A/N: Howdy people! It's been a delight to read all of your comments the past year, and I am grateful for every single one of them. I know that I haven't replied to most of them, but for this last chapter, I'll try to respond to all of them.

This chapter is short, I know, but I'm not sorry; there wasn't need for anything else.

Perhaps I will write something else on this site in the future, but I probably won't.

Have a good read y'all.

Cheers!

Epilogue

-Nineteen Years Later-

-Tracey-

"Hurry along now!" I said, slamming the door to the car shut. "The train leaves soon Charlie, move your legs!"

My son hurried behind me, clutching the cage with his owl in his arms. I smiled, the cage was almost larger than him.

His father walked behind him, dragging the large suitcase behind him. "You haven't forgotten anything, have you, son?" Neville said.

"No!" Charlie said. "I've told you a thousand times, I've not forgotten anything."

"Good," Neville said.

Platform 9 and was bustling with life and activity when we entered it. Mothers hugging their sons, fathers patting them on the back, and children running around, looking for their mates or wanting to bid a final goodbye.

"I don't see Astoria," I said. "Do you?"

Neville, who was a fair bit taller than me, stretched his neck. "No," he said. "Perhaps she's left already."

"I wouldn't blame her," I answered. After the incident when she dropped Scorpius off last year, I wouldn't blame her if she wanted to leave early.

I sighed. Poor Scorpius.

"Tracey! Neville!" Me and my husband turned around as the voice called out. It was Conor, accompanied by his wife, Martha. Their daughter, Christine was hiding behind her mother's legs, clutching the hem of her robe like it was her ticket to life.

"Are you ready to start school Charlie?" Conor said.

"Yes," Charlie said, looking at his feet. He, too, was nervous about starting the new school.

"Good, you'll do well. . . We saw Astoria and Scorpius earlier, he's sitting at the back of the train."

The adults exchanged a glance the children didn't notice.

I turned to Charlie. "Didn't you hear? Scorpius has a compartment free at the back, you can go and join him, can't you?"

Neville and Conor picked up their children's bags and carried them onto the train, with the kids in tow.

I watched them leave, feeling my stomach tie itself at a knot as I saw my son –my only son– walking away from me, and he wouldn't return, nor for months.

"Have you heard they've hired a new Transfiguration teacher for this year?" Martha said. She, too, was looking after her child.

"Yeah," I said. "Some Australian fellow, wasn't it?"

She nodded. "Yes. . . They say that it's Potter, who has returned to Britain to exact his revenge, and that the headmaster is helping him."

I snorted. "Didn't they say that the herbology teacher they hired after Sprout retired was Daphne Greengrass hidden by polyjuice potion?"

"They did," Martha said seriously. "And I don't know, perhaps it is."

I shook my head. Considering how smart Conor was, I was surprised at how stupid his wife was. She was good looking, I supposed, with a slim waist and almost no wrinkles, despite being in her late thirties.

"You didn't know them, Martha," I said. "If either of them returned, we'd know about it. . . and I don't think they will either. What do they have to return to?"

Martha frowned, and in silence, we waited until the husbands returned with our children.

It was five minutes to departure, and I felt like taking Charlie and returning home. Just thinking about not seeing him the next day made me want to shake with fear, but he was going to be gone for months.

I wasn't ready for that, nor were any of the other parents, I realised as I looked around. But I had left the same way once upon a time, long ago, it was the way of life. Seeing one's child depart through the express was as much of a tradition as riding it oneself.

I hugged my son tight for a long time, breathing in the scent of his hair. "Be careful, Charlie," I said. "Don't go wandering where you're not allowed to, and do your homework on time."

"Yes, mother," he said. "I will."

I knew he wouldn't. Neville embraced him too, before he stepped on the Hogwarts Express. It soon ran out of the station, leaving us behind.

"How will we cope?" I said.

"We can still write to him," Neville said, putting an arm over my shoulder. "Though I don't think he'll reply too often."

"Have you forgotten how you were like when you began Hogwarts? I seem to remember you being a nervous wreck."

Neville chuckled and kissed the top of my head. "He's got more of you than me, he won't be nervous."

"I was nervous too, dear. Very nervous."

