A/N: Here's the concluding chapter and epilogue. Enjoy and thanks for the reviews.
A Simple Matter of Timing
Chapter 3: Reprieved Again?
"No, Minerva," he replied, "all of you have stated it quite well. In the future, apparently in exactly one year, Harry must return for the simplest of reasons . . . because he already did. I'm afraid that there's no way out. I wish there was . . . I wish . . . truly, I am sorry."
"So, Ron," said Hermione, "now do you understand that Harry has a year to live, and then . . . then he will die?"
* * * * *
I couldn't take the pitying looks that almost every person was directing toward me, so I arose and walked out of the Great Hall. Hermione caught up with me just outside it, grabbing my upper arm. I shrugged it off and tried to walk away, but she was having none of it. She grabbed me more forcefully, and I turned to look at her.
"Hermione, maybe . . . maybe you should find some other bloke to - " I said, unable to complete my thought, because she slapped the side of my face about as hard as was possible.
"Don't you DARE to finish that sentence, Harry Potter!" she exclaimed, her eyes blazing through some puffiness and tears.
"I . . . I . . . I'm sorry, Hermione, but what good would it do for us to . . . to . . . to suffer together for a year, knowing I'll have to leave you and . . . and him?" I asked, glancing down at her abdomen.
"Well, just WHAT were you planning to do about it?" she asked.
"I'm not sure. I had contemplated going up to the Astronomy Tower . . . and . . . " I choked out, unable to say more.
"And WHAT?" Hermione prodded.
"I thought it might be a good idea to, er, take a broom ride . . . without the broom," I answered. It was not what she wanted to hear, and she planted another open-palmed roundhouse on the side of my face.
"Ouch!" I said. "That hurt!"
"Harry, listen to me. You must come back a year from now, because you already DID, at least from our present viewpoints," she said. "If . . . if you don't, what do you suppose will happen?"
"How should I know?" I answered, a little peeved.
"You should know, if you've been paying attention to all that's happened. The first and most likely possibility is that due to the certain time paradox that would result, our entire world could cease to exist," she said.
"But," I said, but she cut in.
"Second, if our world didn't disappear immediately, then we'd be faced with the strong alternative possibility that it would have been changed drastically," she said.
"So?" I said.
"SO! So, what if part of that change was that Voldemort had won? What . . . what do you think he would do to . . . to your friends, to me, to . . . to our son?" she said.
I simply stared at her.
"There is another possibility that the world might continue, but that many of us . . . those who knew you best . . . who did things with you . . . that we might vanish," said Hermione.
"I . . . I . . . you're right, of course, I . . . I . . . I don't know what I was thinking. I just thought that once HE was gone, and the prophecy was fulfilled, then finally, I'd be free just to be a . . . a normal person," I said, trying very hard to prevent the tears that were beginning in the corners of my eyes.
Without thinking, we embraced and hugged each other as if our lives depended on nothing else, crying together for several minutes.
When we separated, Hermione said, "Harry Potter, regardless of what will or will not happen, I promise that you . . . that WE are going to have the very best year of our lives. Only an hour or so ago, you asked me to marry you. Let's go get married right now, and let's start that best year!"
She gave me a smile and then a look that embodied in it intelligence, beauty, determination, and love, in short, everything that had meant "Hermione Granger" to me for so long. She deserved an eloquent reply, so as we returned to the Great Hall to talk with Headmistress McGonagall, I said, "okay!"
* * * * *
Two hours later we reentered the Great Hall, and to our surprise, it remained crowded, but only with its recent residents. No outsiders were present, save two, Hermione's parents, which caused us even greater surprise. The ceremony, performed by the Headmistress, was simple and brief, just as Hermione insisted.
Our honeymoon was in the cottage where we had chosen to spend the last year of my life. It was on Inishfree, a tiny magically hidden island in the Aran group, off the western coast of Ireland. We could walk out our front door and look south at the rugged beauty of Inishmore, the largest island in the group. Out back, across the North Sound, was Gorumna Island, with Kilkieran Bay beyond. Galway Bay and the Irish mainland were to the east, and, of course, the North Atlantic lay to the west.
