Chapter 86 Aftermath and Ever After

The carnage of war brought with it a crucible that forced the Wizarding World to change, and rises anew from the ashes of war. The young man at the center of it all, Harry Potter would continue to be the catalyst he had never wanted to be. He saw to the needs of his Legion first, and to the complete lack of surprise to all those who knew him even slightly, the Goblins.

The Goblin purge of the Death Eaters had been total. True to their word, the left literally nothing standing: The Ministry of Magic had been razed to the ground. Diagon Alley remained standing, but many who had converted to the ideals of the pureblood supremacist "government" had been put to the sword. The estates and homes of the most prominent of Purebloods including Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson had been put to the torch.

Many would question why the Goblins had acted in such fashion, with a display of such unilateral loyalty to Harry Potter. The answer was simple: Financial incentive. Griphook had once calculated the full value of the Potter Family Fortune to be in the billions. With all that money sitting around, twenty million Galleons was a small price to pay to hire the best warriors money could buy. A bounty of five thousand Galleons per Death Eater corpse with Dark Mark convinced the greedy to line up alongside the skilled.

In the days, following their victory, the first matter was to lay the fallen to rest. And there were so many of them. For the fallen Goblins, they were buried with all the honor and ceremony that they were due as warriors. Their funerary rites and customs are still a mystery to wizarding kind, and the Goblins kept it that way.

For those witches and wizards that had endured the siege and defended Hogwarts, they were all laid to rest in a public funeral. The service was well attended, but no doubt the greatest attraction at the macabre event was Dumbledore himself, helped along by a short piece from Luna and The Quibbler:

Albus Dumbledore: A Legend has Ended

"The Quibbler regrets to announce that Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was killed in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, defending the students, his colleagues, and the venerable institution from Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

"It is a loss. Albus Dumbledore was a man deserving of respect and he gave his all in the defense of Hogwarts – his home," said Harry Potter, now dubbed "the Man-Who-Survived,", "He was a symbol of courage, and, of honor."

Acting Headmistress Minvera McGonagall was asked what the future holds for Hogwarts, "We have endured the fires of war. These hallowed halls of learning will be open come September 1st for all those who wish to receive and continue to receive their magical education." She said firmly.

The staff of the Quibbler pay their respects to Albus Dumbledore, may he rest in peace.

For the life of achievements of Albus Dumbledore, see pages 2-9.

For details regarding the Siege of Hogwarts, see pages 10-13.

It was a brisk and sunny winter morning, and Harry stared out over the lake on the morning of the public funeral. There were still hundreds gathered at the reception behind him, paying their last respects. Harry had decided that it would be best if Albus Dumbledore was buried in Hogwarts. His tomb would mark the site of a memorial for those who had given their lives in service to the Light. Harry felt her hand take his, and he gave a soft, almost gentle smile as Fleur stood beside him. He did not know what he would do without her, or what to do with her for that matter.

He nodded and they made their way towards the seats. He recognized the few survivors of the Order of the Phoenix, including Kingsley Shacklebolt, Diggle, and Amos Diggory. The Weasely clan was in full attendance. He felt his heartbreak at the absence of Fred, George, and Ginny. A part of him was glad that Bill and Charlie were there. Percy had turned up after the war itself was over, with fragmented memories of the past few years of his life. What was missing both wizard and Goblin mind healers agreed were forever lost. At least, the sons still had a family of sorts.

There was a great deal of confusion as a number of the effingus seemed to survive. It was not that their memories were incomplete, missing months if not years of their memories, but the fact that they had survived at all. The only answer that both Goblins and the Department of Mysteries could agree on was that they would likely never ever know the truth of it, given they had all been killed during the war. The experts all agreed that they were no threat once the appropriate memories were erased - something Harry could understand intimately with Kreacher still serving him well. Those few that were allowed to lead normal lives would spend their lives under discrete Legion surveillance.

Harry smiled sadly at the line of government officials: Susan Bones, acting Minister for Magic was literally rebuilding the entire government from the ground up. Many had said she was too young, too inexperienced, and too many other things besides. But Kingsley Shacklebolt had thrown his support behind her, silencing the most vocal of the opposition. Given that most had been purged by the Goblins, Susan had wisely chosen to surround herself with a mix of blood and races. It was going to be interesting having a werewolf as Deputy Minister of Magic, but Harry felt Moony was up to the task, and with Griphook as Director of Financial Services, graft and bribery would be difficult if not outright impossible.

They took their places and walked to the podium where a large portrait of Albus Dumbledore stood framed next to a pure white marble coffin draped with the banner of Hogwarts. Fawkes was perched on the lip of the coffin, not yet at maturity since his recent sacrifice.

