An Alternative Epilogue.
By Tearsofphoenix
Standard Disclaimer applies - it's all JKR's.
The "scar" that will be the last word in DH has always been, to me, Harry's famous one.
After reading Sindie's "The last chapter" where the scar has another and very interesting meaning, this story came to my mind during the night and I couldn't help but write it.
So I thank Sindie because in a fashion without her story this little piece of mine perhaps couldn't exist. And many thanks too to a great friend of mine, that is as private as Severus is and thus doesn't wish to be named, but her reading and comments have been the greatest encouragement to the decision to share this fiction.
This story has been reposted with some corrections. They are due to the wonderful job of whitehound, one of the greatest writers and reviewers whose comments I've always considered a portkey for finding beautiful stories. Thanks from the heart, Claire.
The owl was gnawing his treat; its message had been safely delivered though it had been a heavy one, but the bird had done its duty, with pride, and in a moment it would be free to fly again, through the large window, in the light blue sky.
"With many thanks for your proof-reading, we enclose the latest edition of Hogwarts: A History, updated to December 2000. The book will be available in the bookshops next July: this advanced copy is just a little sign of our gratitude for your highly appreciated contribution to the writing of the last chapters.
Best regards.
Bagshot Bathilda - author of A History of Magic, new supervisor of the Hogwarts: A History team
Augustus Worme, editor of Obscurus Books - 18a Diagon Alley, London"
The librarian put the message aside, then held the book with great care and with a little, quite unnoticeable, shaking of her hands, that could have been read by the unaware onlooker as a sign of reverence for the object, so new and still to be opened.
To start the reading of a brand-new tome is something that every avid reader approaches with devouring urgency, so the long time she waited to perform that action should have said much more about her true reaction to the gift.
Being the librarian at the school, it was by no means unusual to receive a new volume to insert on one of the many shelves of the library. Receiving a book, this book, not for the library's enrichment, but as a homage meant for her only, was something totally different.
She breathed, heavily, as she had so many times and perhaps, as in so many harder moments, to give herself strength, and with a steadier hand opened the last pages and began to read:
"… Academic year 1997-98.
This year will be remembered for centuries, it will go down in every magic history and it will have eternal glory in every magic place. This year a young wizard, a Hogwarts student, finally defeated a former student of this same celebrated school, the dark wizard that had been, for too many years, the terror of all the wizarding world.
In our effort to convey every detail of the glorious story of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, here are the events which happened and the names of all the heroes who, in the grounds of the castle…"
Her eyes couldn't focus on the next words, she was already lost in remembrance…
… not of the last battle, no, but of the last time she had seen the people whose names now stood out in golden letters on the pages.
Minerva McGonagall. Strange how her stern face came first to her mind. Or may be not, they had so much in common… They had had, but had no more, because the witch had been among the first victims of the Death Eaters' attacks on the school, the many attacks that happened that year and that forced her deputy, Professor Flitwick, to send home all the students and to close the school.
That time, together with the great loss of a person so much respected and admired, the librarian had felt one of her worst fears, as if the closure of the beloved school could mean the forthcoming end of all.
Luna and Neville. The last time she had seen them had been at their wedding, one of the last public events she had wished to attend.
A bright memory, a good one after that previous, sad and terrible memory of the immobile stunned corpse of the Headmistress.
That day, a few months after the last battle, she had seen many of the students, the survivors, and now their faces were all mixed together in her mind, but again she couldn't go on thinking of their names because they echoed those of the lost ones; the first time, when Madam Bagshot had come to Hogwarts asking her help had been enough, perhaps.
She wasn't ready for a second reading, not so soon, so with a flick of her wand she shut the volume and levitated it onto the highest of her private shelves.
Lifting her chin, the librarian turned on her heel, wishing now to leave her sanctuary, but didn't move, because another person stood in front of her, staring.
"You could have asked for a far better job as recompense, you know" said the Headmaster, with only a little hint of his customary old sneer.
"It's not only Harry who has the freedom to live as he wants without the dubious pleasure of the wizarding world's constant gratitude" she answered, knowing that Severus was the last person to worry about lack of celebrations or honour… well, he was no longer interested in them after the fiasco about a certain Order of Merlin in his teaching days… and he could have been even less so after the end of the war, when his role had been cleared but only a few people had acknowledged the burden of guilt, responsibility and suffering he had carried for so long.
He gazed upon her for a few moments, then gave up the recurrent need to tell her how much she had sacrificed for him, just to be next to him. The young woman who was meeting his glance with serene and soft eyes deserved better than another hidden request for reassurance.
'No, it's not only Potter who has gained the right to live' he thought.
"Yes" – he admitted, smiling – "and I suppose I'm not the only one, here, who's allowed to consider a task with quieter responsibilities as adequate reward."
The power his former dark master knew not had won: he led Hermione out of the castle towards the garden, warmed by the sunlight of the last spring days. Reaching for her hand he extended his bare forearm, where the cruel mark, that for too long a time had burned his life, was now vanished, so that even the aware observer could no longer have seen any more sign of it, neither the smallest scar.
A/N:
So these are my two cents about an impossible end (well, the books are about HP, not SS/HG…)
Until today I was only a reader and content to stay that way, but the story was written by itself and needed to come out.
I'm not English, so please be nice and forgive the errors.
As you can see in my version of the last chapter I don't guess about all the dead or the survivors, my focus is only on my dearest ones ;-)
Because, as a nice article on Baltimore Sun states:
"When J.K. Rowling's publishers announced that the final book in the Harry Potter series would hit stores this July, the agonizing began in earnest. Would she kill him? Could she kill him? Was there any point in reading if she did? No, not Harry Potter.
Severus Snape."
Well, I didn't forget to save Harry, too, in this little story…
The authors of "H a H" and the editor are unknown, so I borrowed from the Lexicon the most plausible, to me, among the known ones.
