Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters and world created by JK Rowling. Anything you do not recognise is my own creation. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.


Epilogue –


The entire wizarding world had come to mourn the Boy Who Lived. Hundreds of chairs had been set out in neat rows, all facing the spot where Harry Potter's body had been found days before. A small platform had been erected and a tree-sized, bulky mass was hidden underneath a gargantuan brown sheet. Teddy knew exactly what it held: he had seen this memory more times than he cared to remember.

The last rays of the autumn sun beamed down on the guests as they shuffled along the aisle that ran through the centre of the rows. There were important Ministry officials: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic at the time, took a seat in the front row and was joined by Boris Bogand, his eventual successor; Gawain Robards, Teddy's old boss; Aunt Hermione, who was being supported by Uncle Ron, Teddy's new boss; and Great-Uncle Arthur who, alone of the Ministry contingent, showed signs of real grief.

Uncle Bill and his family filed in behind them, Aunt Fleur holding newly-born Louis Weasley. Teddy's stomach did the somersault it normally did when he spotted his grandmother, alive and well, clutching her grandson's hand. His nine year old self was mousy-haired and ashen-faced.

Then there were old classmates of Uncle Harry's; witches and wizards who had fought alongside him at the Battle of Hogwarts. Alone of this contingent, Teddy recognised his Uncle George, who was carefully guiding Aunt Ginny, whose hair was white and wispy, and whose eyes were overlarge and blank, to a seat next to the other Weasleys.

Still more witches and wizards poured in and filled the seats: Professor McGonagall headed a group of Hogwarts professors that included Professor Slughorn, Teddy's old Head of House; a number of shopkeepers Teddy did not know by name; international celebrities he was sure Uncle Harry had never met (save Viktor Krum); and even a small group of house-elves, Kreacher among them. Hagrid, who was openly weeping, was the last to arrive with Grawp. They settled into reinforced seats at the back next to a group of wary goblins.

Neville Longbottom, the man Teddy had been hunting for the best part of a decade, was conspicuous in his absence.

An ancient, tufty-haired man in black robes slowly hobbled on to the platform. He tapped his throat with his wand and began to speak.

'We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a wizard whose life was cruelly taken before his time. Though his life was short, his deeds were great and many …'

Teddy phased out the eulogy and prowled along the back row to the edges of the memory. He peered into the blurry mist. He knew, from dozens of trips to the graveyard, that the mist held more rows of graves, a winding lane and a large stone cross. That was where, he guessed, Longbottom was hiding during the service. But as soon as the eulogy was over, he would make a mistake and briefly show his face.

Teddy waited with the kind of patience only Aurors possessed. On cue, the witch in the back row sneezed: the thirty second warning.

'… And that is how we will remember him, in our hearts and in our minds, for the rest of time.'

As the last, magically amplified words of the Master of Ceremonies died in the air, two things happened at once. First, the giant sheet disappeared and revealed a Grawp-sized statue of Uncle Harry holding two wands and looking more heroic and victorious than he had ever been in life. Second, Longbottom appeared out of the mist for a fleeting second. He had the gall to wear mourning robes of black and an expression of grief. As if he had not killed Teddy's godfather.

The shuffling of chairs heralded the end of proceedings, and Longbottom sunk into the mist, never to be seen again.

Until today.

Out of pure habit, Teddy made a beeline for his younger self. His grandmother was fussing over him, as she always did, but his younger self was preoccupied staring at his own shoes. A number of Ministry officials from the first few rows shook his grandmother's hand, or laid a hand on her shoulder, or, in the case of Bogand, nodded curtly as they swept past. None of them paid the devastated boy any mind; after all, he was the son of a werewolf, not the last pure-blood scion of a once great and noble house.

Once the throng had made their way towards the exit, pressing flesh and proving how well they knew the legendary Harry Potter as they did so, Aunt Hermione limped over to Teddy and his grandmother. Ron followed behind, surreptitiously applying privacy charms. She alone of the mourners paid Teddy any heed. She fixed him with a long, searching look, as though taking the measure of him. It was the same look she had often given him at Hogwarts when she caught him staring into space in her History of Magic class.