Death was one way where the Magical and Muggle worlds were not so different. The major difference was that many were laid to rest in family tombs or crypts in private homes. Many of the fallen would be taken to such places to be interred after the day's memorials were done. But the headstones, the plaques would remain behind in a sanctuary for the memory of the fallen.

Headmistress Minvera McGonagall stepped up to the rostrum and silence fell, "We are gathered here today, to remember and honor a remarkable man" she began, "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He was as kind as he was powerful. He gave his life defending his students and his home. He will be remembered as a Professor, a Headmaster, and as being the only one Voldemort ever feared." She smiled towards Harry, seated in the front row, and stepped back.

Harry gave McGonagall a sad smile as they passed one another and he took his place, "Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak." The first words I ever heard him say." There were a few scattered chuckles. "Albus Dumbledore was a man of many talents and as many quirks. He saw death as the next great adventure. He is enjoying that adventure now."

There was a clattering of hooves and a loud murmur as the Centaur herd stopped at the forest edge, they bowed respectfully from a distance and then turned and vanished back into the depths of the Forbidden Forest. "Give it some time," Harry thought, "I'm being forced to change the world. So I will make it a better place."

The services and memorial would go on for some time, as following Dumbledore, others were eulogized, and memories shared. Amongst the many, there were a few surprises such as Argus Filch. A retired marksman with ties to the 2nd Battalion of the Parachute Regiment under the 16th Air Assault Brigade, he had killed at least a dozen Death Eaters with his L96A Accuracy International before the dragon's fire engulfed the balcony that had served as his sniper's camp. Pictures amongst his effects connected him to a muggle, Frank Bryce who had been his spotter during the Falkland Islands Campaign in 1982.

During the remembrance of Colin Creevy's, Harry had declined to speak, opting to give those who knew him better the chance. As many lay flowers by the young man's coffin, Harry brought a framed photo instead. Where many had to acknowledge Colin's strength and courage, Harry saw only the excitable child who had taken pictures of him, first without permission, then as his official photographer, and then as a friend who had continued to take pictures of his friends.

The photo left at a corner of Colin's coffin was taken sometime before the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, showing all of them standing in the courtyard of the castle. Harry's scrawling spidery scrawl had written a short note, "Take pictures in the forever after, and show them to me, when we catch up." The signature that graced the photograph would be the only autograph that Harry Potter ever gave.

Time would pass but a few did ask, many years later, why Harry was so lenient and forgiving of Dumbledore. Harry had shrugged, "The man is dead and what I think or wish, is not going to change that fact." After a few drinks, however, he could be convinced to add the caveat, "I just hope he stays dead and does not come back!"

For the Legion's own fallen, however, there was no public spectacle. Only the families of the fallen, and there were only two representatives of the Ministry of Magic: The Minister and her deputy, both of whom had fought alongside the Legion. Quietly, conversations had taken place between a senior Legionnaire and each of the families of the fallen regarding the situation. None chose to confront Harry on that day. The service was a long five-hour affair that honored the memories of the 117 Legionnaires slain in battle. Reminisces took most of this time, as every student was mentioned, and remembered. Harry had sat there and struggled not to break down and wondered whether he should say something or not. How could he speak about one student over the others? Would their families take offense to that?

In the end, he rose to his feet, unwilling to insult the memories of his Legionnaires by not saying anything about their sacrifice: One-hundred-and-seventeen lives were lost during the siege because they had followed his orders and battle strategy. He stood, and recited their names from memory, making eye contact with everyone gathered in Godric's Hollow, "An entire generation has sacrificed everything so that those who follow will be free. Their names and their deeds are forever engraved upon my memory, and no Pensieve will let me forget them. The Fallen have given us the chance to reshape our world and the future that children will inherit. We owe it to them, to make our world a better place. For their sacrifice, I can only thank them. The Fallen shall forever be remembered as our finest."

Fleur, acting as the Mistress of Ceremonies for the memorial ceremony being held in Godric's Hollow rose one last time. "Having met with the approval of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts, a memorial will be erected at the school, to honor all who have fought, both those who have given their lives and those who lived."

Minister Susan Bones stood and looked the part as she turned to address them, "This may seem somewhat ridiculous, handing out awards when such tragedy has occurred. But we have honored our Fallen, and we must, in turn, honor our living as well." She unfurled a parchment scroll and began to read.