The cottage, actually the entire island, had been the property of the Potter Family for many generations, and it seemed to be an ideal place to get away from it all. Also, conveniently for Hermione and our necessary research into some of the spells used by Older Harry - me, in a year - there was a huge magical library on Inishmore, hidden under the ancient mysterious fortress of Dun Aengus, but quickly and easily accessible to us.
We spent our first six months together doing just that - being together. Rarely were we out of each other's sight for more than minutes. Surprisingly, or maybe not, familiarity did not breed contempt. Rather, it caused us to grow ever closer and deeper in love.
On occasion, we ranged far away from our home, sometimes to other obscure magical libraries, and sometimes to visit with friends. We arranged uses of the facilities of many of the world's greatest magical universities, most of them all too happy to accommodate the needs of "The Boy Who Killed You-Know-Who." There was a large array of magical sites in western Ireland, quite close to us. The National University in Galway had a 'Hidden College of Magick' attached to it, complete with a library and laboratories.
Try as we might to ignore the truth, both of us realized that something was amiss. The spells that Older Harry had performed simply were unknown either to the ancients or to the foremost modern experts in the theory and practice of state of the art magic.
When Hermione entered the eighth month of her pregnancy, I rebelled from the routine we had set for ourselves, and I insisted that for the benefit of our child, we would take things easier.
In spite of her protests, I took care of her in every sense of the term, including remaining with her at the cottage on a twenty-four hour per day and seven days per week basis. It may have been irrational, but I had a feeling of dread that something bad was about to happen. As each week passed without any incident, my apprehension grew.
Ten days before her due date, Hermione and I took ordinary Muggle transportation to London, where we visited for a week with Remus and Tonks, who resided together at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, and with Hermione's parents, who had been invited there for the Christmas Holidays.
At Hermione's insistence, we spent half a day in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic, but even its select scholars were unable to shed any light on most of Older Harry's magic.
Harry James Potter, Jr. was born on New Years Day, and he was received personally into his new life by his proud father, and shortly after, he was greeted personally by his living grandparents and a handful of selected friends. He hadn't the faintest appreciation of the fact that his birth was followed vicariously by the entire magical world.
We stayed in London for a month, and then we returned to our private island retreat. By unspoken agreement, Hermione and I dropped all efforts at further research into exotic and seemingly impossible magic. We devoted ourselves to living each day of the two months remaining in my life to enjoying the wonderful experience of being new parents.
The time flew by, and one week before my departure date, Harry, Jr. started to laugh. For two weeks, he had making the usual assorted nonsense sounds, and he had discovered how to cry differently, depending upon his need. Two adults in that household did a lot of crying themselves that night.
Two days before my leaving, I took a very brief solo trip to London by apparation. The leading expert in the Ministry checked out the accuracy and calibration of my Time Turner, the very one that Older Harry had given to me by way of Headmistress McGonagall, A delayed charm was done that preset it for traveling backward 366 days exactly. I would have to leave no later than the early evening of April 1.
I returned home, and Hermione and I spent the rest of the day in tedious paperwork matters. I had tried to avoid such crap, but as I had inherited and now owned more gold and property than did most nations, there had been a lot of legal niceties to which attendance was needed. The first magical version of the Muggle "living will" had been devised, written, and signed by me, insuring that Hermione and Harry would inherit everything if I "disappeared" and failed to "reappear" within a certain amount of time.
The last day arrived, and we spent the morning in bed, playing with Harry, lying between us. Somehow, he sensed that something was very wrong, and he invented a brand new type of crying to express his feelings. Of course, this set off both Hermione and me. Eventually, he fell asleep, so we placed him in his crib, and left him to his rest.
We sat for a while in the sitting room, and I broke down into huge, wracking sobs. Hermione hugged me, and we cried together.
Finally, I was able to pull myself together.
"I can't help but to notice the irony," I said. "My parents sacrificed themselves to protect me from Voldemort. I lived, never knowing them at all, only to find myself exactly in their shoes now. Though he's been gone for a year, still I have to sacrifice myself - which I'd do willingly a thousand times - to protect my wife and my child. I regret one thing the most."
"What, Harry?" said Hermione.
"He . . . he'll never know me," I said.
