Disclaimer: The publication of DH forced me to change the planned setting of King's Cross, 'cause I didn't want to feel like I was copying - so nah, I'm not J. K. Rowling or I would've known that in advance :)

A/N: It's about 6 years after the battle. Thanks to Mamacita-san for the swift beta-ing!!


EPILOGUE


The stadium was one great glittering airy space, shining gold and open to the summer sky. A small group of people were mounting the stairs toward the top row of the stands, hailed excitedly by nearly all those they passed. The sunlight that fell on them warmed them only a little, for a strong wind whistled round their ears and whipped up their hair as they climbed.

"We're at the World Cu-up, we're at the World Cu-up, and Uncle Harry's going to wi-in!" sang a small girl with long, light-brown hair as she bounded up the last three steps into their box. Then she looked down and broke off her song abruptly, eyes wide. "Wow – we can see everyone in the world from up here – Dad, we can see –"

"Yes, Polly," said Lupin, sharing a quick smile with Tonks. "We do have very good seats. Where's that brother of yours got to? Jacob!"

A tousled-haired boy, the image of his sister, scrambled up the stairs to join them.

"I beat you!" sang Polly triumphantly. "I got to the top first, ha!"

Jacob scowled. "Jack tripped me up, that's why," he told her, pointing down the stairs at a small boy who had his hand held in a tight grip by Ginny and was bouncing up and down with the greatest impatience and energy.

"Correction," said Tonks, punching her son lightly on the shoulder. "You fell over Jack, kiddo. Lucky he's got rubber bones, seeing as you knocked him down half a dozen stairs. The others are taking a very long time, aren't they?" she added. "Even I'm not that slow..."

"You know Ron and Hermione can't go anywhere now without having to shake hands with every witch or wizard they meet," said Lupin with a smile. "Nor Ginny, for that matter; she and Hermione are sick to death of it, but Ron –"

"Oh, Ron's soaking it up!" Tonks said, and they both laughed as they watched Hermione disentangle her husband from the clutches of a gaggle of middle-aged witches and pull him onward and upward – with difficulty, as she was holding a sleeping baby in the crook of her left arm. Tonks and Lupin sat down, and Polly and Jacob leant over the rail, gazing avidly at the roaring multitudes below them.

"Ready for the big win?" asked Ron when he finally caught up. He was looking rather pleased with himself. Jack—a skinny five-year-old with a mop of red hair—broke away from Ginny, who was a little behind the others, and ran toward the Lupin twins, waving an England flag and a tiny model of a white-robed, black-haired, and spectacled Quidditch player.

"Oh yes, all ready," said Lupin. "We have the house set up for the post-match celebration."

"Isn't that a bit premature?" Hermione asked with an amused smile, settling into a seat with her baby sleeping soundly in her arms. "Aren't Romania supposed to be pretty good?"

"You don't trust Harry?" Ron asked her incredulously. "You should know by now that Dementors are the only things that stop him from winning."

But Hermione had stopped listening; she was looking behind her, concerned. "Ginny, are you okay?" she said, getting up again and stretching out a hand to help Ginny up the last few steps.

"Why," panted Ginny, as she reached level ground, "did we have to get seats right at the top?"

The others looked at her in surprise. Ginny had never before had any trouble with stairs.

"Oh – don't worry," Ginny said hastily, seeing their concern. "I'm just out of breath, that's all." She dropped thankfully into a seat.

Hermione looked at her shrewdly but was distracted as a small voice at Ron's knee demanded, "Uncle Ron – what's that?" Jack was standing there, tugging at his uncle's trousers and pointing to a weirdly-shaped object sticking out of the top of Ron's backpack.

"Oh, these," said Ron, tugging an old pair of Omniculars out of the backpack and handing them to his son. "Yeah, they're pretty cool, your dad got them for me when we went to the World Cup last time."

"When was that?" Jack asked curiously, clutching the Omniculars in both hands.

