And this is it for this little adventure.

I will begin posting chapters for Written in the Stars starting from this coming Sunday.

Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed this journey.

It took the best part of a year to write, and I am pleased I took the time to do so.

As ever, the support I receive here is truly priceless, and all follows, favourites, and reviews are deeply appreciated.


August 1986

"Well, the war with Voldemort finished before it really began," Reg explained as he leaned back in his chair. "With Grindelwald, it was many years and dozens of battles. Voldemort was defeated in one fight with your Uncle Harry. Do you know what he did?"

The gathered children shook their heads, and Harry shared a look of resignation with the other men that had joined them in Charlus's basement.

"He burned him alive from the inside out," Reg whispered as he leaned forward.

As much as hearing the story again irked Harry, he couldn't deny that Yaxley had a way with words.

The kids were hanging onto every single one of them, but they were quite alarmed by his revelation.

"Alright, Reg, that's enough," he sighed. "You'll give them nightmares."

Reg merely grinned.

"Ha, he won't look so happy when they tell Nancy," Gilbert quipped.

Reg's smile faded and was replaced by a look of alarm.

"Bugger," he murmured.

"Uncle Reg, what happened after Voldemort died?" Daisy, Jack's eleven-year-old daughter asked.

She was one of three children born to Jack and his wife, Aurelia Moody who Harry believed was a cousin to Alastor, and grandniece to Gabriel.

They went on to have two sons also, Harry, named for him, and Robert, for the great grandfather none of the trio would ever have the privilege of meeting.

Robert McGonagall passed away six months after Voldemort's defeat, and though it was peaceful, and without illness, every member of the Evans family felt his loss.

Jack in particular took it hard.

He had been the one to spend the most time with his grandparents, and though he had offered to have Isobel live with him after Robert's death, the woman would not accept.

She would not be persuaded from the home she had shared with her husband.

Not that she was left alone for long.

Jack would visit her daily along with each of his sisters throughout the day, and Minerva would always stop by when she had finished teaching.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts as Reg spoke once more.

"Well, they went to trial and were sent to Azkaban for varying sentences," Reg explained. "Some were given shorter terms than others, and there are those that are still there to this very day. Others were killed during the fighting."

"Did you kill any, Uncle Reg?"

Reg shrugged.

"Maybe," he murmured, "but that is the way of war. We never liked killing, but it was either them or us, and if it was us, the world would be a vastly different place now."

The man fell silent and thoughtful as he withdrew into himself.

"But what happened after the war?" Dahlia pressed impatiently.

The girl had been named for her aunt, her mother's twin, and she had a cousin who had been named for her mother.

It was rather confusing at family dinners, but Harry suspected Iris and Dahlia had done it in part for this reason.

The former had married into the Greengrass family, the nephew of Lord Greengrass becoming her husband.

Daniel Greengrass was a respectable man, and it always amused Harry to seem him stumble over his words whenever he entered the room.

Iris had done well for herself, and though he would never admit it aloud, Harry had grown quite fond of Daniel.

Dahlia, oddly, had married into the Abbott family, a second cousin to someone who had once been an old friend of Harry's, back when he had been running the DA.

The fading memory brought a smile to his lips as Charlus took over from Reg.

"The Death Eaters were put on trial first," he explained. "Some members of the Wizengamot wanted your Uncle Harry punished for what he did to Voldemort, but that didn't happen."

"Why would they punish Grandad Harry?" Clara asked.

The little girl was the double of Bella and shared no features with her father Edgar Bones.

Harry still didn't know how the two of them had gone from bitter rivals on the duelling circuit to being married in the space of a year after Bella had graduated, but she was happy, and that was all that mattered to him.

"Because they thought that your grandad was wrong for killing him," Charlus chuckled.

Clara scowled unhappily.

"They are stupid," she declared, folding her arms the same way Bella did when she was displeased by something.

"They are," Charlus agreed. "The public was furious at the idea, and your grandad invited them to try to put him on trial. Let's just say no one was willing to do so," the Potter lord finished amusedly.