"Yes, he will," said Hermione. "Did you ever doubt for a second that James and Lily loved you? Didn't you get to know them from others? Harry won't even have to wait eleven years to learn about his father, the greatest man who I've ever known."
We hugged again, and I arose from the sofa. I walked to the fireplace mantle, and I removed the Time Turner from a small jewelry box. I hung it around my neck, and I headed to the door. A nasty Spring rain was soaking everything outside.
"It's time, Hermione," I said, opening the door, "I . . . I have to go now."
"Actually, you don't," said a soft but strangely familiar voice from the walk just outside.
I spun around, wand in hand, and I saw a very strange sight. The oldest person I've ever seen was standing halfway up the walk, holding his opened hands out to his sides.
"HERMIONE! Protect Harry!" I screamed, never taking my eyes from the stranger. All I could think of was what had happened to my parents some years ago. "Was this some new Dark Lord intent on killing my family,' I thought. To him, I said, "who are you, and what do you want?"
"In particular, I'd like to get out of this chilly drizzle," he said, and he smiled and added, "generally, I'd like to have a talk with Hermione and you. As to my identity, that's part of some very important things that we need to discuss."
I was debating whether or not to blast him, when he spoke again.
"Harry Potter, I swear by every magically binding oath known that neither do I intend harm to, nor will I commit harm on you, your wife, and your child."
I hesitated, torn between trusting any wizard unknown to me, and the necessity that I leave soon to meet my destiny with Voldemort in the past. Then, the stranger's first words, 'actually, you don't,' registered.
"What did you mean when you first spoke?" I asked.
"I meant precisely what I said," he replied, "you do NOT have to use that Time Turner hanging around your neck. You do not have to leave your loving wife and your three-month-old infant. You should allow me to enter your home and to explain these assertions to you . . . and to your wife, Hermione."
He gave me such a warm, unaffected and genuinely kind smile that I decided to see what the hell he was up to.
"Okay," I said, backing up and through the door, "please come in . . . but don't try any funny stuff!"
He smiled and followed me inside. He looked at the hallway leading to the bedroom, presently blocked by a very determined looking Hermione, who was training her wand on his chest.
"Would one of you," he said, looking at Hermione and then back to me, "be so kind as to charm me dry?" Hermione did so, and he smiled more widely, "it's a shame that a place such as this, usually in its own way one of the more beautiful ones on earth, should have such barbaric weather even for a single day."
"Who are you, and what do you want?" Hermione demanded.
"Your husband just asked the exact same questions," he said, "so I'll answer the first with a riddle. Who asked and who answered a similar question of a stranger a year ago?"
"Huh?" I said. I looked at Hermione, and I saw that she was as puzzled as was I.
"No takers?" he said. "Okay, how about an easier one. What do you seeing around MY neck?"
I looked more carefully at him, and not only at the Time Turner hanging there. He had very pale greenish eyes, a full head of snow white hair, AND he had a . . . 'what the hell?' I thought.
I looked at Hermione, whose face momentarily had gone almost as white as the stranger's hair. She smiled and spoke.
"Harry," she said, "did you notice his . . . forehead?"
"Ah, yes," he replied to her, before I could speak, "they say 'time heals all wounds.' Obviously, it doesn't in the case of one very special magical scar. Besides, I've always preferred 'time wounds all heels,' the twisted variant of that proverb!" He looked at Hermione again, and then to me, "there're still very few sights as beautiful as her smile, are there?"
"But how . . . how is it possible that you . . . I . . . we . . . oh, hell!" I tried to say.
"Regrettably, even in my time - pardon the wordplay - there is no adequate method for using the King's English in certain matters concerning . . . time," he said, his eyes twinkling. He turned to Hermione. "Care to tackle the apparent paradox of your husband having come here from the very far future, when minutes ago, both of you were certain that very shortly he'd be heading from here to the past and to his death . . . in less than a day, in his subjective time?"
"I . . . I . . . something's not right," said Hermione, struggling with grasping the very existence of a very much older version of her husband, ME, when such should be impossible. Suddenly, her face brightened, and she exclaimed, "we were wrong! But, how could we have been so mistaken in our reasoning?"
