bringing the Death Eaters down on them.

"The Dark Lord was his own demise." Harry said finally. Now realizing why Snape had always called He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord. It wasn't out of loyalty, but out of the knowledge that a truly wise man respects the enemy, Besides, it was easier than seeing all of those around you jump with fear, but it also brought to mind the dangerous power that Tom Riddle had once attained.

"I just helped."

Albus' eyes were round like tiny green saucers.

"But dad... why didn't you tell any of us this before?" he asked suddenly.

Harry sighed, wishing that he could have just kept his kids out in the country forever, to save them from the knowledge of his life.

He and Ginny had moved into an obscure section of Cornwall when they had found out that they were pregnant. They had decided that they wanted to let their children grow up outside the influence of the Magical World. He had realized a lot of things when he'd had children. Living with the Dursleys had been absolute hell during his first 11 years of life, but it had kept him from getting a big head, and he'd had enough trouble with that as it was.

"I am telling you this because the other kids at Hogwarts will probably know who I am, and you will most likely be learning about the Second War in History Class." He neglected to add that Magical History had been taken over by none other than Hermione Granger... Weasley.

Harry would never get used to that.

"Does James know?" asked the boy, bringing Mr. Potter out of his nostalgic reverie.

Harry nodded.

"Yes. I told him the night before he left. Just like I'm telling you."

Albus seemed a little put out that his older brother had known for a year longer than he, then something seemed to strike in his little brain.

"So Lily doesn't know, then?"
His father shook his head.

"And you mustn't tell her or I'll be forced to do a memory charm on you."
Al's face grew grave.

"I promise, Dad." he replied, with all the severity and self-importance that an 11 year-old can muster.

"Good man," his dad replied with a light smile.

Christmas holidays rolled around even faster than Harry had remembered in school, to think, in just two days his sons would be home from Hogwarts.

His heart glowed at the fact that his sons had somewhere to come home to.

And then they were there, looking independent and slightly rebellious on platform 9 and 3/4's.

Well James looked rebellious, Albus simply looked ecstatic, and slightly older than Harry remembered.

Then Ginny was upon them, smothering them in motherly kisses and listening to them protest at her embarrassing shows of emotion. Ginny was all that her Mother had been without the lectures, although, seeing how James was starting to act, those may be sure to follow.

Lily grinned at them both and stuck her tongue out. James hugged her brotherly, and Albus had stood back and looked shy until she'd attacked him with a tackle of a hug.

Lily's new thing was to stick her tongue out at everyone, including people they didn't know.

Ron, who was standing to the left of Harry waiting for his own clan, stuck his tongue right back out at her.

Lily seemed a bit shocked, adults weren't supposed to act like that.

They continued this stare down until Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs and he smiled the same smile that he had bestowed upon a lonely Boy-Who-Lived on his first ride to Hogwarts.

Harry flashed back suddenly; he could almost hear the pleased

Wicked!

Lily suddenly became shy and buried her face in her mum's robe.

They all waved to Teddy who had come to see Victoire home.

Harry's heart thudded in his chest.

Every year Teddy Lupin seemed to look more and more like his dad.

Rangy and tall, albeit slightly stooped, almond eyes, weathered and wise looking, somehow wild.

However, his fashion sense and hair, was all his mom's.

Today it was violently blue, as if the ocean had vomited color all over him. Leather jacket, red gloves with the fingers cut out. Ripped jeans and black converses. It was amazing that someone who looked as though they belonged in a rock band, could emulate intelligence and dignity like a lighthouse.

Then there was Victoire, blond and fair as an angel, just like her mum. But with teeth that almost looked pointed, some things never changed.

Harry felt like he was back in the past, with Remus and Tonks staring back at him.

Teddy waved back at Harry, the young man had known their story for as long as he could remember. And Harry would always be his favorite uncle.

That night Harry took Albus up to his study.

Anyone who had known Harry back in Hogwarts could pick out the people who had influenced him the most.

