Epilogue

Epilogue

October 8, 2078

Eleanor Angelina Weasley stood in front of the giant fireplace facing the large living room, trying to warm her bum. She stomped her feet a bit, hopping and dancing in front of the roaring flames, attempting to get the blood pumping into her extremities once more. It was the first really cold day of the autumn, and she had been playing outside with a mob of children that consisted of her siblings and cousins who, like her, were too young to go to Hogwarts yet. But she had grown cold and hungry, so decided to venture inside where the adults ruled the roost.

She had been to Mole Hill loads of times before this and always enjoyed it. Every Christmas, of course, the entire Weasley clan amassed here for an enormous buffet of food, a cornucopia of presents, and a traditional fireworks display after sunset. Not to mention the many private trips her family had made from Hogsmeade to Devon especially to visit her great-grandparents. A few times, she had even come over all by herself to spend an afternoon with them, skiving off school next door. Those were by far the best times, for Ellie shared the common opinion of the rest of her generation: Great-Gran and Granddad were the most entertaining old people ever.

That's what made today so sad. The funny, kind old man and lady were gone now. This was no longer their house. Somehow, for reasons she did not fully understand, it was to be hers. Her parents had explained to her earlier that morning that they would be moving here in a fortnight's time.

The funeral two days ago had been even sadder. Ellie remembered how the seats of the front row had been filled with ancient, white-haired wizards she had only ever seen once or twice at family weddings before now and certainly never spoken to. They were Great Granddad's brothers and sister, her mother'd explained. She had never before seen people so old as they were. Her father had whispered to her, identifying each of them in turn. That was the day she had first laid eyes on the famous Harry Potter, who she now understood she was distantly related to.

And she had never seen so many people in one place before in her life as she had at Great Granddad's funeral. Which was saying something, considering the fact that when all of George and Annie's direct descendants had assembled for Christmas last year, there were 112 people, ranging in age from ninety-nine to newborn, all crammed into Mole Hill. Hundreds more people had come to Devonshire to pay their last respects to her Great Granddad. And while the memorial ceremony itself was rather somber, the wake that had followed immediately afterward was some of the best fun she had had in a long time. Dancing, singing, food, and fireworks had lasted long into the night.

Ellie looked out at the sea of adult faces that filled the large room. People were standing or sitting in groups, all talking together. A few were smiling, sharing happy memories or funny stories. A few were weeping, their companions doing their best to comfort them. Over the quiet noise of the conversations, she could hear the wireless playing a song: the WWN was airing a day-long retrospective of the old River and Wrackspurt programs her great-grandfathers used to do together. She knew that several other members of the family were working in the various rooms, clearing out the closets and dressers to make way for her and her family to move in.

She began weaving her way through the maze of chairs that had been conjured up to hold the gathered throng. As she struck out toward the kitchen, where she hoped something warm and sweet awaited her, she could overhear snippets from several of the conversations.

"Mum always said he wouldn't last long without her."

"No, it was hardly a surprise, was it?"

"Can you imagine being a hundred years old and married to someone you've loved for ninety-three of them? How could anyone expect him to go on?"

"It was like he lost part of himself... when she died."

"Poor Mairie Catrin – she was the one who found him, you know. Thought he was just havin' a kip, she did, until she found the note...."

"She's a saint, she is. Caring for old Molly and Arthur so long, and now this...?"

Ellie moved away from the solemn, teary group of women toward a more boisterous group of men, nearly half of whom had ginger hair.

"Tell that story again, Joe. Frank hasn't heard it yet."

"I swear to you, Frank, it was the funniest damn thing I ever did see – the two of 'em were goin' at it, barkin' like dogs, but smilin' the whole time. Just like they always did, you know. I forget what exactly they were havin' a row about... most likely Quidditch or somethin' like, knowin' them. Anyway, the old man was losin' the argument, mind you, so then he puts her in a headlock to shut her up. I swear on Merlin's eyebrows, he put that little ninety-eight-year-old slip of a woman in... a... headlock!" The small crowd of males surrounding the storyteller erupted in laughter.

"You should try that on Lenore sometime, Joe," one of them jokingly suggested.

"Probably work just as well, too. Auntie Annie swore and swatted at Uncle George like an unholy ragin' veela for it," the storyteller replied to more guffaws.

It was toasty and warm once Ellie reached the kitchen area, and she felt her cheeks flushing with the welcome heat. She managed to score a plateful of biscuits and a mug of hot chocolate from the several aunties and grown-up cousins that were milling about in the kitchen. She found a quiet corner at the base of the stairs near the back door where she could savor them without being underfoot.

Not long after she sat down, she became aware that she was not alone after all. Strange noises were coming from somewhere to her right, in the little mudroom where her Great-Gran's exotic Muggle washing machine was kept. She stood up and crept toward the wet, blubbering sounds that seemed to be coming from behind a large pile of cloaks.

"Mother, you is got to stop drinkin' this horrid stuff! You is forgettin' your proper duties!" an elf squeaked anxiously. Ellie recognized his voice – he was one of the house-elves that helped out at her school.