I almost dropped my wand, which would have matched the action of my jaw. I looked at Hermione and then at . . . "Oldest Harry" - what else could I call him? - and from him I received first a smile and then a booming laugh.
"Harry, my younger self," he said between laughs, "embrace it! Savor it! Remember it always! Hermione Granger Potter, the most brilliant witch of her age, admits BOTH that she was wrong and that she made a mistake! Truly, this is a once-in-a-century phenomenon!"
I joined in his laughter, only to earn a glare from Hermione. Suddenly, Hermione's face lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree.
"He lied to us . . . to you, Harry," she said. Turning from me, she continued, "YOU! You lied!" she said to Oldest Harry.
"Neither he nor I did anything of the sort . . . at least I didn't YET," he answered, "but very shortly, I will do so . . . sort of . . . from my perspective."
"But HOW can you - " Hermione began.
"How else but by means of a certain potion, with which the two of you are familiar," he said, snapping his fingers and suddenly he was holding a small glass vial of a rather foul-looking substance. "This is a very advanced version of the Polyjuice Potion, and it leads us neatly to the second question asked of me by both of you. What I want is . . . a single hair from your head, Harry."
Both Hermione and I were taken aback. She recovered first.
"You . . . YOU'RE 'Older Harry!' YOU'RE the one who's going to go back in time one year," she said.
"Of course, I am," he said, smiling.
Suddenly, everything crystallized for both Hermione and me. The enormity of what had seemed to be impossible just minutes ago, that I would live, see my son grow up, have more children and even grandchildren, landed on both of us. Hermione walked over and joined me, took my hand, and both of us sat down on the large sofa. I motioned to Oldest Harry to have a seat.
"Thanks," he said, taking the large recliner chair. "Ah, this always was one of my favorites."
After a short interval, Hermione spoke.
"I . . . I still don't quite understand as to why you . . . I mean, when you become . . . that doesn't sound right, either," she huffed. "Why did Older Harry lie to us a year ago?"
"He did and he didn't, just as I will and I won't," he said. "He said that he had come from one year in the future, and indisputably, he had done just that. He failed to note the ADDITIONAL fact that BEFORE he had traveled from 'today' to 'then' - which you'll agree WAS one year - he had crossed . . . a very much longer period of time to get to 'today.' In short, he 'lied' ONLY by omission, and he allowed you to draw the wrong conclusion from lacking all of the facts."
"But, why?" asked Hermione, getting a bit exasperated.
"In retrospect, it must be truly galling to realize that poor Ron Weasley was more correct than were so many more intelligent people, including two brilliant young witches, his sister and you, and one of the greatest magical educators and experts in transfiguration, Minerva McGonagall," he said. I omit Professor Flitwick, because he did use the word 'apparently' as a qualifier, when he affirmed your opinions. I'm not sure whether he had actual doubts about the 'Our Harry is Doomed in One Year' diagnosis, or if he was being overly precise in his language."
"What? But, Ron said . . . " Hermione began, but then she realized that Oldest Harry was correct. Without understanding fully what he had said, Ron had been closer to the truth, and "Harry-in-one-year" was NOT necessarily doomed to die immediately.
"I still don't understand WHY he . . . allowed us to form the impression that I would die in a year," I said, still puzzled.
"That's a little complicated. On his behalf, which will be mine shortly . . . and YOURS too, Harry, a long time in the future, I'll say this. Following the duel, you - and I still remember it from when I was you - wanted nothing more than to die, did you not? It was due only to the implications flowing from the belief that you had but a year to live that you found the strength to go on. When Hermione explained to you the details of time paradoxes, AND, most important of all, what could happen to your entire world, including to her and to your unborn son, then you realized that for them, if for no one else, you had to see your destiny through to the end."
"But . . . but why couldn't he have told us the truth?" Hermione asked.
"He did and I will do what occurred because we . . . I did so!" he said. Before either of us could speak, he continued. "I know that sounds like a cop-out answer, but it is the truth. You must remember that I, as the oldest of the 'Harrys,' ALREADY KNOW what actually happened! If a paradox is to be avoided, then the past cannot be changed in any way, shape, or form! Given a year's perspective of and reflection on events, don't you believe that things have worked out reasonably well?"