Harry rolled his eyes as the children stared at him in awe.

"Anyway, let's get back to the rest of the story," Charlus suggested. "You know all about what happened after Grindelwald's war, but not Voldemort's. Now, where do we begin?"

"I'll take over, Dad," James offered. "I can tell you all what it was like at Hogwarts."

"Ergh, he's going to tell us about how he made Aunt Lily fall in love with him again," Clara grimaced.

"Oi, that's a good story," James defended.

"No, it isn't!" Daisy huffed. "We want to hear about the war."

James glared playfully at the girl.

"Fine," he relented as he took a seat. "It went something like this…"

January 1972

James had not gotten a moment of sleep whilst he waited for news to arrive of what was happening at the Ministry, and as he noticed the sun rising through the window, he nudged the snoring Sirius awake.

They had stayed in the common room all night, along with Peter, Remus, Lily, and Marlene who had refused to go to bed also, as had the majority of the house.

The others had fallen asleep long ago, but not Lily.

She had been fretting about Harry and had only been asleep for perhaps an hour or two.

"What time is it?" Sirius groaned.

"I don't know, Evans is on my arm," James whispered, "but it must be breakfast soon."

Sirius yawned as he nodded and checked his watch.

"It's just gone seven," he informed James. "Maybe we should ask Dumbledore what is going on. Are we even allowed to leave yet?"

"I'll check," Perkins said groggily as he stood from the chair he had been dozing in. "Wait here."

The Head Boy left, and James gently removed his arm that was trapped underneath Lily and the girl slowly woke up.

"What's happening?" she asked.

There were heavy bags under her eyes, but she was immediately alert.

"Perkins has gone to find out," James informed, the worry he had felt all night not having abated in the slightest.

The redhead rubbed his arm comfortingly.

"I'm sure he's alright."

James merely nodded but shot to his feet when Perkins returned sometime later.

"We can go for breakfast," he announced.

"My father?" James questioned as he approached.

Perkins offered him an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Potter, I don't know anything yet."

James nodded and hurried from the common room with the rest of the house as they made their way towards the Great Hall.

"Potter, do not run in the corridors," Professor Evans chided him.

She too looked rather drained from the night's events.

"Professor, my father?"

Minerva smiled understandingly.

"He's fine, James," she assured him. "Voldemort is dead, and your father stayed behind to help the aurors."

James breathed a sigh of relief.


Minerva rolled her eyes almost amusedly as she stepped aside.

"See for yourself," she urged.

The Gryffindors entered the hall to find that the Slytherins had already arrived, but James had no interest in them at the moment. His eyes scanned the staff table where he saw Harry eating a sizable breakfast whilst he spoke with Professor Dumbledore.

The two men were in deep conversation, and James decided he wouldn't disturb them, opting to have some breakfast himself in the knowledge that his father was okay.

"Merlin's saggy bollocks!" Sirius gasped.

The boy was reading the front cover of The Daily Prophet, his eyes almost bulging out of his head and his mouth agape.

"What is it?" James asked.

Sirius said nothing, shaking his head in disbelief as he slid the paper towards James.

Voldemort Burns as Evans Saves Britain!

By Ernest Chapman

James read the article, and took in the accompanying photos, his gaze shifting between the morning edition and his godfather who was casually eating his breakfast as though he had not been in a fight only hours before.

"It will take them some time to fix that damage," he snorted, swallowing deeply as he surveyed it.

The floor had been destroyed, as had the magical fountain he had thrown a coin or two in over the years.

Even the bodies of the dead had been left on display for the media to photograph.

James shook his head as he read the provisional list of the dead.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy was killed!" he announced.

It was then that he realised just how many students from Slytherin were missing; Malfoy, the Lestranges, the Avery brothers, Malcolm Gibbon, and even Elsie Rosier.

There were others from less prominent families, just more fatalities to add to a list that would only increase.

"Did Professor Evans really kill him?" Lily asked.

James nodded as he read the description given to the journalist by a witness.

"Burnt him to a crisp, according to this."

"Good!" Sirius declared. "The git deserved all of it."

