Potter47
Epilogue
Today
"Everything happens to everybody sooner or later if there is time enough."
Shaw
Harry was falling, falling, falling, and no one could save him, Ginny could not save him, could never save him--and in fact, she very much did not want to.
Because Harry was falling, falling, falling in love with Ginny all over again, in a very different way than he had the first time. Before, it had been so very sudden, so shocking, the new feelings thrust upon him just as the Bell Jar had been; now, the world was moving slower, and he felt he could breathe properly for the first time in years. It was, in fact, as though a great bell jar had been lifted from Harry's life, and he was free from it at last.
"Gin," he had said, that night, when they had returned from the Ministry. She'd looked up at him, curious, and he nearly faltered under her gaze. "Erm... thanks."
"For what?" she said, and now there was a slightly dark look about her face. "I didn't really accomplish anything, did I? You were all right, you hadn't..." She trailed off.
Harry shook his head. "I meant... thank you, for stopping me."
She didn't say anything.
"I almost... I almost did it, you know?" he said. "I almost just... killed him. The words were practically on my tongue... if you hadn't shown up just then..."
Ginny shook her head, but he persisted:
"You saved me, Ginny. I could feel myself... falling--to his level, you know? To the point where I could really do it, I could do THAT... and you... you saved me."
She shook her head again, but didn't know what on earth to say to him, and just hugged him tightly around the neck, and he held her back more tightly than he'd ever held anything before--more tightly than he had gripped the Philosopher's Stone, or Gryffindor's sword, or the Snitch after a particularly exhilarating game of Quidditch--or his wand, in the middle of a duel. After a minute, he realized that surely, he must be squeezing too tight; surely, she couldn't breathe properly--but she did not complain. She just held him, and he held her, and they held each other, for a very long time.
Time passed as it normally did, much to everyone's great relief. Soon, the summer was nearly spent, without assistance by time-alterations of any sort. Everything that had happened at the Ministry, and beforehand, had faded into memory, that diary they all carried about with them, its loose pages sometimes falling out without any care given at all to pick them up.
On the last day before the start of term, Ginny awoke at precisely six fifty-seven in the morning. She stared at the clock on her bedside table for a few moments before it registered that she had, for the first time all summer, managed to avoid the alarm, which typically roused her with a far-too-loud-for-seven-in-the-morning song by the Beatles at exactly six fifty-eight. Not wanting to tempt fate, she hurried out of bed, threw on her dressing gown, and placed a pillow over the clock so she couldn't hear it from downstairs. Then, she positively fled the room, and tip-toed down the stairs, smiling to herself as she escaped.
It seemed she was the only one awake, so far, which surprised her; usually, her mum was already in the kitchen by this time, and she wondered what had prompted the lie-in for a moment before she remembered it was, in fact, the last day of summer, and her mother had had a very busy day yesterday, making sure everything was ready for the trip to Hogwarts.
Ginny poured herself a glass of her father's iced tea (which Arthur had found fascinatingly oxymoronic) and sat at the kitchen table, sipping. She attempted to think about the eminent return to school, but she knew it was fruitless; her mind continued to wander back to the promise she'd made herself, weeks ago, after they'd returned from the Ministry:
I'll tell him before we go back to school, I will, I'll really tell him.
Ginny had, in all of the hubbub surrounding the end of Voldemort, and Harry's return, managed not to ever really tell anyone what had gone on while she was unconscious; it hadn't been particularly difficult, as hardly anyone had asked. He had, however--Harry had, that very night, and she'd avoided the subject.
I'll tell him, Ginny said to herself again. I'll tell him today.
A strange gurgle went through Ginny's stomach at that thought: today. It was so finite, so short-term. It left little room for the procrastination Ginny had enjoyed so much over the summer; there was no room to push it off for tomorrow, anymore. It was the end of the road.
Ginny took another sip of her tea, and shook her head futilely. She didn't know why it was so hard. It was Harry, after all--she loved Harry, and he loved her...
That was it, though. Deep, deep, down, she was scared to tell him about the Chamber, because that little, foolish part of her was worried he would think she was crazy, that he would realize he didn't love her after all. That was being crazy, Ginny knew, but she couldn't help herself. It had all happened so quickly, after all...
Just as quickly, however, Ginny was startled out of her chair by a sudden knock on the kitchen door; the tea sloshed in the glass dangerously, but did not spill. Ginny took a deep breath, to calm herself, and went to the window--who on earth could be calling at seven in the morning...?
