I sit down at my computer one last time to work on this story. It's a sad, nostalgic sort of feeling; I'm finally writing the ending. After a year and a half of working on this it, I'm pulling it all together and putting and end to it all.

This chapter has a lot of italics in it, and that wouldn't be a problem except that sometimes the italics don't carry over when you upload a document. So if there's something you think should be italicized, then it probably is… originally. So, here it is…

Hobey-ho, let's go.

Chapter 50

The World That Lived

The last blossoms were falling from the trees, and green was everywhere. The hot sun was disappearing for the day, hovering on the distant horizon. Spring was over, and summer had arrived in a flurry of leaves and green grass and heat.

There was a lone figure walking slowly up a gravel road towards a black fence. The fence surrounded an expanse of green grass, out of which jutted many old, faded tombstones. The man lifted the latch, opened the gate silently, and slipped inside. He knelt tenderly in front of one of the headstones and laid a small, fresh lily beside it.

Not very many know why I picked today to come here, the man thought, gazing at the simple headstone. Only you and Remus and Ron and Hermione. It's one of the days that stands out most prominently in my memory. It was in your third year, the year that we first met and you accused me of betraying your parents. The man glanced sadly towards another headstone that sat a few feet away, one shaped like a prism lying on its side. You had no idea how much that hurt me. But when I told you what really happened, you didn't shun me like the others had. You believed me. And you risked your life to save me from a fate worse than death, a fate that would have caused me to suffer until the day my body ceased to function. He smiled. You reminded me so much of James. So noble, so determined. Suddenly it seemed like I had my best friend back. Molly wasn't that far off the mark when she accused me of treating you like you were your father.

The man leaned back and gazed at the summer sunset that cast the sky into hues of yellow and orange and pink. You have no idea what you did for us, Harry. It didn't happen immediately, but slowly and surely, we've recovered from the years spent in the terror of Voldemort's reign. You saved the wizarding world. I don't know how you feel about that, but every time I hear your name mentioned, my chest puffs out a little more in pride.

It's been hard. Voldemort's death didn't solve everything because there were problems in the wizarding world that sprang up without his help. Remus still faces terrible discrimination, though he has gotten some of his rights back. And Tonks still loves him…He grinned reminiscently. That's all he cares about. She's pregnant again, you know. Their little girl, Andromeda, is already two. She calls me Uncle Sirius, which makes me want to laugh and cry all at once because that's what you learned to call me just a month before Voldemort attacked your house.

Six years is a long time, Harry. It's not the same without you. No one's the same. The Weasleys are a whole lot quieter than they used to be. Fleur's death was just the beginning. Charlie's behavior—he had been hit by the Imperius Curse, did you know that?—devastated them. Then the revelation that Percy was a Death Eater. And then, in the same night, you and Ginny and Arthur died. It took Ron a year to recover from that—and that was just to the point where he would eat; he's still solemn and silent a lot of the time—and even Fred and George didn't handle it very well; their store closed for nearly six months after that one fateful night. That was a real blow, Harry. Arthur and Ginny and you. Bill was hurt, but at least he recovered…

There's a headstone for you on the Hogwarts grounds. That's the one that attracts all the tourists. We put this one here next to your parents, in a very obscure place, so that we could have it to ourselves. I guess that sounds kind of selfish, but… to the ones who really knew you, this is more than just the place where the Great Harry Potter vanquished the Dark Lord. It's the place where we saw you last, the place where our best friend lived out his last minutes. It's personal for us.

The man pushed himself off the ground. The three tombstones that were lined up side by side bore the names Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, and Lily and James Potter. Sirius' vision blurred with, and he looked away.

Then he left the graveyard, shoulders hunched, walking into the fading sun.

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Oh Harry, I wish you could see…

It was spring. The flowers were in full bloom, and the buds on the trees were just beginning to burst with blossoms. The last vestiges of winter were fading away with the remains of the snow that bordered the roads, and the air was finally growing warm.

Remus Lupin knelt in front of the tombstone and brushed away the dirt that had accumulated there over the winter. It was a simple one, a round marker made out of granite with the name Harry Potter inscribed on it, underneath which were the words Friend and Mentor. His body wasn't actually here—they had no idea what had happened to his body—but it was where they all came, at least once a year, to remember…

I have another daughter, Harry. He smiled bitterly. I never thought I'd be a father, but here I am with two little kids who are the joy of my life. We named our second one for your mother. Lily. Tonks wasn't so happy about it—she says that Lily Lupin will be a very easy name to make fun of—but she gave in eventually, after the baby went two weeks without a name because we couldn't agree on one.

