Epilogue
The Hero’s Lament
The first snowflakes of winter snow had begun to fall when Harry finally returned the quill to its stand and reviewed the words before him.
He felt as if a great boulder been lifted from his chest, allowing him to breathe freely for the first time in months. With a heaving sigh, he put his head down on the writing desk and cried. Tears he didn’t know he possessed were wrung from him in great tearing sobs, until after what seemed like hours, he was finally spent.
A shadow fell across the desk as Ginny laid her hand lovingly on his shoulder. He clasped it in silent acknowledgement as he looked up into her concerned face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Did I wake Teddy?”
“No, he’s an extremely sound sleeper once he finally decides to lie down,” she replied softly, pulling up a chair next to him. “I was worried about you. It’s almost dawn; don’t you think you should come to bed now?”
“I know it’s been months, Gin, but it’s finally finished. I’ve put all the feelings and hopes and love I felt for them into a tale for Teddy. It’s the only eulogy I can give them.”
“But, Harry, none of it really happened that way,” she answered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Nevertheless, there’s more truth in this tale than in the other versions… Reality is cruel beyond measure, Ginny. I want Teddy to remember his parents as the heroes they were, not as if they threw their lives away in vain.”
“Harry, that’s not really what anyone thinks. Is it what you think?”
“I don’t know what to think, Ginny. I can’t get the image of their lifeless bodies laid out in the Great Hall out of my mind. They looked so peaceful, yet so small, in death.”
“But they died fighting to make the world a better place. Harry, you know that.”
“Do I? Or did they go to fight a pointless battle because I didn’t get my last bit of motivation from the director in time?”
“You saw Snape try to get to you, he was prevented--”
“I know, Ginny, I’ve gone over this a thousand times! But I think it all comes down to the anonymity of their deaths. As horrible as it was to witness, I was there when Sirius fell through the Veil and when Dumbledore allowed himself to be cut down atop the Astronomy Tower. I can even attest to the futile heroism of Severus when he finally gave me the answers I needed with his last breath. But I was not present when Remus and Tonks fell, and it’s as if I failed them for not bearing witness to their sacrifice.”
Harry’s eyes filled with tears once more, but they did not fall.
“Does your story do them justice, then?” Ginny asked softly.
“I think so.”
“What about Severus and Colin Creevey?”
“Them, too. Dumbledore and Moody would be pleased, if they were still with us. And Minerva proudly avoids the sexism and ageism that still plague our world.”
“What about Fred?” Ginny asked, suddenly dreading the answer.
Harry shook his head sadly. “He’s portrayed in his prime, but I think it’s up to others to write about his death ” preferably an immediate family member.” Sensing Ginny’s next question before it was asked, he added, “The Marauders were my family.”
“What will you tell your godson when he realizes these adventures never really took place?”
“If I truly believe them in my heart, who’s to say they didn’t? But to answer your question: I guess I would explain to him what an allegory is. Or if he’s too young for that, a fable.”
Finally satisfied, Ginny took his hand and led him tenderly down the hallway. He was reminded of how she had once similarly drawn him away from Dumbledore’s broken body “ and back to the land of the living.
“We’ll begin contacting publishers in the morning,” Ginny affirmed.
With a weary sigh, Harry concluded Poppy Pomfrey had been right: it is the track of our thoughts which leaves the deepest scar.