She blinked as she saw a dirty-blonde witch with an eagle atop her head standing outside the kitchen door.
Of course, thought Ginny. Luna...
She swung the door wide, and Luna appeared surprised to see her there, as if she had not expected anyone to respond to her knock--but then, it was difficult to tell when Luna was surprised, anyway.
"Hello, Ginny. What are you doing up so early?"
Ginny quirked an eyebrow at her friend.
"Erm, sitting in my kitchen," she said. "What are you doing here so early?"
Luna smiled brightly. "Well, last month, Ronald turned up at my place just around this time in the morning, and I wanted to try it."
She poked her eagle-topped head in the doorway.
"Is Ronald awake, by the way?"
Ginny shook her head. "No, he'd never be up this early--"
"Luna!" said a shocked voice from the other kitchen doorway, the one that led to the stairs. "What are you doing here?"
Ginny turned around, her moot words tasting slightly off in her mouth. "Ron? Why on earth are you awake--?"
"The bloody Beatles music blasting from your bedroom had something to do with it--"
"Well, it's the last day of the holidays," said Luna, answering Ron's question from beforehand, "and I wanted to spend it with you." This seemed to Ginny an unexpectedly normal, romantic thing for Luna to say, until she continued: "I was thinking we could finish cleaning my attic."
"...oh..." said Ron, clearly less than enthused at this idea.
"Or not," said Luna, somewhat sadly, yet still nearly-indifferent-sounding enough to still be Luna. "We don't have to, we could just sit around and play with Chessy or something, but I did promise my Dad, and as today's the last day to do it..."
"Er, no, Luna, it's fine," said Ron, and Ginny's jaw dropped. "Of course I'll help. Don't want your dad... er... sneezing all over the place..."
Luna broke into a great big grin, and charged across the kitchen at Ron, her eagle squawking loudly as she enveloped the rather petrified Ron in a hug.
Ginny smiled, somewhat surprising herself; maybe Ron wouldn't make such a horrid boyfriend after all.
Somehow it had been decided that (as it was the last day of summer, and it felt silly for everyone to go their separate ways) not only Ron and Luna would be cleaning out Luna's attic, but Ginny, Harry, and Hermione as well--who apparently had come to feel bad about her uninvited intrusion into London Lovegood's living room the previous month, and wanted to make it up to him.
They all walked the not-too-distant distance from the Burrow to Luna's home, and it would have been quite the inconspicuous walk if Luna had not insisted that both she and Ron wore their respective animal hats. The lion and eagle were, apparently, not entirely accustomed to being in such close quarters with each other, and growled and squawked noisily at each other every few moments, which caused several residents, who were enjoying the last day of the holidays from their front lawns, to stare as the group passed.
London greeted them quite cheerfully at the doorway, flamboyant as Ron and Ginny had ever seen him, and he greeted Ginny particularly enthusiastically:
"Oh my dear Gin-Gin, I haven't seen you since you were this..." He hesitated, quirking his mouth shrewdly to one side. "Well, actually you haven't really grown all that much, have you? You were about... here, maybe..." And he put a hand at the level of her mouth, wavering in the air to judge a proper measurement. Ginny blushed slightly--it had been over four years, after all.
"What are all of you doing here?" asked London.
"I've recruited them," said Luna happily. "We really will get the attic finished today, Daddy, I'm sure we will."
"Marvelous!" said London, grinning. "Now, who would like some Pop Tarts?"
"Oh, yeah, definitely," said Ron, rubbing his stomach. "I'm starved."
The others eventually agreed as well, as none of them had had a proper breakfast, and after they had eaten, they headed up towards the attic.
"OK, everybody," said Luna. "So far we've gotten through everything on this side"--she gestured to her left--"so now we've got to get through everything over here"--and she gestured to the right. "We've got empty boxes over here for everything that's loose... Just take each box and show it to me, and then we've got to get it a bit more organized..."
"I could help with that," said Hermione. Luna blinked, and looked at her. "Well," she continued, "I'm usually pretty good at organizing things..."
Luna nodded, after a moment. "All right," she said. "Me and Hermione will work on the organization system and such together."
The last word hung in the air for a moment, and then they set off to work.
Empty boxes were filled and filled boxes were opened and shown and placed in new homes, this one over here, this one over here, and on and on. It was amazing how very many things were able to fit in the attic; perhaps it had been magically expanded.
