Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Epilogue: Live Forever
"So, excited for tomorrow?" Neville asked as he paused in the hall outside James's room. "Got everything packed? Your mum will have your head if you leave something for the morning."
"I've been packed for two days, Dad," James said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, good." Neville shifted a bit in the doorway. "Can I come in for a moment?"
"Sure," James said.
His dad entered the room and quietly shut the door behind him. Taking a seat on the edge of James's bed, he began to speak.
"I want you to have this," he said, pulling a piece of long silvery material out from the inside of his robes. "Your mother doesn't think you're old enough, she thinks we should wait a couple years, but it's your birthright…and what your mother doesn't know won't hurt her."
James took the cloak, a look of awe on his face. "You're really doing something behind Mum's back?"
His dad shrugged. "I think she does want you to have it, she just worries about you. After all, you don't have any Weasleys at Hogwarts to look after you, keep you out of trouble," he said, a twinkle in his eye.
"What does she think I'm going to do, land myself in detention the first day?" James said indignantly.
"She's perhaps still recovering from you 'accidentally' turning your brother's Pygmy Puff into a rather ugly pillow," his dad said, a stern look on his face.
"Hey, Twiggles survived that! And it wasn't my fault, if Joshua hadn't smashed my miniature Firebolt model…" James said, trailing off a bit. He supposed it had been rather immature to recoil at his five-year-old brother in that manner. "Mum wouldn't have even found out about that if Evie hadn't blabbed."
"You think I wouldn't have told her?" his dad asked, his eyebrows raised.
"You wouldn't have. You had already punished me by making me de-gnome the garden," James said.
"That's true," his father said thoughtfully. "All that aside, though, I hope you understand that giving you this cloak is not an invitation to break school rules. I just…thought you should have it. Your dad would have wanted you to have it."
James started a bit, as he always did whenever either of his parents mentioned Harry in such a manner. "You're my dad," he protested.
"You know what I mean."
James ran his hand over the smooth fabric of the cloak. A small thrill ran through him, knowing that this had belonged to the father he would never know. He looked back up at his dad, at the man who had raised him, and smiled widely. "Thanks," he said sincerely.
James had waited over two years to see the memorial, ever since his parents had settled him down when he was nine and told him the truth about his real father. He had been angry, at first – he had spent two days at Bill and Fleur's before finally calming down enough to return home. It had taken him awhile to understand how dangerous it could have been for him to know the truth before or to proclaim his true identity to everyone. He had grown up in a time of nearly unprecedented peace, and the fear that was still present in his parents' eyes when they spoke of Voldemort was something he wasn't sure he would ever grasp.
They had told him the whole story right away. His mother said Harry would have wanted him to know everything, that one of the things Harry had hated most was being told half of a truth. He had known the basics of Harry's heroics before, of course; it was standard bedtime story material for children of his generation. The truth was even more incredible than James could have imagined, and it at once made him feel immense pride and a sickening feeling of worthlessness. Surely he would never be able to live up to the great deeds of his father. Being the son of Harry Potter was even more intimidating than living up to his mother's Healer renown or being the grandson of the famed Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom.
He had arrived at Hogwarts that day feeling rather sick to his stomach and glad that his last name was still Longbottom. His parents were well-known, and he did have to field some questions from other enthusiastic first years who wanted to know more about the family closest to Harry Potter, but questions he could deal with. At least no one was staring at him.
He was sorted into Gryffindor, just as everyone had expected. As the oldest of the Weasley grandchildren, he fully expected to be given the task of looking out for the younger ones as they came along, first Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's daughter and then his sister Evelina. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron's son Gavin would arrive the same year as Joshua – that would be James's seventh year. This thought brought a smile to his face, but after a moment he quickly realized he was getting ahead of himself. He hadn't even started classes yet and already he was thinking of seventh year.
Shaking his head, he stared back at the memorial and thought about why he had come. It was late, well past curfew – he had snuck out using the Invisibility Cloak his dad had given him the night before. James now thought he might have understood his mother's reasoning for not wanting him to have it yet, as he had now snuck out of the castle on his very first night at Hogwarts.
Now that he was here, he wasn't sure why he had thought seeing the memorial would be so great. He had always hoped it would make him feel closer to Harry, but it just made him feel incredibly sad. The memorial was full of pictures, of not just Harry but also the many other great witches and wizards who had died in the fight against Voldemort. James recognized a few of them – copies of photographs his parents had in their house.
He stood in front of a large photograph of Harry, wishing it were a portrait and not a silent photo. James touched his own features as he looked at the picture, noting that they had not only the same eyes but also very similar noses and ears – in fact, if it weren't for the freckles that decorated James's face and his Weasley red hair he would look almost exactly like his real father. This had been something his mother commented about once, saying how lucky it was that few people would see past the ginger hair to really look at him.
He didn't really look like his brother and sister though, both of whom were brown-eyed and auburn-haired. Joshua definitely favored his father, and while Evie did resemble her mother greatly she also had an air about her which was very similar to their Great-Gran's. James himself had never noticed these differences until they had been pointed out to him – he looked a lot like many of his Weasley cousins and had never given a thought as to why he had green eyes.