"On behalf of the Wizengamot, the 117 Legionnaires, and ninety other staff, students, witches, and wizards who gave their lives during The Grimmauld Battle and The Siege of Hogwarts are awarded The Order of Merlin, Second Class, posthumously. We further award the Order of Merlin, Third Class to all Legionnaires, students, faculty members, and others who fought and risked their lives for the Light."

"With special citation, we award the Order of Merlin, Second Class, to the Goblins of the Axe Masters Clan and Swordwind Blades Clan. Though not officially involved, they came to our assistance at a time of great need, and for this we thank them. We hope that this will be a harbinger of better relations between both our races as we move into the future together."

"Finally, every army has its leaders, and commanders, where the burden of command and the responsibility of leadership rest its head. We award the Order of Merlin, First Class, to The Legion Core, comprised of Harry James Potter, Hermione Granger, Fleur Delacour, Luna Lovegood, George Weasely, Fred Weasely, Ginnerva Molly Weasely, Luna Lovegood, Colin Creevey, and Neville Longbottom. We salute them, and fervently hope that their services in this regard are never needed again." There was no applause but general agreement from the crowd as the ceremony itself drew to a close.

In the months following the battle, Hogwarts Castle was rebuilt. Headmistress McGonagall had turned the rebuilding into a full-scale academic exercise in the practical application of magic, where everyone from first-years to alumni of the venerated institution returned to lend a helping hand and a wand.

The memorial was built exactly where Fleur said it would be: Hogwarts, at the Entrance Hall. It would be the first thing anyone would ever see when they enter the castle. It was elegant and simple. 187 names were engraved in a simple gold rectangle of eight by four inches with the individuals' date of birth and date of death which lined the right-hand side of the wall. The same setup lined the left side of the wall, only these were done in silver for the survivors and bore only a single date. Given time, Harry knew that many of those silver tiles would become gold as the final date was added. Each of the tiles was goblin made, and enchanted, to burn from within with Gulbrathian Fire.

When it was completed, Harry had spent several long hours lost in pensive thought staring at the gold and silver walls in turn. "Worrying is like a rocking chair," she remarked, holding a cup out to him, "No milk, no sugar, ice cold."

He nodded and took the proffered cup, "How so?"

"It is displacement activity. It gives you something to do, but it really does not get you anywhere. You wonder whether The Legion, your Legion has made a difference."

Harry gave a bitter bark of laughter. The question had crossed his mind and kept him awake for many nights, "So did we make a difference? And now that we rebuild, are we making things better?"

"Since that day, since before it, we have made a difference, and now, we are making more. We start here, we educate, we teach, we tend to the needs of the children, who are the future. We make the difference now. They will make the difference in the future."

"You know, Harry," she said. "They're wrong. The writers, I mean. The first time you kill, the first time you use an Unforgivable. That's when it happens when you become what you are fighting. It's not a gradual thing. They pretend that it is... so that they can tell themselves afterward that they did not know."

"You remember your first Fleur?" he asked.

She nodded, "Despite the many Death Eaters and Effingus, I do: Goyle."

"The books say you are supposed to remember," He said, "The writers at least, the same ones that pretend it's a gradual descent down a slippery slope to becoming the same sort of monster you fight against." He glanced at her, "I, don't remember mine. I only remember it was in a fit of rage, that night in the… graveyard."

Fleur Delacour watched as his face crumbled. She knew him too well. She knew that it had been too long for him since he left himself feeling anything. She pulled him into her embrace, wrapping herself around him. For the first time, in more years than he could remember, he wept. He wept for his savaged childhood. For the parents, he had never known, for the daughter he had lost, the brothers and sisters of his "Honour Guard." He cried for the lost generation that surrounded him.

Fleur Delacour simply held him, tucking his face into the side of her neck; she whispered to him, trying and failing to comfort and reassure him that all would be well. "J'taime mon amour," she repeated softly, "I love you. We have all done horrific things, Harry. But you are still a good person. We are all here for you Harry, you know that right?" When he nodded, she added quietly, "I could never love you if you were evil. Nor could your friends care for you if you were evil. You are a good man Harry. War… it brings out the dark side that is the worst, the beast in us all. It does not make us evil. You are a good man, Harry James Potter. I know of none better."

The greatest school of witchcraft and wizardry survived the titanic struggle, and it would, under Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, go through sweeping change, sponsored by a private foundation that chose to remain anonymous. The changes included the restructuring and updating of the curriculum of all subjects and new faculty. Specialists were recruited from around the world for the five core subjects, and certain subjects were abolished in their entirety – Divination being one of the first to go. For the first time, a full administrative support staff to handle the maintenance and upkeep of the Castle. How Filch and Hagrid had managed would remain a mystery to many forever.

