Disclaimer: The only thing that's mine is the horrendously rushed and lame ending I could never see means to change... stupid Muse.

Updated: August 22, 2008

Chapter 26: Nineteen Years Later... (NOT!)

Epilogue

If it had surprised Arcturus to find his parents as aged as they would have appeared in an uninterrupted life time, he didn't show it. Truth be told, he barely remembered much of those last few moments before he had passed out. He'd not been in the position to get a good look at the man who had caught him in their arms, and had only heard his mother's cry. Sirius had explained the change to him anyway, setting the tone for a reunion that would command full disclosure.

At first, Arcturus had been wary about letting his parents see the memories he had initially left for Sirius in the Pensieve. Despite the fact he knew that his uncle was nothing less than proud of him for all he had endured, he feared that his parents would pity him. Assured otherwise, he had reluctantly agreed, only to find himself with two extremely clingy parents by the time the last memory had played itself through. Having decidedly seen enough of Pensieves for one sitting, Arcturus did not even think to have his parents share some of their own memories with him... so resigned he had become to simply never getting to know them.

Reunited with both his wand, and journal – Eleanora having brought hers back with her from her mother's home – Regulus had proven an invaluable help in the Order's investigation about Voldemort's Horcruxes. At the time of his death, the defected Death Eater had only known the whereabouts of Slytherin's locket and ring, and was rendered speechless with pride as he was informed of his son's sole part in recovering nearly all of the others. Having been too wary about the information falling into the wrong hands – well, not so much the wrong hands, but hands too inexperienced to handle the magic safely – Regulus dutifully informed those that had gathered of all the findings he had otherwise omitted from his diaries. Apparently, he'd stored the knowledge in his vault for Arcturus to collect and use after he came of age; it being a surprise to all that the answer to destructing Voldemort's Horcruxes had been so close all along.

One thing that the Order had been able to ascertain without Regulus' research, was that only someone connected to the Horcrux in some way could destroy it without repercussion. Having been marked as his equal, it was thought that Harry best fit this bill, but such was the case with Arcturus and the Horcruxes that were attached to his parents' returned souls, any heir of the item (or person) cursed could destroy the Horcrux, with the right spell. Harry, who was not set to return to Grimmauld Place until the holidays began, was understandably relieved at the news, when Sirius had rushed to tell him through their secure mirror connection; the marauding artefact having been found abandoned in the graveyard that night and returned to him.

Safely absconded within Order headquarters, it had been decided to delay the couple's return to the underworld until Christmas night. All involved deserved at least one Christmas together, particularly once childhood feuds were put to rest and the festivities of the season were taken into consideration. When Regulus had learned of a Fidelius Charm having been placed on the home he had made with his wife, he had insisted that Arcturus experience the one Christmas they were to have as a family in the home they had once hoped to make for him. It was long since time to purge the house of all the death it had become associated with, he had said.

To say Arcturus was feeling apprehensive about entering his parents' home with his present company was an understatement. As he was so thoroughly reminded by the memory his grandmother had inflicted him with over and over, the last time he had been in that same place with his parents, his mother had been poisoned, and his father had left to face a certain death. The added reminder, then, of the time drawing near when he would have to see his mother killed a second time, had plunged Arcturus in a dark mood he fought gallantly to cover. Kirsch, who had practically invited himself along for the break when he had shown up with Harry at the end of term, had pulled him aside and set him straight almost immediately. Regulus and Eleanora were pleased beyond words by Arcturus' choice of friend, and had further assisted in helping him see the light side of spending but one Christmas together.

Simply put, it was better than none.

The days flew by, painfully fast, but despite the end that shadowed over them all, none could deny it was the best Christmas any of them could ever remember. Even Elena von Astor, who was facing the first Christmas without her husband so painfully close to his death, had rejoiced at the opportunity to see her daughter one final time and make ammends with the girl's family.

As Secret Keeper to the Prince estate, Severus Snape had irrevocably been roped along, and all had been amazed to discover that the man had actually been rather close with his estranged aunt and ressurected cousin; the association becoming taut in the wake of his own mother's death and his descent into the Dark Arts. Though it had been made painfully clear that the man's attitude towards his two least favourite students would never change, Arcturus was distracted from his upcoming task by the collection on some rather compromising information about his reluctant second cousin.

Harry, meanwhile, was thriving at the opportunity to truly be apart of a family Christmas – a family he was fast becoming to identify as his own. Sirius was so jovial, he would sing nonsensical carols to the portraits and leap on people in his Animagus form with no warning. Remus – who would never be excluded from the celebrations, according to Sirius – was thrust into the role of mitigator and peace keeper; the man maintaining the most dignity of all the adults until Regulus slipped under the werewolf's radar and spiked his drink. After that, the whole house came to know why Remus was a fully fledged member of the infamous Marauders. Often left to his own devices in the Prince family's ancestral potions lab, Severus was just glad the pranks were not directed at him.