There was a picture of his Mom and Dad, smiling down at their only son.

Then there were gadgets and doohickeys that no one exactly knew did what.

Books upon books stared down from the walls; a foe-glass and a grindylow in a tank dolefully considered the guests. A Pensieve and a large wooden shelf filled with bound leather books and bottles of potions lined the final wall.

Albus loved this room, he loved it as much as Harry had loved his headmaster's office all those years ago.

"Al." His father began seriously. "I have something I want to show you."
Albus' heart thudded in his chest.

"Is this like what you told me before I left for Hogwarts?"

Harry's face showed a small smile.

"Yes. Just like that."

Albus' face was enraptured, then something seemed to tear a hole in his newfound joy.

"Does James already know this too?"
Harry Potter fought the urge to laugh, but this was too important to his son for Harry to find it trivial.

Nothing was trivial to an 11 year-old.

Except girls and magical history.

Harry knew from experience that feeling toward the earlier would change immensely over the next few years.

"No. James hasn't seen this."

It was as if his father had given him the keys to the kingdom.

"So you're not disappointed that I was sorted into Slytherin?"
Harry pulled his son into a tight hug.

"I told you, bravery comes from all houses. And some of the bravest come from the most unexpected places."

"Like Professor Snape?"

The Boy-Who-Lived nodded his head, unwilling to be tricked into that conversation. Albus Severus did not know exactly how Snape had been brave. Only that he was one of the men that Harry Potter respected the most.

"You didn't do as I said and ask the Sorting Hat to put you in Gryffindor?"

Albus' face crinkled with thought.

"Well... I thought about it. But then I also thought about what you said about them being brave and courageous, and I was a little worried about the always being brave part, then the hat asked if I was Harry Potter's son. And I said yes. Then the hat laughed and asked if I had a preference, Gryffindor or Slytherin. And I thought about it... and said no and told him what you'd said."

Harry nodded gravely, sincerely enjoying this narrative, and wishing that he could've been there to see it.

"And the hat said that it was about time someone from as distinguished a family as mine was willing to join Slytherin and bring it back to the cunning house that it had been intended for. And it sorted me to Slytherin."

"And were you satisfied?"
Albus Severus nodded slowly.

"I don't think that Slytherin is as bad as everyone said, even though James about died when I was sorted." He grinned suddenly. "But no one was as shocked as Scorpius Malfoy... he got sorted into Gryffindor."

Harry choked on his Muggle coffee... something that he still hadn't given up, even after all these years in a magical world.

"He did...the hat... what?"
Albus looked up at his spluttering father with all the innocence that his young age afforded.

"Scorpius Malfoy, he's in Gryffindor."
Harry had the most irresistible urge to send an owl to Draco Malfoy... with laughter written on every page.

"So dad... what did you want to show me?" The boy asked suddenly, curiosity getting the best of him.

Harry chose not to delve further into the scene of the Sorting Ceremony that year, and opened a drawer in his desk that hadn't been there moments before. Pulling out a small scrap of paper.

"This, is the second Order of the Phoenix." The faded paper straightened itself out, showing out the smiling faces on the wizard photograph.

There were about 20 maybe more, maybe less.

Albus saw his mom and his dad, waving at the camera, and there was Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, Fred and George laughed out at the people examining at the photo, as if they were still making fun of the people who had the tenacity to look at it.

James and Uncle George got along like a troll and a dungbomb.

Albus' uncle had already offered James a place at Weasley's Wheezes when he was old enough to leave school and work there. The surviving twin had told the boy that he was his replacement Fred.

An old weathered man who was most definitely Albus Dumbledore, long white beard glinting slightly underneath Half-Moon glasses resting on a crooked nose, gazed impassively at the viewers.

Then there was the Headmistress, looking twenty years younger, smiling; standing next to a man who wore all black, his hair was shoulder length and shiny, as if with grease.

James had described to Albus a man that looked a lot like the one in the picture, and that he was a painting in the Headmistress's office, it was one of the only portraits who was always awake, sneering balefully at the poor students that were summoned.