The platform was emptying out. "Everyone was, then," he said. "Perhaps that's something everyone is. . . nervous."

-()-

-Charlie-

Scorpius was reading a book with his brow furrowed when we entered. He smiled at us, though it looked forced, when we entered.

"Hello Charlie. Hello Christine," he said. "Excited for Hogwarts?"

We sat down opposite him. "Yeah. . ." I said.

He closed his book. "I will find another compartment," he said. "The two of you shouldn't be seen with me."

"Why?" I said. "You're our friend."

"You'll face enough just because you're her best friend's son, Charlie. You don't need to be seen with her sister's son either."

"What are you talking about?" I said.

"My aunt," Scorpius said. "Tracey has told you about her, no?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes. How Harry Potter saved her and how she disappeared when they were young."

Scorpius smiled weakly. "There's a lot more to that story, Charlie. . . which you will soon find out." He leaned back in his seat. "I don't know what happened either. . . but my aunt killed someone, a former headmaster, I think. . . and people are still angry."

I didn't know what to say. I'd heard the stories my mother and father told me.

About their former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. About my mother's best friend, Daphne Greengrass. About Rowena Ravenclaw, who returned from the dead to save the school. About Harry Potter, who defeated the forces of evil.

Then, according to my parents, he went away because everyone hated him. But according to a book I'd read, he left because Minister Granger said he wasn't allowed to stay. He broke too many laws. . . and killed too many people.

There was also a story my mother told me which I'd never read in any book, or heard anyone my age talk about.

It was the story about Draco Malfoy. The story about how the man everyone hated with their guts inspired the castle to fight against the darkness, and then sacrificed his life to save Uncle Conor and many others.

My mother had told me I shouldn't tell others that story. That some people would be mad, would call me a liar.

"Just keep your head down," Scorpius said. "I think the defence professor used to know my mother –and your mother too, I guess– because he's always nice. Though, I have to warn you, flying class might be a bit of hell."

"Why?"

"It's taught by Professor Weasley. He used to be Minister Granger's friend, I think. . . Let's just say that he isn't shy about mentioning how our parents didn't contribute."

I shrugged. "I wasn't even born."

"Nor was I," said Scorpius. "I haven't even seen all these people people are talking to me about. . . but it's like they're around, like ghosts. And I think they will be so, for quite some time."

-()-

-Hermione-

A scent of roasted turkey spread through the office. I leaned back in my chair and breathed out a sigh of relief.

The meeting with the Hungarian ambassador had gone well, very well. We could expect to see increased trade between the two countries on any day.

As it often did, my gaze landed on a photograph on my desk. It was a picture of the Order, taken on the night of the award ceremony after the Siege of Hogwarts.

I stood in the middle with the large medal, smiling widely. Other members of the Order were present too.

Some had even got posthumous awards; Michael Corner, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin, all for bravery.

There was even a statue at Hogwarts to honour their sacrifice. I smiled.

Despite what he told me, Harry had lost. He had not statue; he had no medal; he had no power.

I did.

I often wondered what became of him after he betrayed everyone the final time. I made sure to interrogate every single teacher who became at Hogwarts, where his old master was still headmaster, but found no trace of him.

I didn't dare ask Rowena Ravenclaw either. She may look twice as old as the first time I saw her, but her purple eyes still made me shiver.

But it didn't matter. Harry's name was in the history books, but he was a side-character; a footnote in the chapter about how I saved Hogwarts from the invading forces.

How I single-handedly defeated Rabastan Lestrange. How I rallied the forces to fight back when all hope was lost. How I figured out that Rowena Ravenclaw would return and prepared for it.

I could see the impact already.

When I walked down the Diagon Alleys, children asked for my autographs and told me they wanted to grow up to be like me. Their eyes were wide with adoration.

No one said so about Harry, or about Greengrass, or about Malfoy. I smiled to myself. The latter was almost gone entirely, the only thing that remained of him was that damned grave his friend made sure to restore no matter how many times I had it destroyed.

But it made little difference: I won.

-()-

-Rowena-

The Great Hall was filling up slowly as the students piled inside. I sat in the headmaster's chair and looked out over the students.