"A few years before you were even a twinkle in your mother's eye," Ron grinned. "Here, I'll show you how that thing works."

"Mind you share it with the twins," called Hermione as Jack ran back to the railing.

"Hey, there's Neville!" said Ron suddenly, pointing to a place several rows below them. "And Luna, look – I haven't seen them since their wedding. Neville, Luna!" he yelled.

He had to shout more than once; the distance between them was less than twenty feet but yelling over the heads of the tumultuous crowd was like combating the roar of an ocean. Then Luna turned, looking upward dreamily. Her face brightened as she caught sight of them; she beamed and waved madly. Neville's head swivelled to see who his wife was looking at and when he saw Ron, Hermione, and the others he too waved, then gave them the thumbs-up.

"You know that woman?" asked Polly, mouth open. Ron and Hermione shared an amused glance. Luna had not changed; even at this distance, they could see that she was wearing her radish earrings and had entwined what looked like overlarge daisies in her long, straggling hair.

"So when does the match start?" asked Tonks, leaning over to them, just as a thunderous voice boomed without warning around into the stadium, making them all jump.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" came the happy voice of Ludo Bagman. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to the four hundred and twenty-fifth Quidditch World Cup, and the pleasure of our country to be hosting it again so soon! Welcome! It is England and Romania for our final and long-anticipated match, England and Romania – and now, I'll keep you waiting no longer – let the fun begin!"

The stadium burst into applause as the mascot for Romania – a huge, tethered dragon with emerald-green scales and lethal-looking golden horns – reared up on its hind legs and bellowed, its wings beating the air.

"Oh, another dragon? Nice bit of déjà-vu for Harry," said a voice behind Ron and Hermione, making them both jump again. Fred was stood behind them, watching the Romanian Longhorn with interest.

"Where's the golden egg?" added George.

"You two got here, then," said Ron, moving up a seat to make room. "Sell much?" Fred and George had been selling their Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products at the stadium gates.

The twins slid into the chairs with identical grins. "Could hardly get away," said Fred, clapping as the English mascots, a thousand bright blue Cornish pixies, chattered fiercely at the dragon from behind the bars of their huge golden cage.

"And it's the English National Quidditch team!" yelled Ludo Bagman as the first white-robed Quidditch player zoomed onto the pitch to cheers and applause. "Brockby, Bell, Quaich, Harris, Higgins, Wood, aaaand...Potter!"

"Yeah!" cried Jack, waving his little model furiously.

The applause rose to a screaming, ear-splitting climax as Harry shot into the stadium after his teammates, his white robes streaming behind him.

"Wicked," said Ron, watching Harry ecstatically, then settling back in his seat to watch the blue-robed opposing team enter the pitch and get into formation. "Romania – ha! No chance..."


Ron was right; only forty minutes later the score was ninety-sixty to England and Harry was speeding upwards, the Romanian Seeker Pavlenko following twenty yards behind with a look of utter panic on his face. The Snitch was a miniscule glint of gold that the roaring, screaming crowd strained to see. The great dragon bellowed, and the Romanian team slowed to a halt, horror-struck. Harry flattened himself down on his broom to avoid the two Bludgers that the desperate Beaters sent pounding in his direction, and shot up even faster. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lupin, Tonks, all were on their feet yelling, and the children were beside themselves with excitement – then Harry's hand closed around the Snitch and the stadium erupted as forty thousand people stamped and punched each other in ear-splitting euphoria and yelled themselves hoarse...


Afterwards, for what felt like several hours, Harry and his exhilarated, sobbing teammates were squashed in the midst of a huge bunch of photographers and Daily Prophet journalists and bombarded by the pressing, screaming crowd. Ron and Hermione had dumped their sleeping baby with a willing Luna and fought their way through the throng to hug him as he came out of the changing room, his hair and face dripping with Butterbeer and an overcome Oliver Wood weeping on his shoulder; now they stood beside him as he shook hands with and was thumped on the back by what seemed to be hundreds of thousands of people. Soon they were joined by Ginny, Lupin, Tonks, Fred and George, the wildly-excited Jack and the young twins, and many other familiar faces.

