So here's the final toast we raise to you, dear friend

Good times will never be the same, and our thoughts still remain

We'll hold you in our hearts forever and a day

And we'll never be the same

so the last toast that we raise goes to you.

-The Final Toast, Hawk Nelson

…

When I look at the world, everywhere and in everyone there is an ending.

A sparkling conclusion, an eclipsing finale- the final sunset of life in this last chapter of the story. There is death in everyone and in everything and even the strongest among us are not exempt from Death's terrible snatching. His dirty hands, his twitching fingers will one day come for us all.

But in every conclusion, (happy or no, satisfying or not) there are leftovers, the keen few who remain behind when their world falls and parents die and a castle (a school) burns to the ground. There are always survivors; always heroes and villains and empty-hearted civilians left behind.

Death comes for every man, no matter his status, his actions, his beliefs or failing ideology. Death doesn't care for your pleading, for your hopeless human crying. He is stoic, he is strong. He has seen people like you before, and knows that a silent tongue and warm hands can pry even the most resilient man from his hiding place. Knows the right words to untie his hands from the sand and undo the vines tethering him to earth to carry him gently away. Death comes to all, and none will escape his sentence.

But Death will always come too soon for the unlucky and the unfortunate, the eternally early and everlastingly late being that he is, but just the same for the lucky ones who stay behind. Every man must meet death, and every soul must see justice.

Every beginning has an end. To every climax there's a resolution.

It's simple, really- when you think about it. All in all, it's one life in this time and place, in this story at the beginning of the end. One boy. A complex concoction of stories and lives and ten years of anxious waiting. One story that has long since reached its end.

The day has arrived: the moment when the pivotal problem was solved, the enemy defeated and the world saved. The day (the night, the morning) the child hero Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort once and for all. Died in a forest at the hand of his enemy only to come back even more victorious than before.

But then again, there's also the first breath of peace and rest. The first bout of many in this infamous beginning of the end.

And for this story, for this ending, it was a repaired wand, a dead Headmaster or two and a thundering applause. It was Harry, Ron and Hermione, extra cast at this point- stationary and confused and lost, stunned in their well-earned congratulations. Seventeen with the world finally, finally lifted off their shoulders. Then, Harry- the seven chanced escapee- exhaling a final, noteworthy quote, breathing in a sunrise from the eastern windows with the hope of a new day on his lips.

There was an ending, then a beginning, because the two follow one another like fate whether you live to see it for yourself or not. They got up that day, (the Weasley's, the Granger's, the Potter's) and relived that terrible, terrible night with aching bones and bruised hearts, gathered up their Gryffindor courage and left that office and that school, (leaving those soulless bodies and fears behind) forgetting that day and moving forward.

There was a walk to the Hogsmeade station, trunks and owls and coffins held aloft and loaded into the carriages. There was silence, and a train and a miserable trip back home.

I guess it made sense that Fred Weasley should be taken home on the Hogwarts Express, even post-mortem. Taken home on the train after all this time.

But the ride back was solemn, the back carriage was filled with the empty remains of friends, siblings, parents. Lupin, Colin, Fred, Tonks. Empty eyes and a hollow body awaiting burial, a final goodbye.

There was Kings Cross and then a Burrow, (an extra bed added for a homeless orphan), an empty bed waiting in another. Silence, and waiting, and guilty laughter came in the days to come before silence descended once more.

And no one could laugh when they were dead.

And George didn't smile. Hadn't since. Nothing was funny enough in the whole wide world to be happy now that his twin was gone for good.

…

In the days to come, those who had left home for safer shores returned- they dusted off their shelves and shook out their rugs, lined up the potions to repair their broken bones and bruised hearts on their nightstands.

Some went on the run, those who had lost the war and still had everything to lose- Death Eaters and werewolves and creatures of the night- some ran in the hopes of somehow escaping the punishment they were due. Now that Voldemort was dead, their chances of survival were little to none- there was no fear stimulating their reign any longer. And without fear, without that control they were nothing and they knew it.

Others sat in silence, they didn't do much at all. These people had lost someone- and silence seemed the right price to pay for their grief. For their sadness, they retreated into themselves and didn't dare return. They sat with family, with friends who had lost someone too, cold cups of tea at their elbow because even the worst company is better than silence, and silence was reality now that their loved ones were gone.

Others, of course, sat in quite another manner- in stunned relief. They had survived with most of themselves intact. They carried the guilt too though- why them and not me? Why some and not others? Why was there death and destruction waiting for other's families and not for mine?

They felt relief, but they felt guilty for it. In some matter of thinking, they were glad it had happened that way.

Better them than me, they thought. In fact, I'm glad it was them and not me.

In those days after the war, no one had the answers. No one knew why. All the did know was that this nothingness was the price to pay for peace- this guilt, pain and fear was the true cost of war. It always came with a price they couldn't pay.

No matter their state, all had someplace to go- all were on a pilgrimage back to a safe place where people loved them and they had once belonged.

The real question was if they still did belong- because this future was so silent- so different than the past that it was difficult to distinguish up from down, right from wrong.

The returned to a Burrow, to a mansion. To a ramshackle house in the middle of a Muggle cul-de-sac. They sat down on the couch they had once loved, a chair they had once found comfort in, but it was the case no longer- everything was hard and painful and cold. Everything was grey and and miserable and everyone who made it out of the war was numb.

They returned to their families. To their houses, and most importantly, they tried to come back into themselves like they hadn't for five years running.

The pubs sat empty; Diagon Alley lay vacant. Hogwarts remained like a haunted mansion on the very edge of society. No one wanted to stay where there had once been death- the castle sat empty for a great many days after the war ended.

There wasn't celebrating like there had been eighteen years before.

There weren't parties on every street corner or feasts in every household. Too many had fought and died for this victory, celebration wasn't fit for the night before a funeral. Those who survived didn't need a party to recognize the exhale that fell from their lips nearly twenty-four hours before.

Those who had died in the battle were taken home and prepared for burial. Harry Potter and Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt prepared speeches for the fifty-odd funerals that were about to take place, writing obituaries for friends, family and colleagues into the early hours of the morning.

Change was imminent- but no one was ready for what this new reality meant. Change meant leaving things behind- leaving people they loved six feet below.

Change meant sacrifice for a new world- change meant loss and pain and grief. Change meant all this and more, for this stark white reality was the true price for peace.

…

Those forty-eight hours after the war ended were the most painful two days of them all.

Molly Weasley and her family moved back to the Burrow just as soon as they retrieved their stuff and their owls (and cat) from Muriel's. Harry and Hermione trailed behind them, not sure if their presence in was acceptable or even welcomed. To be honest, they had no choice but to follow- they simply had nowhere else to go.

Percy followed dumbly as well, as did Arthur- but out of all of the Weasley's, it was George who instead of weeping had retreated so far into himself that there was little hope of return.

