Last chapter... in March. But better late than never.
December 25: 2084
0 days until Christmas…
If a Muggle in Godric's Hollow had passed by the town's churchyard that frigid Christmas night, he or she might have seen an elderly couple kneeling in the fresh snow.
No one would have found it strange; people visiting relatives who had passed on were an ordinary sight during the holidays.
But the two people were anything but ordinary.
If you watched closely, you might see the silver-haired woman lay a wreath of blood red flowers on the ground. Except that she hadn't been carrying a wreath of flowers.
The two said little, just stood there at the double tombstone, their backs bent whether from reverence or age, no one could tell.
The ancient, weathered man lingered for a moment at the grave as the woman stood at the kissing gate, patiently waiting for him. Decades ago, his snow white hair had been a youthful jet black, his shaking and spotted fingers once capable of the most delicate of motions. All he had left in his old age were his startlingly green eyes, which filled with tears as he murmured, "I'll be home soon, mum."
He pulled his scarlet-and-gold scarf closer around his neck and retraced his steps between the rows of headstones. At the gate, he stole a last glance at the red flowers still propped up against the white marble.
The woman quietly slid her mittened hand into his as they continued down the street, past the war memorial, and into the shadowy unknown of a smaller alley.
And a choir started singing in the church, the melodies floating towards the stars, a song both hopeful and bittersweet.