The 1st of September 1997 saw the Magical children of the British Wizarding world, pass through the barrier onto Platform 9¾, and board the Hogwarts Express on its traditional journey north. The newcomers were treated to the sight of the Castle against the backdrop of the star-filled sky as they crossed the lake with four students to a boat.

Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Kimberly Ann Staub directed the students to the tables with an ease born of long practice despite being one of the new hires, poached from Beauxbattons on the recommendations of Fleur.

There was somber silence from all the students who passed through the gold and silver-lined walls of the "Memorial." Like all nicknames, it was apt, and it stuck. They took their seats at round tables, each one comfortably seating about twelve students. Though the senior students were somewhat grouped along house lines, there was a near non-stop buzzing amongst them, asking two questions: Where were the house tables? Where were the hourglasses that denoted house points? Then somebody asked a more pointed question: Where was the Sorting Hat?

"To those who are returning, welcome back to Hogwarts," said Headmistress McGonagall, "To those who are new, welcome, and pay attention for there are many changes to the Hogwarts you have heard off from both family and friend." Her iron glare raked across the gathered students, "You may have already heard the term "Muggleborn." This is the correct term to refer to someone who is a first-generation witch or wizard, as well as the correct term to refer to someone of mixed blood parentage. It is an accurate description, in so much as calling Mr. Priel, your Potions Master a man, or your Charms Professor, Ms. Delacour a Frenchwoman. There is an insult that has been used to describe the muggle-born. It is one word. It is "MudBlood.""

The already deafening silence seemed to deepen as she continued, "This single insult, I pray, will never be uttered by a student of this institution. Its use, as a first offense, is a week of detention. As a final warning: Suspension for one academic semester and then expulsion. Do not use this word as long as you wish to study here. In line with this, any student preaching the pureblood supremacist ideology which has cost this country a generation of its witches and wizards will be suspended for a semester. Repeat offenders will be expelled. Are there any questions?"

Scattered nodding answered her. What followed triggered an uproar from the students, "The Houses of Hogwarts was supposed to create a familial bond between students," explained the Headmistress, "The system failed: It lead to the creation and then perpetuated the stereotypes. All students are created equal regardless of gender or blood status. There is only one house in this school: Hogwarts House." There will always be those that seek to test and break the rules: Thirteen students from the former four houses were suspended in the first week. Seven were forced to complete their magical education abroad.

Harry himself never set foot in Hogwarts again after that fateful day in the Entrance Hallway. But he completed his studies, taking his NEWTS that same year. Unsurprisingly, he scored a complement of 9 NEWTS with "O." Someone asked him what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Harry had simply shrugged. Suddenly, Susan Bones stepped down, followed quickly by Remus Lupin. Harry was suddenly the Minister of Magic. He quickly appointed Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom as his Deputy Vice Ministers. Remus had opted for the quiet life and resigned shortly thereafter. Wolves mate for life, and he never let go of his love for Nymphadora Tonks.

One of his first actions as Minister was to ask for support that was willingly given by an international Quidditch superstar. Together, Fleur Delacour, Viktor Krum, and Harry Potter moved Amos Diggory to tears as the Triwizard Cup was presented to him as a reminder of his son's bravery, loyalty, and perseverance, to honor the true Champion of Hogwarts.

Minister Potter was quick to grant Goblins the right to bear wands, and House Elves rights as individuals and not property. He made discrimination a crime punishable by incarceration. With his people occupying positions of power, he kept his people in line, who in turn kept their respective departments in line. Thus Legion steered Wizarding Britain into the future.

Harry had carte blanche to do as he saw fit, and he did just that: The government was reformed along the lines of the British Parliamentary system. The Wizengamot became a ruling council that functioned in many ways like the Muggle House of Commons, and many other organizations came forth, many of whom were granted equal standing with their own elected representatives.

Among them, the Goblins maintained their role as bankers and the financial authority of the Wizarding World. Indeed, Griphook would be the first Minister of Banking and Finance under the new democratic government and would set the tradition of the post being held by a Goblin.

The Werewolves and Vampyres were granted rights of their own, and a general "live-and-let-live" policy was enacted. Free Wolfsbane Potion from the "Full Moon Trust," overseen by Remus Lupin coupled with equal status under the law, was reward enough for those who had remained neutral throughout the war.

The Goblins established the first Vampyre Blood Bank and made it available to the Vampyres who had gradually returned to the country in the aftermath of the war. Their strength, skill, and talents were prodigious and at the cusp of the new millennium, they became equals under the law.

