Epilogue: Nemo nini Mors
The blood did not coat every surface in the room, just more the ones in front of the chair which held the shattered corpse, folded over on itself, the skin paper white from the blood being anywhere but contained within. The man that lay there, his broken body surrendered to the end, wore a wizard's robe over thinly striped pajamas, and a dark wooden wand lay beside him on the floor.
The scattered remains of what had been a hot cup of tea earlier in the night lay spilled out carelessly on the patterned wooden floor, as if dropped in the middle of a sip. Behind slightly bent glasses, green eyes, unfocused by pain, gazed unseeingly at a picture of a young woman with bushy brown hair in a white dress dancing with a younger version of the man, though little had changed about him from that day, not his hair, still raven black, nor his built, still lithe and strong, nor his eyes, still bright emeralds. But now they were without their fire.
No, not much had changed since that day, more than twenty years prior, except that Harry Potter lay dead.
A tiny knock sounded at the closed door, and it began to swing open. A young girl, with bushy, raven colored hair, no more than eleven, edged her way through with a question in her eyes and on her tongue. "Daddy? Are you in here?"
And then she screamed.
* * * * * *
When Hermione Jane Potter, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Professor of Transfiguration and Head of Ravenclaw House, age forty-four, shot awake, unsure what summoned her from a land of peaceful dreams, her mind immediately began cataloguing everything she was feeling. The chill on her back, despite the touch of the blankets, told her that Harry was not cradling her to his chest as he normally did, and her seeking hand found the explanation immediately - his lack of presence in their bed. The dull throb between her legs reminded her of the night before, when Harry had tempted her into bed far earlier than normal, and had been even more passionate than he normally was - for hours. She smiled at the memory.
And while the sunlight was indeed beginning to shine through the window, it was not on her yet, to warm her into wakefulness.
When her daughter's second, horrified scream tore through the rebuilt Potter residence in Godric's Hollow, everything connected, and she was opening the door before the sound faded and she realized she was completely naked.
A lazy wave of her hand summoned her robe and wand to her as she ran down the stairs two at a time, magically fastening her robe with a flick of the wand. "Jane?" she shouted and was nearly knocked over by a screaming ball of eleven year old girl.
"Mummy! It's… it's…" But Hermione would get nothing from her youngest child, who was sobbing too hard to get the words out.
Tentatively, she pushed open the door to the study, where she and Harry had graded so many papers over the years, and she stopped dead at the sight before her. Tears sprang into her eyes, knowing it was too late, but her heart would not listen to her head… the head that just wanted to collapse to her knees and weep.
Swift strides brought her across the room before she finally did collapse, her hands desperately stroking her husband's face, before a single thought came back to her. "Redivivus," she cried softly, pointing her wand at her husband. "Redivivus! Redivivus! Redivivus! REDIVIVUS!" Each cry was progressively louder than before, but it was to no avail. Too much blood, too much time, and despite the English meaning of the word, it was only a relatively advanced healing spell, equivalent to Muggle CPR.
Her head knew it would do no good in this situation, but her heart cried out futilely against the night, the blackness, refusing to except her loss, until finally she lay her head against her husband's shoulder and wept, her hand clenched tightly to his, her fingers feeling the scar put there so many years before by an evil woman with a quill.
Time had no meaning as she wept, but finally, she felt strong hands on her shoulder, pulling her away. She tried to cling to him more, but the hands were insistent, and in that moment, she hated them, hands that looked and felt so much like Harry's, her love's. "Mum, please, you have to let him go. The MLE is here, they can take care of this."
"No!" she screamed, turning around and slamming her fists against her tallest son's chest. Hermione, who had always prided herself on being intellectual, with her ability to detach her emotions, finally found out the cold, hard truth about them at last.
No matter how much you tried to deny them, they would find a way.
Ron wrapped her in his arms, and she burrowed against him, taking comfort in her eldest child's strength. He led her out of the room, to a couch in the family room, and as a family, they mourned together.
It was some time later when the next words were spoken. "Ma'am? Misses Potter?"
Hermione looked up and saw the young man who had been in charge of the MLE detachment standing before her. His eyes flicked significantly towards the two youngest children, and Hermione shook her head. "He was their father," she whispered. "They should know too."
The young wizard nodded, and began, consolingly, "It was not murder, nor, as we expected on finding this note," he offered it to her, and she took it numbly, "suicide. The damage was consistent with use of the Severing spell on the chest cavity, above the heart, but none of the last ten spells performed by his wand were of that type."
