16 May 1998 – two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts

Harry retraced his path through the forest. It had to be in here somewhere. He had dropped it right around where he was now that night as he walked to what would have been his death. What should have been his death.

He should have died. Voldemort was, in a way, right. He had let them all die for him, and there was no reason to deny it. Sirius had died for him. Dumbledore had died for him. Moody, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Colin Creevey, and countless others had died for him. Even Snape, in a way, had died for him.

'Every death is on my head,' Harry muttered automatically.

'No, they're not,' Hermione whispered back, taking his hand and giving it a small squeeze. 'Nothing that happened is your fault.'

Harry stopped momentarily and turned to look at her. It had been two weeks since the war's end, but her face still bore an unhealthy colour, pale with a hint of yellow. She was still hurting, Harry knew, and this walk through the woods, retracing the steps that Harry had taken to die, was certainly not helping things.

'Are you sure you want to stay here?' Harry asked gently. 'You could…go back to the castle…'

Hermione shuddered a little. 'And see where everyone…where everyone…' She cleared her throat. 'No, I'll stay with you.'

Harry nodded and they slowly started forward again, hand-in-hand, carefully examining the forest floor for any trace of the Resurrection Stone among the hundreds of pebbles in the forest. They all looked identical, nonmagical, insignificant…

'Are you sure you couldn't just use a Summoning Charm?' Hermione asked after several minutes of walking in silence.

'I don't think so. It's a powerful magical object…the Cloak never responded to Summoning Charms. Why should the Stone?'

'You have the Elder Wand,' Hermione reminded him. 'Try it with that.'

Harry sighed. 'I don't want to use it…'

Hermione stepped in closer, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist. 'You're trying to find the Stone so you could destroy it,' she said. 'And you want to do the same with the Wand. So why not use one to find the other?'

Harry nodded and, a little reluctantly, drew the Elder Wand from his pocket and raised it. 'Accio Resurrection Stone,' he whispered.

As expected, nothing happened. Harry lowered the Elder Wand and sighed dejectedly.

But then, there was a rustling noise coming from the forest floor about twenty metres ahead. The grass and the fallen leaves were shifting. A small black object shot into the air and flew towards Harry. Surprised that it had worked, Harry reached out with his free hand to catch it, only to miss. The stone hit him on the right cheek, bouncing off and falling to the ground at his feet.

'Smooth,' Hermione chuckled softly as Harry massaged his wound. It was surely going to bruise now. As if he needed another one…

Harry shot her a glare, bent down, and picked up the Stone. The moment it was in his hand, he was overcome with a sudden urge to use it. He wanted to see his mother and father again, see Sirius and Remus again. Maybe even Tonks, or Fred, or…

That list went on towards infinity, with no existing limit.

'Give it to me,' Hermione said tenderly, but there was no denying that that was an order. She reached out with her right hand. Harry gave the Stone one last wistful glance and complied. Hermione stowed the stone in her pocket and looked at Harry sadly.

'I know,' she whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. 'I know you want to…but…remember what Dumbledore said? About how it does not do to dwell on dreams?'

Harry sighed. Tears were beginning to come to his eyes, and he did not stop them. That was one of the beautiful things about being with Hermione. He did not need to hide himself with her, not anymore. She would not judge him, not even when the rest of the world did…

'I wish I could just…apologise,' he choked. 'To everyone…the people I never did apologise to. Fred, Tonks, Colin Creevey, everyone else.'

Hermione slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him tightly to her. She did not say anything – not that there was any real need to say anything. What was there to say, after all? One could only say the same things so many times before they became empty and meaningless sounds.

'Ready to go?' Hermione asked into Harry's chest. Harry took several deep breaths, steadying himself, and nodded.

'Let's go.'

They walked in silence from the forest. Harry retraced the path that Hagrid had taken that fateful predawn, and his mind was once more clouded by the terrible visions and sounds of the war, of destruction, of death. But a small ray of light shone through the clouds, for he now had a goal, something that he wanted done. Something that was not cyclic mourning.

On their way down to the main gate, they passed Ginny and Ron, who had come up to the castle for…something. They looked like they wanted to stop and chat, but Harry simply gave them a curt and rather cold 'Good morning' and proceeded on his way. Ron looked a little miffed, and Ginny a little disappointed, and Harry did not really know how to feel.

