Epilogue

The glaring orange posters, wall, and bedspread of Ron's room were the first things to loom out of the enveloping whiteness. The three wizards had landed precisely and conveniently in the top floor of the burrow. Bleak, early morning sunshine streamed through the window.

Harry looked around the low-ceilinged room, grinning. "I never thought I'd ever be so happy to see the Canons," he said, eyeing the quidditch posters around the room, whose inhabitants waved maniacally back. "That was…"

"Completely uncalled for," Ron said, rounding on Hermione. "He had no right to kiss you," He said.

"Oh stop it, Ron," Hermione said patiently, "It's not like we're ever going to see him again." The three fell into silence.

"I guess we won't," Harry said regretfully. He dropped onto the cot that had been set up for him beside Ron's bed. Hermione sank down onto Ron's bed, picking at the worn covers. They sat there contemplatively for nearly a full minute. Then Hermione straightened her shoulders and checked her watch.

"Come on," she said, "It's nearly six. I expect your mother will appreciate some help making breakfast." She dug in her robes, and pulled out the beaded bag she had been carrying around. Then she froze, staring at the bag.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I think…" she tore the neck of the purse open. There, where the others had forgotten to collect them, were stuffed several of Leonardo's crates and all that the group had purchased on their last day in Forli. "Oh Shi-"

The Assassins were surprised to see the hideout was relatively wizard-free when it appeared. Everything was just as it had been left, as if the entire event had never happened. Even Baby was running perfectly.

"Well," Shaun clapped, "I think it's best we all get back to work. Shall we?"

The historian sat back at his desk at the far end of the room, Lucy went back to file reports at her desk, and Desmond, wisely deciding to give the animus a break, helped Rebecca organize the Animus's memory sequencing device.

"You know," Lucy began slyly after two hours of silent working, "I think I'm gonna miss those kids."

"Yeah, now Shaun's the only one with a British accent," Rebecca muttered, clipping one of Baby's wires. Desmond took a sip of coffee and meandered over to the bookshelf by Shaun's desk.

"Oh do shut up, Beccar," Shaun hissed, "I did enjoy having a few more blokes from the homestead around though…"

"Got any good titles in here, Shaun?" Desmond asked distractedly as his eyes scanned the shelf.

"Nothing that would interest you, Desmond," Shaun replied effortlessly, "Most of those books are only for beings with an IQ greater than that of a dog."

Desmond felt his jaw drop as he spotted a familiar name.

Shaun heard the younger man gasp and grew uneasy.

"Look, Desmond that's not-"

"Guys, look at this!"

Desmond had yanked the thick paperback from the shelf dramatically and threw it on Shaun's desk. The group of four peered at it in wonder.

"Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone?" Rebecca read aloud.

"You don't think it could possibly be-" Lucy began, eyes widening.

Desmond only grinned.