"Yeh did it, Harry, I knew yeh'd do it!" bellowed a voice above Harry's head, and he buckled, laughing, as Hagrid's gigantic hand clapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh Harry, I've never been so proud of you!" wept Mrs Weasley as Mr Weasley wrung Harry's hand painfully, his glasses falling off in his delight. "Ron always said you would do it but – oh, Harry!"

At last Harry broke away from the crowd, breathless and drained with excitement, and feeling an intense desire for celebratory time alone with his family and friends.

"C'mon!" he yelled to Ron, Hermione, and the others. "Let's get out of here – Wood can keep the crowd happy – can't you, Oliver?" he added over his shoulder as he scribbled down a few more hasty signatures for the exhilarated crowd.

Wood – who was still clinging with one hand to the gigantic silver Quidditch Cup as though he was afraid it would disappear if he let go – simply sobbed harder and croaked, "Best – damn – Seeker – ever!"

"There's a party ready and waiting at our house," Lupin said in Harry's ear. "And about five tons of Butterbeer waiting to be ingested, though I'm afraid there'll be rather a long walk –"

"I could walk a thousand miles today," said Harry, laughing. He meant it. The adrenaline was still pounding through his veins and he felt as light as air. "What are we waiting for?" he called to the others. "Party at Remus', let's go!"

Luna drifted through the crowd to give the baby back to Hermione and they all squashed themselves into the now-empty changing rooms to take a Portkey over to the Lupin home. Harry lifted his hand to the crowd in a last gesture of thanks for their applause, and disappeared after his friends.

As the Lupins lived in a large, sprawling, and mostly Muggle town, they landed about four miles away in the middle of some secluded fields to avoid being seen appearing out of thin air, and walked the rest of the distance. After the noise and screaming at the World Cup Stadium, the tingling silence of the countryside was almost a shock; in the early evening the air was fresh and cool, and far above, the first stars had begun to glimmer through the pale blue-purple mantle of the sky. It was an exhilarated group that tramped the narrow country lanes that led to the village of Tickleworth, and Harry almost felt as though he were flying. The balloon of triumph in his chest was so uplifting he hardly noticed the aches from the game, and that his hair was turning frosty with dried Butterbeer.

Every now and then they saw fireworks going off in the distance, in all directions, and Harry realised that the whole country was celebrating the first time England had won the Quidditch World Cup for one hundred and fifty-four years.

Almost unconsciously, Harry, Ron, and Hermione fell a little behind the large, chattering group, who parted to let them pass, with many more thumps on the back and rapturous cheek-kissing. Many had come for the celebration: Hagrid, Mr and Mr Weasley, Fred and George, Fleur and her sister Gabrielle, Charlie and Flavia, Kingsley, Luna and Neville, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan with their families...Harry even saw Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott, and Colin and Dennis Creevey, amongst others, in the crowd. Ginny glanced back at Harry with a small smile and walked on ahead with the children to give him, Ron, and Hermione some time together; what with their busy lives, career- and family-wise, Harry saw less of his friends than he would have liked nowadays.

"You were amazing, mate," Ron said for at least the twentieth time. "Pavlenko deserved what he got," he added with satisfaction. The Romanian Seeker had tried to slyly foul Harry several times and then claimed to have known nothing about it.

"I just can't quite believe I've got here," said Harry. The whole day had had a dreamlike quality to him. "I've been imagining this happening for so many years – and now – well – we've won!"

Jack, just ahead, had been listening. "My dad always wins," he said proudly to Polly. "No one's ever beaten him, not even – not even Volmetort."

"Voldemort," Polly corrected him. "He didn't beat my dad, either. He fought too."

"Yeah," agreed Jack reluctantly, unwilling to admit that Harry had not been the only hero of the battle. Then he brightened. "But my dad smashed Volme—Voldetort up before he could beat your dad."

