EPILOGUE:

CELEBRATION

Given the disruption of the previous night, it was decided to remount the anniversary celebration for the following night. And indeed, there was something else to celebrate other than the anniversary of the DWMA's founding. Medusa Gorgon had been slain, and with her demise, a new Death Scythe had been born, in the unassuming form of Harry Potter.

Both Harry and Crona were uneasy with the praise and attention being heaped upon them, and Black Star's yells of being upstaged didn't help. So as the party went into full swing, and after doing a token dance, they left the main part of the party for the balcony they had retreated to before.

They weren't alone. Once more, Soul and Maka joined them on the balcony. So too did Death the Kid, Liz, and Patty. Blair soon joined them, along with Mifune and Angela.

For a time, there was silence. Everyone here (save for Mifune and Angela, though they heard about what happened afterwards) had been through that hell beneath Death City, a hell that nearly ended with Asura being freed, and Crona going berserk. Only by good fortune had they managed to survive, and indeed, triumph, with so little cost. The only fatality of that night was Medusa herself. Even the usually enthusiastic and playful Angela seemed to understand the solemnity of the situation.

It was Kid who broke the silence. "You did the right thing," he said quietly to Crona and Harry.

"I know," Crona said. "But…she was my mother. It's not like she loved me, given what she did…but I wish she had loved me. That she cared about me more than an experiment."

"I wish my relatives had loved me," Harry remarked, looking across Death City. "But I couldn't make them. To them, I was just a freak. At least here, at the DWMA, we're thought of as people."

"Don't overthink it," Soul drawled. "Try to relax, enjoy yourselves."

"Soul…" chided Maka, elbowing her Weapon in the ribs. But Soul meant well.

"Don't be sad, Harry, and Crona," Angela said. "I still love you two. You just had to stop a mean Witch from doing bad things. I promise not to be a mean Witch."

Harry and Crona chuckled, despite themselves, as did the others, even the usually stoic Mifune. "I don't think that's going to happen," Maka said. "You becoming a mean Witch, anyway. You're too cute."

Angela poked her tongue out at Maka, as did her chameleon-like hat. After a moment, Harry gently put his arm around Crona's shoulders. The pink-haired girl stiffened briefly at the intimate gesture, before leaning into him, taking comfort in his proxmity. No words needed to be said. The gestures said everything for them, in a way mere words could only emulate shallowly. A soft, gentle smile came over both of their features. They just stood there, and gazed out across at Death City…

Back at the party proper, Lord Death looked over at Harry and Crona, just visible through the doors to the balcony area. If he was actually capable of doing so with his mask-like face, Death would have smiled. Two damaged souls, drawn together, and now becoming something more, if his soul-sensing ability was any guide.

Soul Resonance: the union of two souls in harmony. The bonds could be that of friendship or camaraderie, or really of any kind. But perhaps the strongest bond that could be formed was that of love. Not just the love of friendship, but either that of family, or of a romantic bond.

Death realised something that he could see for some time, but hadn't quite realised. Harry and Crona were not just friends. They were beginning to fall in love. Oh, it was the merest ember yet, fed by their strong friendship. But it was there.

Love could prove to be the ultimate bond that could fuel Soul Resonance to its highest level. But if it went wrong, it could create something darker in its wake. Death had seen many a Meister and Weapon relationship tied strongly together by love…or torn apart when things went sour. In fact, the divorce between Spirit and Maka's mother was, while acrimonious, not anywhere near as bad as things had happened in the past. Some jilted Weapons or Meisters became Kishin Eggs, and had to be killed by the DWMA.

But love could help drive away the darkness and madness within the heart. And with Crona now overflowing with Black Blood, she needed Harry's help more than ever. Even so, he was heartened to see their souls bonding. Two damaged souls, divided by the wall between worlds, still managed to find each other.

It may not have been fate or destiny that brought them together, merely an accident. But he hoped that fate would keep them together, for they had the potential to be one of his best Meister and Weapon pairs ever.