Molly tried to keep her family busy by cleaning the Burrow top to bottom, dusting out the attic, clearing out the broom shed, nonsensical tasks did little to take their minds off of the fact that they would be burying Fred in a little over a week. She hampered on her sons and daughter more than she should have to disguise her grief, but they all knew that she was in pain. They all found her at some point- huddled over the dinner ham or folding towels in the scullery- sobbing and begging and beaten red and raw from crying. The pain from the death of a child was something they couldn't understand- it was something that no one should have to understand. Molly Weasley was in too much pain to function. But she had to- there was work to be done whether she was ready to face it or not. There were mouths to feed and floors to sweep- and someone had to do it. To be honest, it also kept her busy and her mind clear from other things and It was only when there wasn't work to be done that the pain became unbearable.

In her haste, Molly planted the garden and bought a rooster and a handful of hens after she lost the ones she had in the scramble to escape the Burrow, chose to live on instinct rather than cognitive movement lest she break down in the bedroom, in the kitchen. Chose to feed everyone and anyone who stayed more than fifteen minutes at her kitchen table and cried the first time someone sat in Fred's empty chair beside George. But she picked herself back up again, gathered the pieces of her broken heart and mended them best as she could, cooked dinner every night and breakfast every morning as a means of therapy.

She had known early on that sometimes death has no purpose and comes with no warning- sometimes death comes leaving nothing but desolation in its wake. Fabian and Gideon had died before their time too, after all. Sometimes death far too early for no reason at all, and in the end death is nobody's fault.

Molly came to realize that death doesn't have to have a reason. It needs no explanation. Death comes simply because it must, and one day it will come to them just the same as it has come for others

So slowly she gained back the colour in her cheeks in the bounce in her step, learned to scold and bake and move again after the numbing guilt of a sons death hardened her heart. Learned to love her family with one less twin sitting at her kitchen table.

...

After a couple of nights of Ron and Harry sleeping in Ron's room in the attic, they realized that it was far too small for the two of them. Arthur, Bill, Percy and Charlie built Harry's new room on the top floor next to Ron's- small as it was, Harry could only stutter out a thank you to the Weasley's, numb as he was in thanks. He decorated it with Quidditch posters and transfigured a fallen log into a bed frame, a bed of moss into a mattress, a curiously shaped rock into a desk that afternoon. He even stunned Hermione when he shrunk them and Levitated the lot up the stairs to the topmost bedroom without a second thought.

For the time being, Hermione was bunking with Ginny in her bedroom on a camp bed. She had assured Mrs. Weasley that she wasn't staying permanently, and for the time being living there was fine. Sooner or later the restrictions on international travel would be lifted and should be able to rescue her parents in Australia and move back in with them.

But after all that had happened, all that Molly wanted was her family close- Hermione and Harry- alone as they were- included.

Hermione brought a CD player and a plastic bag full of CD's from her parents house in Muggle London one night, played different Muggle songs until Arthur laughed with delight. Bill and Fleur waltzed to Celine Dion in the Burrow's sitting room that day, six weeks short of their one year wedding anniversary.

But even though the world was celebrating and the fear was gone- the sadness remained, and it was harder than one could imagine to remember that some were still grieving. It was hard to remember that this world was in peace, and the war was over- because in the mind of some it hadn't ended at all.

George all in all, taking this in mind, was remote. He locked himself in his room for hours at a time, barely eating, hardly sleeping. Not bothering for healing, mind you. In his opinion, his heart was already split in two.

There was no going back.

His ear had healed, but this gross approximation of the George he once was was now was lost. He wasn't George Weasley, half of a whole, second in the duo any longer. He had no one to complete his sentences or convince him to prank. He wasn't one who would dye the Great Hall pink or take Polyjuice potion to ask a girl out in someone else's name. He wasn't the George Weasley he once was, or ever had been before.

But sometimes, if they were patient, he'd join them for dinner. He'd eat a bite of soup and a piece of bread before running back upstairs, halfway to his room before he lost his mind and his heart and his nightmarish screams rang into the night.

Percy was, strangely enough, the best cure. He could get George to eat, to wash, to come downstairs.

He was there when Fred had been killed.

He had made his brother laugh in the moments before his death. He was the one who would say the eulogy at the funeral.

Percy was back for good (never wanted to leave, to be honest) and was proving himself day in and day out, the sole cure for his brother's broken heart.

And for one day, two days later, they got him back.

The real George: the twenty year old before the 1998 variety lost his smile.

He laughed. Ron tripped on a wayward gnome in the Burrow's garden and landed in the pond and he laughed.

(Even Molly stared when George joined him in the water, they hadn't seen the real one in far too long.)

And Ron caught him, propped his brother up in the slippery mud and hugged him, because for a second, for the first time in far too long they had George back and Ron had seen his brother again.

…

And every morning, they woke up. Saw the sun rise and set, saw Hermione try to heal and Harry make himself forget.

There was a May 3rd, and a May 4th, and a May 5th. Sunrise, sunset. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner that wasn't scavenged or stolen, served on plates with forks and knives. They slept in a bed that wasn't a bunk in a tent, had nights that weren't fitful because of hunger or fear. The follow-up was no plans to make, no Horcruxes to find and no Death Eaters to kill or be killed by. It was queer, now it was a miracle that the sun remembered to rise at all when so much normalcy had been gained and lost in so short a time.

But it did, and everyday was a new start.

A new first. First smile, first laugh. First time Molly and Arthur smiled down on their family without their hearts wrenching thinking about the empty chair beside George.

(It wasn't the first time she had gone it alone)

The Death Eaters had murdered Fabian and Gideon before their time, keep in mind, she had been here before.

And like she had some eighteen years previously she learned how to move on. To accept death and the vulnerability of love and the helplessness that comes with the lot with grace and with tears. She learned her peace, she had found her rest.

…

Then relapse, a brief reprieve. Breathe in, and breathe out- it was most certainly a guilt-worthy occasion. They had to swallow their fears and open the paper, or the door, or listen to reports from the floodgate of witnesses.

Let's give them a week before they relive May 2nd all over again.

Count the victims, hear the story. See the emptiness in a sixteen year old photographers dead eyes.

He was gone forever. One of many.

{Please try not to look away}.

There were fifty-two of ours, ninety-seven of theirs that had died since Voldemort returned in 1995. They were buried (celebrated, mourned over) and disposed of accordingly. There were funerals. Well-wishers. There were 'thank you's' and handshakes and a body lowered into the ground. Thank you Harry, Ron, Hermione- hand up, hand down. A firm grip. A nod towards the dead and a card pushed on the table.

There were flowers, lunches once the worst of the day was over. There were stolen kisses in an attic bedroom, a hollow twin, and a whisper about Australia.