"Do they really know who You-Know-Who was, d'you reckon?" asked Ron. Everyone sobered slightly as the talk took this more serious turn, and the bubble in Harry's chest sank a little as he looked at the children ahead of him, tumbling carelessly along the overgrown path.

"Not really," he replied. "Big nasty wizard that we rescued everyone from, I think is all Jack knows as yet."

"I'm not looking forward to telling our William when he gets older," said Hermione, nodding at her little son, still sleeping soundly in her arms. "He'll have to know at some point, but I'll hate to darken his little world with knowledge of Voldemort and Death Eaters."

"I'll leave it to you to tell to him as a nice bedtime story," said Ron, moving behind Harry so Hermione couldn't thump him. "And hey," he added, suddenly looking taken aback. "Did Will actually sleep through the entire match? Isn't it about time he woke up?"

"Shh," said Hermione. "No." She suddenly grinned sheepishly. "I didn't want him to wake up and start crying during the game, so I – um – put a couple of drops of sleeping potion into his bottle before I fed him."

Harry laughed at Hermione's embarrassment.

"Good thinking," said Ron. "We might've missed something. Hey, did you notice Wood's second save, while you were flying around up there, Harry? Smoothest thing I've ever seen –"

The endless Quidditch talk kept Harry and Ron happy for the first few miles, but as they began to pass closer to clusters of Muggle residences, the conversation slowed and stopped; a few Muggles, hearing the noise of so many footsteps, had already looked curiously out of their windows as they passed by.

"Oh, we're nearly there," said Hermione after a while, peering ahead. The Lupin house – a small, thatched cottage on the outskirts of Tickleworth, backing onto a large, untidy garden with an apple tree and a small pond – was just discernible, cloaked in the evening shadows.

"I'm almost too tired to celebrate anymore," said Harry, yawning suddenly. The walk through the cool, twilight-gathering fields had had a calming effect on his euphoria; it was crazy, he'd just had one of the most incredible days of his life, but it was almost too much –right now he hardly wanted to think any more about the Quidditch match, or relive the more spectacular moments of the game again with Ron. In fact, he could almost just drop down in the dew-flecked grass outside the cottage and go to sleep...

"Harry?" It was Ginny, drawing him away from Ron and Hermione as Tonks unlocked the door. "Harry, I have something to tell you. Come over here a minute."

"What is it?" Harry asked as Ginny pulled him to the side of the house. He looked down at his wife, her face pale and ghostly in the light of the full moon which had come out as they walked the last mile. But though her face seemed ghostly, Ginny's eyes were warm and sparkling even in the near-darkness. Harry only half took this in; he really was exhausted. He suppressed another yawn.

"Well, World-Cup winner, I have some news," said Ginny, then laughed. "Oh, your nerves must be in such a state after today, this probably isn't the best time, but – Harry, listen – I'm going to have another baby."

That woke Harry up.

"You – I – a baby?" he said blankly. "Seriously? Seriously! What, wow, I mean," Harry stumbled, taking it in. "How – how long have you known?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Harry!" said Ginny, laughing at Harry's shock and delight. "But I only knew this morning for sure, and I didn't want to tell you then in case it made you lose your focus in the match today."

Harry took Ginny in his arms and kissed her in reply, his heart bursting with happiness at the news. Another child! Jack was the greatest kid he could have hoped for, but it would be wonderful to have a baby in the house again, and terrific for Jack to have a brother or sister to play with. Harry knew what it was like to be an only child – Dudley had hardly counted as brotherly – and he didn't want that for Jack. In fact, he wanted Jack to have as many sibling playmates as he could wish for. Harry thought of the Weasley clan, still so strong and loving though it had lost two family members in the war; that was what he wanted for his children. Vaguely, a memory twitched in his mind; someone telling him he would live to a ripe old age, yes, and have twelve children...who had said that? Oh, of course – Professor Trelawney. Harry chuckled inwardly as he and Ginny relaxed in each other's arms, silently sharing their happiness. Perhaps that old fraud would be right after all...