Teddy's grandmother was the first to break the silence: she took Aunt Hermione's hands in her own and said, 'I can't imagine what you're going through. I know how much you meant to each other.' Teddy's grandmother lifted her head and met Uncle Ron's eyes. 'All of you.'

Uncle Ron's hands were balled into white fists; he could only manage a terse nod.

'Thank you, Andromeda,' said Aunt Hermione.

Teddy's grandmother dropped her voice so young Teddy would not hear. 'Is it true?' she whispered.

Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione shared a meaningful look. Aunt Hermione gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and Uncle Ron's frown deepened.

'I'm afraid it is,' said Aunt Hermione. 'The Aurors confirmed there was a duel between them, and the Department of Mysteries have worked out that he is master of The Wand.' Aunt Hermione was placing careful emphasis so as not to alert Teddy's younger self to the subject matter.

Teddy's grandmother looked uncharacteristically shaken. She shook her head repeatedly before saying, 'But it – it can't possibly be true! He's such a sweet boy and loves Harry like a brother …'

'I know,' said Aunt Hermione, her face pained, 'but all those atrocities were committed by The Wand. We also have Hagrid and Minerva's testimony that he had been to Hogwarts not long after it was stolen; he was covering his tracks, you see.'

'But why?' breathed Teddy's grandmother. Uncle Ron looked fit to burst, reined in only by Aunt Hermione's gentle caress of his arm.

'There's no clear motive,' said Aunt Hermione, 'but we understand that there was altercation between them a few weeks ago. H – Harry saved Alice from the wizard who attacked Bill and his family. He came back from work to find Alice gone … apparently he accused Harry of kidnap.'

Aunt Hermione finished the tale with a look of deep disgust plastered across her face. Teddy's grandmother was clearly lost for words.

'This is bullshit!' snarled Uncle Ron, who promptly turned on his heel and stormed off.

Aunt Hermione showed no signs of embarrassment or anger at his outburst; she merely rested against the back of one of the chairs.

'What of poor little Alice?' said Teddy's grandmother, who had finally regained her composure. 'By law, she should come to me.'

Aunt Hermione dropped her gaze. 'She's gone, Andromeda. Ron's first assignment was to take her into Ministry custody but … he was beaten to the punch. Immediately after the incident, he came to collect her from Bill's family. Now they're Merlin knows where.'

'But he surely won't harm his own daughter?' cried Teddy's grandmother, regarding Hermione as though she had parted with her senses.

'Goodness no,' said Aunt Hermione. 'Alice is safe … but life on the run is no way for a child to be raised. I only hope Ron and his team catch up with him …'

'But you can't suggest that he will evade the Aurors! He's a pure-blood with no skill in such things.'

Aunt Hermione's lips narrowed to a thin line and she gave an unconvincing, 'Of course they'll catch him.'

Aunt Hermione took advantage of a lull in the conversation and rummaged around her beaded handbag. She withdrew Uncle Harry's invisibility cloak. Carefully, she lowered herself into the chair next to Teddy's younger self.

She grasped Teddy's hand in her own and said, 'Your godfather loved you, Teddy. There's … nothing he wouldn't have done for you.' Her eyes shimmered with tears but the boy next to her did not acknowledge her.

'He left everything he had in the world to you,' she continued. 'Right now, that's not going to mean very much to you, but when you're older, you'll come to understand that this inheritance isn't about gold in a vault.' She gently placed the invisibility cloak in Teddy's lap.

'Against my better judgment, I'm going to give you Harry's cloak now, before you come of age. This is a precious thing, Teddy; it's been in Harry's family for generations. Your father and Harry's father were often seen disappearing into it, and I can't tell you the number of times it saved Harry's life. You have to promise to look after it, ok?' Teddy's younger self showed no sign that he had heard her. Aunt Hermione placed a finger under his chin and tilted his head so he had no choice but to look at her. 'Use it well.'