His grandmother's eyes. He shifted his gaze from Harry's photograph to the picture of James and Lily. Lily, with the green eyes so like his, and James, who had given him his name and his untidy hair (which Great-Gran loved to attack with Sleakeasy's Hair Potion when given the chance, though his Grandma Molly had long since given up on the disaster).
As he stood there, he finally realized that pictures and stories of their bravery were never going to give him a true idea of who his father's family had been. Feeling disappointed that the memorial had not offered the sense of contentment and identity he had been hoping for, he turned towards the exit.
"I thought I might find you here, James," a voice said from somewhere outside.
Turning, James saw Professor Lupin approach the entrance to the memorial.
"I did intend to bring you here myself at some point, whenever the opportunity arose. I imagine you have some questions," Lupin said gently.
James shook his head resolutely. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about what he had seen. "No questions. I just wanted to see it, that's all."
Lupin nodded thoughtfully. "Well, if you ever do have questions…"
"I'll know where to find you. I know; that's what you said two years ago when my parents sent you to Bill and Fleur's to talk to me," James said.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes. "I'll have to give you detention, you know, for being out of bounds this late at night," Lupin said finally.
James's head whipped up quickly, his eyes burning. "Detention?" He had hoped, upon seeing that it was Lupin and not another professor, that he might be granted some leniency.
"I can't play favorites. Your detention will be with me, and don't worry, I will not make the task too odious," Lupin said with a small smile. "Incidentally, I believe you have broken your grandfather's record, getting a detention your very first night at Hogwarts. James would have been proud."
James tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Great," he muttered.
"Come on, I'll walk you back to Gryffindor tower," Lupin said, but James stayed rooted to his spot.
"If you don't mind…since I already have detention…could I take maybe five more minutes? I'll go to bed right afterwards, I promise," James said.
Lupin looked at him carefully, but he finally nodded. Left by himself once more, James turned back to the large picture of Harry. He stood in front of it with his shoulders squared.
"I'm sorry we never got the chance to know each other," he said quietly. "Mum's happy, though…I hope you'd be glad to know that. I've had a good life, thanks to you. I hope I would have made you proud."
James waited a bit. He wasn't sure what he thought might happen, but he wasn't altogether surprised when nothing did. "Well, I feel really stupid now, so goodnight," he said quickly. Turning on his heel, he pulled on the Invisibility Cloak and hurried across the grounds back to his dormitory.
He couldn't be sure, as it was so late, but he could have sworn he heard a voice whisper, "I am already proud." Shaking his head, and now quite sure that he was going mad, he fell into bed still wearing his shoes and was asleep instantly.
"James, hurry up, we'll be late!" his fellow Gryffindor Finn Bedderton called from the entrance to their dormitory room. James was still packing his school bag, trying to stuff the last of his textbooks inside. He had stayed up rather late the night before, a fact which he was now regretting as he yawned hugely.
"Where were you last night, anyway? Lawrence said he heard you bustling around the room after midnight," Finn whispered as they finally made their way downstairs.
"Just went exploring," James replied. "I'll take you next time, don't worry."
This appeared to appease his new friend, and James released the breath he had been holding. If he was going to spend seven years sharing a dormitory with Finn and Lawrence and the others he wanted to start off on the right foot and get along.
They got lost twice but managed to slide into Professor Clearwater's Transfiguration class with a minute to spare. James's stomach rumbled; he hadn't had the chance to get breakfast.
"Here…sorry I forgot your name…you dropped your quill." A girl with long dark hair and hazel eyes was reaching across the aisle holding his quill.
"Thanks. And it's James. James Longbottom," he said.
"Oh that's right, you're in Gryffindor. My name's Laurel Edwards, and I'm in Ravenclaw," the girl said, her hair falling into her face.
James opened his mouth to speak again, but he was stopped by Professor Clearwater, who had appeared at the front of the classroom. She introduced herself and called the roll before setting them to the task of turning matchsticks into needles. James pulled his attention away from Laurel Edwards and concentrated on his matchstick. He couldn't help but notice, however, that she was the first to successfully Transfigure her matchstick, and that she did so without boasting about it at all.
As soon as class was over he pulled his schedule from his bag, wondering how many classes they had with the Ravenclaws. After studying the schedule for a few seconds, he determined that it was just Transfiguration. Feeling strangely disappointed, he followed Finn and Lawrence to the dungeons for Potions.
After Potions they trooped into the Great Hall for lunch. James stopped at the Ravenclaw table and slid in next to Laurel, who was sitting alone with a big book open in front of her.
"Hi," he said. "Why are you sitting by yourself?"
Laurel looked up at him, startled. "You're supposed to sit at your own House table. That's what a prefect told me."
James looked up and down the Ravenclaw table to see that he was getting many strange looks. "Well, I think that's silly. I think friends should be able to sit together, don't you think?"
Laurel turned bright red and buried her face in her book.
"Tell you what," James said. "Why don't we both go sit at the Hufflepuff table? I haven't met many Hufflepuffs yet."