A small part of him felt guilty for neglecting them, but he had no mind to fight against the sense of alienation from them that he had felt since the end of the war. They had their own grief that they needed to deal with as a family. He…well…he was damaged, far beyond repair. Hermione was being kind, naïve, or both, in choosing to stick with him. But he was glad for her support. She was the only one with whom he could relate. They were, in essence, both war orphans, after all. Hermione's family was in Australia, without their memories and not knowing that they had a daughter. And Harry's…well…

And where Ginny was concerned, Harry could feel nothing. Something had broken between them in the year that had elapsed from their breakup to now. There was no fire, no longing, and – Harry realised with a surge of guilt – very little thought about her at all. Her and the rest of the Weasleys were grieving, Harry rationalised, they needed their space, not him coming in and throwing the family into disarray. But a part of him also knew that that was not the full answer.

They reached the Hogwarts gates. 'Let's apparate to the Three Broomsticks,' Hermione said. 'And use the Floo from there.'

Harry took her hand and they spun on the spot, reappearing in the middle of the pub a second later. The popular hangout had been destroyed in the battle. Half the roof had fallen in, and the bar counter had been completely smashed to dust. There were shattered wood planks and shards of glass everywhere, and Harry had to be careful to not trip or destroy his shoes as he made his way gingerly across to the Floo grate.

Madam Rosmerta was nowhere to be seen, and Harry left a few sickles next to the fireplace to pay her back for the Floo Powder. He lit a fire with his wand, threw a handful into the flames and called, 'Ministry of Magic, Minister's Office!'

He stepped through the Floo and landed on his arse in Kingsley's office. By the empty desk and extinguished lamps, he was obviously out. Hermione arrived far more elegantly a second later and helped him to his feet.

'The Unspeakables aren't going to give us any trouble, are they?' Hermione asked cautiously as Harry dusted himself off.

Harry shrugged. 'I hope not,' he murmured. 'Kingsley did clear our visit beforehand, we shouldn't have a problem'

Hermione chuckled a little as they walked out of the Minister's Office. 'I mean, they wouldn't be too…bothersome…when we throw irreplaceable magical artefacts across the Veil, would they?'

'Maybe a little,' Harry replied, smiling. 'We don't have to tell them what we're throwing across the Veil, though. But…are you positive that it would even work? Casting the Wand and Stone through the Veil, I mean.'

Hermione nodded pensively. 'I'm almost sure,' she said. 'According to what I've read about it, the Veil…it's more than a barrier between life and death. It's a barrier between existence and non-existence, too. I'm not too sure on how the magic exactly works, but that's supposed to what it does.'

'Hermione, Hermione,' Harry teased. 'You don't know something? You must be slacking.'

Hermione smacked him across the chest. 'Shut up, Harry.'

Harry smirked. 'Is that the best comeback you can manage?'

Hermione gave him a glare and muttered something that sounded awfully like a swear under her breath. They got into a lift and descended to Level Nine and walked up to the fateful door. The memories of the last time he had been here coursed through his mind. It was the day that Sirius had died…the day that he had led five kids into a trap…the day Hermione almost died…

Hermione gave his hand a comforting squeeze, which seemed to pull him back to reality. He grabbed the Cloak of Invisibility and threw it over both of them. He took a deep breath and reached forward, pushing the heavy door open.

They entered the hauntingly familiar circular room. Harry forced himself to not flash back again to what had happened here almost two years ago, instead concentrating on trying to picture the Death Chamber in his mind. The room spun, and the door directly across him glowed for a moment. Hermione squeezed his hand firmly and tugged him forward.

Hermione pushed open the door, and Harry was immediately hit by a cool draught. He looked down and saw with revulsion the dais, the Veil. This very place was where Sirius had died…

'Are you sure you want to do this?' Hermione was the one to ask now. 'We can always come back another day…or I can come by myself…'

Harry shook his head, swallowing to control his emotions. 'We're so close. Let's just get this…get this done.'

Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him gently. Then, she took the lead down the steps onto the chamber floor. Harry could hear the flapping of the Veil in the eerie, non-existent wind as they got closer. This was Sirius's grave, in a way, Harry realised, but there was no tombstone, no marker, no buried body. Nothing but a severe, unemotional piece of cloth fluttering in a nondescript, worn-down, and, if not for magic, altogether unremarkable stone arch.