The House Elves continued to serve as servants but were better treated than ever before. The Protectorate Laws enforced prevented mistreatment of House Elves and even mandated days off and rest periods for them should the Elves themselves decide they wanted a day off – an incredibly rare occurrence.

The last of the Dementors who had fled were ultimately found haunting the ruins of Azkaban. Harry personally commanded the operation that surrounded the ruined island, and systematically purged them from existence. Three days after "Operation Dark Storm" the island was bought by a private party and placed under a Fedilius Charm. The owner remains anonymous to this day.

The Potter Government also oversaw the founding of several new magical townships, including much to his chagrin "Potterville." The name made him cringe every time he heard it; perhaps it would make him cringe for eternity.

Those that survived the Siege were forever bonded as friends, and in their own way, like family. Harry and Fleur would be seen together as often as they were apart. Despite their love for each other, they never did quite get together, but they never quite fell apart either, leaving many wondering just what the full story was. They continued to call Potter Manor in Wales home for many years, and though the couple had no children of their own, they raised an orphanage of children who would go on to do many things, both great and mundane.

Neville Longbottom would struggle to come to terms with his loss, and his failure to protect the only woman he had loved. Despite the best efforts of his friends, Neville drifted away, resigning from Hogwarts after ten years. Five years later to the day, he vanished entirely. Despite reports of his eventual demise, there are continued sightings of a "wild man" living in the depths of the Amazon rainforest matching his last known description.

Luna Lovegood eventually overcame her grief and by the strangest of quirks, was seduced on a night out by none other than Gabrielle Delacour. The couple would have a long happy relationship and are parents to two boys who were born one week apart: Lorcan Delacour Lovegood and Lysander Lovegood Delacour. The names were a compromise of sorts that kept both parents happy. Their Uncle Harry would forever have his eye on the boys, who were the equivalent of the Pranks Master Generals – all three of them. The identity of the father was never confirmed though rumor persists that their "uncle" is in actual fact their "father." His refusal to take a paternity test continues to fuel the flames in many a gossip magazine.

The Prophet and The Quibbler would both continue, but after an extended period in decline, the Daily Prophet printed its final issue on the Anniversary of the Siege of Hogwarts on December 15th, 2002. The Quibbler, under Luna Lovegood, coupled with the loyal readership of the Legion had sown the seeds of the Prophet's demise many years ago, and finally harvested their crop in the fullness of time.

In a world where the Legion had touched the lives of every Hogwarts student and in turn every adult, the wizarding world was rebuilt to follow the simple and basic tenant of the Legion: Loyalty and Honor before Profit. The world was rebuilt after twenty years of tireless toil, and it was a meritocracy based upon the highest of ideals, where the Light prospered in peace. Though it had necessitated force of arms, Wizard, Goblin, House Elf, Werewolf, Vampyre, and Centaur, were equal at last. Harry Potter found himself content with life though he bore the scars, both upon his forehead and upon his soul for the rest of his days.

However, in a place, far removed from the Mortal realm, Hermione had watched and cried silent tears, wondering why. Why was he denied her in this way? She was not alone in her outrage. Sirius Black, Lily, and James Potter, over a hundred Legionnaires, hissed and snarled in anger. None could understand the injustice of it all. Where was the justice that he so richly deserved? Where was the reward for all that he had suffered?

Both watched from a comparatively safe distance – hell hath no fury like a scorned woman with a twice-broken heart after all.

"Should we tell her?" asked Destiny.

"Tell her what?" retorted Death, "That she has to wait a few thousand years for a possibility?"

"It should not be this way," countered Destiny, "His choices were always beyond our control. But he believes the prophecy that Tom perverted, making a possibility into a certainty. Now, all we have left to offer is the whisper of possibility."

Death shook its head, "We have a whisper of possibility. If he makes the choice, then he unmakes all that comes before the choice, unto when he… chooses to return. Thus is it even a choice?"

"You are asking me that question?" snorted Destiny, "I can only see the paths. I do not choose and certainly cannot suggest the path any human should walk.

"Then let us review," said Death, as he sat down at a table, leaning back into his chair, "these prophecies one final time." With a wave of its hand, the words of Sybil Trelawney's prophecy floated up from the top of the table, to hang in the air:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …"

Destiny nodded as a nod caused the words of the Stormseeker Clan's prophecy to float in mid-air, alongside the first:

"Poisoned by the King of Serpents

Saved by the tears of the Light

A champion shall arise from amongst Champions

Saved by the tears of that which embodies the Light

He shall have the power to banish the seven times sundered soul of evil

Poisoned by King of Serpents

He shall have the power to remake the world to his will.

