Standard disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters. Looked into buying the rights, found I was several billion dollars short. Or, to paraphrase a disclaimer I saw on robst's site, my thanks to JK for allowing all of us to build sandcastles on her beach. Enjoy.

Dumbledore's Epilogue

Harry faded away into the whiteness, leaving Dumbledore alone on the platform. His smile faded. So much rested on one young man, and he had been severely limited in what he could give him. Too little time, too much to learn, so many against him. Dumbledore's own weakness regarding the ring haunted him still, but they were running out of time regardless. He sighed. As much as he loved Harry, he hoped it would be a long time until he saw him again.

He looked around the building coalescing around him. King's Cross indeed. A train whistle sounded in the distance. He smiled. As good a metaphor as any. His patience was rewarded when a train not unlike the Express pulled up in front of him in a hiss of brakes and steam. There were a few other passengers but they paid him no mind, and he did not disturb them. Finding a seat alone, he made himself comfortable. The doors closed, and with another blast of steam, the train slowly started to move down the tracks.

Dumbledore watched as the not quite London cityscape passed by, gradually changing to the suburbs, and eventually to trees, fields and farms of the countryside. After that the landscape just blurred into muted colors rushing by. At some point in time he fell asleep.

Dumbledore awoke, feeling well rested. The view out the window slowly shifted from blurry colors to the countryside again. The train began to slow, and the outskirts of a small village passed by. Some of it seemed familiar. The train eased to a stop and the doors opened. Dumbledore could see a sign over the benches on the landing. "Godric's Hollow." He smiled in anticipation. Must be my stop, though there was no rail line to his home village in his lifetime. He left the train for the platform. No one else was getting off, nor on, he was alone. The doors closed, and the train pulled away, fading into nothing before it fully left the station.

Dumbledore headed for the exit, a short set of steps by the closed ticket office down to the unpaved lane. He headed for the village, passing a few people, some of whom looked familiar. He turned down a side street and stopped in front of a very familiar gate. The flowers in the front garden were in full bloom, and the windows were open to catch the warm spring breeze. He could hear familiar voices, indistinct but oh so dear, coming from them. A smile and tears appeared together on his face. He pushed the gate opened and hurried to the door. He brought himself up short. Did he knock? Did he go in? Before he could ponder this any further, the door opened and there was his mother, as he remembered her from his youth, smiling at him.

"Here at last, I see," she said, grabbing him into a tight hug. "We've been waiting for you. Come in, come in, the water just boiled for tea." She released him and led him into the kitchen. "Your sister's in there," she said, pointing to the living room. "She'll be very happy to see you."

Fighting the lump in his throat, he went through the doorway into the living room. There was his sister, Ariana, sitting in her favorite chair by the window, knitting. She looked up. "Albus," she said quietly, rising with a great smile on her face. "You're finally here." She too gave him a tight hug. Dumbledore felt years of stress and worry and age melting off of him. "I've missed you terribly," she said.

"I've missed you, too. More than you could know." He hesitated. "Can you forgive me?" he asked quietly, tears appearing once again.

"Of course, silly. It wasn't your fault. You've done what you could, and more than most. You wouldn't be here otherwise. Come, sit," she said smiling, leading him by his hand to a chair next to hers. She sat and picked up her knitting again. "See, I'm making you some socks."

Dumbledore smiled, feeling truly happy for the first time in ages. His mother brought him a cup of tea and a letter. He raised his eyebrows at her. "It's from the 'Ministry,'" she said. "I would assume they want your help or advice or something."

"I'll just save it for later," he said, setting it down on the side table.

"Good," said his mother, sitting down with her own cup of tea. "Your father is down the village, he'll be home for supper in a bit."

Dumbledore smiled again, settling back into his chair. A small seed of peace sprouted in his heart and started to grow. His mother and sister started chatting, and he sat, just soaking it in. 'Life' was good.