Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the true owner of all things Harry Potter. I'm just playing around with things a little…*cough* Because I don't like how it ended much *cough* *shifty look*

Nineteen years later...

The Hogwarts Express puffed merrily as it rested alongside Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, awaiting the start of the new school year. It was a quarter of eleven, and hundreds of students and their families were bustling about the platform, this magical alcove of King's Cross Station alive with laughing and chatter and all the sounds of eager schoolchildren awaiting their first day back at Hogwarts.

There was a path of emptiness, though, as one family made their way through the throng. Mothers would gasp, fathers would stare, and children would suddenly start to whisper as a dark-haired man with stylish glasses and a pale scar on his forehead, just between his twin emerald eyes that sparkled when he laughed (as he did often), passed by them. Leaning on his arm as he pushed their trolley was a beaming woman with flowing red hair—"undeniably a Weasley, and so lucky to be with him," was the general observation. And running before them were three young children, two boys and a girl. The eldest boy, currently chasing his redhead little sister, looked like a spitting image of his father; the younger boy sighed and looked pensively at the train with the bright brown eyes of his mother, his black bangs falling into his face.

Harry Potter ruffled the hair of his middle son. "Why the long face, Albus?" Harry said with a small laugh. "You were sounding so excited about this day when we came with James last year..."

Albus groaned and glanced around the platform to make sure no one heard the slip of his father's tongue. "For crying out loud, Dad, call me Al," the boy said in a weary monotone. "And yes, I'm excited. See? Whoo-hoo. I'm about to go off to the unknown and meet dozens of strangers my age, then be told who to play with by a raggedy old scrap of cloth. I'm so happy, I could dance."

Harry was about to respond when a shout caught his attention. There was Ron, his flaming red hair wildly flying about as he waved to Harry and came running in a flying tackle at his best friend. Following close behind was his wife, once known as Lavender Brown, as she gingerly trotted over with her arms crossed over her bulging belly. She was six months along, expecting twins, and behind her came the other five children of the younger Weasley clan: Will, Char, Gina, Ron Jr., and Peter. Laughingly at the last Weasley reunion, Lavender had promised that she and Ron would not have any more children after the twins—"I wouldn't dare think of outstripping the real Mrs. Weasley around here," she had said, toasting the blushing and plump matriarch as she stood next to the graying, yet glowing, Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley.

"Mate, I haven't seen you since yesterday! A travesty!" Ron said as he always did when he and Harry met in public. Harry was now Head of Law Enforcement, and Ron worked with him as a partner in the Auror Department. Even though Harry should have been restricted to desk work, he always saved a case or two for himself and Ron, claiming that it kept him young and in shape. And it also warmed Harry's heart (though he didn't admit it) to be able to come home and share an exciting story with his children (and quite possibly grandchildren in the future) about how Daddy and Uncle Ron had gone to fight the big bad guys and won handily, as per the usual.

Oh, and besides, it always got him some preferential treatment and nursing from his Healer wife.

"That travesty has been and will always be easily remedied," Harry laughed, then caught sight of a familiar face and waved her over as well. Hermione Granger-Black beamed and pushed her way through the crowd, pulling her husband by the hand after her. "Reggie should be coming soon…wanted to finish the chapter he was reading first," she said, giving Ron and Harry a hug in turn. "I guess we know whose brains he inherited..."

"And we definitely know who he got the good looks from—it wasn't all me, after all," joked Sirius Black as he snuck his arm around his wife's shoulder. Nearly ten years after his supposed death, a new Unspeakable and brilliant Muggleborn researcher had, on her very first day, snuck past all the wards on the closed Department of Mysteries (in a highly unauthorized and most certainly illegal way) before tossing a rope through the Veil of Death. Sirius had crawled his way back out, not a day older from the time he'd fallen in and in worse shape than when he'd escaped Azkaban. His rescuer had proven his innocence to the public eye, then nursed him back to health under her watchful private one; and Sirius had both married her and given her a beautiful son who'd rivaled her bookishness on his worst days in return.