The duo stopped in front of the Veil, and they stepped out from under the Cloak. Harry drew the Elder Wand from his pocket and gave it one last look. A surge of power flowed through his right arm like an electric charge, but Harry ignored it. The Deathstick promised unbeatable power as the legends told and as he had seen, but Harry did not want any of it. Nothing was going to bring back what he had lost. Nothing, not even the Elder Wand, was going to bring back Remus, Sirius, or his mother and father… The Elder Wand was worthless to him.

He took a deep breath and shared a determined look with Hermione. She smiled slightly, nodding in approval. Harry brought his arm over his head and threw the Elder Wand as hard as he could through the arch. The moment it crossed the plane to the ethereal world beyond, the most powerful wand to ever exist in the history of magic vanished, sent away from the world of the living and existing, likely never to be seen again.

'It worked,' Hermione breathed, in awe.

Harry nodded dumbly. 'It did.'

Hermione extracted the Resurrection Stone from her pocket. She looked it over for a long second, then held it out to Harry.

Harry shook his head. 'I've destroyed one. You destroy the other.'

Hermione thrust it out more forcefully. 'You're supposed to be the Master of Death. It'd be fitting for you to do it. Maybe…maybe there's also some obscure magic about the Hallows that only the Master of Death can destroy it…it's better to be safe than to be sorry, isn't it?'

'Okay,' Harry murmured, taking the stone from her. She glanced at him nervously, perhaps out of concern that he was going to use it, but when Harry searched within himself, he found that he harboured not even a shred of such an intention. Somehow, he suddenly understood that whatever farce, whatever pale imitation, that had come out of the stone that night two weeks ago was never going to make him happy. There was truly no way to raise the dead.

Harry raised his arm, closed his eyes, and determinedly threw the stone into the arch. He watched without wistfulness as the little black stone sailed in an arc and impacted the plane of separation. It impacted in a small burst of light, then disappeared for good.

Suddenly, the Cloak in Harry's hand gave a strange jerk. It seemed to be tugging itself towards the Veil. He gripped it tighter, but that only served to intensify its movements. He looked at Hermione with a confused expression at his face. The Cloak had never reacted to any spell, any enchantment, any magic, before.

'It seems like it wants to…wants to join the others,' Hermione whispered. 'It wants to…reunite with its…family.'

'Reunite with its family,' Harry muttered. He eyed the Cloak in his hands. It was silly, a part of him thought. As mystical as the Hallows were purported to be, they were still inanimate objects, incapable of thinking and having no will of their own. The Cloak could not possibly 'want' to reunite with the other Hallows, he thought, mentally scoffing a little at the whole idea. Besides, it was the only physical reminder, the only real memento, that he had from his father. He could not conceive bringing himself to let go.

But on another level, how could he so casually negate the magic of something that he knew nothing about? He briefly wondered how he would feel if he were trapped like how he wanted to trap the Cloak. How would he feel if he and Hermione were forcibly separated right here, right now, and he never saw her again? The answer was simple, of course. He would rather die, rather fade out of existence and be rendered to dust, than to live that sort of half-life.

He looked at the Cloak one last time, having made his decision. This chapter of his life – the 'Boy-Who-Lived', the 'Chosen One', the 'Defeater of Voldemort' – was over. The Cloak was just another reminder that he did not need of the war, the death, that he, his friends, and especially Hermione, had endured because of who he was.

He did not need the Cloak to remember his father by. The ones that he loved had never left him, and never will leave him, no matter what. He was sure of that. A physical object, no matter how sentimental it was, no matter who it had come from, would never be the anchor that kept those memories alive. All he needed was, as Dumbledore had said long ago, already in his heart.

'Go on,' Harry whispered to the Cloak. He released his grip on it, and it fluttered out of his hand all on its own. He watched it as it flew gracefully towards the arch, watched it as it crossed the invisible gate between worlds, watched it as it disappeared.

He turned to Hermione, who had an odd look in her wet eyes. Harry could read the admiration, the pride, but there was something else in her look that gave Harry a fuzzy, warm, tingling sensation that made his stomach squirm.

'I'm proud of you,' Hermione whispered, leaning in and planting a kiss on Harry's cheek. As she drew back, Harry caught a glimpse of a slight pink blush.

There was a flash of bright white light. Harry's head snapped back towards the Veil just as the light faded. Then it pulsed again, illuminating the entire plane of the arch. It dimmed, but a second later, it flashed again, even brighter.