Her eyes wide, Laurel looked up at him. "You're very strange, James Longbottom."
"Is there something wrong with that?"
Laurel marked her page and shut her book, showing James the cover. It was Hogwarts, A History. "It's just…you're going against several centuries' worth of tradition."
James closed his eyes for just a moment, thinking of all the faces and names inside the memorial. "Too many good people died so we could have peace…and nothing's changed. Yesterday after the Sorting a Slytherin fifth year tripped my friend Finn just because he's a Gryffindor. I sit down at the Ravenclaw table and people stare at me like I've got giant bat-bogeys flapping all over my face."
"You're not going to change the entire school in one day," Laurel said. "Look, even Finn and Lawrence think you've gone round the twist."
James glanced back at his roommates, who were eating their lunch at the Gryffindor table and trying not to look in his direction. "Maybe not. But we have to try."
He pictured his Longbottom grandparents, who would never truly know that their son was married and had a family and an important job. He pictured his Potter grandparents, who never knew what a hero their son became before he died. He pictured his Weasley grandparents, who had held their family together through war and heartache and loss. He thought of his parents and his aunts and uncles, all of whom had done their part and left their mark on history. If they had given him peace, he was going to make the most of it.
James looked back at Laurel, a glint in his eye. "We've got seven years, Laurel. We've got all the time in the world."
"What's that?" Neville asked as he plopped into a chair next to Evie the evening of James's second day at Hogwarts.
"Letter from Jamie," Ginny said, her eyes dancing with amusement. "He's in Gryffindor, of course, and he's mentioned two of his dorm mates, Finn and Lawrence, so it looks like he's making friends. Lupin gave him detention already." She paused here to glare at Neville, who knew she was fully aware he had given James the cloak. "But I suppose that was a given, he's bound to get detention frequently seeing as he gets free Wheezes all the time, and at least he admitted it. He sat at the Ravenclaw table during lunch…if House unity is his latest crusade I wish him luck…we've let Hermione influence him too much. And finally…he met the girl he's going to marry!"
Neville nearly fell off his chair. "What? He said that?"
Ginny waved her hand. "Of course not. But he spent an awful lot of time writing about her…she's why he sat at the Ravenclaw table. Her name's Laurel Edwards…a mother just knows."
"That's mental. He's eleven."
"My mum always knew Ron and Hermione would get married."
Neville sat there with a dumbstruck look on his face. Ginny looked as though she were trying very hard not to laugh at him, and Evie tugged on his sleeve.
"Daddy? Can I get a dragon, like the ones Uncle Charlie's got?"
"What? Oh, sure," Neville said absentmindedly, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that James had already found his future wife. Evie smiled widely and began forming her potatoes into the shape of a dragon with her spoon.
"No, Evelina, you will not be getting a dragon, but you get credit for asking your dad when he was clearly distracted," Ginny said, smirking. "Finish your dinner…you too, Joshua."
When dinner was over and the plates were cleared, Ginny sent the kids upstairs to get ready for bed. Neville stood by the sink, looking out the window at the sunset.
"Something on your mind?" Ginny asked.
"Well, I'm just thinking about something James said when I gave him Harry's cloak. I told him his dad would have wanted him to have it, and he turned to me and said, 'You're my dad,'" Neville said quietly.
"Well, you are his dad. You've raised him, you treat him the same as the younger kids – why wouldn't he say that?" Ginny asked.
"It just surprised me, I guess. You know I fully expected him to start hating me once he discovered the truth…and I guess I'm just shocked he hasn't yet."
Ginny placed her arms around Neville's waist. "He could never hate you. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about as far as James is concerned…except for the fact that he's clearing going to cause trouble with this sitting at other House tables thing."
"Maybe he has the right idea," Neville said suddenly.
"Maybe," Ginny replied, a thoughtful look on her face.
Neville listened to the sounds of his younger children, who were clearly making a mess in the bathroom. He smiled slightly before turning back to Ginny, who kept glancing at the stairwell with an exasperated look on her face.
"I'd better go take care of them before they turn the upstairs into a swimming pool," she said with a small sigh. There was a grin on her face, though, and Neville leaned in to kiss her.
"Good luck," he said. She rolled her eyes before heading upstairs. After a few seconds Neville heard two disappointed cries and Ginny's stern voice ushering Evie and Joshua to bed. He would join them in a few seconds for the nightly bedtime story.
Neville still wondered occasionally why he had survived when others didn't. Time had helped him understand that it was always necessary to move on, to make the most of the gifts he had been given and honor those who had sacrificed so much to make those gifts possible. That was what James was doing, he thought, by trying to be an example of tolerance and equality. Neville looked out the window just in time to see the sun settling past the horizon, casting a warm purple glow over the sky. Feeling a sense of peace washing over him, he went upstairs to be with his family, thankful that, for him, the sun would rise again.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story to the end, and a special thanks to my reviewers! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
I do have a couple of ideas for further stories in this universe, but unless there's overwhelming interest I'll probably stick to post-DH stories in the future.
Best, Elizabeth