I chose today to come here because, even though you don't know it, this is the anniversary of the first time you said my name. Alright, so you said "Wemus," but close enough. James was so proud. You were only about nine months old. Then they went into hiding, and I only saw you once more before that Halloween. The next time I saw you, you were thirteen years old and you had fainted because a Dementor had forced you to recall your worst memories. I remember the shock I felt at first, seeing you, because I thought—just for a moment—that you were James. You looked so much like him.

Remus sighed as he crouched beside the tombstone. I saw you for the first time and I never dreamed I'd lose you. I had no idea what was in store for you. I tried to protect you, as much as you didn't want protecting. I saw as the rest of your mentors fell around you, and I understood why you were so averse to it—you didn't want me to die as well. That touched me, but it wasn't about to stop me. I would willingly have performed your final spell in your place and let you live on. You deserved a life where you could live in peace, after nearly eighteen years of struggling, a life where you finally didn't have to worry so much.

That night was torture for all of us. When we realized you were gone, that was only the beginning. We found Arthur's body first, then Hagrid's, then Ginny. Hagrid, solid, unfazed, always-going-to-be-there-for-us Hagrid; it was almost harder to accept his death than yours. And Ginny. Percy explained everything that happened that night, before we all arrived, in court. He still has three years of his sentence to serve, but I think he's truly sorry. When Bokonovsky was put in after Rufus Scrimgeour, Percy remained his assistant, and he was slowly drawn in.

Ginny. Fiery Ginny, impish Ginny… she was dead. Sirius told me about that scene he walked in on, where you were kissing each other, and he told me about how he thought you looked so much like James and Lily, and that made me cry, more than I've cried in years.

Sirius, after twenty-two years, finally saw his brother, but he was dead. I think that must be how Voldemort figured out that you had the Horcruxes—he kidnapped Regulus and forced it out of him. It crushed Sirius, but I think it was just the straw that broke the camel's back; he started falling apart when he realized you were gone. He's much better now, but I don't think he'll ever really be the same.

You have no idea how much it's changed, Harry. Everyone's grown up. Neville's an auror—can you believe that? Neville!—like his parents, and Hermione's teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts. And Ron… Ron is a Healer. I don't know what he wanted to be before, but as soon as you and Ginny and his father died, he was resolved on being a Healer.

Tonks told me I had to be home by lunchtime or she would make sure my daughter never wanted to see me again. Usually she's joking when she says stuff like that, but I wouldn't want to take the risk—I love her too much.

He stood, running a hand through his hair. Goodbye, Harry. You can't know how much it hurts me—hurts all of us—to look around and know that you're not there. Even now, after six and a half years, it still hurts.

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The earth was alive with resplendent browns and oranges and yellows, and a crisp, clear wind whipped playfully through the colorful trees. The streets were covered in fallen skeletons of the yellow and orange leaves, which danced around in the breeze, vibrant and alive. Autumn was underway.

Only Ron knows why I picked today of all days. Everyone else thinks it's because October thirty-first is the day you and your parents were first attacked, the day that Lord Voldemort gave you that scar on your forehead. For me, it's something different. That Halloween feast in our first year, the one you came looking for me when you realized I was out there with the troll. That day when Ron finally cast the Levitation Charm correctly.

The day that we became friends.

Oh, Harry. You had no idea how much that meant to me. Being the best in the class sets you apart, and my only other friend was Neville, dear, sweet Neville who was never very good at anything except being a friend. You and Ron were the last people I would have thought I'd end up befriending, and yet, it all fit so perfectly.

I told you two years ago that we were married, Ron and I. He had just finished Healing school, and I had been offered the post as Transfiguration teacher. Professor Lasley was a Death Eater, you know? That's how the Death Eaters got into the school twice during our second year. She even admitted at her trial that she had sent you a faulty spell, posing as one of your students, that was meant to kill you. It didn't work, apparently. Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher, is the new headmistress, and she's asked Remus to return to his Defense Against the Dark Arts post, but he refuses every year. He knows what kind of outrage would follow if a known werewolf got a teaching position at Hogwarts.

Well, I'm taking this year off teaching. Why? Because I'm going to have a baby. I, Hermione, am going to be a mother. Can you believe that, Harry? There was no debate between us; if it's a girl, we're naming her Ginny, and if it's a boy, he's going to be Harry.

Ron says he likes to remember me in our fifth year because that was the year I finally directly opposed the teachers by helping you to set up the D.A. I've changed so much since I first met you two, and most of it has been because of you and Ron. I don't know how to thank you. Most people, those who didn't know you, revere you for your final act, for your last spells, for the moment when you finally vanquished Voldemort. But that's not what I think of when I think of you. That's not the most important to me. You touched my life more by being my friend for seven long years, and that left a far more lasting impact on me than the few moments it took you to finally defeat your lifelong enemy.

