No More by doshu

Chapter 8: Epilogue

He sighed, a smile pulling at his lips. "Thanks for coming tonight," he finally said to his friends, though what he meant was, 'Thanks for being so amazing, thanks for not writing me off when I abandoned you all, thanks for being alive. . . .'

His scar tingled with mixed fondness and impatience, so he said his goodbyes and more of his friends trickled off. When only Sirius remained, Remus waiting a few paces away, his godfather swept him up in his arms.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered into Harry's ear, those words bringing him back to those moments on the train all those years earlier, surrounded by mist.

And he felt so much overwhelming love for this man, the man who'd come back from the in-between with him, for him, and who had been there through everything. The man who knew full well who the 'lovely older man' was and was letting him make his own choices, and live his own life, and just wanted to see him happy.

'I love you, Sirius,' he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't make it past his useless excuse for a throat so he only nodded, then smiled when Sirius pulled back. And once the two men finally turned to join the sounds of cheering and laughter that were headed to the post-show party Harry followed the tingling in his scar to the shadows past the stands, away from the revelry, where there stood a man.

The faint frown lines that were usually present were smoothed out in the man's warm smile. The threads of silver in his dark hair caught the edges of the lighting from the stands, appearing to glimmer. The eyes that were usually brown these days had a red cast, brought on by his heightened emotions—emotions that Harry could feel through their connection.

Harry stepped up to him, his smile stretching wider across his face until it was almost painful. When he was finally standing just in front of him, a crackling energy snapping between them, he searched for his words, and the man waited patiently, amused.

Finally, he settled on the ones that encompassed everything. What they'd achieved together. What the man had helped him become, and allowed himself to become in turn. Everything.

"Thank you," he said simply, and he felt the words in return.

Then the man—for he was a man now, truly—took him in his arms, and met his lips with his own, and together they left in a dizzying swirl of magic.

And maybe he'd make it back to the party later. Maybe he'd bring his flying to Britain one day. Maybe he'd even teach, in some hazy and distant future.

But if any of those options were ones that he would choose it would be his choice, because he didn't need to follow anyone else's plan for him.

No more.

Notes:

Thank you all so much for the love!

—
A few notes on inspiration:
(Not required reading by any means, so feel free to ignore my blathering)

I've taken inspiration for the ICW committees from actual UN committees (as it has been stated that the ICW is the magical world's UN equivalent). The main entity that saw the most focus here was the Convention on the Rights of the Child, an actual UN treaty that is overseen by the Committee on the Rights of the Child, one of the UN's many Human Rights bodies.

Obviously the ICW engaged much more directly than the UN does. I imagine if the ICW had member states with veto powers like the way that the UN operates, things would unfold quite differently. For the sake of this story, I've decided that that's not the case.

Malta was chosen as a first stop because while it is in the Commonwealth, it was not part of the EU at the time this story is set (though they were in the UN, so yes I've fudged things as far as their ICW membership goes). I imagine this might cause some muddled jurisdictions in magical terms because we all know the Ministry is supremely out of touch with muggle affairs.

I've dropped the magical part of Moncton right next to Magnetic Hill, because why wouldn't a phenomenon like that be caused by magic? (And I've been there, and honestly I don't understand the fuss, but then again some muggles like that sort of thing. Of course another big tourist attraction there is the tidal bore, and. . . . Okay maybe I'm just not into touristy things.)

The aerobatics were of course inspired by real-world air shows. The muggle air show in Shearwater is a real event, one which I attended once in the early '90s, and the 1998 show was cancelled due to a nearby flight disaster (Swissair Flight 111). The performance in the epilogue also incorporates some elements of international fireworks competitions; the ones that I attended for many years involved spectacular fireworks displays choreographed to music.

Tepignac is not a real place, though its name is adapted from the Mi'kmaq word 'tepignaq' meaning 'strong enough' (according to the Internet—the most massive apologies if that's not quite correct). There are so many places in New Brunswick whose names have evolved from this language, among them Kouchibouguac, Bouctouche, Quispamsis, and Richibucto. Also referenced is the Acadian star, a common sight on the sides of homes in the Maritime provinces.

Miramichi, on the other hand, is a real place, and the fire referenced occurred in 1825. It was one of the three largest forest fires ever recorded in North America.

And yes, that 'red paper cup' portkey is absolutely a Timmies Roll Up The Rim cup.