"Harry?" Lupin stuck his head out of the door. "Are you out here – oh, sorry!" he said, as Harry and Ginny broke apart and looked round.

"No problem," said Harry, smiling as he came into the warmth and light of the cottage. "Remus, guess what? You're going to be a godfather..."


The celebrations went on long into the night. Everyone wanted Harry to tell them again and again the finer points of the match, although they had seen them all with their own eyes; they pressed Butterbeer after Butterbeer into his hands; they drank Harry's health countless times; and when everyone had got a little drunker, tried to parade him on their shoulders around the living room, despite his protests – until Tonks saw that her ceiling was in danger of being cracked to pieces by Harry's head and threatened to blast everyone outside.

"I'm going outside anyway," whispered Hermione to Ron and Harry. "I need air, it's boiling in here." The little house was so full of witches and wizards it seemed about to burst at the seams, and after the hours of partying it was hot, sticky, and airless inside.

Following Hermione's lead, everyone eventually squeezed out of the little patio doors and into the cool night air. It was a cloudless night, the stars crisp and clear above their head, and the garden was soaked in moonlight. The occasional firework could still be seen glittering in the distance. The shock of the cold, clean air made Harry's head reel a little, but he breathed deeply and slowly his mind cleared. As he stepped further onto the grass, Harry noticed Lupin glance at the full moon with a strange expression in his eyes. Lupin saw Harry looking at him and smiled.

"Six years later and I still feel like the luckiest man on earth whenever I see the full moon," he said. "And I still can't get over expecting to start transforming when it appears."

"Transforming?" piped a small and puzzled voice. Lupin jumped, startled, and looked down to see Jacob at his side. Polly emerged from behind her brother, looking very awake as she stared up at her father.

Lupin looked back at her wordlessly and a brief flicker of some emotion – perhaps fear – flashed through his eyes, before they closed. His face became oddly still.

"You haven't told them?" Harry murmured to Lupin, who shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Tonks, as though she had sensed something was wrong, had come to her husband's side. One glance at him, and at Harry's expression, and she evidently understood.

"Perhaps it's time they knew, Remus," she said gently.

"Is this the best time?" he said helplessly.

Tonks pulled a face, and said, "It's as good as any other."

After a pause, Lupin sighed and squared his shoulders, but seemed unable to speak or look his children in the eye.

"Daddy," said Polly simply. "What's wrong? Why do you feel lucky when you see the moon?"

Finally Lupin spoke, with some difficulty. "Because, Polly," he began, very slowly. "Because the moon used to mean a very different thing to me. I –" he stopped.

"Your daddy owes a big favour to Voldemort," said Harry helpfully, putting a supportive hand on Lupin's arm. "Voldemort accidentally fixed a big problem of his."

"My little furry problem," said Lupin, and at last he relaxed a little. "Polly, Jacob, listen to me –" this was entirely unnecessary as his children were both staring raptly at him already – "I used to be slightly different before you were born. I was once – well, I was once –" he visibly steeled himself – "a werewolf."

The twins looked at their father uncomprehendingly. Werewolves were dark, frightening creatures that had only ever prowled the shadowy edges of their imaginations; how could their dad be, or have been, one of them?

"I was bitten by a werewolf when I was young," Lupin went on, seeming to find it easier to speak now the worst was over. "And every month for over nearly thirty years I transformed into one myself. But the year before you were born, in the final battle against Voldemort, it all stopped."

"How?" breathed Jacob, his eyes bright.

"The night of the battle was a full moon," said Lupin steadily. "And before very long, right in the middle of the fighting, I transformed into a wolf."

Polly swallowed.

"One reason that werewolves are such dangerous creatures," Lupin said carefully, "is that they are very difficult to hurt when in animal form. No chain can bind them for long, for they are unimaginably strong, and curses bounce right back off them. Even the worst curse of all, the Killing Curse, will have no effect."

