Surviving in Harmony

Epilogue

Dedicated to you, reader, because Hazel and her world can exist in my mind and be real, but in yours she is so much more. 

It is my utmost hope that this story has uplifted you, made you laugh, thought - touched you in any way. 

And most of all, dedicated to Hazel herself, because without her a part of me would be missing.

Epilogue

May 2nd, 2028

          Godric's Hollow was quiet, as it was very early in the morning. Witches and Wizards, magical creatures of all kinds, would be celebrating throughout the day. It had been thirty years since the downfall of Lord Voldemort, and just down the road Maeve's "uncle" Harry was enjoying his peaceful, simple life.

Maeve Bowen entered the same graveyard her Papa and Aunt Sonia had thirty years ago, wearing black. Andrew had just moved into his first apartment, Sonia was newly married and about to deliver her only child. It had been a long thirty years.

Her skirt brushed the damp ground, and a few petals fell from the flowers in her hands. The path to her Nana's grave was worn and known by heart; she had made many a visit with Andrew over the years. The stone was worn, the letters covered in well-kept ivy. If you looked closely, moved a few stems, the inscription was visible.

Hazel Florence Bowen

February 6th 1960 - May 2nd 1998

Light always overcomes darkness

Maeve knew Andrew had chosen that quote. He had told her, on one of their visits, that the phrase had passed about from Hazel, to Sirius, to Sonia – and then to him. It had first been uttered to Hazel, possibly by Dumbledore, and then to Sirius when they were young and the world was plummeting into war.

In the dawn light Maeve waits, knowing that if she just stands still, tries not to breathe too loudly...there. A few feet away, shimmery in the early light, stands Hazel.

"I've been waiting a long time to see you again." Maeve said, after a few moments of silence. Hazel moved closer, stepping over stones and around graves. Her dress was long, and Maeve recognized it from photos of her Aunt Sonia's wedding.

"You look like your father." She said, softly, like a breeze through grass.

"People say I look like you, especially as I get older."

Hazel tilted her head to the side, studying her. "I suppose. You look like I would have, if my life had been different – without war, with a loving family. I'm glad you had that, Maeve. I always knew my son would make a wonderful father."

"He gave me everything I could possibly want," Maeve stepped a little closer. "He says you died so we could have a better life."

Hazel sighed. "I did, but he didn't need to tell you that. Didn't need to write a book about it, either." She smiled then, like a pleased mother who couldn't help it. "But I am very proud of him, I know it took a lot out of him."

"They miss you, Papa and Aunt Sonia – everyone who ever knew you seems to." Maeve studied her face; somehow more youthful, serene even, in death. "You touched so many lives."

"Thank you for saying that," she fiddled with a pendant around her neck; a circle of dark, petrified wood. "As a young woman I always worried I wouldn't make an impact on the world, that my existence would amount to nothing. When you have children Maeve you will understand that they complete you, make everything worth it."