Stranger Than Fiction
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all the characters in it belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a work of imagination and is directed solely at readers of this website. No infringement of any rights is intended and no criticism of J.K. Rowling or her work should be considered to be stated or implied.
Part 1. An Unexpected Tale
I suppose that if they knew about us, one of the things that would most annoy Muggles about wizards and witches is that, providing we stay clear of accidents, we tend to have long and healthy lives. Obviously, that wasn't the case for many during the two periods of Voldermort's power, but it was generally true during the intervening years and again since his final demise. This has certainly been so in my case and I daren't tell you how old I am now, but my health is still excellent, all things considered, and I am enjoying life greatly. This might surprise some of you, as you probably think of me as a sad old spinster, who only lived for her work and therefore expected that I would go into a decline the moment I gave up my post at Hogwarts. Not so. Staying at Hogwarts, with all of the sad memories and with Dumbledore gone, would have been the situation guaranteed to drive me into St. Mungo's. Instead, getting out and starting a new life far away, surrounded by my books and with fresh challenges has been an invigorating and life enhancing experience.
My one regret is that I have lost touch with most of my old students and particularly with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and the rest of that crowd. Someone told me the other day that Harry was still happily married to Ginny Weasley and Hermione to Ginny's brother Ron some nineteen years after that final confrontation with Voldermort at Hogwarts. I have to confess that I find this very hard to believe. I heard about the marriages, although unfortunately I wasn't able to attend either wedding, and so it is perfectly possible that they might still be together. But happy? I really doubt that, given what I know about those two relationships. You see I am in a fairly privileged position in that regard. Being the head of their house, I always had a special bond with Harry and Hermione and I think that they confided things to me that they probably hid from everyone else. That was certainly the case when they each came to see me to say their goodbyes, after I announced my departure from Hogwarts. They came separately and I don't think that either of them knew about the other's visit. I certainly didn't tell them, although perhaps I should have.
I suppose that I need to make it clear that the person who gave me the news about my old student's lives was a Muggle and she didn't really tell me as such. In fact, she announced it to a whole room full of other Muggles, who I had incidentally joined incognito, because to her it was just the happy ending to a story that she had been reading. It is the absolute, if rather amazing, truth. She had read the brief details in a Muggle book and had no idea that she was talking about people who I actually know and care deeply about! But I must be confusing you, so let me explain exactly what happened.
I live fairly quietly now. I have a small, unremarkable house in a sleepy little wizarding community in the extreme south west of England - about as far from Hogwarts as you can get without actually crossing salt water. I chose the south west because, like my native Scotland, it has some outstandingly beautiful scenery and the peaceful, unhurried pace of life that I now find that I prefer. I don't teach anymore, well apart from the occasional private session, but I keep myself very busy with a number of personal research projects. One of these involves investigating the factors that contribute to Muggle children developing magical abilities. This project is proving to be of great interest and has made me very popular on the after-dinner speaking circuit in southern England, a very lucrative little exercise I might add. In the interests of my research, I try to mix with Muggles and particularly Muggle educational establishments as much as possible and I pay fairly frequent visits to the Muggle towns and villages in my vicinity, going under the pseudonym of Miranda Montague. I like to think that I blend in quite well and I am thoroughly enjoying the subterfuge. As part of this work, I have joined a book club that meets once a month in a back room of a small public library in the nearest large town. I took this step after I found out that they had a special interest in reviewing works that deal with magic and folklore.
On the day in question, I had apparated to a quiet place behind the bus station, as usual, and walked down the high street to the library. The weather was quite cool and so I was wearing my favourite red tartan cloak with matching wrap around calf-length skirt and tamashanta. I had combined this with a comfortable pair of purple, flat-soled, suede knee length boots and a beautiful cerise silk, high-necked blouse that I obtained from a distinguished woman's outfitters in London. I could tell that I was suitably attired because I noticed several admiring glances as I made my way. One gentleman, in particular, was so taken by my appearance that he completely forgot to look where he was going and walked straight into a lamppost. I am sure that he was not seriously hurt as he didn't loose consciousness entirely, but was just jolted back and slid slowly to the pavement in a crumpled heap. However, I continued on and didn't stop to enquire after his health. Sympathising with Muggles always leads to trouble in my experience.