"WHY, you . . . you," Hermione exploded, "if you had ANY idea of the torture we went through during the last year - "
She stopped abruptly, her face reddening, as she realized what she had said. "I . . .I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . . I mean, of course you know . . . "
Oldest Harry gave her a fatherly smile, and he said, "I did live through it, Hermione, though from my present perspective, it was very long ago. No, besides the glib and tautological answer of saying that something happened because it happened, it is worth pondering the nature of that 'something,' is it not? The 'torture' both of you endured cemented your love and your marriage more strongly than anything else could have. Does either of you remember being away from the other for more than a few hours? Even during your hospital stay, when you had Harry, Jr., Harry managed to make excellent use of his invisibility cloak to circumvent the rules at St. Mungo's."
Both of us blushed at the recollection, but he continued.
"Even during labor, when you were calling Harry names not generally found in most dictionaries, or heard even on uncensored Muggle cable television, he never left your side, did he? There is a profound philosophical question to ponder concerning cause and effect in any time loop. But, such questions are unanswerable. A great writer once noted that the 'game' contested between believers in free will versus advocates of pre-determinism always remains tied, until a player 'withdraws' from the game. Before much longer, I'll become one of those 'quitters,' and I'll learn the answer . . . or maybe I won't," Oldest Harry finished, with a wink.
We looked at him, speechless. What could anyone say?
"Well, before I leave you to enjoy the very long remainder of your lives together, I will give you some limited hints of your future. First, you will stay together, without separation or divorce. Not only will you stay in love, your love will continue to strengthen. There will be a few bumps along the way, and the origin of one of them will occur tomorrow night," he said.
"Uh . . . Huh?" I said.
"Yes, indeed! Tonight, you will be more than a little overwhelmed at what has happened. However, tomorrow both of you will accept matters, and you will celebrate them in the best way possible. The result of that celebration will be made tangible in about nine months, and she will be your first daughter, whom you will name 'Hermione Jane Potter!' Hermione, I'm sorry, but Harry gets even for your naming of Harry, Jr. I won't say anything about additional future children, other than to note that there will be some more. Big Hermione - and by the way, Harry, do NOT make a habit of calling her that very often - will become extremely angry with you on Junior Harry's sixth birthday. You will give Little Hermione her first broom ride, and when you almost crash, you will find yourself spending the next week sleeping on a sofa. But, you will make up, and get on with your lives. Both of you will have rewarding and distinguished careers . . . and that's all that I'm going to say. Now, Harry, if I could get a hair from you, I'll be on my way."
Both of us had tears in our eyes, but Hermione was able to blurt out, "why can't you stay for a bit longer?"
I sighed, and I handed him one of my hairs. He put it into the potion vial, and very quickly, he tossed it down. He shuddered, and his body seemed to jerk slightly. Slowly, the years melted away from his face, and then we were looking at my identical twin.
"This is a twenty-four hour potion, which unfortunately tastes as bad as the original. I used it intentionally, so that I wouldn't be tempted to stay here too long. If you don't mind, I'll use the Time Turner to arrive here in the early evening of March 31. Then, I'll apparate to a spot in the Forbidden Forest, make my way into Hogwarts, go to the Room of Requirement, and the rest, as they say, is history!" he said. He hesitated and continued.
"I . . . I would like to see my . . . our son before I go," he said, tears beginning to flow from his eyes.
Both of us arose from the sofa, and I accompanied Hermione back to the bedroom, She picked up Harry from his crib. Naturally, he awoke, but rather than crying he smiled at Hermione. I poked my face in his direction, and he gave me both a smile and a laugh."
We returned to the sitting room to discover that Oldest Harry had arisen from the chair, and he was standing near the door. We started to walk over to him, but he held his hand up, motioning for us to stop. Harry promptly went back to sleep.
"Please, just stand there together for a few seconds, so I can remember this exactly," said.
"Would . . . would you like to hold him," asked Hermione.
"I'd love nothing more, but . . . I didn't, so I can't!" he said, tears clear on his face now.
"Harry, do you remember the remark Older Harry made to you about the most beautiful sight ever?" he asked. "Hermione, you didn't really believe that the large photograph you found was invented by the Room of Requirement, did you?"
