As a seventy-four year old Alice closed her eyes for the last time, she was unaware that a hand was gripping hers. She didn't know that it was her son holding her hand. She didn't remember him as the man she constantly passed rappers to. She certainly didn't know that that same man also cried as he stood at a man's funeral eight years ago. A man she had once loved.
Alice didn't even know her own name. That is, until she opened her eyes once again and found herself standing in a foggy Olivanders. Everything came rushing back as she stumbled slightly, the impact of it overbearing.
"Ally?" the same man who Neville had hosted a funeral for said. "Alice?"
"Frank?" she found herself whispering.
"Ally," he hugged her and rapped an arm around her waist. He was a twenty-one year old version of himself and, looking down, she realized she was about twenty-one also.
"Neville?" she asked.
"Neville grew up great," Frank said. "He got married and had two children, Alice and Frank."
Tears fell from Alice's face as she thought of the son she never got to know. "He's… happy?"
"Yes."
"Good."
"We should go," Frank gestured to the closed door. Alice couldn't see past the fog to make out what was behind the windows.
"We should. Will I get to watch over him?" Alice asked.
"Forever."