A new year, which meant new problems to deal with. None of them would compare to what I had to deal with when I was young, or during the civil war, but they were problems all the same.

The castle looked as if it had been built yesterday. I prided myself at having kept it in top condition ever since it was restored after the Siege of Hogwarts.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. Not for the first time, I wondered if I made the right decision back then. The plan –which I had worked at for over a thousand years– was gone, and when I died, it would be all for nothing.

I tried to teach the students what I knew as best I could, but I knew there would never be another opportunity like the one I had with Helena or Harry.

Despite everything I'd written down in the book which had once been my horcrux, I knew that a thousand such books wouldn't cover everything. The knowledge would die when I did.

Once, I'd have thought that terrible, but as I looked out over the crowd of children, who were laughing together and smiling, I realised that the price of keeping that knowledge would have been them shaking with fear, or worse.

That made me stand up and address the school. It was time for the next speech, and it was time for the next sorting.

Who knew, perhaps someone would be sorted that very day that could continue my legacy.

I didn't know if it would, and I doubted it, but I knew that it could.

-()-

-Daphne-

The air of the jungle was heavy and humid. I felt like I was suffocating, and the sun scorching us from above felt like fire against my skin. If the trees hadn't been there to shield us, I thought I would have ended it all.

"It's getting late," Jennefer said. "We should make camp and wait until we continue the next day."

She gave me a pointed look. "We might as well start setting the tents up before the boys return."

I sighed and started to work on the mundane process. It was the same every evening, but I didn't really complain.

In the beginning, we'd slept with just the starts over our heads, but that had been torture. Being forced to stare into his eyes, without being able to touch him, because everyone else were around, was torture.

"Do you think it's a long way to go?" I said, as I drove a spike into the ground.

"I have no idea," Jennefer said. "But hopefully they should be able to bring us some news, if they got that lock open."

"Has he ever failed?" I asked rhetorically.

"He has not," Jennefer admitted. "I must admit, Daphne, I have no idea what I would have done if the two of you hadn't come along." She looked at me. "I still wonder why the two of you wanted to work with me, out of everyone."

I smiled to myself. "I'd heard you were the best in your field."

"From who?" Jennefer pressed. "My field isn't a terribly famous one, after all."

"An old friend," I said.

Jennefer shook her head. "Okay, be cryptic then."

We got a fire started at night descended upon us.

"They should be back soon," Jennefer said.

"If they didn't go to another shrine by themselves," I said. "Your brother doesn't have the best influence on my husband, you know?"

"He doesn't," Jennefer admitted. "But if I've understood things correctly, Harry has always been pretty rebellious himself."

I shrugged. "I didn't meet him until he left school, but he defeated Voldemort when he was fifteen, so he must have been quite something back then too."

"Indeed," Jennefer said. "Makes me wonder who taught you everything, if Harry, who was taught by Dumbledore himself can't beat you easily."

I smiled to myself. "Practice," I said, remembering a dinner I had been to long ago. "A lot of it."

"Fine," Jennefer said. "Be cryptic then."

I smiled as I looked inside the fire. I tried not to, but every now and then, I thought back to my past, to my time in another world.

My existence was my final chance, one I'd been given, despite the fact I didn't deserve it, but there I was, living.

"You've earnt quite a bit of money, Daphne," Jennefer said. "It should be enough to retire soon," she said. "How long do you think you will stay?"

My eyes didn't leave to fire.

"I don't know," I said. "I'll have to talk to Harry, we'll decide together."

-()-

-Harry-

My stomach didn't hurt, my right leg didn't hurt, my left leg didn't hurt. My arms didn't hurt and my head didn't hurt. Come to think of it, I couldn't really think of any place where I did feel any kind of pain.

There was a faint knock on the door. "Dinner's ready."

My eyes fluttered open from my afternoon nap. "Coming," I croaked out.

I yawned and stretched, noted the wrinkles in my face in the mirror. I blinked and tried to rouse myself. It had been a long day at work, the pupils of class 8C had been particularly nasty that day.

But I was used to it, didn't mind. At least that class spoke during lessons, they may talk a lot of bullshit, but they were engaged.

I heard mumbling conversations as I descended the stairs of the apartment.

"Harry!" Mary shouted. "Alice is in her room, would you mind getting her?"