James could only nod his agreement.

He knew that Harry wouldn't have enjoyed what he'd done, but Voldemort had been a monster that had terrorised their country for long enough.

If something drastic hadn't been done about him, how much damage could the man have caused?

James didn't know, but as most of the country would be, he was grateful for Harry, his father, and everyone else who had fought against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.


"There could be quite the fallout from what has happened, Harry," Dumbledore murmured.

"Maybe," Harry acknowledged, "but that was why I killed him the way I did. It will deter any from thinking of doing something stupid."

Albus nodded his understanding as he sighed gently.

"I just wish the best for you and Minerva," he assured him. "You both deserve it, but I will never stop worrying for you."

Harry nodded appreciatively.

"I think I have proven time and again that I am prepared for everything," he snorted. "As far as I am concerned, the fighting is over. I'm done, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled as he patted Harry on the shoulder before he stood to address the room.

The rest of the students from the other houses had trickled in and had time to read the newspaper. As had become familiar during the Grindelwald years when he visited the school, Harry found himself the subject of stares and whispers.

"Last night will forever stand as a black mark in our history, but also as one where good triumphed over evil," Albus began sombrely. "Lord Voldemort attempted to take the Ministry of Magic and assume a position of power over the country."

The students in the hall whispered amongst themselves until Albus held a hand up to silence them.

"Fortunately for us, he and his followers were unsuccessful, and our gratitude must go towards Professor Evans, and those that ably assisted him in his efforts to prevent that."

The staff and students clapped, and Harry frowned.

He had never wanted plaudits for anything he had done, and he was only grateful that Voldemort had not reached his former notoriety before Harry had the chance to stop him.

"Thank you, Professor Evans, for continuing to keep us safe," Albus added.

Harry merely nodded in response, refusing to be baited into giving a speech.

"Now, with that being said, you will notice that there are several of our number absent," the headmaster continued. "I do not foresee many returning to the castle, but when they do, I urge you to remember that they are just like you. They themselves were not involved in the attempted coup, and many have lost loved ones to a cause they believed in. I will say this only once; what has happened must never be forgotten, but this castle will bear no grudges. Hogwarts has always welcomed all who wishes to come here to be educated, and that will not change."

With his speech completed, Albus took his seat once more, and the students spoke amongst themselves about the events of the previous night.


August 1986

James's gaze had shifted to Harry as he took over, and he smiled as he shook his head. Charlus too was watching them both, unable to ignore the similarities between them.

"Grindelwald and Voldemort," James chuckled. "We all thought you were the second coming of Merlin."

Harry's nostrils flared irritably, and James smirked having learned how to irk his godfather years prior.

"What happened after that?" Clara asked.

"Well, we finished school," James answered with a frown. "I married Lily and decided to become an auror like Uncle Reg and Uncle Jack."

"Why don't you have children?" the younger Iris pressed.

James hummed thoughtfully.

"It just hasn't happened yet," he explained. "Lily likes working at the Ministry, just like my own mother did at St Mungo's. We will have them when we are ready."

Harry had been wondering the very same thing, and though he had not been concerned about James and Lily having another child around the same time he had been born, he had expected it.

Without the war to worry them, he supposed that neither were in any rush or under pressure to do so.

Lily had been rather coy about her career, but it was an open secret that she had taken up a post in the Department of Mysteries.

She truly had been a rather spectacular witch in her own right, just as Sirius had told Harry during the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts.

With Voldemort dead, things truly had turned out differently for so many.

Sirius had joined James in becoming an auror, and both Peter Pettigrew and Remus had gone on to do rather well for themselves.

Harry had hired the werewolf to oversee the running of an experimental potions company he had created around a decade ago to improve brews already available and create new ones to target illnesses that were currently incurable.

Much to Harry's surprise, Severus Snape had applied for a job, and he could find no reason to refuse him.

Snape was an excellent potioneer and was already making quite the name for himself in the community.

Pettigrew had gotten a job working in the Ministry, and though he had never given Harry cause for concern, he kept a watchful eye on the man.