Behind a mountain of small boxes that seemed to each hold one individual piece of wax fruit, Ron found something rather unusual.
"Luna?" he said, calling her over. "What do I do with this?"
And he grasped a dusty yet rather fabulously painted electric guitar by its neck, holding it up so she could see, as she walked towards him. Luna blinked once again, when she saw it.
"Um," she said, "I don't know. I didn't know we had any guitars..."
"I'll take it downstairs," said a muffled voice, and they turned round to see London Lovegood appear behind them, wearing a mask over his face to protect him from the attic. He came over and took the guitar, along with the small amplifier on the floor beside it, and walked away without another word.
"That's odd," said Luna, quirking an eyebrow.
Harry and Ginny had been working together in a different part of the attic for a long while, and with each passing minute, Ginny grew more nervous. Today was passing by just as quickly as every other day had, and still, she was no closer to telling him...
"Are you OK?" Harry asked, suddenly, pausing in the middle of lifting a large box from a pile. His arms faltered slightly, before he had a proper grip.
"What?" asked Ginny, shaking her head to clear it.
"I said, are you OK, Gin?" repeated Harry. "You look like something's bothering you."
Ginny swallowed. Why had he suddenly noticed? Something had been bothering her for ages and now he decides he's going to be observant... Perhaps she just looked particularly bothered today, since she was.
"I'm... fine," she said, hesitating just a bit too long between the words."
"No you're not," said Harry, and he placed the box on the floor, gesturing for her to take a seat. He chose another sturdy-looking box for himself, and sat beside her. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Well, nothing's wrong, really..." said Ginny, beating around the bush. "I just..."
"What?"
She let out a sigh. "There's something I've been trying to... to say for awhile now."
Ginny saw a flash of fear in Harry's eyes as she said it, and she quickly clarified: "Nothing like that," she said. "I love you, Harry, I could never break up with--"
"Good," said Harry, swallowing hard. "So... what's up?"
She hesitated, again, and then: "You know, Harry... when I was... unconscious?"
Harry nodded quickly. "Of course I know, Gin, it scared the life out of me--"
"Well, I... I didn't just black out," said Ginny. "I... I went somewhere."
Harry blinked. "Not like... not like last year, when I saw you dad get bitten...?"
"Oh, no--not like that. I mean... I think it was in my head, but it happened before, too. You remember when we were at the Riddle House, and Voldemort had me, and I... I conked out, then, too? It happened that time, as well..."
"What?" said Harry. "What happened?"
Ginny took a breath.
"I went... to the Chamber. Of Secrets. Well, obviously, what other Chamber would I mean...?" She shook her head again. She began to speak a lot faster: "And in the Chamber, there was... Tom was there, but it wasn't Tom, it was me. And I was there, as well, me when I was younger. And they were... parts of me. Tom was the evil in me, I think, and the younger me was my innocence or something but then I left the Chamber and I was in Hogwarts and there were other parts of me, too, and I thought it was just in my head but it felt so real... you must think I'm so crazy--"
Harry's mouth had fallen open at some point during her ramble, but he didn't get a chance to speak, for the next moment, Luna was beside them.
"Of course you're not crazy," said Luna. "Why didn't you just tell me about all that? You saw me there, obviously, I could have told you you weren't crazy..."
Ginny blinked. "What? That was... that was really you?"
"Who else would it have been?" said Luna, quirking her head to the side. "Somehow, you must've gone into Logica-Land, obviously..."
"What?" said another voice--Hermione's, appearing over another large cardboard box. "Ginny went to--"
"Logica-Land, yes," said Luna.
"No I didn't," said Ginny. "It... it was Hogwarts, it must've just been in my head..."
"I'm flattered, but I don't believe I'm in your head," said Luna pointedly.
"Oh... right..." said Ginny. "But... why on earth would that place have been in... Logica-Land?"
"Wait, when did you first... go there?" asked Hermione.
"At the Riddle House," said Ginny.
Hermione nodded, biting her lip. "That was when Voldemort had you around the neck, yes? And he made you pass out?"
Ginny nodded, amazed at her recollection.
"Well, then that sort of makes sense, doesn't it?" said Hermione.
