Epilogue

Autumn seemed to arrive quite suddenly that year. The mist from the stationed locomotives seemed to linger in the air that much more due to the chill. Along the thoroughfare between Platforms 9 and 10, the steam now parted, to reveal a family of five – both parents and three children - pushing trolleys with a clear sense of both direction and purpose. The youngest, a daughter, was tearfully clutching her father's arm, the whimpers emanating from her just on the edge of a small child's sob.

"Astoria Lily," Harry admonished gently. "It won't be much longer before you'll be going to."

Astoria wiped her nose noisily on her sleeve. "Two years," she sniffled. "I wanna go now!"

Harry's ears picked up on the raised voices carrying forward and suppressed a sigh: his sons had resumed the argument they had started in the car.

"No, no, I won't! I won't be in bloody Slytherin!"

"James, give it a rest!" Daphne huffed, though from how her ice-blue eyes now flashed, Harry could tell his wife was hurt by their youngest boy's rather vehement denial. It was more perceptiveness – indeed, sensitivity – than James showed, for either his brother or his mother.

"I only said he might be, Mum," the boy pointed out. "There's nothing wrong with that. He might be in Slytherin…."

But James caught his mother's hairy eyeball and fell silent. The five Potters now rolled to a halt in front of the barrier that led to Platform 9 and 3/4s. Daphne kept her head on a swivel, maintaining a sharp watch for any Muggles. Eyeing the barrier, Harry noticed how his middle child, Albus, appeared nervous; dropping Lily's hand, he overlaid his fingers over the boy's, smiling encouragingly.

"Together," he whispered. Father and son both charged the barrier, trusting that Daphne would shepherd James through while also attempting to comfort a crestfallen Astoria.

Harry and Albus emerged on Platform 9 and 3/4s. There sat the Hogwarts Express, gleaming in the crisp sunshine. Almost immediately, Albus tried to crane his neck over the rest of the throng here, even hopping every now and again.

Harry smirked, amused. "I'd put you on my shoulders, lad, but you're ruddy too big for that now." Behind him, he could hear his wife and James and Astoria hurrying to catch up with them.

"Uhhh…. Where are they?!" Albus bemoaned.

"We'll find them," Daphne assured.

As if on cue, some of the mist from the locomotive parted, and Harry narrowed his eyes. He nudged his son.

"Oi! I think that's them, Al."

The mist was now revealing a family of four, standing alongside the very last carriage. Albus broke into a run with his trolley.

"Hi," the lad breathed, looking immensely relieved.

Ronald Weasley II, looking smart in his Gryffindor Quidditch robes, beamed at him.

"Potter. Daphne," Percy dipped his head in polite acknowledgement. He seemed too busy puffing out his chest with pride, and when Harry got a better look at the man's son, he could see why: a golden badge was glittering on the youth's chest.

"Prefect?! I say, Ronald! Good show!"

"Isn't it, though?" Percy drolled, clearly finding the prospect Elysian. "He'll have two whole compartments to himself, and have jurisdiction over at least one-sixteenth of the entire school." Harry smirked at how Percy could be so jazzed about anyone having control over one-sixteenth of anything, but never let his mockery rise above that. The last surviving child of Arthur and Molly Weasley might be a bit of stuffed shirt, and he may have made some mistakes, but Percy had been through much in his life. Plus, he was good to Hermione. The worst that could be said was that the couple threw the most dreadfully dull dinner parties – parties that would have given the Slug Club a run for its money – but that was neither here nor there.

Hermione now crossed in front of her son, carefully straightening his robes as well as the badge on his chest. "Packed your jumper?"

"Yes, Mother…." Though named after his uncle, Ronald was more or less a clone of his father, with dashes of his mother thrown in.

Attempting to blink back tears, Hermione hugged her son around the neck. "Gonna miss you…."

"There, there, dearest – it's all right…." Percy eased his wife and son apart, stooping to give Hermione a comforting kiss on the mouth. Harry noticed how Al made a face. The Boy Who Lived decided to break the tension, turning to his surrogate nephew.