"Oh, Doozy, they is gone! They is both gone now!" an equally squeaky voice wailed in reply. "My dear, good Weasleys is gone!"

"Hush! Miss Annie and Mr. George would be powerful upset with you right now! You know you is not supposed to be drinkin' butterbeer!"

"Winky is gutted! Gutted! Miss Annie got sick, and Mr. George couldn't be going on without her! Poor Mr. George!" Ear-grating sobs ripped from the little elf's throat.

Ellie heard Winky's son shushing and soothing his mother, trying to calm her. "Mother, you is got to be listening to me now. I is taking you to your bed, and you is going to be sleeping this off. You is shaming us, going on a bender like this! What will our new Weasleys be thinking?"

"You is right. I is knowing better. Miss Merrie told I young Mr. Arthur is going to be in charge of the school now," she said, snorting and hiccupping a few times. Ellie heard several more sniffles as Winky began to get herself under control and realized that she must be one of the "new" Weasleys they were referring to. She dashed out of the room just in time to avoid being caught eavesdropping by the two elves as they made their way back to the school where they lived.

Ellie was about to make her own way back outside, her mind already beginning to ponder the ramifications of the overheard elfish conversation, when her attention was caught by the assembly of three elderly women on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Now that Great-Gran was gone, they were the matriarchs of the family. They were all looking at her with smiles on their faces.

"Hello, Ellie," said Great Aunt Merrie in a gentle, friendly voice. Ellie recognized her from school as well as family gatherings. She had always been kind and grandmotherly to Ellie, as well as to all the other children at school. Merrie beckoned her to come closer, and she took a few hesitant steps toward the ladies.

"Are you Arthur's little girl?" asked the lady seated next to Merrie.

Ellie recognized Great Aunt Harriet primarily from newspaper articles, but couldn't remember ever speaking directly with the intimidating woman before this. She knew that her Great Aunt Harriet was a famous witch, powerful within the Ministry, often "angrily outspoken in the Wizengamot" – that was a phrase she read often about her in the Prophet, anyway. But today, in person, she seemed soft and nice.

Ellie nodded in response. Both her father and grandfather were named Arthur, and the two men couldn't look more different. Her grandfather had pale white skin and curly auburn hair (what was left of it, that is). He was a respected scholar and Charms Professor at Hogwarts, as well as being her favorite grandpa. Her father, on the other hand, had light cocoa brown skin and tightly curled brown hair. He was a teacher here at her school in Devon. And that was why they would be moving here, into Mole Hill, he had told her: to be closer to the school he would now be directing.

Ellie herself looked just as different from the two men as they did from each other. She remembered an aunt once telling her she had skin the color of a perfectly toasted marshmallow, and she had been pleased by the compliment. Her light brown, faintly-reddish hair grew in tight ringlets that bounced like springs whenever she moved. She was tall, and slender, and strong. Her most striking feature, though – the one everyone always noticed and commented on – was her eyes: they were a vivid, sparkling violet. She was one of four girls in her generation with them. Everyone in the family called them "Annie's eyes."

"Of course you're Art and Roxy's granddaughter. You look tall for your age, lucky girl! How old are you, dear?"

Ellie was momentarily stunned into silence. For seated there, next to Great Aunt Harriet and Great Aunt Merrie, was none other than Georgeanna Weasley Wood! And she was speaking directly to her, no less! The star of Chudley Cannons, winners of the league championship fifteen times in the past fifty-five years, captain of the All-England team six consecutive World Cups running (and the only witch to ever do so), the greatest Seeker that ever flew! Ellie had always felt enormous pride just being related to her!

"Erm... I'm eight, ma'am," a star-struck Ellie managed to stammer.

The other elderly ladies chuckled at her, but Great Aunt Joey smiled. "Eight! My goodness! I was going to guess ten at least!" she said generously, and Ellie thought she might jump for joy. She beamed with pleasure at the compliment.

"Do you fly, my dear?" she asked.

Ellie nodded eagerly. After all, she was descended from a proud line of excellent amateur Chasers herself: her great-grandmother, Angelina, and her grandmother, Roxanne, both had their names etched on the Hogwarts Quidditch cup. She had been flying for two years now, and Granny Roxy raved about her skill.

"Heads up! Look out below!" a voice called from the balcony.

Startled, everyone in the room looked up to see a large, battered, and beaten trunk levitating over the half wall and beginning its descent into the living room.

"You won't believe what we've found, Mum!" cried Great Aunt Merrie's daughter, Maureen. "Look out, little one," she said as she carefully directed the trunk to land at the three ladies' feet.

Ellie took several steps backward toward the hearth to avoid getting squished underneath it.

"It's a treasure trove!" added Great Aunt Harriet's daughter, Angharad, shaking a small shoebox above her head. She was dashing toward the stairs with her prize. Ellie watched her middle-aged cousins dance with excitement, racing each other down the steps. Other cousins began popping their heads out of doorways to see what the fuss was about, and everyone began making their way over to the hearth. She was disappointed that her brief audience with famous Great Aunt Joey appeared to be at an end, but was curious about the hubbub as well.