"He could do wandless magic," she murmured tonelessly, interrupting.
The man nodded. "We checked for residual signatures of that as well, and found nothing. Other than the consistent damage pattern, there is no evidence of any magic being performed successfully in that room for over twenty-four hours. Perhaps the note will tell us more, but none of my people could open it." He looked at her hopefully, some confusion evident in his gaze.
Hermione shook her head, glancing down at the envelope. "I'll read it and send word if there is anything you should know. I… I can't do this now."
He nodded understandingly. "Of course." He glanced over his shoulder as two of his men made noise, having bumped the floating pallet against the wall. Harry's arm slipped out from under the sheet at the impact, and as it dangled, gold detached from it, ringing softly in the sudden silence as it hit the floor, and Hermione began to cry again.
The men left the ring where it fell when they departed.
* * * * * *
It was that evening, gathered together, that Hermione felt that she could open the letter Harry had left her. Cracking the seal, she suddenly felt a warmth against her chest, and pulled out Harry's wedding band, which she kept on a short chain, to see it glowing around the inside. Strange runes she had not seen on it before gleamed to her, and she translated them. Nemo nisi Mors. Nobody except Death. How very accurate, and very true. Tears began to slip down her cheeks once more as she opened the letter.
It was a long scroll of parchment, she realized, unfolding it over again, smiling slightly at the sight of Harry's familiar scrawl.
To my family,
I am sorry to leave you like this, but I did not have a choice, unfortunately. It is a terrible thing to know when you are slated to die, and I have known since before I told your mother that I loved her the first time when that day and even hour was. To each of you, I have written a note, that you will be able to see when you hold this parchment. If she chooses, once your mother reads hers, she will be able to explain more fully.
~Harry, Husband and Father
Hermione trembled as the words began to blur, and then slowly formed anew in her hands, not wanting and yet desperately wanting to read her husband's last words to her. She read them aloud for her children, so she would not have to explain, her heart unable to set itself to that task.
My dearest 'Mione,
No doubt you are very angry with me at the moment, and I truly deserve it. I am sorry for causing the pain through which you are going at the moment, but I truly had no choice. I must confess to you one thing, the one lie I have told you since the end of the War, and it was on the night you agreed to marry me. You asked me about the price I had to pay, and I told you it was the memories we carry from that experience, or more, I agreed with your guess.
I lied to you. I knew the price, I had known it since the end of the Death Exchange, in the moment I heard myself repeat the words "Terminus a quo, tempus firma, terminus ad quem, tempus incognitum, tempus sculpsit" that the price was far steeper than you would ever imagine. I had set the date of my own death through that action, for the day that I drank the potion. That future was not completely in the past. I knew that I had exactly 9452 days left to live, and my only hope is that I made you as happy in all of them as you made me.
The day you agreed to marry me. The day we got married. The night we got married. Hermione turned very red at that as her older children chuckled, before she continued reading. Our first Christmas, when you gave me the best present of all, telling me our family was going to grow by one. My birthday the next year, when Ronald Sirius was born. The unending weeks of Death Eater executions, when you helped me to understand that it was okay to feel how I did at their deaths. The joy when we added those two dastardly redheads, James and Lily, to our family. The twins chuckled at that. The arguments over when I got to teach them to play Quidditch, and the making up that followed. Hermione blushed again, and wondered if maybe reading aloud had been such a good idea. I believe it was one of those arguments than led to Brian. That caused the youngest son to turn scarlet. How we celebrated at Dumbledore's retirement, and when McGonagall asked you to become Deputy Headmistress. How we comforted each other the day Dumbledore finally left us for his next great adventure, an adventure I've joined him on now. The day Jane was born, and our family was completed. And all the days and all the memories in between, everyone one of them, has made me perfectly content with my life.
'Mione, I don't want you to remember me as you found me this morning. Instead, remember me as I was last night when we made love. Hermione's face turned even redder than before at that, but none of the children laughed this time. I have never been happier than when I was in your arms.
Tell Minerva that all the tests and lesson plans for the rest of the year are in the bottom right hand drawer of my desk at the school. She knows the password, as do you. Also, inside will be a list of people I think could take over the DADA position and take over as head of Gryffindor House.
Be strong for me now, Hermione, and be strong for our children, as they will need you more than ever. Be strong as you always have been, and you will be fine, our children will be fine. One day, the pain will fade, I promise you, though it will never go away. Such is love as we had.
I will see you again.
Love forever,
~Harry
It took a long time for the crying to stop after that, but eventually, Ron took the parchment to read, and taking a cue from his mother, he read aloud.