"Is all of this true?" Dahlia, Iris's daughter asked sceptically. "Did Grandad really kill a dragon by himself?"

"Of course, it's true!" Reg huffed irritably. "We were all there," he added pointing to Charlus, Arcturus, and Gilbert.

Dahlia hummed.

"Whatever you say, Uncle Reg. Come on, it's almost lunch time," she informed the others.

Reg shook his head as the children left the basement.

"Kids these days," he muttered. "Do they think we're a bunch of lying old sods?"

"Probably," Harry replied carelessly with a shrug. "It makes my life easier."

"Yeah right," James snorted. "I'm surprised you haven't gotten bored of trying to teach when all the kids look at you with their doughy eyes. Why do you still teach, anyway? It's not like you need the money."

Harry nodded.

"I don't," he agreed, "and maybe one day I will give it up, but not just yet. There are still things I'm looking forward to experiencing as a professor."

James eyed him questioningly, but the other men nodded their understanding.

Harry was waiting for a particular class of students to pass through the castle, and though that was still half a decade away, they knew that he was anticipating their arrival eagerly.

September 1991

It was almost as though he had stepped into the past as he looked upon the students seated at their respective tables, the usual pointing and whispering something he endured much easier this year.

The world around him had changed over the decades he had been here, but not as noticeably quickly as it had when he had arrived this evening.

Now, he was in a world that had once been familiar to him, but now, it was as alien as anything he had ever experienced.

Harry had grown accustomed to the wizarding culture of old, and now, it felt strange being back in a time when he would have been arriving for his first year at Hogwarts.

It was a strange experience indeed.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Albus standing and clearing his throat after the plates had been cleared.

"I would like to welcome you all once again for another year at Hogwarts," he began, offering the students a bow. "Before I send you all off for a much-needed rest, there are a few announcements to give. Firstly, a reminder to new and returning students that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students."

His lips quirked into a grin as his eyes drifted towards the Weasley twins who did their utmost to appear as though they were heeding the warning.

"Secondly, Professor Potter will not be with us this year as she has just given birth to her second daughter. We of course, offer her our most sincere congratulations."

The students murmured amongst themselves, many disappointedly.

Lily had proven to be a popular professor since she had taken up the post two years prior, having chosen not to return to the Ministry after the birth of her and James's first daughter.

It was odd for Harry to think that he finally had siblings, not that they would ever know that connection.

The newly born of the two, Rosa, named for his own daughter and Lily's close relationship with her, would have to settle for him being her godfather, as he had been for James and Bella.

It had been his honour to accept, a sentiment that had brought a tear to his eye.

"Standing in for Professor Potter this year will be Professor Evans," Albus continued, gesturing towards Jasmine who had taken the post as a break from her cursebreaking work, "who has graciously agreed to assist us."

Harry smiled at his youngest daughter.

He suspected she would also appreciate the break from her own home.

Much to his amusement, the woman had been determined to have no children, but had birthed twins almost four years ago.

Violet and Ivy were as much a handful as her own sisters had been, and now her husband would be caring for them full time.

Jasmine had married a member of the Zabini family, a fellow cursebreaker she had met during an excursion in Italy some years prior.

Davide was a good, hardworking man who had been terrified to meet Harry, but Harry had taken a liking to him.

He was genuine, looked after Jasmine, and was an exceedingly capable wizard.

"And finally, Mr Filch has asked me to remind you all that the list of banned items can be found attached to his office door. Please do familiarise yourself with it. Now, off to bed, pip pip."

The prefects led the students from the hall, and more than a few shot Harry a glance as they did so.

Despite believing, hoping even, that his fame would wane over the years, it hadn't.

If anything, it only grew the more obscure his feats became with the passing generations.

With a sigh, he readied himself for another trying yet interesting year as he headed towards the dungeons to greet the Slytherins.

As their head of house, they needed to meet him personally before lessons began the next day.


Already, Hogwarts had completely blown away Hermione Granger's expectations. From the train ride to her first glance at the castle as she crossed the lake in the enchanted boats, she had been mesmerised.