By the looks on the other people's faces, she gathered that it did not, and so she explained:
"Well, Voldemort created Logica-Land," Hermione reasoned, "through his messing with time. And Logica-Land exists to balance everything out, to the way it was supposed to be; to give things he has messed up as a result of that, a second chance. So when Voldemort had you around the neck, he must have attempted to do something to you, to perform a spell that would trap you in your mind, and... and away from Harry," she was gaining momentum as she went, as things were falling into place in her mind, "because clearly he didn't like the two of you being together, as he'd seen you together when he went back, and that made sense, didn't it? As you ended up defeating him together..."
"Is this going to start making sense?" asked Harry.
"Yes," said Hermione, nodding. "He must've done that spell, and set it up to knock you out again when he was ready to move forward with his plan to kidnap Harry. That's why you were knocked out that day, you know? But somehow Logica-Land intervened, and took you into itself, trapping you there, instead, so that you could get out of the Chamber and into the rest of Logica-Land, the rest of Hogwarts... yes, it all makes so much sense, don't you see...?"
Harry and Ginny both stared at her, at a loss for words. Luna too did not have any words, but at some point in Hermione's ramble, she had begun to stare at some point in a distant corner of the attic and hum quietly to herself, so she did not seem quite as dumbfounded as the others.
"When you die, Hermione," said Harry, slowly, "can we take your brain out and give it to the Department of Mysteries? I think it really needs some sort of studying..."
"Erm, guys?" said Ron, suddenly, poking his head out from behind a pile of boxes. "Where did you all go?"
"Nowhere," said Luna, resuming alertness at once when Ron appeared. Then she spoke again: "I do believe we all could use a bit of a break, don't you, Ronald? Let's go downstairs..."
And she began to make her way towards the stairs.
When she emerged into the upstairs hallway, however, a strange sound met her ears, and she stopped short, causing Ron walk into her, and then causing a bit of a traffic jam on the ladder-stairs to the attic.
"Hey Jude... don't make it bad... take a sad song... make it better..."
The words were no strangers to this house, obviously, but Luna was quite sure it not the wireless singing, this once. She dashed down the hallway, and then down the stairs to the living room, leaving the others far behind.
"Dad!" she exclaimed, catching sight of her father; he had the old electric guitar around his neck, and he was playing it with a strange, assured grace that seemed very foreign to him.
He looked up at her, and the guitar let out an off-note before falling into silence.
"Oh... hello," he said, rather sheepishly.
Luna blinked, looking genuinely surprised--and that was quite a facial feat for her, as she tended to look surprised all the time, of course.
"Why... why didn't you ever tell me you could play guitar, Dad?"
London shrugged, again looking rather embarrassed. "It... never came up?"
"Yes it did," said Luna. "Just last month, I told you that you should start up London and the Englands, and you didn't say a word--"
London shook his head. "No, I could never do that," he said. "I... I'm rather surprised I can even still play. It's been a very long time, Luna."
He hesitated, and then said: "Your mother and I, Luna, we used to... we had a band, back in school. Beatles covers, of course, you know how we both love the Beatles..." He hesitated once more, perhaps realizing he had referred to Cynthia in the present tense, but he did not correct himself. He looked down at the guitar in his hands. "We used to love it. Summers, we'd play every day, I'd sing for Paul and Ringo, she'd sing for John and George. My brother used to play drums... He had an awful singing voice, though, 'could never keep a tune... always pausing in all the wrong places..."
London trailed off, realizing he had gone off topic.
"But why didn't you tell me?"
"It was a long time ago," said London simply. "Your mum and I never really thought about it too much... a shame, really..." There was a pain in his voice again, like there always was when he spoke of Cynthia.
Luna reached out and took hold of the body of the guitar, from where it still hung from London's neck.
"...could you teach me?" she asked, very quietly.
London smiled a tight sort of smile.
"Of course," he said, taking the guitar strap off of himself and draping it around Luna. "Now," he said, taking hold of her left hand, "this hand goes like this..."
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny watched this scene unnoticed from the stairs, before sneaking away into the kitchen silently, to leave the two alone.
Harry and Ginny and Ron and Hermione arrived back at the Burrow just as the sun was setting. It had been a long day--spent mostly in a cramped attic amongst old dusty things that did not seem very summery at all. Part of Harry wished they had spent the day playing Quidditch, just so it would have felt like summer, but then, they had played Quidditch nearly every day before, and today--today had been different, yes, today had been something different from all the other days in the summer, something new, something that could be remembered distinctly.