I walked to the left as I reached the bottom floor and opened the door to my right. "Alice," I said, knocking on the door. "Dinner's ready."

My daughter was lying in her bed, with a blanket over herself.

I smiled at her and sat down on the bed, making her tear the blanket off. She was clutching a book in her hand.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

She put a bookmark in and closed the book. "It's about a wizard," she said. "A wizard who is fighting a dark sorcerer."

"Oh?" I said. "Is it any good?"

She shrugged and stood up. "Maybe, I don't know."

I kissed my daughter on the forehead. "Your mother has made pancakes," I said. "Go and eat some before your brother gets all of them."

She hurried out the room, almost stumbling on her own legs, and I was about to follow her, when I saw what was resting on her nightstand.

I picked my old wand up gently, like it was sacred. My mind still expected –despite the years– to feel something, but it felt just like any other piece of wood.

I smiled and pocketed the thing. When James had found it a couple of years ago, I had been terrified that he would blow the house up with it. That was until I realised that it wasn't anything special for my children either.

Half the pile of pancakes was gone when I entered the kitchen. Mary placed a kiss on my cheek. "Don't worry," she said. "I saved some for you."

I hugged her close and breathed in the scent of her hair. "Thank you, love," I said. "You're a lifesaver."

"I know," she said. "You'd have starved by now if it wasn't for me," she said as James took another pancake from the pile.

"Be careful, James," I said. "Don't eat too quickly or you'll get a stomach ache."

"Yes, dad." James either didn't listen or didn't care, because he finished the pancake in record time and started on another.

Alice folded her arms and looked at her plate sourly. "Don't we have any raspberry jam?" she said.

I exchanged a look with Mary, who shook her head.

"I'm sorry, dear, but it's out." I took the blueberry jam from its place next to James. "Are you sure you don't want to try this out? Look at James, he's loving it."

"I want raspberry jam," Alice said, folding her arms and raising her nose in the air.

"I know sweetie," I said. "But we don't have any today, I'll make sure and get some for tomorrow."

"I want it now!"

I ruffled her hair, and looked at Mary. I could see her eyes telling me no, but as was usually the case when Alice wanted something, I didn't listen.

I opened the cupboard under the sink and took the jar out. I could hear Mary sighing.

I showed the jar of Nutella to Alice. "Does this work instead, dear?"

She yanked it out of my grasp and emptied half the jar on the first pancake, and, of course, her brother wasn't far behind.

"You never learn, do you?" Mary said, but she was smiling at me.

"Nope," I said. There had been a time when that problem could have been solved by a swish of my wand, and Alice would've had her raspberry jam.

I put my arm around my wife's shoulder and rubbed her back slowly. "How was work?" I said.

"The usual," she said. "Tilly can't seem to shut up about the fact that her husband cheated on her. Jennifer seems to think that every patient is an idiot and Jacksson still believes that the earth is flat."

"So the usual," I said, smiling. "I was thinking we could do something over the weekend, just the two of us."

Mary leaned her head against my chest. "What about the kids?"

"I've spoken to my mother, she said that she can take care of them."

Mary frowned and looked up at me. "Are you sure?" she said. "And she won't take them to that place."

"Hogwarts?" I whispered. "No. They'll stay here."

"Mary bit her lip. "I don't know. . . It's still hard for me to understand what she is."

"I was like she is too, once, you know?" I said. "And don't worry. She raised me, and I turned out fine, didn't I?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Sure," she said. "But the last time we left James with her, he came back with an entire wardrobe of purple clothes."

"She had the tendency to do that," I said. "You should see the set she made for me."

"Okay then, she can come," she said. "Where do you want to go?"

I smiled at my wife. "I don't know," I said. "As long as you're there, it doesn't really matter."

She laughed. "Stop it, Harry, that kind of flirting may have worked when we were twenty, but–"

"But you still love it," I interrupted, smiling. "Don't you?"

She relaxed and buried her head in my chest. "I do," she said. "I love you Harry."

"I love you too," I said.

As I embraced my wife, in the kitchen where my son and daughter were devouring pancakes, I knew, more certain than ever, that I succeeded.

I fulfilled the promise.