That was reality of May- this was the day to day life in the days after the war, in that day and age where the funerals and memorials seemed endless.

It would be years still until June would come- because for them, May 2 1998 never ended at all, and this sadness would the case well into the months to come.

...

Angelina was the first to arrive for Fred's funeral.

She was wearing a red dress, had curled her hair and lipstick on, looked rather like she missed her turn for a wedding and somehow ended up on the Burrow's doorstep two hours early for a funeral.

Alicia Spinnet, Lee Jordan and Katie Bell came next, walked through the front door past a stunned Bill and Fleur and went straight into the twins bedroom. They were the first to see George on that terrible, terrible day, and then spent enough time to make him laugh, smile. Helped him forget (even for a moment) that Fred wasn't beside him cracking jokes like he used to. Like he had been for the twenty years before he had died.

Mrs Weasley had made breakfast the night before, instructed Hermione and Ginny on how to put together the final touches under the assumption that she would not only be exhausted from lack of sleep the day of, but also tear soaked in preparation for a child's funeral.

They held it in the garden, laid a son (a brother, a friend) to rest under the apple tree by the broom shed. The one the Weasley's had built a tree fort in when they were children.

The ceremony was quiet, but people came in hoards, the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, the entirety of the DA, all of the twins friends from their year and the ministry representatives. Friends and coworkers from the shop, neighbours in Diagon Alley. Kingsley gave a speech, awarded George with his twin's post-humerous Order of Merlin, First Class for his bravery as a first class Gryffindor, brother and friend.

Half the world and all their friends came to the funeral of Fred Weasley.

Half the world was lucky enough to have known him, the other half would spend their lives finding the man he was in theirs. He is and was the spirit of freedom, of invention, of curiosity. He was a brother, a son, a twin. A partner in crime, a procurer of chaos, the friend who would remain after all else had been lost. He was the one who believed a lost brother could come home even after everyone else had given up hope.

He had died in the pursuit of life, because survival isn't living, and Fred knew the difference.

And at the very moment, almost two weeks after the war, George realized that he knew did too.

...

George went on his first flight with Angelina after the funeral.

Not his first first, that was with Fred on stolen brooms, Bill's and Charlie's when they were five. This was another first, the first time in the air since the war.

It was characterized primarily with the appearance of a Muggle football and set into motion by the erection of a Portable Swamp behind the broomshed after Fred's funeral. Of all the people to discover it, it was Aunt Muriel who became the first victim: she had fallen in on her way to the loo, screamed as lichen ruined her hair and a toad leapt down her blouse and then blamed the entirety of the event on Ronald's new girlfriend with the skinny ankles who was unfortunate enough to be standing nearby.

Angelina saw the open slot masked with confusion and laughter, slipped into the broom shed and grabbed the least worn brooms there were, tossed one to George and flew off into the air without invitation, or question, really, that he wouldn't follow her.

By the time George was thirty feet in the air, Angelina was already soaring into Little Whinging with a Summoned Muggle football in her hands. She had kicked off her high heels and her bare skin shone in the faint moonlight, her long hair twisting in the wind. She was smiling, and looking at his old friend in the moonlight, George felt himself grin with her.

"Since we don't have a Quaffle," she said solemnly, "this'll have to do.

This marked the second time that George had laughed since Fred had died.

He had forgotten how much he missed it.

George used a branch he found on the forest floor as a beaters bat, and he and Angie stayed laughing until they cried, hitting the ball back and forth, back and forth. They laughed and joked and teased each other like they had before the war, like they were the friends that they had always been even now, even after Fred was gone.

George and Angie set off fireworks at four A.M and laughed and yelled louder when the neighbours complained- realizing then more then ever that this is what it was to be alive. This is what it was to be truly awake and present for the first time in five years. This is what it was to be twenty and invincible, twenty and vulnerable, twenty and heartbroken. This is what it was to grieve for a man who hadn't cried a day in his life- this is what it meant to live after Fred Weasley had died.

George kissed Angie for the first time after the last firework had exploded overhead and they lied together laughing and joking and splitting that never-ending bottle of Firewhiskey until the dawn broke and the sun rose. They stayed together when everyone else had gone, and would well into the years to come.

…

Hogwarts wasn't redeemed immediately.

In the immediate aftermath there were bodies littered in and amongst the rubble of the once great castle standing in ruins. There was blood on walls and wind blowing through the broken windows. The whole school sat on a slant, the foundations were reinsured through magical support lest the ancient castle topple on its own.

Repair took time.

Now that the Carrow's were imprisoned, McGonagall rose to Headmistress and took the school in the palm of her hand. Classes were suspended indefinitely (or so she said to the press) lest their hopes be set too high. It was far better to receive a happy surprise than to face bitter disappointment.

Once the last funeral was over, those who had fought came back to the school they had once loved- came with tools and their wands to put Hogwarts back to what it once was.

There were repair crews, the department of Magical Maintenance was working overtime to put Hogwarts back to rights. Near everyone who fought came to help, plus what was left of the Order; the Weasley's, Cho and Lee Jordan, Neville, Luna, Dean and Seamus, Harry and Hermione. They lifted beams and fixed windows, repaved the corridors that had been destroyed. McGonagall repaired Dumbledore's tomb after Harry returned the wand, resealed it and cast magical protections over the place lest it ever happen again. Once Harry died, the Deathstick would lose it's power. Upon his hand, two of the Hallows would be lost, the third passed on to his son.

Those who stayed shared lunches under the Beech tree on the shores of the Loch, exchanged Chocolate Frog cards and Every Flavour Beans with each other, joked and laughed and tried to move on, to just be the kids they once had been before the war took away their innocence and their childhood.

They tried to sink back into the person they had been before their world came crumbling down- to reclaim the pieces of themselves that had been lost. They stayed with each other in a failing attempt to not think about the corpses they had carried back from this very lawn four weeks earlier.

Day in and day out they worked to bring Hogwarts back to rights. They spent weeks and ages repaving tile and raising walls, cringing with a rag in their hands as they scrubbed blood from stone. Tears spilled when the castle rose up once again, old memories and recent wounds scarred their subconscious and terrorized them at night. For the time being, those working full time to rebuild the castle stayed in the dormitories, families spread out in four-posters and ate together in the Great Hall. Houses didn't matter anymore, and all ate together and laughed together when they had five minutes to spare.

They laughed together during the good times when they could see themselves healing and held each other up when all fell apart. In those weeks following the second of May, hope was found in hard work, it was attained by sweat and strained muscles and nods as they passed in the corridors. Hope was attained in the little things, and it was gained through busy days and exhausted nights repairing Hogwarts in those days after the war.

It took two weeks for the majority of the work to be completed- rubble cleared, foundations secured along with quite a few of the little things, like restoring portraits and re-sealing the magical borders around Hogwarts. But it was done through teamwork and mutual ideas on what order should look like- what peace should be now that the worst was over.