With a pop, he was gone.
* * * * *
Everything Oldest Harry had told or hinted about came to pass. In nine months, Harry's first sister, Little Hermione, came into our world. Over the next twelve years, we had four more children, two each of boys and girls.
We had moved back to England, to an old Potter Family estate near Oxford, with a substantially larger home, with plenty of room for our growing family. But, we always had time to take vacations and revisit the wonderful little cottage on our very own hidden island. We spent almost twenty-five years, in retrospect the most rewarding and happiest of our lives, doing nothing but making and raising children, and being a family.
Inevitably, we had reentered the life of the greater magical world, and when the tearful day arrived that we went to Kings Cross Station to see our youngest, Lily Minerva, depart for her first year at Hogwarts, we made a fateful decision.
The Potter Family wealth, brains, and determination were put to use for political purposes! It took almost five decades, but eventually, the magical world was dragged, kicking and screaming, out of its cultural dead end.
Both Hermione and I served multiple terms each as Ministers of Magic, and every period of time when both of us were out of official office, we worked tirelessly behind the scenes to fight any and every attempt by the current political slimeballs to tamper with our long term goals. All we wanted and demanded was freedom and respect for every magical person and creature, with absolutely minimal interference in such by the Ministry government.
The state of magical art advanced, as well. Shortly after my seventieth birthday, the "color-changing" Patronus spell was invented. It was forgotten immediately, except by me, because its only possible use was to destroy a creature that had been extinct for over fifty years. Over the years, all of Older Harry's magic was invented or discovered, as well. Invisibility without a special cloak, permanent transfiguration and conjuring of new objects, and wandless and wordless magic at ever increasing distances all became known. Only a single person learned, practiced, and remembered all of them.
It took a bit longer, but the Muggles sorted out their longstanding problems as well. The twenty-first century had not been good to them, with incessant wars, plagues, and many other problems.
Eventually, enough of them tired of the situation, and freedom won out. While it may or may not have been inevitable, a critical mass of the world's populace came to realize that a strong respect for and protection of individual freedom of all types - personal, political, and economic - was a minimal requirement for a social order that actually worked.
By the time that I experienced my one hundredth birthday, which the magical world embraced as an excuse to conduct a year-long Mardi Gras sort of celebration, so much had changed.
Much of the solar system was colonized by Muggle pioneers, and some magical folks had gone with them to the planets, the asteroid belt, and the larger moons of Jupiter and Saturn.
Less than two decades later, by the one hundredth wedding anniversary of Hermione and me, the first starships had departed. Needless to say, some magical folks were on them, but those who remained on earth had an excuse for another year-long celebration.
For the next couple of decades, Hermione and I retired from public life, and we served as teachers at Hogwarts. Paradoxically, it was both a relaxing and stimulating time for us.
Muggle science had advanced so much that the time for a major decision arrived. Famous science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke once wrote that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. Of course, he intended this to be a commentary both on how a primitive human viewed people and things from an advanced civilization, and how "advanced" humans might view visitors from alien worlds. Wizards and witches had debated for decades as to just how and when the magical world should reveal itself.
Over my very strong protests, my one hundred and fiftieth birthday was chosen to be the date. I don't have to tell you that yet another crazy celebration occurred. This was the wildest one of all, because now vast numbers of Muggles knew all about the life and legend of 'the boy who lived."
Hermione and I took the opportunity to disappear from public life. We lived for almost fifty years in our simple little cottage, occasionally receiving visitors, and more rarely, leaving to visit others.
She had prided herself on attending the birth and being the second person, after the mother, to hold each new grandchild, great grandchild, etc. Also, every one of them received a personally signed birthday card, accompanied by a gift. This had become impossible by the time of our retirement, as there were far too many "great-great-great-etceteras" now living in and coming into the world. For ten years, Hermione employed a staff to perform what she had regarded as her obligation, but it wasn't the same.
So, we lived out our days in peaceful contentment. Then, as her two-hundredth birthday approached, Hermione started to become forgetful.