James had looked slightly afraid of when he had spoken about the painting.

"Who's that?" Albus asked.

"Severus Snape." Harry replied without any decorum.

Albus' eyes widened yet again, but he said nothing; the wheels were turning in his small head as he processed the information.

Snape glowered at the camera, all except for one moment where the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a sardonic grin. Or, almost a grin.

Harry thought to himself that he would pay an infinite amount of money to hear what the man was thinking at the time.

Then there was Sirius, bluntly cool. Even to an adult Harry, that was the only way that he could remember Sirius. Full of reckless abandon and courage, and great love.

Then there was Gram and Grandpa Weasley... looking oddly the same.

The large black man that Al knew was their Minister of Magic. Kingsley Shacklebolt, in the photo as huge and serene as he was now.

Hagrid, who also looked exactly the same, except perhaps less of his hair was as dark as it had been

Uncle Charlie and Aunt Fleur, and then there was a man who looked both important and forgettable. Smiling ever so slightly, his arm held in that of the woman's next to him. Her hair was vividly pink and her smile was lopsided and laughing, she looked like great fun.

"That's Teddy's mum and dad isn't it?"

Albus watched his dad's eyes cloud up and soften.

"Yes, that is Remus Lupin." He pointed to the pale man. "And Nymphadora Tonks." The woman with the pink hair. "Remus was my favorite teacher in all of school, always willing to listen, he was my role model, Albus, calm and fair. You know, you remind me of him sometimes, and Tonks was the most…
Tears welled up in the man's eyes and he laughed lightly through the tears that his son hadn't noticed. " She was… well for one thing, the most lively woman that I ever met."

His descriptions fell so short to what those people had truly been to a young Harry.

But then, that was how a description would always be to those who did not know the deceased. There are some things, which will never be described no matter how many pictures there are.

"They-" His voice caught in his throat as memories of that night flooded through his mind. "They will be missed."

"Did Voldemort" Harry winced. "Kill them?" Albus' face was curious and wary as he asked this question.

Harry sighed again, feeling old.

"His people killed them. During our last battle."
"Are those people in Azkaban?"
"Some of them are... most of them are dead as well..." Harry quickly imposed. "Our side didn't take kindly to us losing Ted's parents, or your Uncle Fred."

This was the bitter heart of it… Even the good guys took no prisoners when their own were threatened. Harry could not pretend to ignore that men like Dean Thomas and George and Percy Weasley hunted down Dark Wizards to the ends of the earth, and then nothing else was heard of those Dark Men and Women again.
For all that they were jovial, married, middle aged men and women now, they had been sleepless vengeance in those months after the Battle for Hogwarts.

Harry himself had days of time that he would never recount to another soul, Ginny was the only person whom he had ever told about certain exploits Post-Battle.

"Why did you show this to me, dad?"

Harry's mind was pulled back to the present.

"Because this is your heritage, this is what you were born into. All of those people whom you thought were Uncles and Aunts who bought you presents and have acted like silly adults all of your life, are the men and women who shaped our world into what it is today. They are true heroes, point being, that if they knew I were telling you this they would have my hide in embarrassment. Which makes them a certain type of hero in and of itself."

"Don't they want people to know that they were brave?" Albus asked in amazement.

"Al, they would rather live in anonymity than anything else in the world. You know Uncle George and Aunt Angelina? They act ridiculous and play fools, but if they were ever needed to do anything for the Order again, they would rise from wherever they stood to fight."

"You mean the Order still exists?"
Harry's gaze sharpened just slightly on the face of his youngest son.

The younger boy's eyes widened dramatically as his father handed him the photograph.

"Albus Severus, things like the Order of the Phoenix do not just cease to exist, they are merely passed on to the next generation."

~Fin~

Author's Note: I am sorry, it was random and slightly pointless... but i have had it on my hard drive for months now and i just felt like posting it. Tell me if you like it :-) as always thanks for reading.

Aloha,

Red