Even so, he knew that Harry's fate on the World of Exile hadn't gone away. The vile soul fragment he had extracted from Harry, a Horcrux, was proof enough of that. Voldemort was doubtless still alive, and Death was sure that Voldemort would try to find Harry once he regained more of his power. And when that day finally came, Lord Death hoped that both Harry and Crona were ready…

In his prison made from his own skin, Asura slept an uneasy sleep of madness between life and death, barely aware that he had almost been freed.

Scattered spiders containing the essence of Arachne Gorgon thought of her sister's demise, and considered it good riddance.

Eruka, Free, and the Mizune sisters claimed one of Medusa's old hideouts as their own, at least for the time being. They needed to find a way to get back into the good graces of their fellow Witches before approaching them. After all, they had nearly caused a disaster by attacking the DWMA. They could only hope that Maba was forgiving…

In Loew Village in the Czech Republic, a man by the name of Saw was unable to fully awaken as the reincarnation of his ancestor, Giriko. He toiled while a golem containing his mistress' dark soul waited patiently for a signal to rise again. A signal that would never come…

But what of the World of Exile? What of events there?

Petunia Dursley finds that her hand itches. Even though it isn't there. Phantom pain, it was called. Like a ghost of her real hand is there, instead of the crude mechanical hooks.

There were other things that itched, more abstract than phantom pain. Resentment. Anger. Hatred. She was familiar with how these things itched at the mind. And they were, as usual, focused on three targets, one abstract, and the other two more concrete.

The wizards in general. And in particular, her late and (by her) unlamented sister Lily, along with Lily's bastard offspring, Harry. The one who had cost her her hand with his freakishness, even though she had never heard of a wizard being able to turn their arm into a blade. But she knew it had to be possible.

Even so, explaining what had happened to the police and the paramedics hadn't gone anywhere. They realised just as the sound of sirens echoed up the street that they couldn't say what actually happened, or else they'd get locked up for being insane. So, instead, they said that Harry had somehow come across a really sharp cleaver and had managed to sever Petunia's hand, before fleeing from them as they called the police.

And in the midst of all THAT chaos, the old goat known as Albus Dumbledore showed up, doing his freakish mind tricks to implant a different scenario in the emergency service personnel's various heads. He had offered to heal up the hand, but Petunia and Vernon wanted nothing to do with that. And then, he had the gall to chew them out over their treatment of the little freak, even though they were doing what they had every right to do. After all, he must've been dangerous to have his arm turn into a blade and sever her hand!

He would become a familiar and very much unwanted presence over the next few weeks. The surgery to reattach the hand was a failure, an infection setting in and becoming gangrenous. And as she went through the procedure to have hooks placed in its stead, Dumbledore dropped by during her recovery to interrogate her.

He seemed to know something, the old goat. Something he refused to tell her. And he had the gall to treat her with contempt. He even claimed that the protection on their house had collapsed thanks to her actions.

Well, if the little freak ever made the mistake of darkening her doorstep again, she would make sure he received a welcome he would not forget in a long time…

Fleeing from Hogwarts after an abortive attempt to kill Pettigrew, Sirius Black, in the form of a large black dog, found himself wondering where Harry was. It had been headline news a couple of years back that Harry Potter had never shown up at Hogwarts. Nobody would tell him anything. Indeed, it was only the revelation that the rat was with the Weasleys that provided the impetus for him to break free from Azkaban.

Still, even as he rushed down the secret passage to the Shrieking Shack, he had to wonder, what had happened to his godson? Where had Harry gone? Was there ever the possibility of them seeing each other again?

Remus Lupin too was troubled about Harry. He was troubled by many things: his lycanthropy, the fact that his traitorous former friend had escaped from Azkaban, and the fact that Snape was looking for any excuse to give him grief. But Harry's status nagged at his mind. Dumbledore wouldn't say a thing. In fact, when Lupin pressed the issue, Dumbledore had actually shouted at him that he didn't know where Harry was. It was rare that Dumbledore raised his voice, and Lupin had been shocked into silence.