Having been shown around the Gryffindor common room and where she would be sleeping for the next seven years, she had joined her fellow new arrivals in front of the fireplace and was listening to their conversation with rapt attention.

"Did you see him?" Ron Weasley asked excitedly. "He really teaches here. My dad said he stopped him at the Ministry to speak with him, and even now he asks about us all."

"Come on, Ron, it's just Harry," Neville Longbottom sighed.

"Just Harry?" Ron asked, aghast that Neville was being so dismissive.

Neville nodded.

"He visits my grandparents quite often," he explained.

"What's he like?" the Irish Seamus Finnegan asked.

Neville shrugged.

"He's just a normal bloke."

"Normal he says," Ron snorted.

Hermione was confused.

"Excuse me, are you talking about Professor Evans?" she asked.

Ron appeared as though she had taken leave of her senses.

"Harry Evans, probably the most famous wizard in the world?"

Hermione nodded apologetically.

"She's a muggleborn, Ron," Neville reminded the redhead.

Ron's ears turned red.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"It's okay," Hermione replied with a smile. "I just don't know who he is."

"Well, Professor Evans is famous for defeating Grindelwald," Neville informed her. "He was a really dark wizard that tried to take over the world. Professor Evans killed him."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Killed him?" she whispered.

"And Voldemort," Dean Thomas broke in. "He was another dark wizard that tried to take over the Ministry. Harry Evans got him too."

"And he teaches in a school?"

Dean placed a hand on her shoulder.

"The wizarding world and muggle are different in many ways," he explained. "Harry Evans is a hero to everyone. If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be here now, and the muggle word would be controlled by Grindelwald."


The boys nodded collectively.

"He's really nice," Neville assured her, "and we will learn so much from him."

Hermione remained sceptical but would reserve judgement until she met the man.

"Wait, you said he is friends with your grandparents?"

"He went to school with my grandmother," Neville explained. "They were both Gryffindors."

Hermione frowned confusedly.

"How old is your grandmother?"

"In her seventies," Neville replied. "Why?"

"So, Professor Evans, the man who was sitting at the staff table is in his seventies?"

"He did defeat Grindelwald in 1943," Neville chuckled.

"He looks younger than my dad," Hermione murmured. "He's only 38."

"He looks younger than everyone his age," Neville mused aloud. "My gran doesn't look that young."

"But Evans' wife does," Ron pointed out. "They did meet here at Hogwarts; it says so on his chocolate frog card."

"Do you mean the Professor Evans who came to speak with my parents, the transfiguration mistress?" Hermione scoffed.

Neville nodded once more.

"She cannot be in her seventies!" Hermione denied.

"She's best friends with my gran," Neville pointed out.

Hermione could only shake her head in disbelief.

"Is it because of magic they are so young?"

None of the boys had a definitive answer for her.

"Maybe," Neville conceded, "but powerful wizards do age slower. Dumbledore is more than a hundred."

"Really?" Hermione gasped.

"He taught both of the Professor Evans when they were students."

Hermione was almost speechless at the revelation.

Dumbledore looked old, but not more than a century.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted.

"Welcome to the wizarding world," Dean chuckled. "You're in for a lot of surprises."


Harry had never been so nervous to teach a lesson. Over the years, he'd had most of the Weasley siblings arrive at Hogwarts, and even the familiar Nymphadora Tonks, but this was different, this was mostly the class he had once been a part of.

Andromeda running away to marry Ted Tonks had not come as a surprise to him when it had happened, and though the Blacks had been furious, Harry had looked out for her, something that Arcturus had eventually been grateful for when he had gotten over it.

Her relationship with her family was still fractured, but Melania, Druella, and her siblings made the effort to stand by her.

Harry watched as the students filed in, the most noticeable absence being that of Draco Malfoy.

The marriage between Narcissa and Lucius had never arisen, the former having been matched with one of Rosalina's nephews.

The thought of his mentor still brought a lump to Harry's throat.