'What's going on?' Hermione gasped. 'This isn't – agh!'

The arch lit once more, the light pouring out of the structure far brighter than it had been the previous few times it had pulsed. Harry's first instinct was to protect Hermione, fearing an impending explosion or an outburst of magic. He grabbed her and turned away from the Veil, putting himself between it and her. Even facing away from the Veil, the light was so bright that Harry had to close his eyes and shut them tightly to avoid being blinded.

'Is this supposed to happen?' Harry shouted.

'No! I mean, I don't know!' Hermione yelled back. 'I…well…you know what it looked like when S-Sirius fell through. The Hallows…they must be releasing some sort of magic!'

The light suddenly extinguished, and Harry slowly uncovered his eyes, letting his pupils return to their normal dilation. When he could see again, he gave Hermione a once-over to make sure that she was all right. Satisfied that she was safe and whole, he turned back towards the Veil.

His jaw dropped.

Three people stood in front of the archway.

On the left, a man with long, dark hair. He was dressed in the exact same clothes that he had gone through the very Veil in more than two years ago, but Sirius Black looked more handsome than he had ever been when Harry had known him. The toll that Azkaban had taken on him appeared to be all but erased.

In the middle, a man who looked almost exactly like Harry. James Potter looked just like he had when Harry and summoned him a fortnight ago with the Resurrection Stone. His hazel eyes settled on Harry as a smile crossed his face.

On the right, an exceedingly beautiful woman with long, dark red hair whose eyes were a familiar shade of green.

'Mum?' Harry breathed.

His mother's eyes settled on him. Suddenly, Harry realised that his arms were still wrapped around Hermione, and felt oddly self-conscious, but Lily beamed, her eyes glistening in happiness.

'Harry,' she whispered. 'It's so good to see you again, and so soon.'

Lily held out a hand, and Harry walked gingerly up to her and reached for it. When their hands touched, Harry felt real, warm, smooth skin, nothing like the ghostly imitations that had emerged from the Resurrection Stone.

'Mum,' Harry croaked. 'H-How?'

Lily smiled mysteriously. 'You brought us back.'

Harry did not know what she had meant, but he did not care anymore. Abandoning all other thought, he leapt forward and threw her arms around his mother. He squeezed her tightly and, never mind that so many people were watching, never mind that they were standing in the middle of the Department of Mysteries, began openly weeping into her shoulder.

Lily rubbed his back soothingly and did not say anything. Harry finally withdrew himself from her embrace and studied his mother's face. It was just like he had seen in the Mirror of Erised years ago, just like he had seen come out of the Resurrection Stone. That thought suddenly gave him chills. Was any of this real? Or was it just an imagination, another cruel trick that his mind and magic was playing on him?

'Are you real?' he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Lily smiled again. 'As real as you are.'

Harry's heart leapt. 'And…and you'll stay?' he asked, almost begging. 'You won't go back?'

Lily shook her head. 'You brought us back, we're here to stay.'

'I…I brought you back?'

James came up behind Lily and put one hand on her shoulder, using the other to ruffle Harry's hair. 'You exchanged the Hallows for us,' he said. 'Three Hallows, three lives. Can't you see?'

'I…I thought I was just destroying them,' Harry muttered. 'The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone…and then the Cloak tried to join the others…and I just let it…' He looked up at his father. 'Wait, how do you know?'

James chuckled. 'We have seen the great things that you have accomplished, Harry,' he answered enigmatically. 'We could not be more proud of you.'

Harry nodded, realising that perhaps he was not going to get any clearer answers from his parents. He removed his arms from around his mother and turned to Hermione. She had walked up to him in the time that he had spent conversing with his mother and father, and was standing right behind him with a beautiful, tender look on her face that somehow made Harry's heart melt and his face heat up.

'Hey,' she whispered.

Harry smiled back, then looked between her and his parents and godfather. Sirius an odd look of triumph on his face, while James seemed to look proud about something. Lily, meanwhile, was smiling as mysteriously as she had been before. Harry could not help but feel that they seemed to know something that he did not.

'Uh…where do we go from here?' he asked awkwardly to no-one in particular. 'I mean…the entire wizarding world thinks that the three of you are…uh…dead…what do we do?'

'We should speak to Kingsley,' Hermione answered. 'I mean…if anyone could sort it out…it would be him, wouldn't it?'