Harry gave both of them an affectionate hug, his heart still leaping for joy whenever he saw Sirius alive and happy again. He and Sirius (and Remus, who'd just barely survived the Battle of Hogwarts and managed to protect his young wife Tonks at the same time—the pair lived with their son and daughter, Teddy and Andrea, and worked from home as werewolf liaisons for the Ministry) would meet up for a night at the pub every Halloween, to remember James and Lily Potter and honor their sacrifice. And it did give them an excuse to have a pint, or two, or six. As Sirius liked to say, James would be pleased to see the three of them remembering and forgetting as much as they could by half-drowning themselves—the original Marauders used to do it all the time, after all.

Harry turned back to young Albus as the boy made his respectful goodbyes to his Uncle Ron and mother and practically Aunt Hermione. "Al," Harry said quietly as he led the boy the final steps of the way to the train. James had already gone ahead to meet up with his friends from the year prior, while their youngest sister Lily was currently buried in her mother's coat, crying that she wouldn't be able to go with her brothers for another two years. "You're worried about the Sorting, aren't you? Don't worry, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Harry added quickly as Albus flushed. "I had the same fear when I was your age…your uncle Ron thought we'd have to fight a troll or something."

Albus laughed weakly. "But Dad, I know it's just an old hat, but…you're a Gryffindor, Mum's a Gryffindor. Everyone in our whole family on both sides has been in Gryffindor. Even James is a bloody Lion, for crying out loud…" Albus glanced about the platform nervously. "What if I'm not? What if I'm in Slytherin or something? I'll be stuck in a house for seven years, whether I like it or not. I don't want to let you or Mum down…"

Harry chuckled, then laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "Believe me, I couldn't care less which house you're in, and neither will your mum," he said with some pride. "The Hat wanted me in Slytherin, and I wonder sometimes if it wouldn't have been right. And you're named after Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts and a Slytherin himself…and the bravest man any of us has ever known. But you're our son, Al, and that's all that counts. As long as you stay the same Al Potter through and through…trust me, the Hat knows you better than you know yourself. Just be true to your heart, and you can count on all of us to be true to you."

Al grinned slowly, the first true smile he'd had all day. "Thanks, Dad," Al muttered, throwing his arms around his father. "That means a lot…"

Harry smiled, albeit a bit sadly. How he'd longed to be able to have this conversation with his own parents…"Of course, son... now, get yourself on that train, it's going to leave with your trunk and without you," he teased, pushing his son towards the nearest compartment entry. "Do your mum and I proud!"

Al saluted happily to his father, waved goodbye to his mother, and made a running leap onto the train. Moments later, his head appeared in one of the windows. "Don't worry, Lily, I'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!" Al yelled through the glass, carrying on one of the longstanding traditions of any Weasley child who was born after the infamous Fred and George.

Lily laughed through her tears and waved back at her brother, shouting out to him even as the train tooted once and began to pull out of the station. Reggie and the rest of Ron's brood had already piled on to the Express, and so it was that Harry was left with his wife Ginny, Ron, Lavender, Hermione, and Sirius on the quickly clearing platform, the six of them watching the train speed off into the sunny distance.

Sirius sighed. "Could you have ever imagined that we'd be here, all of us, watching our kids be us so many years later?" he asked as he wistfully gazed off in the direction of the train.

Harry grinned and snaked an arm around Ginny's waist easily. She leaned into him in response and worked her arm across his shoulders, her free hand resting on Lily's auburn curls. "No, I couldn't, Sirius," Harry said thoughtfully. "But do we really need to imagine the future when it's all right here before us?"

And with that, the Boy Who Lived laughed out loud, his future and the destiny of his children stretching out before him like so much train tracks, disappearing out into the western horizon and beyond. For what did it matter where that road led, as long as he and those he loved finally had the family they wanted?

FINIS