Arcturus' birthday had come and gone with minimal fanfare, and with it, Christmas Eve. Until this point, it had been like Christmas every day of break, but with only 24 hours to go until the self-imposed deadline no one wanted to deny, reality had cast its lingering shadow. But rather than distance himself from the Horcrux-poisoned people he would soon have no choice but to destroy, Arcturus was greedily soaking up every last minute he could have with his parents, slowly coming to terms with their limited time on earth and focusing on the graditude he felt for being able to know them at all.

To better assist the situation, Severus had brewed a fast acting poison for the purpose. He told anyone who would listen that he was doing it for Eleanora and his aunt, but the glimmer of respect in his eyes whenever he looked at the youngest Prince heir had not gone entirely unnoticed. Albus Dumbledore showed up after lunch on Christmas day to be inundated with a frivolous supply of socks and lemon drops and quietly offered his condolences; apologising for not finding another way to destroy the Horcruxes and standing by in case their destruction caused any backlash.

The couple's farewell to extended family and friends had been quick and impersonal, much like a newly wedded couple about to depart for their honeymoon. Sirius had disappeared behind the closed bedroom door first, making secret assurances to his ill-fated brother and apologising one last time for never having read the man's letters sooner. Absolved of his guilt once again, the man had emerged from the bedroom with a determination in his step, intent on setting up his brother's lasting legacy to his son in time for the boy's return from the room. Just as Arcturus had no idea of the memories his parents had left for him, Harry had no idea of the shrunken Pensieve Dumbledore had arrived with; the old wizard's personal Pensieve full of memories of James and Lily that the Order had spent the past three weeks collecting to compliment Arcturus' gift.

As for Arcturus, he'd held the potion to his parents' lips with steady hands, and sat with them until the life painlessly faded from their eyes. A long time after their conjured bodies had faded back into nothing, he remained, reflecting on the final words of love and pride his parents had blessed his ears with. Returning to the living room that still held all the trappings of the holidays, no one could deny that he wasn't a changed young man. All light had left his eyes, and he walked with a heavy step. Salty tracks scarred his face, remnants of the tears he had allowed to fall in his father's presence. He had cried in front of his father, and it had been okay, and so now he was no longer ashamed of his tears. Falling into a chair sandwiched between his uncle and god-cousin, Arcturus unashamedly folded himself up into the waiting embrace and let grief claim him. He would never turn to evil, but his life at that moment could not get any darker – it seemed the prophecy had come to pass after all. But then, just as Arcturus was all about cried out, Sirius had shaken him into wakefulness and told him that his parents had left something for him.

Upon learning that their respective Pensieves contained memories either from or about their parents, Harry and Arcturus both dove into the stone bowls without preamble. When they returned, Harry was smiling from ear to ear, and a little of the light had returned to Arcturus' eyes. Whilst part of him wished his parents had shared the memories with him whilst they had been there to answer his questions about them, he was eternally grateful to Sirius for holding them back until after they were gone because seeing them had pulled him out of the darkness by which he could so very easily have been consumed.

Sharing a knowing look with each other, both orphaned boy reached the same conclusions – their parents may not have been with them for a long time, but they were loved and their legacy would live on within them forever. For Harry, this assurance came in the form of his Patronus, and the protection his mother's blood had left upon him. For Arcturus, it was the knowledge that the little time he spent with his parents would never have been possible without the little piece of themselves the pair had left with their only son.

They'd drunk, then, long into the night; toasting to their loved ones and the victory they could now see within sight. Harry made a fool of himself after his first taste of Fire Whiskey, and the ever adventurous Remus had gotten stuck into some of the Weasley Twins' products with interesting results. Michael Kirsch got a work out when he showed off the Animagus form he had just mastered; the horse-like Padfoot bounding after the lithe wildcat until the portraits started screaming and Severus and his aunt, Elena had emerged from the potions lab to hex them both with ticks.

And in the middle of it all were two dark-haired orphans. Born months apart and deprived of parents by the hand of the same wizard, they were now brothers in all but blood. Neither could truly pinpoint the moment they had transcended from being brothers of circumstance to brothers of bond, but neither were displeased with the way things had turned out. There was a battle ahead, a war to win, and no longer did they have to assume their role in the fight by themselves. Both teens may have been plagued by a prophecy hanging over their head, but one had already come to pass; teaching them that though a prophecy may weild its power from the faith of those that hear them, they seldom tell the whole story. Harry did not have to defeat Voldemort alone, and whilst Arcturus had been led into darkness, he'd found a light to guide him home.

END

A/N: Well, that's it from me for a while, I think. Living in London clearly has not been conducive to my Muse (must be the polarity or something) and now, low and behold, I again find myself a mere month-and-change from the inevitable slow march back home to Australia (via a lengthy jaunt in the States if my backpocket can handle it)