…

Angie was the one who found Fred's will.

Turns out that it was in the shop, in the upstairs flat the twins had shared. Hidden amongst a box of reciepts and blueprints for new inventions- tucked inside his childhood keepsakes and his last Weasley jumper.

It was the first time George had been back to the shop since well before the war ended. He went mostly because he knew that he must, but Angie came with him to guarantee that he'd make it out alright.

She was the one who found it- she went to make Fred's bed when it dropped out from under the bed frame.

Hermione was the one who executed the estate, still firm in her idea that until the Ministry was on firmer footing, they couldn't be trusted in affairs such as these. To be honest, she was still bitter in the way they discredited Dumbledore and distrusted him in wake of his death.

Fred had decided to leave everything to his family, to split up the shares of the shop so his parents and siblings (even surrogate ones in Harry, Angelina and Hermione) would be well looked after in the event of his death.

He told George more than once to move on, to re-open the shop and keep joy alive even in a potential world without him. He said that while people were dying left and right and while whole families were going into hiding, he didn't want his brother to stop living on his account. Even Fred understood that if this war never ended, you couldn't stop living in the pursuit of surviving; because life without laughter was reality now in the life without Fred.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes remained barred and closed, the bright lights dampened, the colourful inventions dusty in abandonment for those first couple months after May. George tried, he truly did- but life wasn't the same at the shop without Fred there- he couldn't stand to be alone in that place where they had once been so happy together.

But he understood now more than ever life must go on- Fred wouldn't want him to be sad for him. He would want him to move on.

...

Things were changing at the Ministry. After the war ended, all those who had worked to corrupt the Ministry had fled rather than risk imprisonment. Some made it- but most were caught, arrested and sent to trial as a Death Eater accomplice. Anyone who in their trial was found guilty of siding with Lord Voldemort was sent to Azkaban.

Kingsley was made temporary Minister for Magic in the middle of June, a steady head for this new reality- for a new beginning in magical policy making.

His first act of business was clear Azkaban of those who were unworthy of being there, to assume professional trials for suspected Death Eater's and long time members alike. To not have a Sirius Black happen again, and most importantly for fear to not overrule law and to let those of pure intent walk free without fear.

He had discovered the horror that had become of the Ministry first hand, undercover as he was in not only the Magical system of government, but also the Muggle. He knew of those who had been coerced into being Death Eater sympathizers and those who were playing at being Death Eater themselves. He rounded up the lot, questioned and put them under trial. But those who hadn't died in the final battle and who's loyalty was tattooed onto their forearms landed in Azkaban, a cleaner and more humane version of the prison in the North Sea, free of Dementors now that the worst of it was now over.

All but three of the suspected Death Eaters were sentenced to Azkaban. They were sentenced in front of the Wizengamot and were filed under another category entirely. They were the tipping point of this new government, a primary test. But for now, they were missing- and the Auror corps was all over England looking for them.

All those who were found to not be Death Eaters, or associated with them at all other than the unfortunate twist of a wand in the form of the Imperius Curse had their memories of the past year cleared and were returned to their families for rehabilitation.

By doing so, however, a number of the high level posts for Ministry departments were found vacated. Arthur Weasley was promoted, given a higher salary and a better office as well as the title of Senior Secretary for the Minister of Magic, a post that gave him great pride to hold. But his heart would always belong to all things Muggle, so his job remained quite the same; other than the fact that two more Ministry workers were assigned under him. His work now varied to the objects of the Muggle world, and how they could assist and develop further in the magical one. It a task to which he often asked Hermione for assistance in, and it was here that she coincidently found a foothold in the form of a future father in law, well on her way to being a higher-up in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement even though she was still in school.

Kingsley as temporary Minister had yet to be sworn into service, so his acts too were temporary until he became a full member. Before that could happen, however, he understood that many other pressing issues came first, one of which was an assembly of other Minister's of Magic to be held immediately to discuss the conclusion to the threat that was Lord Voldemort. Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathizers had been found, questioned and rounded up in every country in western Europe as well as other eastern states and were being dealt with accordingly. Many were still missing or not accounted, and the Auror corps spent their days in the wilderness hunting them down to be interrogated, sentenced and imprisoned.

It was decided that twice a year a meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards would meet, come together and hash out the problems that concerned them all.

At Kingsley's request, to the left of every minister was the Muggle ruler of state, as he felt that it was due time that the magical community took a stance to unite (if not only secretly) the magical and Muggle worlds on pressing issues that had effect on all. The devil-may-care attitude that Fudge had once maintained for the British Prime Minister would never happen again, and all present took an oath to bind themselves to the strength of their collective unity.

...

After Hogwarts was repaired and the world was relatively calm once again, Neville, Ron and Harry were scouted for Auror training, and left for the Ministry of Magic after the last funeral was over in late June. (There were still Death Eaters and Dementors on the loose, after all, still wizards torturing Muggles, still prejudice against Muggleborns) Still wars to fight and battles to win.

They went to training with everyone else, though, despite their impressive experience. Learned to fight and to protect, re-learning the charms and hexes they Harry had taught them in the DA. Learned to watch their backs and work as a team. Went home on the weekends to see their girlfriends, to have a round of drinks in the Leaky Cauldron and talk about the war.

They moved in together too, after all that. After the girls had gone to Hogwarts and they desired independence. Once the security of the building was secured and the dark magic removed, Ron, Harry and Neville each had a floor to themselves in Grimmauld Place.

Another act of Kingsley's was to issue an all clear to all those still in hiding from Voldemort, to recover them by means of the Auror corps, the first mission for those training. Harry, Ron and Neville were sent collectively to Scotland and then to Wales, finding friends and enemies alike hidden away in fear of Death Eaters and Snatchers. It was much to the surprise of Harry's (and amusement of Ron's) that many of those they found were afraid of him as well, the infamous Undesirable No.1 was held in almost as much reverence and frank fear that they decided that he should be left out of the initial recovery, until they were sure that Harry would do more good than harm.

Once the message was delivered, hundreds of families, couples and Muggleborns who were lucky enough to escape the Snatchers were reintegrated back into society, protected from the attitudes that had once imprisoned them by the Muggleborn Act, the first law reinforced by Kingsley's new government. Business for the first time in five years bloomed and shops in both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade that had long since been closed were reopened. Ollivander's was reopened just in time for the new school year, and Hermione and Ron were in line with the other first years and battle veterans to buy a new wand for the ones they'd lost.

The niece of Florean Fortescue took ownership of the ice-cream parlour in July, and she was overjoyed to see that business as usual had resumed at last. She took joy in delivering happiness, in increasing hope and reinforcing the reality that good times were on the way.

It could only get better from there.

…

However, others were still in isolation, not by choice, but by the reality of grief on mothers who had already lost a child, and were nowhere near prepared to let another get out of their sights.