Rosalina had become deathly ill some years prior, and though he had pooled every resource he could into creating a cure for what ailed her, his efforts had ultimately failed.

It was a stark reminder that he was still but a man, even if most others wished to believe otherwise.

He and Rosa had been with Rosalina until the very end.

She had smiled at them both proudly, an unusual gesture and told them how proud she was to have been a part of their lives.

To Harry, it had been like losing a mother, and it was something he would never truly get over.

"Welcome to your first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson," he greeted the first year Gryffindor and Slytherin students. "For those of you that do not know, I am Professor Evans, the head of Slytherin house, and your instructor in this classroom. Over the next seven years, I will teach you not only how to identify and defend yourselves against the unsavoury elements of magic, but how to defend yourselves from those that would attack you. Yes, Clara?"

The newly minted Slytherin had raised her hand.

"Will you be teaching us how to defend against the Unforgivables?"

"In a few years," Harry replied. "We have lots of things to cover before we get there. Today, we will begin with an introduction into what the Dark Arts are, and why they are considered dark, and if you even consider removing your wand, Mr Crabbe, I will see that you do not have access it for the rest of the year."

The boy paled at having been caught attempting to point it towards the side of the room the Gryffindors were seated, and Harry released a deep breath.

Try as he might, he had not been able to fully mend the rift between the two houses.

Some things had indeed irrevocably changed over the years, but others seemingly never would, and though Harry was looking forward to what the next years would bring in lieu of what he had experienced his first time here, he had no doubt that not all his future experiences would be happy ones.


August 2105

The funeral of Albus Dumbledore was only one of many that Rosa had attended throughout her century and a half of life. The headmaster had remained at his post until the day he had passed and had simply refused to do so whilst the school year was in session.

The Minister, whomever that was now, had all but insisted the man be buried on the grounds of Hogwarts, but her father had made a rare, public appearance to ensure Albus was buried with his family in Godric's Hollow.

Her mother had already been named as Headmistress, and Rosa had agreed to replace her as the transfiguration professor, despite what she deemed to be her advancing years.

For being more than 150 years old, she felt no worse than when she had turned sixty, and though she had never remarried nor had any children, she never felt that her life had been lacking.

Her Quidditch career had been a successful one, and the memories of obtaining her accolades over the years were ones that remained fond.

Rosa's playing days were long behind her now, but there was nothing that would keep her from flying frequently.

Flying had been her first love, after all.

Even her father still did so, and still to this day insisted on being the very first to use whatever prototypes Nimbus or Firebolt produced.

The man was nearing two centuries old, and yet, none would ever believe it if he wasn't so well known in their world.

Only now did he begin to resemble a man who was reaching his middling years, the first greys marring his black hair and beard.

Rosa watched as he muttered some parting words over Albus's grave.

They had not always seen eye-to-eye, but they had respected each other greatly.

"Let's go," Harry urged as he returned to Rosa and her mother.

At their ages, death had become so familiar to them, and her mother and father were undoubtedly now the last of their generation.

Rosa remembered all of the funerals they had attended; Charlus, Arcturus, Reg, Gilbert, and all of their spouses that had passed on.

Augusta and Poppy even, two of the deaths that would affect her mother the worst.

The generation that followed them were also gone; The Blacks, though Rosa did not mourn for Walburga, and even the children, and their children.

James, Sirius, Bella, Andromeda, and Narcissa were gone.


The redhead's death had been the most painful for Rosa to endure.

She and the woman had always remained close, and though Rosa had not had children of her own, losing Lily Potter was nothing short of losing a daughter.

All of the deaths, and yet the Evans family continued on.

All of her siblings had lost their spouses by now, none of them able to match the longevity her family seemed to have.

Jack now lived alone in what had once been the McGonagall grandparent's home, unable to remain in his own after his wife had passed.

He had not been the same since Aurelia had died, but he was coping as best he could by dedicating himself to tutoring a duelling club at Hogwarts and travelling during the summer months.

Iris and Dahlia had followed suit, returning to the life they had lived upon graduating from Hogwarts.