Teddy rose out of the Pensieve and landed on the wooden floor of his hut. He rose to his feet, filled with that hot sense of determination that always washed over him after watching that particular memory. He knew how close he now was to finding the man who killed his godfather. It had taken years of research to narrow down the list of likely hiding spots to this Thai jungle just north west of Bangkok, thanks in part to Uncle Ron putting him on missions whenever Teddy asked for holiday. There were times when he was close to giving up, but watching that memory, his worst memory, always galvanised him.

Teddy checked his watch: five pm. The girl the locals knew as Farang was due to pick up her weekly order of fish from the village. Teddy wrapped himself in his godfather's invisibility cloak, silenced his feet with a tap of his wand, and stepped outside.

The air was so hot and muggy that within seconds, Teddy's long fringe clung to his forehead. Reluctantly, Teddy screwed his face up in concentration and he could feel his usual lion's mane retract into a buzz cut. He made his eyebrows as thick as possible to catch the sweat dripping down his forehead.

Satisfied, Teddy searched the haphazard collection of shabby bamboo huts, each one raised off of the muddy ground by long, spindly stilts such that, together, they looked like of a siege of herons. The fisherman's hut was on the edge of the small village and brushed up against the dense jungle beyond. This, Teddy surmised, was why Alice Longbottom had chosen this particular village as her grocer.

Teddy leaped from hut to hut, landing silently and cat-like each time, until he reached the fisherman's home. The outstretched tendrils of the jungle canopy partly covered the hut and provided some shelter from the angry sun. Teddy was about to move in to the shade when the old wooden door creaked open. A woman in her mid-twenties emerged carrying a brown package; she was so tanned she might be mistaken for one of the locals if not for her blonde hair. She wore a simple vest and shorts combination that hugged a lean body which spoke of a life on the run. Teddy noticed that she didn't have her wand: she had become complacent.

Teddy followed Alice as she climbed down the ladder and disappeared into the heart of the jungle. She weaved in and out of the trees noiselessly with the expertise of a local. Her pace combined with the darkness – the thick canopy above squeezed out the sunlight – made tracking her a tricky task. Deeper and deeper into the jungle they went, and the trees began to close in on them. The rising buzz of mosquitos told Teddy they had managed to breach the cloak; his only defence was taking it off and risk being made by Alice.

It took nearly all of Teddy's self-control not to cry out when something bit his ankle. Alice, it seemed, was immune to these creatures; she pressed on unharmed. Teddy could only make out her bobbing blonde hair through the curtain of pain.

Finally, she turned right and, so suddenly that it had to be magic, they came to a circular clearing. After the dense jungle, it seemed like a mirage: the air was cool and crisp rather than suffocating and humid, the grass was green and mown rather than patchy and muddy, and there was a cosy Tudor cottage in the centre, an incongruous slice of England.

Alice abruptly turned around and said, 'You can come out now, Teddy.'

Teddy froze: nobody could see through his cloak. It then occurred to him that she could have easily been spying on him in the village just as much as he was spying on her. He took off his cloak; after all, he was armed and she was not.

Alice looked at him with wonder, as though he were some great treasure she had lost long ago. Before he had time to draw his wand, she dropped her package, ran at him and enveloped him in a crushing hug.

'Teddy,' she whispered, and Teddy could not help but notice her intoxicating, flowery perfume, 'it's so – so wonderful to see you again.'

Bewildered, Teddy patted her on the back. Then he remembered why he was here and pushed her away. He could not make contact with her: the worst thing he could do was get attached. He trained his wand on her and a look of hurt flashed across her pretty face.

'I'm sorry, Alice.'

'Wait, Teddy –'

'Stup –'

'I know you're here to kill my dad!'

The curse died on Teddy's lips. She knew?

'Just hear me out,' she said breathlessly, 'before you make a huge mistake.'