As such, Ginny was in sorts, driven mad by the thought of a summer cleaning the attic and dusting out the broom cupboard for five months rather than have some fun for a change. While she and Harry desired more than anything to pull closer together, it seemed bad timing, conflicting schedules and privacy all had a role to play in their separation. If the truth was to be told, Mrs Weasley was unsure how to handle it- her sons and daughters were dating and the fact of the matter was that they simply didn't need her as much as they had used to.

And it hurt- for Mrs Weasley who only wanted her family close this change hurt a lot.

While Harry was away with Ron doing missions for the Aurors, Ginny often bunked with George at the shop's flat when Mrs Weasley was in a state, feeling both elated and guilty at the thought of leaving her with an empty house when she so dearly desired to have her family close. She ended up landing a job at Quality Quidditch Supplies that first summer after the war, a post she both desired as an escape mechanism, but also as a source of semi-independence in a world she had so little control over. She often flew home on her shiny new Nimbus 2000 on the weekends, or to the Ministry to see Harry and Ron at lunch. But her real drive was writing, and once she was certain that the Daily Prophet was on firmer footing (and sure that those who had once framed Harry and Dumbledore were sacked) she became a journalist. Not paid anything substantial, or given particularly interesting jobs, but from the moment she saw written by Ginevra Weasley in the Prophet on her article, she was entranced. She was published, and Ginny was happy.

Harry and she often went to the Leaky Cauldron, or more often to the Three Broomsticks when school started up again in September to have quiet dates around the village or broom races around the Quidditch Post. It was he alone who saw it as no surprise when Ginny was named Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain in her final year, and he who sent a brand new Firebolt to her by Owl Post at breakfast when he heard. Harry wasn't surprised by the awed looks his former classmates held for him when he visited, or shocked when a particularly bold Hufflepuff second year asked for his signature. He was just happy that his first home was repaired and healing and that its walls still held the same magic it had when he had first seen the castle seven years ago.

At night though everything seemed hopeless. Healing happened during the day, and at night, Harry relived all the terrors that still haunted him in his subconscious.

All that summer, Ginny was there when Harry woke up shaky and screaming for help, she was the one who heard him yelling her name at the peak of a particularly potent nightmare. She learned more from his screams than his silence, or his words when they came. She categorized and stockpiled information from the year on the run from his nightmares and screams that rang in the night. But she was there for him. She came for him. And when he screamed her name she came to him with quiet words and kisses until he could calm down once more.

When Ginny was home, at the Burrow for the weekend, it was also she who was kind enough to hide Extendable Ears underneath Harry's mattress so he would wake her when he had a nightmare. He knew that she would never leave, but her presence reassured him when his dreams turned to nightmares and nothing made sense. She was the one who would wake him up and calm him down after he woke in cold sweat. She knew the right words to reassure him and when to let go, when to hold tighter and when to let him deal with his demons on his own. They helped each other heal, and when their nightmares coincided they spent the night curled up on the floor until they relaxed enough to stop shaking, held each other close in fear that another war might steal the other away once again. She chose the night of Harry's worst nightmares to sleep under an Invisibility cloak and lie in her boyfriend's arms rather than face cold sheets and an empty bedroom for the seventeenth year in a row. Not for a romantic ultimatum, or for a reason to rebel against Mrs Weasley, but as a way to heal.

Over that summer (and well into their marriage) Harry and Ginny had their share of fights, of arguments. He took her fear and her anger in kissed her in the middle of a sentence instead of retaliating because he knew that she was right, and in the end nothing was worth letting her go now. Ginny was his rock and his solace, and he needed her as much as she needed him. Right until the very end.

...

Ron often came home to visit the Burrow when Harry did, for not only home cooked food and clean clothes, but also for the welcome company of their girlfriends when home from Hogwarts.

They had grown together quite nicely, Hermione and him. They fit together in spirit, in ideals. He knew how deeply she missed her parents, and vowed with her that night that he would go with her to Australia to find them once she graduated and the international travel bans were lifted.

Hermione often shook in the night as well, nightmares about Malfoy Manor and the prickling scar on her forearm left her crying and calling out for help in the early hours of the morning.

Ron heard her one night, followed the sound of screaming with his wand held tightly in his hand and turned white at the thought that that terrible sound was coming from Ginny's room, and when he opened the door, from his girlfriend's mouth.

He was the one who whispered her name and lay with her until she woke up, until she stopped shaking and her pulse retuned back to normal. Ron was the one who Summoned a damp cloth and a glass of water, the one who stayed when she asked him to and didn't leave her side until morning.

He had promised her that he would never leave again, and that night he began a lifelong career of living up to his promise.

Whenever they were home together, he laid awake listening intently for her, and jumped out of bed in the hopes of bringing her out of a nightmare without fear or hesitations to her safety. He wiped her sweaty brow and kissed her soundly until she was calm enough to fall back asleep.

Molly caught him one night, sneaking into his sisters bedroom in the early hours of the morning. She watched from the hall as he calmed her down and reassured her that everything was alright. He didn't argue when she asked him to stay with her, and tucked her into his arms on her tiny camp bed, intent on helping his girlfriend heal. She watched as they fell asleep with a motherly affection and stayed until she was certain that they were fast asleep.

And to everyone's surprise as well as her own, Molly let them sleep, left two mugs of hot milk and nutmeg on the bedside table and kissed the two of them on the foreheads before leaving the room. She knew all about Australia, after all- the twins weren't the only ones who used Extendable Ears to listen in on conversations. She was well aware of the implications pushing her son away would cause and knew better than most that they were adults, and survival was key when nightmares were more frequent than dreams. They had made it this far, and she wasn't about to separate them now.

…

Percy had learned the hard way that for him, too much power was never a good thing, and most importantly that he valued his family more than his job. He almost didn't know what to think when he applied at Flourish and Blotts that summer, even more so when they hired him on the spot. They said they had been looking for a new sales assistant after the last one went into hiding in the war. He fell love with the quiet work, with the reassurance that he had always found in books. He loved the fact that his job would always be there tomorrow, and that he looked forward to going back each day.

Mr. Flourish wasn't often there, but his daughter was hired in August. Quiet, at first, but quick and funny once he had gotten to know her, Audrey captivated him at once. Once school started up again and Diagon Alley got busier, they often worked double shifts together, stocking the shelves and taking inventory late into the night. It was then that Percy discovered her love for Muggle books, and later on he who ordered a sprawl of Muggle literature for a new section of the shop. It was he who read Shakespeare and Dickens so he would have something to talk about with her at work, he who admitted to his deed once he saw the way her eyes were shining.

Once her father retired, she and Percy took up the shop themselves, ordering shipments and taking inventory and helping greedy readers like themselves find a new passion. Percy found real joy and satisfaction in what he did, and after two years of a partnership, he proposed in order to do so more efficiently.