Love shall be the key: To salvation or damnation"

"Both Prophecies have been interpreted," said Death, "But were they interpreted correctly?"

Destiny shook his head, "They are not ours to interpret, and given the entwined nature of both prophecies, misinterpretation of one can only lead to the same for the other. Thus Harry Potter walks a path that I foresaw. Now… it is down to him, to decide, what the future shall hold, for the past."

Death nodded towards the crying Hermione and enraged everyone else, gathered around offering silent support, "So we are right back where we started: Do we give her this, faintest glimmer of a shred of hope?"

Time marched inexorably onward. The Legionnaires were the government, and the government became the Legion. Magical Britain had become the powerhouse and beacon of hope. In many ways, it was Britain that would drag the rest of the wizarding world well and truly into the 21st and then the 22nd Centuries respectively. It had reached the point where foreign governments looked to Britain for guidance in setting their own laws. Harry had retired but still kept an eye on things from a distance. He never got involved unless consulted, but he did his level best to be true to the Legion's Code of Honor.

The reunion to commemorate what they called, "The Siege," took place every year in Early December, always on a weekend and they were perhaps the most well-attended event that Hogwarts hosted. But it was always a private event held in the Great Hall. Students of the proceeding generations had sneaked a glance in but had never been allowed to enter. For many of the Legionnaires, it was all the therapy that they needed. But as time marched on, fewer and fewer of the "old guard" would attend, and as time marched on, Harry Potter was forced to say farewell to his friends, one by one, and the reason was perhaps the most bitter of all: Voldemort was right.

The House-elves, Dobby, and Winky finally settled down together to raise a family of their own, following their own biological urges. For their kind, procreation was about getting the best possible mate in life and raising their young to continue serving their house when the parents became too old to serve. Suffice to say that when Dobby and Winky finally passed in the early 2100s, they were buried with full honors as Legionnaires, and laid to rest in the Potter Family graveyard of Godric's Hollow. Their descents would continue to serve House Potter, and Harry himself for many generations to come.

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall died, perhaps fittingly in Hogwarts in her own bed. Having stayed up late to sort the budget for the 2055 academic year, when she felt the overwhelming urge to take a catnap. She passed away in her sleep, content with life. Her final day as Headmistress involved lunch with her staff, tea with Harry, and a word of advice for the new Professor of Herbology, Swiss-German Juliana Marcotti, of Switzerland

Luna and Gabrielle together took over the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley and were frequent guest lecturers at Hogwarts for Care of Magical Creatures. The two would explore the Castle, and regularly discovered parts of the Castle that had been banned to students during her youth. It was during one such late-night exploration, that the couple discovered the Mirror of Erised. The couple gazed into it together, looked at each other, smiled, and walked away easily. Gabrielle was happy and where she was, Luna knew that Colin would have only wanted her to be happy. And she was.

Fleur Delacour, the second love and life partner of the Man –Who-Survived, was laid to rest on the 17th of April 2099. She was buried alongside her mother and father in the Delacour Mausoleum on the grounds of the rebuilt Delacour Mansion. She died in a freak accident on the streets of Muggle Paris within walking distance of the Eiffel Tower, when a muggle driver lost control of his vehicle and slammed into Fleur from behind. She was one of six killed that fateful day.

Harry James Potter had not aged a day in looks since the early 2020s. He was the same as he had ever been. He was the leader of Light and still advised the government when called upon – a rare occurrence – as he was either training the next generation of Legionnaires or spoiling his nephews and nieces rotten when their parents were not looking. Inside, however, he was an old soul. Nightmares haunted his sleep nearly a hundred years after the end of his personal war.

He was never the perfect soldier, without feeling. Fleur had been right, those years ago in the entrance hall of Hogwarts when she had talked about war bringing out the beast within. The world was at peace due to the sacrifices that he had endured, that his Legion had made. He had learned to live with the consequences of his actions, not just as a warrior who had killed the enemy, but as a commander who had given orders that had led to the deaths of so many of his own. The ghosts would visit him, but he had done his best to make sure that they were mostly friendly.

The government remained strong and incredibly powerful. It had been dubbed the "Atlantis of the 21st Century." It was a place of peace, prosperity, and home to the Light. It was also armed to the teeth and ready for war at a moment's notice. Many questioned why Minister Potter had never set out to conquer the world, to spread the Light of Wizarding Britain. He had replied that "The Legion is composed of men and women that employ the force of arms to protect and defend. We repair and mend the damage that is caused, that we cause. Legion is not right. The Legion is and always will be a necessary evil. Being right does not follow from having the force of arms to enforce our will, our views, and our ideals. The Legion fights to preserve and protect so that we grow and prosper in relative peace. The Legion is a weapon that is strong, powerful, and deadly because it does what is right." Harry himself firmly believed that he could conquer the world, but the last thing he wanted was to rule in a matter befitting his now long-dead nemesis.