Ronald -
What can I say to you but to keep flying? You're the man of the family now.
Take care of your mother, and your brothers and sisters. And look towards settling down soon, and starting your own family, so you can teach your sons about Quidditch. You have to keep that alive to the next generation, as James and Lily seem to have inherited your mother's talent with a broom - enchanting it to sweep up messes - though there's hope for Jane yet. (Brian doesn't count, being a Ravenclaw.) Brian shouted, offended, at this and Hermione managed to bring about some of her old fierceness to her glare, though they all knew it was faked. It's unseemly to let the Gryffindor team go on so long without a Potter on it.
And don't you think I'll be missing it in three years when you lead England to the World Cup again. This time, son, catch the Snitch before Bulgaria gets more than 150 ahead, even if you did snatch it right out of Victor's hand, nearly. I swear he's getting old.
Keep it up.
Love,
~Your Father
And so it continued around the circle.
James - Tell your twin to put her hand on this too.
James and Lily -
I have never seen anyone so proud of their grades before you too, not even your mother, and I'm fairly certain you broke a number of her records while you were in school. I've never been prouder of anyone's grades before you two either. And then, you chose to continue your schooling, hungrier for knowledge than anyone I've ever met. When the two of you graduated from Cambridge with Muggle degrees, in addition to your magical education, I knew you were bound for great things.
So get your heads out of your books and go do them, even if it is just to help Fred and George expand into a global commercial empire, as you two seem just as intent on causing as much mischief as they.
Get out there and do it.
Love,
~Your Father
Brian -
I couldn't believe it when the Sorting Hat called out Ravenclaw four and a half years ago. Except I could, because I knew just how smart you were. Now, I know your O.W.L.s are coming up very soon, and I don't want you to worry. They're not as bad as anyone says, even if I did pass out during one of mine.
But if you don't do well on them, you might want to consider alternate living arrangements, or you and I will be having a talk after your mother kills you.
Keep up the good work, kid, and break James and Lily's records. Highest grade records ought to belong to Ravenclaw.
Love,
~Your Father
Jane -
I'm sorry to leave you like this, my baby girl. Maybe that's why I cried so much the day you were born, because I knew I would not see you get to board the Hogwarts Express the first time, or excitedly bring home your first exams to display in the kitchen. I won't get to hug you after you lead Gryffindor to victory over Ravenclaw in two years. Again, a shout from Brian and an amused glare from Hermione.
I'm sorry I can't be there for you, but I want you to know, I'm always watching over you, wherever you go, whatever happens, you'll still be my baby girl.
Love,
~Your Father
* * * * * *
The rain swept across the fields of Godric's Hollow, as Harry James Potter was laid to rest next to his parents. It was the second time in twenty-six years that Harry Potter had caused a holiday to be declared at Hogwarts, but this occasion was not nearly so happy.
All the students were there, brought by a series of portkeys, to the grassy plain, as they watched the end of the story of the Hero of Their Age.
The End
Author's Notes:
Chapter Title:
Nemo nisi Mors - Nobody except Death.
Spells:
Redivivus - Come back to life
Alright, yeah, I know, I know. I promised this ten days ago. So sue me (no, not really). But as the hit count was low (it just broke a thousand today), I concluded to let it sit for a while to make sure everyone had read the last chapter, as most of the other chapters break or almost meet 2000 hits.
In truth, I also wanted more reviews, but hey, I can't have everything. But review this one gosh darn it, it's the last one.
Thanks for sticking with it, and by me, through my first multichapter fanfiction ever, in any universe. Thanks for all the reviews as well.
Now, I know some of you are curious as to where I'm going next, and I've got a few ideas. First thing is to get some short stories that have been building up cleared out. I'll post those to Pensive's Pieces of Pumpkin Pie as I finish them, hopefully about 1 a week or so. You should all read them.
Then I'll be writing a five part James/Lily story called Better and Worse Angels. All it's got is some rough ideas, but as it's relatively short, it's got to be cleared out first. Hopefully, this will be cleared out by the end of March.
Then comes the big stuff, and something a couple of you have asked specifically about - Post-Half Blood Prince work. This is planned as two lengthy stories, entitled Rising Star and Unspeakable. Assuming I can write as fast as I want, these will take the rest of 2006. On the other hand, I rarely get to write as fast as I want.
Furthermore, I will undoubtedly continue to come up with short story ideas and such that will interrupt my other stories. I'll try to avoid letting it delay updates, but those of you who are authors know how that goes…