They raised two children together, Molly and Lucy, born a year after one another and raised them to be smart and kind and brave. Named after family so they would learn Percy's mistake and never turn their backs on those who loved them.

...

For the time being- life was calm once more.

The Weasley's spent their free afternoons playing Quidditch, cleaning and sitting still. Harry and Ginny got back together again, and much to Harry's relief, she had forgiven him for leaving without telling her last August.

Ron and Hermione started dating too- and they were happy. They made each other happy in that summer after the war.

For them, it seemed like the summer would never end- it was full of long days of sunshine and relaxation. Voldemort was gone- a new day had come. A day where they could do nothing all day long- sit with ice lollies and books by the pond, play Quidditch, climb trees. Heal their broken bones and broken hearts with the rest they all desperately needed.

Others had found this as well. Luna had found her own way of keeping busy; between nursing her father back to health and waiting to finish her last year at Hogwarts she opened a small apothecary in Little Whinging, specializing in the outlandish and often imaginary creatures she discovered on her adventures. She met Rolf Scamander on a trip to Scandinavia three years after she graduated, and they married after eight years of partnership turned to courting, and lived out their lives on the top of a mountain in Ireland in the only magical village for a hundred miles, raised their sons to see hope in the hopeless and happiness in sadness like they had in their youth.

Cho left her wand behind after the war, moved back home to Dublin and married a Muggle, the curious man who courted her from behind the bookshelves at her favourite library. The one who recommended Little Women and the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, the boy who told her that she reminded him of Jane Bennet huddled over a pot of Earl Grey and proposed with a half-dozen red roses in his back pocket.

She never told him about magic. Never told him about Cedric. The clever witch from Ravenclaw's house knew more than most that magic wouldn't save her now, and after all she had gone through to save it, her wand collected dust as she lived out her life as a Muggle. A witch without a wand is a woman who has fought too hard for something she couldn't keep. Not really. Because magic is cheating and life on its own is a gift.

Seamus married a French witch he met at a pub, pulled a Ted Tonks and asked her out three songs in- so overjoyed that he almost forgot she was real the way stars were shining in her eyes.

They were happy. They were safe.

They hadn't feared death since they were seventeen, and wouldn't again for many years to come.

…

After they graduated from Auror training, Neville, Ron and Harry had their fair share of adventures.

They went to Scandinavia to hunt down hags, to Russia to find some of the last remaining Death Eaters- though they were called something different there that none of them could pronounce.

They learned to work as a team- to share jobs and sleeping shifts like they had been doing it all their lives. They wrote letters to their girlfriends and families and had far too much instant Muggle food than what was good for them.

They had the time of their lives. Out there in the bush, they learned more about themselves then they had ever before.

It was something they had always wanted to do- it was keeping people safe. It was protecting Britain's interests in Europe- it was banishing the very thought of Voldemort from the minds of those who had lived through it.

It was the right thing to do, and the three of them grew together as brothers- closer than they ever had before.

They found the last Death Eater accomplices in March, 1999. They were hiding in a Muggle neighbourhood in Germany. They Stunned the lot and ducked the unintelligible spells they threw at them. Once they were rounded up- there was peace once more.

...

Ron had always known that being an Auror was what he wanted to do.

It had been almost immortalized in his childhood- it was brave and courageous and all he ever wanted for himself. It was everything he wasn't- and he desired more than ever to make himself brave.

But after all the Death Eaters had been caught, he lost interest. As much as he loved being with Harry, as much as he wanted the world to be safe, he didn't want to spent the rest of his life watching his back. He wanted to live, he didn't just want to survive.

He handed in his resignation in May, a couple of weeks before Hermione would get back for Hogwarts. It was funny, really, that after all those years of lusting after recognition all he wanted now was for people to leave him alone. He couldn't stand the speculation nor the greedy stares, ripped up the Daily Prophet when they speculated about his and Hermione's 'engagement', his face as red as a tomato.

He wasn't a hero, not really. He had killed a Horcrux to prove a point, not because he wanted to- he was no Harry Potter.

When he wasn't at Grimmauld Place, he spent his time at the Burrow. He did it mostly so that he had people to be with, but also because he understood that his mum was lonely. She wanted him there, so even though he didn't always want to, he stayed.

He knew that he was needed, and it was welcome. He wanted more than anything to be wanted, and he found it in family- a place where it had been all along.

…

George moved back into his flat in September, a couple of days after Ginny and Hermione had left for Hogwarts. He pried open the door and blew the dust off the bright and colourful inventions he and his brother had created together, tossed off his cloak and pulled on his magenta robes- grinned the first time he saw himself smile in the mirror and didn't see his twin staring back at him.

But productivity didn't happen immediately, it took time. The first time George dropped a case of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and was enveloped in darkness, he was struck to his knees with a powerful panic attack, coughing and choking and lying there curled in the fetal position until his new assistant had the good sense to send a Patronus to Angelina.

She was the one who brought him up, brushed him off. Held him until he stopped shaking, and then led him to the Leaky Cauldron and fed him hot soup she until he was calm once more. It was also she who threw the entire stock of Darkness Powder into the alley and locked the back door behind her.

She was the one who introduced the idea to George that Ron would make a fantastic business partner, and after he quit the Auror corps she signed him on as a surrogate replacement for Fred.

Ron was the one who suggested the line of products aimed at survivors, at those healing. The one who had first suggested the idea of sleeping draughts to give good dreams and automatic messages to loved ones in the event of night terrors. The one to design a potion that could counteract the effects of panic attacks and a spell to St. Mungo's if it was serious enough for medical attention. He had learned a lot taking care of Hermione, after all.

He was in his element, confidence restored. Ron was a natural salesman, a war hero and a genius when it came to catering to customers. In those months after the war and into the years beyond, Ron looked after his brother, and George watched out for him.

Gradually, Ron came to love the shop and its strange sights and smells. He loved how the sunshine shined on the west walls when they opened the shop and seeing the crowds of people that he, Harry and Hermione had fought to save.

He loved the way this new reality was true- that each day he woke up with another day to make a difference and live happily. He loved that he got to see his girlfriend on the weekends and would wake up with her by his side every morning once she graduated and they finally got married.

He loved that he got to help his brother heal and could make a new future for himself now, one that he knew his brother would be proud to see.

...

Harry and Ginny eloped.

They both hated the idea of a big wedding so after Ginny graduated in June- they got married at the Ministry of Magic. She wore her favourite dress, and Harry jeans and a suit jacket.

They didn't care about the wedding- the cared about the marriage.

Of course, Molly was furious when she found out. She didn't understand how they could take the marriage of her only daughter away from her. But Arthur understood- Harry had asked his permission after all. He understood more than most- Harry would never have had the intimacy of a private wedding had it not been this way- the press followed him wherever he went.

