There was James, so much his mother's son with dark red hair, now spattered with grey, and kind, calm brown eyes. Albus was a reflection in a long ago mirror. Lily, his little girl, looked like her grandmother Potter would, if she'd been alive. His children were surrounded by another generation and the start of another.
But Harry was alone, even with everyone there. He missed Ginny and had been without her for too long.
It had been a good life.