Ron had retired early to his room, clearly worn out from his early awakening, which left Harry, Ginny, and Hermione sitting in the garden of the Burrow, watching the sun finish its descent. There was something strange in the air--some fresh scent that Harry felt he could breathe in forever and never grow tired of. Perhaps it was the smell of a fresh tomorrow on the horizon--perhaps it was Ginny's perfume. Either way, Harry didn't mind.
"It's really over, isn't it?" said Hermione suddenly. Her voice had cut into the air rather harshly, and it seemed like she'd been meaning to say what she'd said for a long time, as though the words had been building up inside her and had just finally burst forth.
"I guess so," said Harry, nodding. "It is."
"It feels sort of wrong," said Ginny. "It feels as if we should... as if something's missing, d'you know what I mean?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah..." He hesitated, and then the words that had been within him for ages lept out in a rush: "It feels like Dumbledore should give a speech. Or explain everything, like he always does."
This was something that none of them had really talked about, since that night. No one had wanted to mention Dumbledore, no one had wanted to bring him up.
"Well he did," said Hermione, sounding uncomfortable. "He did give a speech. In the Ministry, before he..."
"Yeah," said Ginny, shaking her head. "But that wasn't a proper Dumbledore speech, not what they had in the papers..."
"Dumbledore's supposed to make things make sense, you know?" said Harry. "That's what he's there for..."
"Well, yes, I suppose. But that's just what he was saying, wasn't it?" said Hermione. "That some things will never make sense, no matter how hard we try to make sense of them. Some things are meant to remain a mystery."
Ginny shook her head once again, feeling oddly helpless. "But what was he thinking? Just... just walking through the Veil, like that..."
"Well, that... that I think I understand," said Harry. "Kind of. He knew that it had taken me to Logica-Land... and he knew that there was that tower, there, with all those letters, and that book, and everything. I think he wanted to see what answers he could find there."
"But what if it didn't take him to Logica-Land?" said Ginny. "What if he's--you know--like everyone says he is--?"
"He knew what he was doing," said Hermione firmly. "If you were there, you could tell, he knew exactly what he was doing. I suppose he thought that was a justifiable risk. A chance he was willing to take."
"I don't think he would have minded, either way," said Harry. "I mean, if it took him to Logica-Land, then great, he could figure out some of the riddles, the mysteries, the enigmas and everything... but if it didn't, that'd be all right too, for him. Just the next great adventure, he'd say."
"I wish we could just know for sure, though," said Ginny.
Harry shrugged. "I reckon that's one of those mysteries."
The sun was gone completely now, and the world was dark once again. Today had nearly turned into yesterday, and tomorrow into today, and soon, today's yesterday would be gone just like the sun.
They sat in silence for a long while, and then, finally, Hermione stood, stretching.
"We'd best get to bed," she said, heading for the door to the Burrow. "We've got to wake up early tomorrow, for the train."
Author's Note: Thank you all so very much for coming along with me on this journey, this Yesterday Sequence, which has taken me nearly four years to complete. I began writing Living inside Yesterday on December 7, 2003, and I finished this epilogue on July 17, 2007. It has been... quite the ride, and I am forever grateful to everyone who has stuck with it for the long haul--I know that has been tough, at times. I am a completely different person than I was when I began this story, when I had just barely turned 13, and it's played an incredibly large role in my life ever since. I am rather in shock that I've managed to actually complete it--it has always felt as though it would always be there, hovering over my head, urging me to keep writing the next chapter. But it is over now, just as the Harry Potter series itself is about to be over, and my life is being shoved in a very different direction.
I'm reasonably sure that, with the release of the seventh book, I'm going to be leaving the Harry Potter fandom. I will of course finish my other two current stories, Disbelieving in Trees, and my book seven parody, beforehand, but after that, I truly think I'm done. A spare plot bunny may hit me once in awhile, but that is all--I feel like this part of my life is closing, and a new part is opening up. I'm going to be concentrating on original fiction, hoping to write an actual novel one of these days, and be published, some day in the future. (You'll hear from me if that happens, I'm sure. D)
I'd like to especially thank Dennis (wvchemteach) who has been by far my most consistent reviewer over the years, and my voice of reason where these fics are concerned. He's helped me through quite a few writing crises, when the narrative has dwindled into insanity, and he's been a good friend, to boot. Thank you so much. D
And I believe... that's that. Please, please, please let me know what you think, let me know what you've thought of the Sequence in general. If you have any questions, I'll try to answer them as best as I can; it's over now, so there aren't any secrets left to hold back. It's all yours.
Your loving author,
Potter47
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
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