In the ensuing years, many a fledgling Dark Lord would find Harry Potter knocking on their front door moments before a Legion storm assault crushed them and their dreams of conquest. The tales of his tenacity and courage quickly became the stuff of legend as he led from the front, never asking any of his Legionnaires to do things he himself would not do. He led assaults without fear, killing without mercy. Some said that he knew no fear. After Fleur passed, the whispers evolved, stating that he was fearlessly seeking a curse that would reunite him with his loved ones.

Harry had dedicated his life to rebuilding the Wizarding World and had succeeded beyond the wildest dreams of anyone. His long life had left him disillusioned but he continued to honor the Legion vow that he had made so long ago: He was one of the few that would always stand against the Darkness and crush it mercilessly. His disillusionment stemmed from all that he had lost and sacrificed, and return been rewarded with precisely everything that he did not want, and nothing that he did want.

The calendar date was Friday the 22nd of August, 2435, when an interesting proposal crossed the aged solid oak desk in the private sanctum of Harry Potter in Potter Manor. It came from a muggle-born who though limited in power, was unmatched in brains. To Harry, she would be the Hermione Granger of her generation but even he could barely grasp what the proposal said besides the title: "Practical Applications of Time Travel."

The proposal languished on his desk for some weeks, but it was never out of his mind. He would find himself musing over the title repeated, wondering if it was possible, whether it could work, whether it could be done. He woke up, having dreamt of its success, of being able to see, touch, hold her again, like his entire life from the night in the graveyard of Little Haggleton was nothing more than a centuries-long nightmare.

He reread the proposal, met with its proposer, Samantha Stark, and decided that the Phoenix Foundation would fund the project, and damn hell the cost. He still had more money than he knew what to do with, and that was mostly thanks to the Goblins. He basically owned half the Wizarding World and maybe one-sixth of the Muggle World as well.

The project took a further seven years to go from concept to drawing board and on to the first prototype. Thirteen years later, the final prototype and working machine were built on an island in an undisclosed and damn near impossible to access location. Millions had been spent preparing the site. Billions had been spent on procuring the raw materials and shaping them into the components necessary for the monumental task of not only creating a quantum window to view the past but also a tunnel to visit that same past.

However, none wanted to jeopardize the present, by accidentally changing the past, something that Harry Potter was in absolute agreement with. The protocols in place meant only the most trustworthy even knew about the project, and even fewer knew what all the components were or where the site was located. Never mind that the entire complex was secured and patrolled by the Goblins who were cleared to use lethal force.

None questioned that Harry Potter was allowed to view and use the equipment, given that he was the principal source of funds. So when he went through the protocols and entered the Control Matrix Chamber, none questioned his presence. It was too late to question him he silently and wandless cast a Bubblehead Charm upon himself moment before everyone slumped over, snoring away. With a few flicks of his hands, everyone was levitated out, and propped up against the far wall. "Alnwick," said Harry clearly, "Initiate Code Black. Potter, Harry James. Master Override. Situation One."

"Understood Mr. Potter," replied Alnwick moments before the chamber sealed itself, the doorway itself become a part of a solid stone wall some ten feet thick It was too late to ask what the hell he was doing as he punched in the temporal equations necessary to open the quantum observation window to observe the past. Working swiftly he amended the equation to open what should be the Tunnel he wanted: His past.

The physics was beyond him, and no one really knew what would happen once he stepped through. Some believed he would explode, some believed he would implode. But one thing was believed by all: Those who survive the journey would be a god – assuming that the Quantum Tunnel would protect him during his trip, allowing his future self to erase his past self before he took its shape and form, without losing any of his magic or abilities - that was the theory at any rate.

He could hear alarm sirens blaring through the complex. He could see them on the viewing matrix: They were unleashing all hell trying desperately to break into the chamber. He shook his head. No. There was no stopping him. Satisfied with his preparations, he flicked his wrist, depositing a Detonator Crystal on every console and work station, followed by a wide area Contego shield which bracketed the entire wall and doorway.

He felt, more than heard the rumble as the fusion reactors fired up, to provide the necessary mass to power the quantum capacitors. The capacitors would in turn begin the matter/anti-matter reaction, which would be used to "cut" a hole in space and time.