In spite of the immense advances in medicine, both magical and Muggle, eventually people did still die. Magical potions, charms, and spells, coupled with Muggle drugs, genetic manipulation, cloning, and advanced surgical aids provided genuine cures for most afflictions. All infectious agents, bacterial, viral, and even weird protein-based prions and their relatives could be stopped cold. Body organs, glands, and blood could be replaced.
The one condition that remained a death sentence was a strange condition in the brain. Formerly, it had been very rare, but it was becoming increasingly common. Reduced to basics, cells in certain parts of the brain began to die.
While the very smallest molecular-level "nanobot" machines could gain access to the locations, their tiny size prevented them from being capable enough to be able to do anything that helped either to regenerate the dead cells quickly enough, or to protect others from dying.
Once the diagnosis was confirmed and reconfirmed, Hermione made a decision. She refused to allow herself either to waste away or to become a burden. While I was outside the cottage, speaking with one of our great grandchildren, who had paid us a visit and was about to leave, she arose from her bed, wrote a brief note to me, and drank a potion that she had made earlier and concealed.
I returned to the bedroom, and I found her lifeless body still holding a piece of old fashioned parchment. She was smiling.
I read the note.
Dearest Harry,
This is a goodbye, but hopefully we will see each other again in "the next great adventure," if there is one. Somehow, I am sure that we'll be together again and forever.
I've been the luckiest woman ever to live, and I've loved and been loved by the greatest man I've ever known.
I know you'll ignore this, but try not to grieve too much for me.
Eternal Love,
Hermione
P. S. I'd like to be buried here on the island.
P. P. S. You do know what you have to do now, don't you? Hint: The Time Turner is in the box at the back of your top dresser drawer.
* * * * *
I carried her outside to the eastern side of the cottage grounds, overlooking the expanse of Galway Bay. I excavated a grave, and I placed her body in it, without any coffin, so that she could become part of the land she so loved more quickly. A few hand motions later, and her grave was filled, a bed of blooming rose bushes was atop it, and a white marble headstone, suitably engraved, stood at one end.
I thought for a moment, and I added a matching marker, on which was chiseled my name. I'd let anyone seeing it in the future puzzle over its two different dates of death.
Another series of hand motions elicited the presence of a snowy owl that resembled the original Hedwig to a remarkable degree. I wrote a note, briefly detailing Hermione's passing and my imminent and permanent departure. I attached it to the owl's leg, and I dispatched her to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Hermione and I first met on the way to Hogwarts, and it was there where we fell in love, conceived our first child, and married. The folks there deserved to hear the news first. One of our grandchildren - or was she a great grandchild? - was the current Headmistress, and she could be trusted with making it public..
I retrieved the long stored and nearly forgotten, at least by me, Time Turner, and placed it around my neck. I walked out the front door, stood in the middle of the walk, and activated it.
Of course, I arrived in the midst of a chilly rain, just as my much younger self was opening the door.
"I . . . I have to go now," he said.
"Actually, you don't," I said.
* * * * *
Well, you know almost all of the rest of the story, so there's no need for me to repeat myself. But, a few brief notes are in order.
When I left my family by activating the Time Turner for the second time, I arrived in a deserted cottage. Immediately, I apparated to the Forbidden Forest, made my way into Hogwarts and up to the Room of Requirement. I conjured into existence the photograph that Hermione would find later, and I placed on it a time-delayed charm, which would keep it invisible until it was "required." I wrote the parchment note to Harry, and I left in the middle of the room.
As I said earlier, the rest you already know, so I'll fast-forward to the duel.
When I started to cast the fireball spell on myself, the remaining part of Voldemort trapped inside me shrieked insanely. I felt the most intense pain over my entire body, and then both of us died.
Epilogue: End of the Beginning
Then, I awoke. I was standing. 'Hmm,' I thought, 'something weird DEFINITELY is going on.' I opened my eyes, and the first things I saw were the smiling faces of my Mum and Dad.
"Welcome, son," said James Potter, "we . . . everyone here is so proud of you!"
"Yes, we truly are," said Lily Potter, "but what's most important of all is that finally I have my . . . my baby Harry back."
She embraced me in a tight hug. She gave me a hug? How can ghosts or souls or whatever we were HUG?
"Don't smother him, Lily," said Dad, "he's just awakened, and he needs to adjust to the situation."