The small room in the library was quite stuffy with all twelve of us crowded in and I quickly shed my cloak and hat, before seating myself on one of the hard wooden chairs provided. Our moderator, peering over half-rimmed spectacles, perched herself on the corner of the desk at the front of the room, swinging one leg to and fro, while using the other to support her fairly spindly frame. She got the meeting started and encouraged us to discuss the books that we had each been reading. One of the members of our group is a chubby, vociferous young woman with long, untidy blond hair who is called Melissa something or other. She reported, with great enthusiasm, that she had just finished reading a book entitled "The Deathly Hallows," which was all about a young wizard boy called Harry Potter! Well, how I did not cry out audibly when she mentioned that name I will never know. But as she went on to briefly describe the events of the book, it all sounded horribly familiar and I sat uncomfortably trying to cover my confusion. She outlined a story that was a very rough account of events that I remember all too well. I was extremely glad that I had thought to use my Muggle alias when joining the book club as there was actually a character in the story called Minerva McGonagall, who was quite clearly a slightly overblown literary parody of my self. I could hardly believe my ears and you can be sure that I questioned Melissa very closely. It turns out that this book is the final volume in a series of seven, which has detailed the whole of Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts! How and why the books have been written, I couldn't quite comprehend. However, Melissa assured me that the series is extremely popular and has made the author a great deal of money. Who the author is and where she obtained her information, which, if Melissa's account is to be believed, is reasonably accurate if a little melodramatic, I cannot possibly imagine. It was the strangest experience to hear these events related in Melissa's breathless, excited voice and to pretend that I was as ignorant of the details described as the rest of the group.
"And what happened to them all at the end?" I asked eventually, with as casual a tone as I could manage.
"Well, that's the interesting thing," replied Melissa enthusiastically. "The story ends with Harry deciding to give up the Elder Wand and that really is a perfectly good end point. But then the author goes on to provide an epilogue that takes place 19 years later. I'm not quite sure what the purpose of it is as nothing really happens and it isn't particularly interesting, but it shows that Harry is happily married to Ginny Weasley, you know that red-haired girl I mentioned a couple of times, and they have three kids. Hermione and Ron are also happily married and have two kids," she concluded with a contented sigh.
The presence of the epilogue provoked a good deal of discussion in the group and most of us were in agreement that this was a poor literary device, as the reader should at least be left with some room for interpretation at the end of any good work of literature. One of the ladies said that it reminded her of those children's stories that ended, "And they all lived happily ever after." We had a good laugh over that comment.
I was perhaps the most sceptical of the group, obviously for my own undisclosed reasons. After all, I had known all about the marriages for a long time, although I had no notion about the number and names of any children involved in the unions. However, I had always thought that these marriages were a big mistake, brought about by the desperation followed by sudden joy and relief that had been part of that time and I never expected them to last.
"Are you sure that in this epilogue it said that they were all happy, Melissa?" I asked when the discussion had died down.
"Well, I suppose not in so many words," she reluctantly agreed, "but that was certainly the impression that I was given," she finished brightly.
So, perhaps things were not so clear cut after all. I could hardly believe that they were, given what I knew. But how could I be sure? When I got home that night I tried to remember as much about my final meetings with Hermione and Harry as I could. What I was able to recollect most clearly was that, beneath his outward bravado, Harry didn't seem very happy, even though he was finally free of such a tremendous burden. As for Hermione, well as usual she spent most of her time with me talking about Harry. She tried to pretend that she was happy for him, now that he was safe and was dating Ginny Weasley, but I sensed that something was not quite right and she confessed as much, although she immediately denied it afterwards. There were a lot of things that were playing on Hermione's mind about the months leading up to that final confrontation with Voldemort which she seemed eager to discuss and I was only too happy to provide her with a sympathetic ear.