So this is it. The final chapter, the epilogue I was always sort of dreading writing.

I hope the end result lived up to all your hopes and that you were able to take something away from it. In roughly three years, I have grown so much as both a writer and as a person, and I believe it is reflected in my story. Thank you so much to all my reviewers, especially the familiar screen-names that have always been with this story.

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: *sobs* Hogwarts is my home, not my creation; all I've done is hide in the castle and refuse to leave.

The morning of November first, 1981 dawned cloudy and foggy; one by one, the professors joined the students for breakfast. With few being the exception, many professors were only slightly melancholic regarding the events of the previous evening, their gladness overshadowing their grief. They observed the desolation that had befallen such young children, and contested whether or not the newly appointed Professor Severus Snape would be present for the morning meal; as it turns out, Professor Snape would be absent for many meals to come. At first it was due to an immense combination of guilt and grief, only for it then to await Dumbledore's signal that the Ministry would not be targeting him. However, every night without fault, he would spend an hour trying to remove every last trace of the damning mark from his forearm with his own hands before falling into terrible nightmares that would awaken him well before sunrise.

Lily and Severus were in the back of the Library, their books spread out across a table, a beam of sun warming their entire work area. 'C'mon Sev, you have to admit, it's pretty clever.' Lily giggled, hunching herself over her Potions text and leaning towards Severus' ear. 'Remus must've been the one behind it of course, but a bet about the DADA professor's fate can't do any harm… we've had a new one every year for three years, what other explanation can you come up with? You should hear what Marlene was suggesting, it's positively ludicrous…'

'Not Lily, please not Lily... why did it have to be Lily…' Severus begged to himself, hunching himself over her body and rocking back and forth. 'He promised…' He sobbed brokenly to himself, his cries mingling with those of the forgotten infant in the crib behind him.

As the students bundled themselves in an attempt to not freeze on their way to the Great Hall in the chilly corridors, professor McGonagall was grabbing her handkerchiefs, wiping her face, and gathering a shuddering breath. She refused to allow her mind to recall her earlier reminiscing over how quiet the Great Hall had become without the Marauders' presence, one member in particular; she shied away from how her heart broke at the thought of such betrayal. Her mind swam with thoughts about how she had failed him, how she had not been able to protect him from the ever-reaching influence of his family after all. He was as lost as James and Lily were, and Minerva could not help but feel responsible.

'Sirius Black!' McGonagall bellowed at the second year student who was zooming down the corridors well past curfew –on top of a floating mattress. 'Dismount this instant!'

'But Minnie!' Cackled an exultant Sirius, 'I'm not technically out of bed!' Still laughing, he raced away from Minerva and towards his friends, causing her dressing gown to billow around her, her hair falling over her face.

'Sirius Black!' McGonagall laughed at the jubilant young man who was spinning her around on the dance floor, his muggle tuxedo posing no restriction to his dancing. 'Let go of me this instant!' She laughed as he led her further onto the dance floor, passing a laughing Lily and James. Minerva caught Lily's shining eyes, and she knew that were it not her wedding day, McGonagall would've transfigured Lily Potter into a canary.

Sirius was huddled in a corner in a cell, trying to figure out where everything went wrong. He knew that Harry would be taken care of, Dumbledore would be sure of it, but he was worried about Remus, about Peter still being out there and free to attack anyone.

He was huddled in his cell, marking the days – not that he'd been there, as multiple guards were so keen on correcting his dates, but rather, the number of days that had passed since that fateful Halloween night.

He was counting all the days that had gone by since all was lost, and he was wishing his life had ended then as well.

Remus was just as cold, huddling in threadbare, ill-fitting clothes on the brink of society. He hid in hostels, trying to outrun the pain and anger that was waiting to engulf him. He knew that the full moon this month would be the worse one yet; the wolf would have no pack to distract him from his violent tendencies, and would blame Remus for driving them all away.

If only he could've protected them from Black, maybe they might've survived.

Maybe he could still see Harry on occasion, instead of being told that it was for the best.

Albus Dumbledore strode in the Great Hall that morning, his hands folded into the pockets of his cloak to hide their trembling. As his eyes surveyed the quiet students, the empty seats, and the fearful glances, he composed a speech in his mind. When he stood up in front of his students, their gazes insistent but fearful, Albus knew that his eyes, which at the moment were shinning with tears, would not sparkle for weeks.

Albus was sitting at the Head Table, smiling delightedly as the new students streamed through the doors and marched up towards the hat. Flashes of red hair, messy black, ragged robes, and confident but unhappy strides stood out in his memory, and the optimism that greeted him about the new year was a ray of hope amidst his war-battered mind.

Children with magic wands are still children. Children who have to choose sides in a war, who sign up to fight it before they've lived any kind of life, are still children.

That was the only thing circling Albus' mind as he approached them individually, not even waiting for the celebrations to settle down. His stomach was in knots, though he knew in his bones what their response would be.

Sirius didn't even pause to blink before he said 'Of course'.

Peter, determined-looking though definitely fearful, nodded his head twice, his jaw clenched.

Marlene merely cocked a brow and, arms crossed, said 'Took you long enough to invite us'.

Remus blinked, shuffled his feet, and then straightened his shoulders. With a heavy sigh, his lips pursed and eyes burdened, his only response was 'I want to help in whatever way I can.'

Alice let her eyes wander the hall while she thought about it, but her eyes only managed to land on a head of long, brilliantly red hair before she found herself agreeing.

Frank only had to look at Alice, who discreetly nodded her head, before he was agreeing as well.

Dorcas swallowed, nodded, and then went back to her family, her younger siblings reaching for her.

James gave a short laugh and, eyes focused on a young redhead who was looking at him confusedly, said determinedly, 'Was there ever any doubt Professor?'

Lily, her eyes shining with grief, determination, and worry for her remaining loved ones, surprised Albus by wrapping her arms around him, nodding into his chest. When she pulled back, one lone tear streaked down her face, and she wiped it away with her left hand. The ring on her fourth finger caught the light as she turned towards James and left Dumbledore standing alone.

When Dumbledore made his speech to his students about how the Dark Lord had been vanquished the night before, by two former Head Students and their one-year-old boy, he heard many clattering dishes, many distressed noises. Hesitantly, Jonathan Raymond, a seventh year Hufflepuff, stood up and said, 'Sir, was-was it the Potters, sir?'

When Dumbledore looked closer, he could see the fear behind the question, the desperate hope that the girl that had tutored him in charms for years had lived. When he hesitated, a sixth year Ravenclaw stood up as well.

'Sir? Was it James and Lily?' Tears were already gathering in her eyes, along with all the other Quidditch players. The only twinkle coming from Dumbledore's eyes were from tears, and many of the students who were in attendance when the Marauders attended bowed their heads. Many students who'd been tutored by Lily, or who had been saved in the Hogsmeade attack due to the Heads strategic planning, stood up and left the Hall, instead wandering to the Quidditch Pitch, the Kitchens, the Library, the Gryffindor Common Room.

They wandered anywhere they could, in the hopes of trying to remember all that they had done.

They thought ashamedly of the feast just the night before, where they had all reminisced of all the pranks the Marauders had played on Halloween.

They all thought, at one point or another, they were so young.

But youth is never a guarantee of liveliness, of longevity, of joy.

Youth is only ever a promise that there is new hope for this world, that there is a possibility for change, a promise of redemption and new beginnings.

And this change relied almost entirely on the Boy Who Lived.