My Mum released me, and I was able to look around. We were in what seemed to a grassy meadow.
"Er," I said, "where . . . what exactly is this place?"
"You're in 'the next great adventure,' of course," said Mum. "Some call it 'eternity' or 'heaven' or 'the afterlife' . . . there are as many names for it as you wish there to be."
"Yes," I said, "I know that I died, but . . . are we souls or . . . do we have actual bodies, or . . . it's frustrating not knowing what to ask."
"Everyone goes through a period of disorientation," said Dad, "in your case, it'll be much shorter than is usual, because of your magical heritage and your experiences."
"Yes," said Mum, "why don't you have a talk with a couple of experts. Oh, here they come."
I turned and saw two elderly looking gentlemen approaching. I was shocked when I recognized one as being Albus Dumbledore. The other looked a bit older.
"Hello, Harry," said Dumbledore, "it's good to see you again, and I'm pleased that you justified my faith in you so masterfully. Allow me to introduce Merlin, who is sort of a leader around here."
* * * * *
I "adjusted" quickly to the situation. Basically, I was in a magical afterlife, wherein the souls of most witches and wizards, with their living memories intact, spend eternity. We can observe but not interfere with anything that goes on in the world of the living.
There are special places in this new existence, equivalents of Azkaban, wherein certain souls are segregated. So, at least I didn't have to worry about running into Voldemort, Snape, and the like.
I discovered that I was as big a celebrity here as I had been when I was alive. Everybody wanted to see me and speak with me. Nevertheless, I was able to reacquaint myself with many friends of my previous life, including all of the Weasleys, my schoolmates, and Hogwarts teachers who had predeceased me.
We are able to look as we wish, so many choose their younger selves to present to others. I decided to become seventeen again, and I looked just as I had on the evening after the duel, when I had married Hermione.
Speaking of Hermione, the lowlife characters up here failed to inform me that time has no restrictions for us. We can flit around pretty much as we wish. Most people like to watch things occurring on the living earth, and there are special areas for that purpose, which function sort of like Muggle theaters.
The point is that Hermione wasn't here YET, speaking of the earth "time" well in the past when I died. No one told me for a while that I could fast-forward my present self to any "time" that I wished, whenever I wished to do so.
Instantly, without even thanking the person who finally revealed this information, I moved forward to the saddest day of my life. When Hermione "awoke" from her death and opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was my face.
Being Hermione, she grasped the nature of her new situation immediately. Before my eyes, her projected self-image was transformed into how she looked on our wedding day. Her first words were, "Harry, I told you that we'd be together forever!"
Also, being Hermione, when Merlin and Dumbledore appeared, before either could say a single word, she started in on them.
"So, this is 'the next great adventure' or 'the afterlife' or whatever, is it? I've got questions. Are werewolves treated fairly here? If they're not, why aren't they?"
"Miss Granger - " Merlin attempted to speak, but Hermione was on a roll.
"Oh, and what about House-Elves? There had better NOT be any slavery or mistreatment or any other discrimination being practiced against them!"
"Hermione - " Dumbledore tried, without success.
"IF there is any such nonsense, then let me tell you in no uncertain terms that there WILL be some changes made! And, furthermore - "
Her monologue was cut off when I grabbed her and covered her mouth with mine. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Merlin and Dumbledore were quickly making their escape. I kissed her long and hard, and when I broke it off she looked at me, her eyes wide in amazement.
"You . . . you KISSED me!" she said, blushing. "You HUGGED me!"
"I sure did!" I said, with a wide grin.
"Does this mean that in this place we can touch each other . . . and . . . and . . . "
"It sure does!" I answered. "Why do you think that from now on, I'll call it heaven?"
The End
A/N: Anyone interested in time travel stories generally should read, if he hasn't yet, the three that inspired parts of this story; Robert Heinlein's very short story "All You Zombies - - - " his short novel, "By His Bootstraps" and David Gerrold's novel, The Man Who Folded Himself. "Inishfree" does not exist, but the name was borrowed from the wonderful film, The Quiet Man, directed by John Ford, and starring John Wayne, in one his very best roles and performances, and Maureen O'Hara.