Teddy looked around and tried to sniff out the trap. He cast a Homenum Revelio but it revealed nothing.

'We're all alone,' said Alice urgently. 'Please just hear what I've got to say.'

Teddy looked into Alice's small, brown eyes and tried to reach out with his basic Legilimency. He found no hint of deception or lies; she was either telling the truth or was an accomplished Occlumens.

'You know why I'm here,' said Teddy. 'I'm sorry, but I have to get justice.'

'My dad never killed Harry Potter,' she said fiercely.

'There's irrefutable evidence –'

Alice shook her head and her face contorted into a snarl. 'No, the only evidence out there is the evidence my dad chose to plant there.'

'Are you trying to tell me he framed himself?'

'Yes.'

'You're insane,' said Teddy, and he raised his wand again.

'Wait,' said Alice again. 'Think of what Harry Potter represents to the wizarding world. How do people see him?'

'He's a hero,' said Teddy. 'He never thought of himself, only of others –'

'Right, he shows each new generation of witches and wizards that light always triumphs against dark, that power corrupts, and all that rot. Now imagine for a second that it came out that this legendary figure was corrupted by love, that one power the light has over the dark. That love could turn people to the dark side. There's no telling what harm that would do to the wizarding world!'

'You shut your mouth about my godfather!' cried Teddy, but some morbid curiosity prevented him from Stunning her.

'No, Teddy, you have to know the truth about your godfather. My dad went in to exile because of him: he, Ron and Hermione agreed that it was better for everyone if my dad took the blame for your godfather's crimes. He's been here all these years, training new recruits for Bogand –'

'So, what, my godfather killed himself?' said Teddy derisively.

'Your godfather –'

'I know he killed that Healer, alright!' Teddy took grim pleasure from the surprise on Alice's face. 'Is that what you're getting at? I know about that cover-up. But what you don't know is that that bastard killed Aunt Luna! And save the holier-than-thou gospel: the means justify the ends. Sometimes, when you're chasing after something that's right, you have to do things that are wrong.'

'You're quite wrong,' said a quiet, male voice.

Teddy whirled around and, to his astonishment, saw Neville Longbottom standing just outside his cottage door. Reacting on instinct, Teddy yelled, 'Expelliarmus!'

A wand flew out of Longbottom's pocket, arced gracefully through the air and landed in Teddy's outstretched hand. A warm ripple of power surged up Teddy's arm; he looked down to find, with a jolt, that this was one of the wands his godfather held in his statue. Teddy glanced up and saw a brief, triumphant look pass across Longbottom's face.

Alice ran over to her father and stood in front of him, shielding him from Teddy's vengeance.

'It's alright, darling,' he said softly, 'Teddy's no killer.'

Teddy stood frozen to the spot: this was his chance, his moment had arrived, but why could he do nothing but gape at the man who had killed his godfather? He stood there for long moments, staring transfixed at Longbottom, who looked back at him almost politely.

Finally, Longbottom said, 'Why don't you come inside, Teddy? I have a lot of explaining to do.'

The End


Acknowledgements

First and foremost, thanks to Rob, my muse and partner in this story. We first hatched Resurrexit together over eight years ago and planned to write it together. Although circumstances changed and I took it forward alone, his mark is stamped over every word and every chapter.

Secondly, thanks to my magnificent alpha and beta readers: Taure, Portus, and Matt Silver. Your comments and criticisms really shaped the story and helped me evolve as a writer.

Finally, thanks to all the guys at AFC (stretching back to 2008!): your support and encouragement helped me finally pull the story together, eight years on.


Final notes

This has been the most enjoyable and, at times, frustrating story to write, and I hope you enjoyed it too. Based on my experience with WLB, I'd like to pre-empt talk of a sequel: this is a self-contained story and 'The End' really is 'The End'. I'll leave it to you to imagine what happens to Neville, Alice and Teddy. This is probably the last novel-length fanfiction I'll write, and certainly the last one that involves the current canon-era characters. Thank you very much for reading.