"If you root for any other Quidditch team besides Gryffindor, even when you're not playing, we'll disinherit you. But no pressure."

"Harry!" Hermione squawked.

James and Ronald both laughed, but Albus and Ronald's little sister, Monica, appeared solemn. Hermione's daughter was also still too young to attend Hogwarts, but at least she had a commiserating friend in Lily. The girls would be ready for the off as first years in two years time. Harry recalled with fond amusement those months in which his wife and his best girl had been pregnant together. While the experience of nesting hadn't made either woman closer, it had afforded Daphne and Hermione a greater understanding of one another.

"Will your mother be by, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I should think not! Eileen is still in Muggle primary school herself." Harry thought of his baby half-sister. It was…. unique, to have a sibling who was younger than his own children, but Lily and Severus, reconciled and married at last, were happy, most especially to have a child of their own. It was truly a second chance for them both, and well earned as well as well deserved.

"Send her my love, will you?"

"I'll do that," Harry nodded with a smile. He checked the pocket watch that had once been Fabian Prewett's. It had originally been owned by Molly's late brother, and Percy had gifted it to Harry as a wedding present when he and Daphne had married. "It's nearly eleven, you lot had better get onboard."

Ronald permitted one last embrace from his mummy. "Can't stay long, Mother; I'm up front – we Prefects have two whole compartments to ourselves…." He sounded lofty without being pompous, but even so, Daphne whispered to her husband:

"Is it bad that I would prefer the boy had more of Granger in him than Mr. Stuck-Up Windbag?"

"Dash it all, Daph!" Harry hissed at her to keep her voice down, even as he had to fight not laugh. Daphne merely smirked and then flitted over to Albus, checking that his robes were in order.

"Don't forgive to give Longbot – Neville our love!"

"Mum! You can't give a Professor love!"

"But you know Neville…."

James rolled his eyes. "Outside, yeah, but at school, he's Professor Longbottom, isn't he? I can't walk into Herbology and give him love…." He expressed his pre-teen displeasure by aiming a kick at Albus. "See you later, Al. Watch out for the threstrals."

Albus gawked. "You said they were invisible! You…. you….."

Harry stepped in, chuckling. "They are, lad. But anyway, don't worry yourself over it. You won't be going to the castle in the carriages; you'll be going in the boats."

"Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"….. What if I'm in Slytherin…..?"

The whisper was for his father alone, and yet Albus still darted his eyes in the direction of his mother nearby. Though Harry could sense that Daphne had heard their boy's question, she was making a concerted effort at pretending she hadn't, waving a big goodbye to Ronald, who was now on the train.

"Albus Severus," Harry murmured. "You were named for two Headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them is a Slytherin, and probably the bravest man I've ever known. Your Nana would certainly agree. Also, your wonderful mother was in Slytherin House, and we wouldn't want to break Mummy's heart, now would we?"

"I know," Albus muttered guiltily. "But just say…."

"Then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, and a wonderful young wizard. It doesn't matter to Mummy or me, Al. But, if it really means that much to you, you can choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account."

"Really?"

Harry smirked. "Really. It did for me."

He had never told any of his children that before, and he watched the wonder grow in Albus's eyes when he said it. Granting a final hug, the boy bounded onto the train, where parents were coming to their children leaning out of compartment windows to bestow final kisses, last minute reminders. As the train began to move and pick up speed, Harry ambled alongside, keeping his youngest son, leaning out of one window, in his sights. Behind him, he could hear Astoria and Monica being held back by their respective mothers, and yet Harry could only focus on what was ahead, watching his son glide away from him…..

The Express finally thundered out of the station tunnel and rounded the first bend in the track; Harry's hand was still raised in farewell.

He sensed his wife sidle up to him, their daughter tucked into her side. "He'll be all right," Daphne murmured.

Turning to her with a lopsided grin, Harry bent and kissed her full on the lips, allowing his lover to tenderly frame his face in her hands as she kissed him back, so that her one finger brushed the lightning scar on his forehead.

"I know he will."

The scar had not bothered Harry for many years. All was well.