I'm glad it's over, but we paid a steep price. Half of the Order was killed in that final battle. Arthur Weasley and Hagrid were just two of the ones who would really matter to you. I'm glad neither you nor Hagrid ever knew the other had died; it would have devastated you both. Every moment of that battle is burned into my memory, from the time I Disapparated and appeared in Godric's Hollow to when Remus stood up on a pile of rubble and demanded that the Death Eaters surrender because their master had been killed. What he didn't say was that Harry Potter had died as well. When the world realized that, I thought it would go into mourning, but it only gave most people more cause for celebration; now you were a martyr.

But not us. The defeat of the darkest power in a century hardly seemed like a good thing in light of what we had lost. The Weasley family was devastated. Ron had trouble eating for a year, and Bill went to America and didn't come back until just a few months ago. It's been hardest on them, I think. Ron's lost his sister in law, his father, his best friend, and his sister, and one of his brothers is serving time in Azkaban for joining Voldemort. Mrs. Weasley took it very hard, but she's done her best to stay strong throughout it all.

No one misses you as much as Ron and I do. We grew up with you, and then, suddenly, you were gone. Life must go on, but we'll never forget you. You were too much a part of our lives to simply move on without pain and without memories.

It's Ron's turn now. He waited outside the cemetery to let me have a chance to talk to you. He gets pensive and quiet whenever we come here, but I suppose I can't blame him. I love you, Harry.

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Ron watched as his wife laid a bundle of flowers beside the smooth, round gravestone and walked slowly towards the gate. He kissed her briefly, and then he took a place between two headstones, sitting on the grass.

I'd never thought I'd lose either of you, let alone both of you in the same night. It was never real until that night. I'd seen others die, others even as closely related to me as Fleur, but their deaths still seemed unreal, as though I had never really known them in the first place. That night, I lost my father, my sister, my best friend, and one of my brothers. Percy wasn't dead, but he was as good as. Or worse. I never really came to terms with the fact that he joined You-Know-Who; I never liked the arrogant prat, but I never thought he'd actually be a Death Eater, either. We thought Bill was going to die—he was hit by a spell that nearly killed him. He's fine now, though. He just got back from America. He's thirty-two now, but he can't seem to settle down.

As much as I hate myself for it, sometimes I wish You-Know-Who had kept on living, and we'd been able to keep you and Ginny and Dad. I know it's selfish, but I can't help it. It was not a price I paid willingly, Harry. The world rejoiced when the news got out that Voldemort was dead, but those of us who knew you couldn't even crack a smile. No one else understood the sacrifice you made.

Sirius finally gave up and had Grimauld Place torn down, and he built another house on the property. Hermione and I live there during the summers, when she doesn't have to work, and we'll be there this year, too, now that she's having a baby. I'm going to be a dad, Harry. I wish mine were around to see his first grandchild. Mum's happy, though I think she would be ecstatic if Dad were here to share it with her. Fred and George offered to hold a baby shower for Hermione, but she declined; I guess she knows them too well.

When people look at me, they see a responsible adult. But that's not what I want to be. I want to go back to our third year and sneak around underneath your Invisibility Cloak with the Marauder's Map in hand. I want to creep down the to kitchens and gorge ourselves on pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs. Don't tell Hermione this, but half of me doesn't want to be a father—the half of me that's still a kid.

Ron sighed. I know I'd rather have you back, but you don't know what you did for this world, Harry. Everyone seems so full of life again. No one's worried that they're going to be murdered if they step out of their doors, and life is back to how it was the first time they thought You-Know-Who was dead. Except this time, it's permanent. It's no longer dreary or dull or dead. You've turned it into a world that lives.

You were once the Boy Who Lived, Harry. I was jealous once because you were so famous. But that time passed with our fourth year, and I saw how much trouble and pain it caused you, and, though I no longer wanted your life, I would have willingly traded mine for yours to spare you the pain of living it. Oh, Harry, your life was full of so much pain, and yet you bore it without complaining. You had your faults, but I think you were stronger than any of us, even Lupin, who's always referred to as the epitome of forbearance.

I miss you, and I'll never be able to replace you. Ever. The world will move on and forget, and you'll live on in history as the great martyr who died to save the world from the Dark Lord. You'll have books written about you, scholars who study you, and a hundred years from now, Professor Binns will give his students notes on you, and there will be History of Magic exam questions on you. The memory of your deeds will be preserved forever in stories and books.

But the memory of you lives only in our hearts.

--THE END--