"What is it, dear?" chuckled Great Aunt Merrie.

"Found some old lottery tickets, have you?" teased Great Aunt Harriet.

"Oh Janie, don't be so snarky," said Great Aunt Joey, nudging her older sister with her elbow. Great Aunt Harriet snorted in response.

The women had finally made their way through the curious crowd and took seats offered to them by nearby relatives. "We found these up in the far corner of the attic. Judging by the inches of dust on them, nobody's looked at them for decades," said Maureen breathlessly.

"It looks like an old school trunk," offered Ruari. He was part of the crowd now assembling themselves in a semi-circle around the sofa. Ellie recognized him from family gatherings before and had met him in person a few times at the famous family joke store on Diagon Alley.

"Granddad's old school trunk, to be precise," boasted Angharad, pointing out the nearly unreadable gold-foil initials near the lock: GDW. "And wait'll you see what's inside!"

"Are you quite sure it's safe?" joked Ellie's Uncle Jordan, leaning over their shoulders. "Granddad sure knew how to lay a good jinx, you know." Several people chuckled appreciatively, and he winked at her.

Maureen opened the lock with her wand, and she and Angharad gingerly lifted the lid. Then Maureen reached down into the trunk and gently scooped up a handful of ancient paper. She handed a few to each of the three women seated on the sofa.

"Letters," she explained. "From Gran. Every one of them."

"And this one's full of his letters back to her," Angharad said, indicating the shoebox in her own hands. "And some other funny little bits of stuff, too."

The three aged sisters looked at each other, flabbergasted. "Did you ever know about these?" whispered Great Aunt Joey.

Merrie shook her head. "I only knew about the photos, like the rest of you," she replied. "What about you, Art? Fred?" Great Aunt Merrie asked.

Ellie's grandfather, Art, and her great uncle, Fred, who had just shouldered their way to the front of the crowd, both shook their heads. They reached out to take a few of their father's letters from their niece.

"Hang on... I think I remember Dad telling me about this, sort of," said Great Aunt Harriet. "When I was a little girl, he told me once that he and his brother used to write to Mum from Hogwarts. Maybe these are...."

"Those letters! Do you think so?" cried Great Aunt Joey. Her excited eagerness battled with the delicate care she was trying to take of the fragile envelope as she opened it, gingerly drawing out the letter inside.

"Look at the return address! It says Hogwarts! They must be!" exclaimed Angharad.

"I can't believe it! There must be nearly a hundred of them altogether!"

Silence descended upon the siblings as they all absorbed the unlikely surprise. Most of the crowd began to disperse, either resuming the conversations that had been interrupted a few moments ago or musing about the new discovery. George and Annie's five children each began to read a letter.

After several minutes, Maureen spoke up. "May I have them? Borrow them, I mean... for a little while. For my book?" she asked her mother.

Great Aunt Merrie glanced at her brothers and sisters, looking for any sign of hesitation on their part. Seeing none, she smiled warmly and nodded at her eldest daughter. "Of course, Mo, darling. Take the photos too, if you like. You'll find them in the guest room closet. There's a box that's smaller than all the others, wrapped up with tape. That's the one you'll want first."

"And we'll help. Ask us anything you want to know, and we'll tell you, if we can remember," Great Aunt Joey offered with a giggle.

"I know the Jordans would be thrilled to tell you their stories, as well," Great Aunt Harriet added. "They both knew Dad at school, and Mum was friends with her since before we all came along."

"We'll all be happy to do whatever it takes to help you write your biography, dear," Great Aunt Merrie added.

Author's Note: I began writing this story in August 2008, and it was the first piece of fiction I'd written since high school (and definitely the longest!). When I posted it to FictionAlley beginning in December of that year, I had naively considered it "finished." Ha. Since that first posting, it has undergone innumerable revisions – I am one of those authors who can't read through a chapter without tweaking a word here, moving a sentence there, and finding yet another wretched comma in the wrong place. I've also added several chapters since then, making a long story even longer, and rearranged the ones that were already there, but I promise that this version, here and now, is the final one. Scout's honor. Cross my heart. As my BFF, Kathie, says, "Just let it go, already!"

Everlasting thanks and praise belong to all the amazing admins here at TPP, and in particular, WriterMerrin, Sempra, and my beloved Lyn_f for all their hard work, eagle eyes, and superb suggestions. I've learned so much about self-editing from them! I can't even begin to describe or adequately thank them because every lesson they've taught me has carried over into my original works. You have made me an exponentially better writer, and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

And finally, thanks to all of you who have read and enjoyed this story. Those of you who have shared your reactions to it have inspired me more than you'll ever know. It's because of all the wonderful readers at FictionAlley, FanFiction, and the fantastically supportive TPP community that I've found the thing I want to do in life: write. And wonder upon wonders, I've found a virtual home to do it in!

XOXO,

Shanyn

P.S. I am working on a few "spin-off" fanfics, so if you're interested, keep an eye out for me here on TPP or tag me as a favorite author. :)