Britain held painful memories for both women, and it wasn't often they returned, but when they did, it was to the family home with their parents where Rosa had remained.

Jasmine had returned to Hogwarts throughout the years, and when Lily had eventually retired having given birth to four children who had given her nine grandchildren between them, she had taken the potions mistress post permanently.

Rosa released a deep breath as her gaze trailed across the graveyard.

The next time she would be here would be for either one of her parents' funerals, her siblings, or even her own.

Still, that day wasn't today, and though her later years were plagued with grim and unpleasant moments, she was yet full of life, still here, and still breathing.


December 2335

It was seldom now that either Minerva or Harry left their home, both having retired around a century before to enjoy what they had believed to be their final years together.

Harry had never truly understood Nicholas when he said that the world had become something he no longer recognised, something he didn't care for, not until the same thoughts had crept up on him.

Slowly but surely, it had changed around them until little of what they had come to know remained.

Now, he understood Nicholas and Perenelle better than he ever had, though he wished such a realisation had not been so costly.

For more than four centuries he and Minerva had lived whilst they had watched those they cared deeply for pass on, even their own children.

Jasmine had been gone for almost two centuries now, and Jack had followed a few decades or so after.

Harry could no longer remember how much time had passed.

The twins had gone too, Iris following Dahlia only a few days after her passing around a century and a half ago, and Rosa, their firstborn, had been the last a little over a hundred years past.

So much love and heartache, and yet, Harry struggled to remember their faces with how long ago it seemed.

Still, the joy they had felt throughout their lives had stayed with him just as much as the pain of losing them, and both he and Minerva clung to both.

He remembered kissing each of them on the forehead before they breathed their last, to see them off on to their next great adventure, as Albus would say.

Harry felt Minerva's frail grip tighten around his forearm, pulling him from his thoughts.

"I always thought you knew what you had done," he murmured as he looked upon Nicholas's grave, "that you were having a laugh at my expense. Albus believed so too, but I think you miscalculated. I know you would have never done this to me, not on purpose."

Minerva gave him a sad smile as he turned towards her, her lined and aged face as beautiful to him as it had ever been.

"Shall we?"

Minerva nodded, and Harry activated his portkey, the same one he had carried with him since he had been a hit-wizard.

They arrived in Godric's Hollow a moment later, and though they were not as fit or nimble as they had once been, they shuffled their way hand in hand through the kissing gates of the cemetery towards the place the generations of Evans' rested.

Side by side, their children had been buried; Jasmine, Jack, the twins, and Rosa, their graves immaculately kept.

"It had never crossed my mind that we would be here without them," Minerva whispered.

Harry nodded.

His wife echoed the same words every time they visited, something they had learned not to do too often.

Their children would be furious if they believed they were wallowing in the past, but there was little else for them to do now.

Harry and Minerva had watched as friends came and went, as babies grew into adults and followed suit, too many times to count.

"It will be us next," Minerva whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "There's no one else left."

"A small mercy I am grateful for."

Minerva nodded her agreement before tutting as she took in the sight of the wilted roses adorning the graves of their children.

Neither had planted them there, but they had grown, nonetheless.

It reminded Harry of the field that he and Grindelwald had fought in all those decades ago, and the songs the locals sung about the roses, how they thrived when everything else had been dead.

He had come to hate and adore the flowers equally, but stilled Minerva's hand as she raised her wand to bring them back to life.

"Leave them," he urged.

"They're dead, Harry," Minerva pointed out.

He nodded as his eyes trailed over where his children rested before turning away and leading his wife back towards the gate.

Neither can live whilst the other survives

Harry had lived.

He'd had children, grandchildren, and several generations that had followed, but now, he'd seen enough, and he knew Minerva had too.

They'd laughed and cried in equal measures, had loved one another unwaveringly for more years than either could count. They had lived several lives in one, and for the good and the bad that had come with it, they'd experienced it all.

Wrapping his arms around Minerva's shoulder, Harry looked back at the drooping flowers a final time.

"They are dead," he agreed, "and if there is indeed any mercy left in this world, we will not be here when they bloom again."