Arcs of lightning flared from the emitters in the heavyweight doorway structure. They arced wildly through the air, barely controlled or contained before the electromagnetics stabilized and grounded the flaring arcs, channeling the energies until the archway was filled with blue-black gauze-like film, reminiscent of a chamber and doorway in the bowels of the Ministry, guarded by the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries.

Harry levitated a number of incredibly large, 50-carat Diamonds into position around the gateway itself. Each had been infused with enough energy to power a muggle home for at least six months, and six hundred carats of diamonds would be more than enough if his calculations were correct. He heard a separate rumble as the wall crumbled. He looked over his shoulder at the gathered flock of researchers, technicians, and guards who were literally bleating with fear:

"We can't breach the shield!"

"Get identification on that intruder!"

"The Tunnel is active!"

"Sweet Merlin! He's stepping through!" The last was part scream, part screech and gathered the attention of everyone watching.

"He can't! We don't know what can happen!" It was the voice of Samantha Stark, the project's administrator and lead scientist cut through everything, "Alnwick! Master Shutdown! Stark principal override Terminus Est!"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Stark. All authority codes have been superseded by Code Black." Alnwick was almost as old as Harry himself and was essentially the magical computer that kept a myriad of things running. The original had governed Potter Manor. This was a more "advanced" copy of the dated original.

The detonator crystals exploded all at once. They were small enough that the blast of each was localized to a diameter of fewer than eighteen inches. But they served their purpose: Destroying the entire command and control system for the gateway. No one would be able to stop him or follow him as the matter/antimatter reaction had become self-sustaining.

"No! No! No!" screamed Stark, "He will destroy everything!"

True enough. But then, once he stepped through, none of this would exist anyway. He stared at the doorway and was gratified to see exactly what he had hoped to see. The read-out on the doorway display indicated that the date and time were both correct as well. He could see a young boy, thin, starved, and underfed, curled up on a camp bed beneath a staircase with a single thin blanket draped over him.

With a final flick of his hand, a further half a dozen Devastator Crystals snapped onto the key support points of the doorway itself. With a near wistful smile on his face, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, The Man-Who-Conquered took one step forward, stepping into the time stream. Moments after, the crystals detonated, obliterating the doorway behind him.

But it did not matter as the project, the Phoenix Foundation, and the Legion itself vanished from existence. The pathways of destiny and fate that had been taken were unmade. Those crippled and maimed regained full use of their limbs. Those born in the years of peace were unmade. Most importantly, the long-dead were returned to life.

Death watched as history was unwritten before its eyes. Destiny was forced to literally erase entire volumes from the Book of Fate and emptied shelves in the Archive of Time. She raised her head to stare at Death, "A glimmer of a whisper of hope you once said?"

Death smiled demurely, "Something like that." He drew his scythe and a whetstone of darkest obsidian glass and began to sharpen the edge of his blade, "And so, Harry James Potter we shall all have to begin anew."

Where the door to the cupboard under the stairs once stood, there was the sound of tearing fabric followed by streams of blue, white, and black light that lashed back and forth across the narrow confined space of the cupboard. The waving lights latched on to something familiar, something similar: The small boy asleep on the bed. He was vaporized in an instant, never to be seen or heard of ever again.

Harry did not step through, so much as get thrown through and he screamed, a soundless cry as his body sought to cope with the physics behind both the physical and mental trauma. His body seemed to crack, bend, and break and turn itself inside out as it reformed itself into the copy of the little boy who had slept in the cupboard just a few minutes ago.

The light faded, the pain became a deep bone-numbing throb, but he was otherwise intact and whole. He took stock of the situation and picked up the glasses and balanced them on his nose. Blinking rapidly he mused that he would have to get his eyes fixed as soon as possible. The strapless watch lay on what passed as his bedside table stated the time was 11:59 pm on the 30th of July, 1991.

He flexes the fingers on his hands, "Alohamora," he whispered, and to his complete lack of surprise, the cupboard door unlocked itself and swung open, creaking slightly on its hinges.

He smiled, "A Legion is born of those who pledged their lives, to live free of chains," he said, "borne to life upon wings of honor." One month, and he would see the women he had loved for over two hundred years again.

"Oath sworn and honor-bound, Legionnaires will stand and be recognized when the shadow of Darkness falls." He continued the oath as if he had only sworn it yesterday.

Less than a month and he would be returning to the first place he had truly called home.

He stared out the living room window of Number 4, Privet Drive. War was already coming and this time, Harry vowed silently, it would be different. "I am Legion, ready for when war is waged"