'Kingsley?' James asked suddenly. 'Kingsley Shacklebolt? That slightly stuck-up, slightly too rule-admiring Ravenclaw Prefect from our year? That Kingsley?'

'Uh…I guess,' Hermione said, sounding confused. 'He's the Minister for Magic now…uh…'

James whistled. 'Well, at least I showed him who was boss when it came time for selecting who was Head Boy,' he murmured.

Hermione nodded along. 'Um…okay…but I think we should go see him. No one else could clear up something like this besides him. Harry?'

Harry nodded awkwardly. 'Yeah, I think Hermione's right. Mum, Dad, Sirius?'

'I trust Hermione's judgement,' Sirius said. 'And Kingsley's a good bloke, Prongs. He'll work things out.'

James and Lily nodded their consent, and Harry and Hermione began leading the three of them up out of the Death Chamber. As they walked, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and took his right hand.

'How do you feel?' she asked in a whisper.

Harry shrugged. 'Happy, I guess. Confused, shocked. I don't know how I feel, Hermione.'

Hermione nodded and did not say anything more, opting only to give Harry's hand a gentle squeeze that seemed to calm slightly the tempest of emotions raging inside him. They made their way back through the circular room and all squeezed in to one of the lifts. As they crammed inside, James whispered something into Lily's ear that Harry did not catch, but which oddly made his mother giggle.

'It…it's really you, Mum?' Harry asked as the lift shot up, still in disbelief that he was somehow standing with his once-more living parents and godfather.

Lily turned her head and smiled warmly at him. 'It really is me, Harry.'

They got out of the lift and made their way towards the Minister's Office. The lights were on and the secretary was at the door. Kingsley must have come in while they were down in the Department of Mysteries.

'Is the Minister free?' Harry asked the secretary.

The wizard looked up. His eyes widened when he recognised Harry and Hermione. 'Y-Yes, Mister Potter,' he stammered. 'Yes, he's in. I'll call him right now.'

The secretary rose shakily from his desk and went to knock on Kingsley's door. 'Minister?' Harry heard Kingsley's voice murmur something back. 'Mister H-Harry Potter is here to see you.'

'Come in, Harry!' Kingsley called. The secretary looked positively ready to faint at his boss knowing Harry on a first-name basis. Harry rushed past him, being glad to be out of his presence.

Kingsley gave Harry and Hermione a small smile when they entered. 'Hello, Harry, Hermione.'

'Hello, Kingsley.'

'What is it that I can do for you?'

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, both trying to push the task of explaining the situation to the other. Finally, Hermione resorted to cheating, giving him a pouting puppy face, and Harry felt his defences crack.

He took a deep breath. 'We…you know where we were this morning,' he began.

Kingsley nodded. 'The Department of Mysteries?'

Harry took another deep breath. 'We…we went to dispose of the Elder Wand through the Veil,' he continued. 'And together with the Resurrection Stone…and my Cloak of Invisibility.'

Kingsley's jaw dropped open. 'You destroyed the Deathly Hallows?'

Harry nodded nervously. 'Yes, we did. But…uh…that's not what we wanted to talk to you about.'

Kingsley forced his mouth shut. 'I'm listening.'

'When we…when the last Hallow went through the Veil…something happened…something strange.' He exchanged another look with Hermione, and she gave a slight nod. 'Three people came out of the Veil.'

Kingsley gasped. 'What? How? Who?'

'Sirius,' Harry replied in a whisper, opening the door wider so that Kingsley could see into the outer office. 'My father, and…my mother.'

Everyone stared at everyone else for a long time, unsure of what to say or what to do. It was James who finally broke the awkward silence.

'Kingsley,' he said. 'Forgive me for acting like a prat all of fifth year. Especially that…Sticking Charm episode.'

Kingsley did not respond for a long second. Then, most unexpectedly, he began to laugh.

'You are the real James Potter, then?' he roared through his guffaws. 'Ah…well, I have to say, you gluing me together with that girl Slytherin Prefect that happened to fancy me was an excellent prank from my point of view.'

'Yes, yes, but most importantly, did the stoic, rule-abiding Prefect get a snog out of it?' Sirius ribbed as James cackled. Lily looked like she wanted to hex the two men, and perhaps even the Minister, too.

'A few, in fact,' Kingsley said, chuckling, before returning to seriousness.

'So, according to Harry and Hermione, you three…you three came across the Veil?' he asked. 'Back to life?'