Harry left Grimmauld Place after they got married and they moved back to his parents house in Godric's Hollow. it only made sense that they should live out the rest of their lives in a place that had once held joy for his own parents, and to raise their children in a house that he had once been happy in.

When it was finally repaired and the Dark Magic removed, they hung pictures on the walls and planted flowers in the garden- hung curtains in their bedroom window. They grew ivy climbing up the exterior and arranged the furniture in a way that pleased them, and for the first time since Ginny had graduated, they finally felt settled.

They filled every corner of that house with laughter and happiness and shared lunches and desserts in the garden. They babysat Teddy and baby Victoire and had sleepovers in the living room and dreamed of kids that they would have together some day.

Harry raised a half Quidditch pitch in the garden, placing charms to disguise the place so they and the Weasley's could fly whenever they wished. Teddy rode around on his toy broom there under his godfather's supervision and cheered on Victoire when she was old enough to try it for herself. They played four on four at the pitch when all of their friends were in town and spent nights under the stars cuddled on the porch swing.

For the first time since sixth year they let go of everything- for the first time in Harry's life he was safe. He was loved. He had people who loved him back and was settled into a life he had made for himself.

...

Harry first met his godson at Remus and Tonks' funeral. He held the baby for Andromeda when she spoke the eulogy, and held onto him like a lifeline when everything else was falling apart. This precious life was free from fear, free from this endless sadness. He had no idea that his parents were being put into the ground that day, no clue what was going on, really. He was barely three weeks old.

Teddy Lupin was already an orphan. But looking down at his godson, Harry realized quite suddenly that he would rather die than give the baby a life alone, a life spent feeling unworthy and unwanted like what he had had. Teddy was family even then.

They brought him and Andromeda back to the Burrow once it was over, and Harry spent the afternoon thoroughly examining his godson. He was a Metamorphmagus, just like his mother, and his favourite hue for his hair was turquoise. His eyes in their natural state were the same colour as Remus's, a deep, chocolate brown. He yawned in his sleep, and liked to suck his thumb. He had the chubbiest cheeks and laughed a laugh that sounded like bells when he was happy, which was often. Harry was in love immediately.

They spent many days like that in the days after the war, Teddy sleeping on Harry's chest like he imagined Sirius had for him all those years ago. He held onto Teddy's hands and tried his best to make him laugh, and learned how to calm him down when he was fussy rather than hand him back to Andromeda or Mrs. Weasley. He learned the lesson of his own godfather and stayed with him rather than seek help, and as time would tell- it was more than enough.

He took Teddy on long walks in his pram, to Diagon Alley or around Muggle London. He showed him birds and buses and cats and trees, and always stopped for ice-cream at the end. He knew Teddy began to see him as a father figure when he reached for him when he was crying or sad, and was proud how easily he was able to make him feel better, which usually ended in a long walk to calm Teddy down. When Ginny was home from school, she'd often accompany them, and the Daily Prophet started speculating that Teddy was their son instead of just a godson. Harry didn't mind, but the next morning, the bugger who had taken the paparazzi photos found himself hexed and Harry came home to a suspiciously ecstatic Ginny.

Teddy started walking when he was ten months old, and said his first word at eighteen months. He learned the hard way that Crookshanks didn't like his tail being pulled, and got a scar on his eyebrow to prove it. He learned to love the Weasley's, Hermione and his new cousin Victoire and accepted them into his little family along with him and Andromeda. He grew into a person his parents would be proud of- brave and capable and strong.

Teddy spent his childhood divided between his Gran's house, Harry and Ginny's and the Burrow. He grew up with his cousins and his godfather and his Grandma, he grew up with a family, with people who loved him. And he was happy, and unlike his godfather, Teddy Lupin grew up with a smile on his face.

He waited with Harry in the father's room at St. Mungo's when James, Al and Lily were born, playing games with his godfather, keeping him distracted from Ginny's screams from down the hall. He babysat all of the Potter kids and most of the Weasley's, and collected Harry and Ron's Chocolate Frog cards along with those of his parents. He grew up knowing that he was treasured and loved, and never once doubted their affection for him, he grew up in a way that Harry knew would've make his parents proud.

He grew up knowing that he was an orphan, and that his parents were war heroes, and died in the hope that they could make the world safer for their son. Harry told him stories whenever he asked about his parents like Sirius once had for him. Telling him about the way that Tonks changed her hair colour to make Ginny and Hermione laugh when they were at Grimmauld Place, how Lupin had taught Harry DADA in his third year and showed him how to cast his first Patronus. He told Teddy the story of how his parents fell in love and the day they got married. He showed him their wedding rings and the photograph his father had taken the day he was born. He took Teddy to his parents graves every year on their birthdays, and when he was old enough, he told them about the war; Voldemort and his Death Eaters and the day that both of his parents were killed.

He had heard the basics before he left for Hogwarts in his first year- Harry had told him the truth before kids at school could tell him otherwise. But he didn't tell him all- he was only eleven. Harry wanted to keep him from the pain the truth would bring until he was old enough to be able to process it.

Once Rita Skeeter wrote her book about Harry in Teddy's sixth year (Harry Potter, the Man Behind the Legend,) Teddy had more questions than ever. He wanted the truth.

So over the Easter hols when Ted was back from school, Harry told him everything. The good and the bad- starting with Lily and James' deaths, leaving nothing left to the imagination.

He told him how the Dark Lord had risen about ten years before Harry was born, how he was vanquished and how he rose again when Harry was at Hogwarts. He told Teddy how Voldemort had come back with unicorn blood on the back of the DADA's professor's head in his first year and how Dumbledore had tricked him into fleeing once again. He told him about the Chamber of Secrets and how Ginny had been the one to open it, how Hermione had been petrified and how she brewed the Polyjuice potion so they could change into Malfoy and his friends. He told him about Lockhart and Fawkes and how he had killed the Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor, how he had destroyed the Horcrux of the diary even though he didn't know it was one.

He told Ted about how Pettigrew had faked his death and framed Sirius for Lily and James' deaths- how he had hid and almost died rather than face his fears. He told him how he had his godfather for less than two years before he died.

Harry told about the cloudy ending to the Triwizard tournament that he hadn't told any of his kids, how Voldemort had killed Cedric and risen again reincarnate in the graveyard because he had stolen Harry's blood.

By this time, Teddy was shaking. He had never been told about anything to do with the war this clearly- everything was under wraps and now Teddy understood why. It was painful to talk about, this wasn't just a story, this was his family's history. They had lived through this and faced Voldemort year after year. Harry had been there when Voldemort rose out of that cauldron, he was the one who had done it all. Teddy wasn't sure he would ever look at his godfather the same way again.

He told him about Horcruxes, he told him about Dumbledore's death. He told him how Malfoy didn't kill Dumbledore because he was brave and how Snape had because he was, just in a different way.