Polly was beginning to look frightened. Tonks, noticing, said quickly, "But that's where Voldemort helped your dad out; and you know, kids, he was probably the only wizard that ever could have. Voldemort was more powerfully magical than anyone, except for Albus Dumbledore – and his Killing Curses were stronger than any other witch or wizard's have ever been. The one he aimed at your father did not bounce off."

"It penetrated," said Lupin quietly. He was strangely calm. "And it killed the werewolf in me, leaving my true self unharmed. For the first time since I was six years old, I knew what it was like to be fully human again. I was knocked unconscious by what had happened, but I woke up soon after Voldemort's death, feeling better than I had done in many, many years. And that is why I still feel lucky now, when the moon is full." He glanced upward again. The moon itself was beginning to fade, for the beginning of morning was upon them, and dawn breathed softly through the air.

Jacob, standing very straight as he gazed at his father with clear eyes, nodded; and there was only pride in his face, and admiration. Polly looked slightly more unsure, but Lupin held out his arms, and after a second's hesitation she climbed into them. Lupin held her close to him. Slowly, the doubt left Polly's eyes and she gave a little smile. "I guess now I can tell Jack that you're just as good as Uncle Harry," she said. "Seeing as you survived the Killing Curse too."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, your dad stole my glory," he said, sharing an amused glance with Lupin, in whose eyes Harry saw great relief.

Thinking that Lupin would probably want some time alone with his children after this, Harry left him and Tonks and sought out Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. He found them sitting on a dew-damp garden bench, chatting and watching Jack happily playing with Dean, Seamus, and Hannah Abbott's children in the long grass near the pond.

"How do they have this much energy?" asked Harry, sitting down on the arm of the bench. "It's nearly four in the morning. I'm amazed they're not dropping with sleep right now. I'm shattered, and I'm not three years old!"

"Too much excitement," said Ginny. "They're still on a high. Will's sound asleep in Jacob's old cot upstairs, but Jack would never be able to sleep while we're all still celebrating, and it's such an occasion I haven't the heart to take him home yet."

Harry, smiling as he realised that the game the little ones were playing was a re-enactment of that day's match, suddenly remembered the news he'd been meaning to tell Ron and Hermione.

"Hey, talking of children," he said. "You'll never guess what. I got a letter from Dudley last week –"

"You're kidding!" Ron interrupted, looking surprised.

"Yeah, I know – I didn't even know he could write," joked Harry. "But he had a good reason for contacting me. His son, you know, Jeremy – well –" Harry began to laugh.

Hermione looked at him and her eyebrows lifted as she half-guessed his thoughts. "He's not –" she began questioningly, then broke off as she saw Harry grin. "No!" she exclaimed, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Is he really?"

"Is he really what?" Ron demanded, looking from Harry to Hermione, completely lost.

"He's a wizard!" said Harry, snorting accidentally as, not for the first time since he had received the news, he pictured the flabbergasted look on Dudley's face when he realised his son was magical.

Ron's mouth fell open as Hermione, too, started to laugh.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," said Harry, controlling himself. "Apparently he gave the kid a marshmallow, and the next thing Dudley knew it started to grow – and little Jerry was trying to stuff this Quaffle-sized marshmallow into his mouth."

"Eurgh – that's horrible," said Hermione, wrinkling her nose.

"No it's not!" said Ron. "Ha! Brilliant – hey, Junior, guess who you'll be going to Hogwarts with?"

But Jack wasn't listening; he had found a long broken branch under the apple tree and was riding it like a broomstick, making whooshing noises as he ran through the uncut grass. "I'm Dad!" he yelled. "And I see the Snitch – yes! I've caught the Snitch! We win, we win!"

"Jerry's a good kid," said Harry, smiling as he watched his small son leap over a grassy tussock, waving the pinecone that was the Snitch. "I'm still surprised how well he's turned out, considering he has my cousin for a dad. I reckon he and Jack'll get along fine. And you know what? Dudley seems okay with it, too."