Even so, the matter was far from settled, any more than Lupin's heart was. Harry was all that was left to him, with James and Lily dead, along with Peter, and Sirius a traitor…

Professor Severus Snape was ambivalent. On the one hand, Potter's spawn may very well be dead, cause enough for celebration. On the other hand, Lily's child may very well be dead. Not cause for celebration. And that senile old fool had left Harry with that harridan Petunia! That bitch would have badly mistreated Harry. True, it would have prevented the boy from getting a big head, and there was a part of Snape that wanted the spawn of James Potter to suffer. But even so…

Still, there were other matters at hand, like to catch Sirius Black, his childhood tormentor, and make him pay. And hopefully, he might be able to get the werewolf Kissed into the bargain as well…

To two of the Weasley children, it was a major disappointment that Harry never came to Hogwarts. Ronald Weasley had wanted to be the friend of the Boy Who Lived. And Ginny wanted to see her crush up close. Both had their dreams crushed when Harry never turned up. Still, Ron and Ginny had made friends anyway. They still pined for a time when they would finally meet the Boy Who Lived…

Albus Dumbledore contemplated his actions, and found them wanting. Of all of those who knew anything about what truly happened to Harry, only he knew what that strange Transfiguration signified. Or rather, he suspected he knew what it meant. Of course, he had tried sending Fawkes, but Fawkes didn't go anywhere.

For some weird reason, a rhyme kept sticking in his head. A silly little rhyme that he half-remembered from childhood. He didn't realise the significance of it.

Forty-two, forty-two, five-six-four,

Whenever you want to knock on Death's Door.

Forty-two, forty-two, five-six-four,

Whenever on the Reaper you wish to call(1).

Lord Voldemort, still stuck in the form of a spirit, did not wish to call upon the Reaper. Unless it was to annihilate his enemies. But he didn't. He was afraid, although he would not admit this to anyone, least of all himself, that he might call attention upon him.

Instead, he raged impotently about Mudbloods and Blood Traitors who had thwarted him time and again. And he vowed that he would find Harry Potter, no matter where the little bastard was hiding, and put an end to him for once and for all.

THE END

EPILOGUE ANNOTATIONS:

Well, here we are at the end of Journey of the Sorcerer. Yes, I know. I finished the fic just as things were getting good, I'm sure many of you will say. Well, there's a few good reasons why I wanted to end this fic here and now.

Firstly, I need more completed fics to my name. I keep starting them and not finishing them.

Secondly, we've just come to the right point to bring the story to an end for the time being, namely Harry and Crona killing Medusa, and bringing events in the universe of Soul Eater more or less to a close.

Thirdly, I'm lacking inspiration at the moment for this story, and lacking inspiration is a killer of stories.

Fourthly, I'm not actually abandoning the overall story. In fact, later on down the track, I will write a sequel, set during the events of The Goblet of Fire. In fact, that's another reason why I'm ending the fic and putting the story on the backburner. I've got two stories already in the air set during the events of The Goblet of Fire: Henry Ashford and the Goblet of Fire, and In Spite of Appearances. It gets kind of boring writing about the same events over and over again ad nauseum. So I don't need a third story set during those events.

I'm sorry if you guys are feeling frustrated, but to end the story now is my prerogative. When I come to write the sequel, I will post about it.

Review-answering time! Guest: Yes, Ragnarok still needs to become a Death Scythe. He may for the sequel.

perfectshade: I'm glad you enjoyed it, but I haven't read far enough into the manga for the debut of Eibon, so I can't honestly say.

oakwoodouroburos: Sadly, I am ending this fic here, though the story isn't abandoned as of yet. Be patient, though, you'll most likely have to wait a few months at least. Dumbledore suspects where Harry has gone to, or at least what Harry has become, but he will be, understandably, confused. I will discuss how the other characters dealt with the events of the first three books in the sequel.

1. The first two lines, of course, come from the English dub of the anime (I think it's a nifty little poem, given that the numbers don't have the same morbid connotations in English that they do in Japanese), while the next two are my own invention. Please don't hit me…