He told him their time on the run, about breaking into the Ministry, killing the locket with the sword of Gryffindor. He told him about the Hallows, about how the three of them together would make on master of death. He told him how they had lost the tent and Gryffindor's sword to the Snatchers and how he and Ron had been locked in the cellar at Malfoy Manor with Luna, Dean and Ollivander and how Dobby had saved their lives. Harry tried his best to gloss over Hermione's torture, but Teddy had seen the scar on her forearm, he was even fairly sure that Hermione had already told Teddy about what it meant. He told Teddy instead how they had stolen wands from Bellatrix and Draco to make up for the ones they had lost and escaped to Shell Cottage. Harry spoke softly about Dobby's sacrifice, how he had buried him by Shell Cottage, and how that was the tombstone at Victoire's house that nobody talked about. Harry spoke about how they had made a deal with the goblin Griphook and how they rested up at the house, he told Teddy about the day he was born and how his father showed them a photograph of him when he was a baby and asked him to be godfather.

"Why did he ask you?" Teddy asked.

"I didn't know then, but I think I do now," Harry said, smiling softly. "Your dad wanted to make up for a mistake he had made and saw this as a chance to redeem himself."

"What did he do?" Teddy asked apprehensively. "He didn't run, did he?"

"It doesn't matter Ted- he fixed it in the end. Your dad was one of the best men I have ever known- he knew the right thing to do when his time came."

After that, Harry said, they broke into Gringotts to steal Helga Hufflepuff's cup from the Lestrange's vault and broke out on the back of a dragon. Harry told him about the war, about the battlements, how the younger kids had to leave through a secret passage into the Hog's Head. He told him about how the school had fought back and the magical boundaries the teachers had put up around Hogwarts.

He told him how Snape had died a hero because he made the right decision and tried to right his mistakes, how he had been Dumbledore's man and a Death Eater at the same time. He told Teddy that despite everything Snape had did to him, he still forgave him, and that was the reason why he had named Al after him.

Harry said that he had been there when Fred died, and that it wasn't until the battle had stopped that he realized that Tonks and Remus were dead. He told him that his parents had died doing the right thing, trying to make the world safer for their son.

"Voldemort gave me an ultimatum then," Harry said, looking Teddy straight in the eye. "I could give myself up to him and everyone else would be safe. I left before anyone knew I was gone, before anyone could convince me otherwise. That was the hardest walk of my life- I knew I was walking to my death. I knew that I wouldn't be able to fight back, that I had to willingly sacrifice myself in order for Voldemort to be killed for good."

"You died?" Teddy whispered, grabbing hold of Harry's robes like he had when he was a baby, even though he was too old to then. Harry looked down at his godson sadly. "Yes, I died. Dumbledore told me through Snape's memories that I was the last Horcrux, and all of the Horcruxes had to be destroyed if Voldemort truly was to die.

"I had realized by then that my cloak of invisibility truly was the one mentioned in the Tale of the Three Brothers. It was also a Hallow. That, along with the Resurrection Stone that Dumbledore had put in my snitch and Voldemort's wand made up the Deathly Hallows.

"In his will, Dumbledore gave me a snitch- the one from the first Quidditch match I won for Gryffindor. It said on the side open at the close, but I didn't realize what it meant until that moment. I knew I was going to die, this was the close of my life. The snitch opened, and inside was the Resurrection Stone."

"You saw your parents before you-you died." Teddy said in awe, his eyes full of tears. "you saw the people you loved most."

"Yes, I did. And your dad, and Sirius, I hadn't processed that Remus was dead until then. They gave me the strength I needed to sacrifice myself. I walked up to Voldemort and the Death Eaters knowing that that was the end. Voldemort cast the killing curse, and I was dead."

"What was it like?" Teddy asked. "did it hurt?"

"No, it didn't hurt- it was quicker and easier than falling asleep. It didn't feel like anything. But the place I landed in was strange, it was white. Everything was white. Dumbledore was there- he told me that he had stayed behind for me." Harry said. "he told me that the Horcrux in me was gone, that by my sacrifice Voldemort could be mortal again. Before I left the castle, I told Neville to kill the snake- it had to be done. and he agreed even though he didn't know why.

"After Dumbledore left through the fog, I made the decision to come back, and when I did, I was lying exactly where I had been. Hagrid carried me back to the castle and Voldemort told everyone that I was dead. It took everything in me not to say anything. Everyone was in so much pain, especially Ginny- I couldn't bear looking at her."

He told him how Neville had stood up to Voldemort and beheaded Nagini with the sword of Gryffindor and how Ron and Hermione had destroyed Hufflepuff's cup. He told Ted about how the Room of Requirement had been destroyed by Fiendfyre and subsequently destroyed the Diadem. He told him that Voldemort was a mortal man once again.

He told Ted how he had faced Voldemort in the Great Hall and offered Riddle a chance to redeem himself. He told him how their wands had met and rebounded- how Voldemort had killed himself in the end with a rebounding Killing Curse.

"We burned him," Harry said. "Him and the Death Eaters that had died- Bellatrix Lestrange included. Molly killed her."

"Gran?" Ted said in shock. "She'd never kill anyone."

"No?" Harry asked. "Answer me this then, she'd die to protect any of you, you know its true. She put her own life on the line because she was protecting Ginny- Bellatrix almost got her when they were duelling."

"Oh," Teddy said, his eyes wide with shock.

Harry looked over at his godson, who sat slumped over on the sofa. He put a hand on his godsons knee, who didn't move in response.

"I know it hurts to know, but you needed to hear it from me. The full truth- not the half-truths I tell Lily and Al- they're not old enough to know. It's painful and tough to realize. But know this Ted- the war's over. A new day has come. A day where I can tell you this and it could almost be a story."

"I guess," Ted said. "I still can't believe it."

"Be thankful you didn't have to live it," Harry said.

"I know. I just didn't know that it would hurt this much." Harry looked up, saddened to see that Teddy was crying, his eyes shimmered with tears.

"So that's it- that was everything that nobody told you for so long," Harry said, pulling his godson into an embrace. "Was it everything that you thought it would be?"

"No," Teddy said, "I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. But-but thank you. It must've been hard to tell."

"You needed to know," Harry said sadly. "You needed to hear it. But I'm glad its from me- you deserve the full truth."

Harry got up to leave, but Ted grabbed onto his sleeve.

"Please don't leave, not yet."

"I won't," Harry promised, sitting back down. "I'll never leave you alone."

...

This is Part One, as the original document was 21'000 words long. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

This has been edited since I published it last night, and some things are switched around. I much prefer it this way, and hope you do too :)

I'll be publishing the second part tonight (December 5th, 2015), so watch your inboxes!

Please review- you have no idea how much I'd love to hear from you one last time.

Love,

Violet Sky