"Yeah?" said Ron, interested.

"Yeah," said Harry. "He panicked at first but he seems to have got used to the idea now. My aunt and uncle are furious, but from the look of things I reckon Dudley's proud that Jerry's different from the Muggle kids. He only wrote to let me know, said he'd see me at King's Cross in a few years, when Jerry goes to Hogwarts."

"I don't like thinking of our children going to Hogwarts yet," said Hermione, sighing. "They're still so young but they're growing up so quickly."

"We've a few good years to go yet," said Ginny. "And besides, you know they'll be fine. They might not have Dumbledore and McGonagall but at least they won't have Voldemort hiding in their teachers' turbans, or – or Basilisks wandering around all over the place."

"True," Ron agreed. "It won't be half as interesting. What'll they do all day?"

"Friends, a word!" called Mr Weasley's voice, halting their conversation. The children stopped playing and looked round questioningly.

Mr Weasley was standing in the centre of the garden, slightly thinner and perhaps a little more tired-looking than when Harry had first met him twelve years ago, but otherwise unchanged. He smiled as everyone turned their faces toward him.

"Molly and I will be off soon," he said. "But before we go I would like to make a toast, just one more. We've all had a day we will never forget – Harry least of all – and it has been wonderful celebrating together." He paused. "But I would like to raise a glass to those who could not be with us tonight; those who helped make it possible for this to happen and for our families to be together now."

A murmur of understanding and appreciation went round the otherwise silent garden.

"To absent friends," said Mr Weasley, raising his glass.

Harry reached for a bottle of Butterbeer and lifted it to his lips.

"Right yeh are, Arthur, we can't be fergettin' them," Hagrid agreed, draining his huge tankard of ale in one gulp and nodding sincerely.

They all knew of whom Hagrid and Mr Weasley spoke. Sirius, Dumbledore, McGonagall; and of course, those whom they had lost in the last battle in Hogwarts school. Bill Weasley, killed by Voldemort as he broke the protective spells round the last Horcrux; Professors Sprout and Vector, found under the body of Rabastan Lestrange, no one knowing exactly how they had died; Alastor Moody, who had fallen under the claws of two hulking werewolves; Severus Snape, on whom at least seven Death Eaters had turned when they realised whose side he was fighting for, and who had gone down bravely and silently, killing three Death Eaters before being cursed in the back by Mulciber; and others, many others...

The children looked at the remembering, dawn-lit faces of their parents with wide and uncomprehending eyes, and before long Jack sighed sleepily. Harry looked over at his son, whose eyelids were at last beginning to droop.

"Time to be getting back," he said quietly to Ginny, nodding his head at Jack. He stood up and slipped his arm into hers. "It's been a long day. Let's go home."

When Harry told them he was leaving, Ron and Hermione rose, too, and disappeared into the house to fetch their sleeping child. Harry and Ginny left quietly, giving their goodbyes to Hagrid, the Lupins and the Weasleys. Before the Portkey took them and Jack away to their house in Godric's Hollow, Harry looked around at the relaxed and cheerful gathering of friends. A rush of gladness filled his tired body. Like Mr Weasley, Harry saw the irreparable gaps left by those they had lost; but he thought of some words Dumbledore had said to him long ago, words he had never forgotten: After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure.

And Harry realised that he no longer felt the loss of his friends so keenly, that the scars of his past were healing; he might be no Seer, but he could see the unfolding of many long and contented days in his future, and could know no greater happiness than his life as it was now, together with Ginny. Harry understood, now, that loss was not forever, and that those who had fallen in the war were merely waiting, like his parents; waiting for those distant days when the survivors would join them at last, beyond the dividing veil of death.

FIN.


Ah. I might just type that again. FIN!

Well, the Author's Note and Acknowledgements are on the next page. In the meantime, please review; it's the last time I'll ever ask!