A/N: I am by no means JK Rowling, nor am I a famous author or literary scholar or anything, but I think we can agree that the epilogue was crap, so I'm writing my own version of the epilogue.

DISCLAIMER: I just said I wasn't JK Rowling, didn't I?


FIVE YEARS LATER

The last five years had been grueling.

They had to rebuild Hogwarts and the Ministry, but physically rebuilding the buildings themselves were the easy tasks. Many had perished in Voldemort's reign, including the Headmaster and Minister. No one had any qualms about Kingsley Shacklebolt's promotion to Minister, or Minerva McGonagall's to Headmistress.

There were many jobs open, including the Transfiguration, Muggle Studies, and Defence Against the Dark Arts positions at Hogwarts, and there was a need for more Aurors in the Ministry, and a new position for Prison guards at Azkaban, since the Minister was refusing to use Dementors. New charms and hexes would be placed in the wizard prison, to make it harder for prisoners to escape. The wands would be kept in a high security vault in Gringotts, with a dragon that has decent eyesight, so if it were proven that a Prisoner was actually innocent, they would be able to receive their wand. Hopefully there wouldn't be too many of those.

Two memorials had been put in place, one at Hogwarts for those who died during the final battle against Voldemort, and one in the Ministry, for all of those who died fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

The post-Voldemort present was starting to look peaceful.

IN Grimmauld Place.

Harry took a long, sweeping look around the newly renovated 12 Grimmauld Place, also known as the Noble House of Black. Previously known as, anyway. It was no longer the gloomy house that Sirius felt trapped in, but now a livable space he would have loved.

The walls were no longer black, but each room was a different color. There were forest greens and sky blues; deep reds and sunshine yellows. The heads of the previous house elves that used to line the walls were taken down; the heads buried in the back lawn. The screaming portrait of Mrs. Black was blasted off by Ginny, who used the Reductor curse and blew the whole wall off. Hermione wasn't sure if the Fidelius Charm would hold on if you demolished a wall, but luckily it did, because it would prove difficult to put it back up by magic if the neighbors could suddenly see into a house that wasn't there before.

Hermione had somehow managed to burn off the tapestry of the Black family tree without burning the house down. Ron and Harry tried to get her to teach them the charm, but she refused, claiming that it would be very dangerous in their hands.

The troll foot they had all agreed to throw away, but not without a moment of silence, for they all thought of Tonks, who had always tripped over umbrella stand as she walked down the hallway.

They replaced the moth eaten furniture with comfortable armchairs, the hard mattresses in the rooms with soft ones, and updated the kitchen, which now looked like you could cook in without setting a flame to the house.

They took everything off the walls of Sirius' and Regulus' rooms. Harry had taken off most of what was in Sirius' room without destroying it. Sirius was a gifted wizard, but at age 15 his permanent sticking charm turned out to be… not so permanent.

All the rooms were cleaned, and the damp, stale air that the house used to hold seemed to have disappeared. The creaky parts of the house weren't creaky any longer, and all traces of the Blacks had almost disappeared, except for Sirius and Phineas Nigellus. His portrait was placed in the same room that Ron and Harry slept in, so that if the Headmaster of Hogwarts should ever feel the need to contact the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place, they still could.

Harry reverie was broken by a large thump on the back. "Looks like we did a good job, mate, doesn't it?" said Ron.

"Yeah, it does," replied Harry.

"It looks a lot better than it did five years ago," Hermione piped up. She was standing to Ron's left. Both of them were wearing engagement rings.

"How about some dinner? I'm starving."

"Aren't you always, Ronald?" Hermione teased, then she conjured a plate of sandwiches and 3 goblets of Pumpkin Juice, just like McGonagall had for Ron and Harry in their second year.

"Is it true that Neville's going to teach at Hogwarts?" Harry asked as they started their dinner.

"Yes. McGonagall was skeptical about hiring him at first, because he's so young, but she says there was no one more qualified or eager about the Herbology position then Neville," answered Hermione. "By the way, I asked him to check about the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, he says it burned itself out by now, but if you want to hide something it'll just be an empty room."

"That's a shame," Ron answered, his mouth full of Roast Beef sandwich. "What about Luna?"

"She's still looking for unknown creatures. She says she has yet to find a Crumple Horned Snorkack, but she's keeping her eyes open. Oh, and she's not traveling alone anymore," Hermione added.

"Good. I didn't like the idea of her traveling alone. You never know what might run into in a forest or the mountains," Harry replied, thinking of a possessed Quirrell and of Hagrid's trip to the mountains during their fifth year at Hogwarts.

"Who's she traveling with?" asked Ron, minus the sandwich this time.

"Rolf Scamander."

"Scamander?" asked the boys.

"Yes, grandson of Newt Scamander. Imagine that."

"Yeah, imagine." Harry grinned.

"Victoire's excited about getting a younger brother and cousin. She won't talk about anything else," Ron announced happily. Victoire Molly Weasley was Bill and Fleur's first child, now three years old. Fleur was pregnant again, and so was Alicia Spinnet Weasley, George's wife. "George says if his baby's a boy, he's going to name him Fred."

"Like we ever doubted that," scoffed Hermione.

"Teddy's spending the next month with me," Harry announced, "He begged Tonks' mum to let him. And Ginny's going to be back next week." Ginny had been gone for the last month, because the Holyhead Harpies had been playing against teams like Ireland, Bulgaria, France, and Puddlemere United. They lost to Puddlemere, but the Harpies flattened everyone else.

They cleaned their plates, and retreated to the fire in the living room. It wasn't cold, but the fire was comforting.

"So, you two, when's the wedding?" asked Harry.

"We haven't set a date yet," admitted Hermione. "The Department (of Magical Law Enforcement, where Hermione worked) is rather busy right now, plus Ron still has one more year of Auror training to finish."

"Yeah, I just felt like proposing while I had the nerve," Ron said.

"I wouldn't have said no!" exclaimed Hermione.

"I know you wouldn't have, I was just nervous," Ron replied.

"About what?" asked Hermione

"You have no idea what it's like worrying about the right time to pop the question..."

Harry left the two alone and climbed up the staircase to his room. As he laid in bed, he thought about Dumbledore's Army and Dumbledore himself; about the Marauders and his mother and Snape and then stopped. Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, and his parents all fought so that the next generation wouldn't have to worry about Voldemort, so they could have a future without fear. Maybe not all evil was gone just because Voldemort was, but at least now the future didn't seem as bleak as it did five years ago. And now was the time to start thinking about that future.