Lily nodded, swallowing hard. 'When Harry and Hermione disposed of the Hallows…something happened,' she said. 'Something seemed to…tug us back to the world of the living. I don't know how to describe it. It was…strange.'

'Your souls were brought back and given a body?' Kingsley pressed, eyes wide in awe. 'What exactly happened?'

Lily opened her mouth, but she could not produce a sound, no matter how hard she tried. 'I don't think I'm able to tell you,' she said finally, her face having grown red.

Kingsley nodded, seemingly unsurprised. 'The magics of life and death are, perhaps, not meant to be understood,' he muttered. 'No matter how many Galleons the Department of Mysteries demand to try to research it.'

'Looking back, it seemed like yesterday when I fell through the Veil,' Sirius breathed. 'The time in between…it must have happened…but it doesn't feel like it.'

Kingsley turned to Sirius with a sorrowful look on his face. 'Sirius, I'm sorry,' he said quietly. 'I'm sorry that I wasn't able to save you…'

Sirius shook his head. 'No, you had to fight your own battle,' he waved it off. 'It doesn't matter now, anyway, seeing as…well…'

'But if you didn't – '

'There isn't really a point in discussing it, Kingsley,' Lily interjected. 'We came back…somehow…but we came back. There's no reason to dwell on "what-if's".'

Kingsley nodded jerkily, swallowing hard. 'You…yes, thank you, Lily. Welcome back, I guess I should say.'

Sirius grinned roguishly. 'Yes, it is quite good to not be dead.'

Kingsley looked like he did not know whether he should laugh or frown. 'Well…uh…moving on…do you have a place to stay?'

Lily, James, and Sirius exchanged a look amongst themselves. 'They can stay at Grimmauld Place,' Harry supplied. 'I…well…it's Sirius's house…but I guess I own it now…they can stay there.'

Kingsley nodded, seemingly satisfied by the solution. 'Good, good. And do you have wands?'

Sirius, Lily, and James felt around in their pockets, each withdrawing their hands empty. They shook their heads.

'That's fine. Ollivander's shop just re-opened two days ago,' Kingsley said. 'The Ministry is subsidising all wand purchases for the time being, so money is no issue. One last…problem. The Daily Prophet will hear about this eventually.'

Harry felt a lead weight sink into the pits of his stomach. As if the Prophet was not already abusing Voldemort's downfall to sell copies enough! Of course, they would jump at a chance to cash in on the 'miraculous return' of the family of the 'Boy-Who-Lived turned Chosen One turned Man-Who-Conquered'.

'Can't you suppress the Prophet?' Harry moaned. 'Fudge did it all year when Voldemort returned…'

Kingsley shook his head. 'That would not be setting a good precedent for independence of the press, Harry,' he replied in a friendly but serious voice. 'We want to be pushing through reforms, not backsliding into the old ways for our personal convenience.'

'You could just let them publish the story of what happened and nothing else,' Hermione suggested. 'It'd get out eventually, anyway. The story doesn't need to get into specifics about anything. You could keep them guessing.'

'What Hermione said,' Sirius told Kingsley. 'It can't be kept under wraps forever, after all.'

Kingsley nodded pensively. 'Yes, I agree…well, we can stop the Prophet from publishing any unfounded rumours or slander if it comes to it.' He looked towards Harry and Hermione. 'I'm probably cutting into time you could be spending together,' he said with an oddly suggestive tone. 'If you have nothing else you would like me to do, then I'll see you both hopefully sometime soon.'

He turned to Sirius, James, and Lily. 'However you came back…it's beyond incredible to be seeing you again.'

A/N: I suppose I'm going back to my roots a little with this story, a shorter, mostly fluff story with Harmony developing immediately post-war, reminiscent of Life and Fate. For those of you who have stuck with me since when I published that story almost half a year ago, this story is dedicated to you. Thank you for all your support, encouragement, feedback, and kindness.

Specific thanks go to maschl for being my wonderful alpha for not just this story, but also for The Flame of Resistance, Hindsight, and Historical Fiction. Thank you to matteo caputo for the beautiful cover art. Also thank you to SweetShireen for bullying me into writing an entry for the Jily Meets Harmony challenge in the HMS Harmony Discord and for helping me bounce a couple of ideas. If you have not joined the Discord server and are interested in joining, use the link discord . gg / 2GcXw8R