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."
She lapsed into silence, then seemed to come out of a faraway thought. "I'm sorry, I never thought to ask – is there anything you need?"
Maeve shook her head. "No, nothing, I just...I wanted to know if you are at peace. I've felt your presence more, like before – before they read your letter."
"Oh." Hazel smiled then, and glanced over her shoulder. "Don't worry Mae, I'm perfectly at peace. I simply enjoy dropping in, and there's so much to see lately."
"Do you miss being alive?" she winced, "Sorry, that was insensitive. Mamma says I am all the time."
"You are straight forward, I admire that." Hazel looked Maeve over again, with attention to detail. "Of course I do, but I am not alone. I have my friends, my..." she laughed lightly, "Lover, I suppose."
"Who?" Maeve asked quickly. "Severus?"
"Oh no, no – someone I always loved, and who always loved me." She looked behind her again. "I'm sorry love, but I've got to go."
"Wait, I still –"
"Goodbye, Mae. Say hello to your father and aunt for me, send my love." Hazel gave her a content smile. "My, how you have grown."
"Nana, just wait a moment –" but she was gone.
Maeve stood in the graveyard for several more minutes, waiting for a whiff of lavender, a shimmer of curls. But Hazel was not there.
"Maeve?"
Lorcan Scammander was standing at the graveyard gates, hands deep in his pockets. His tall, skinny figure was a grey smudge; he had an audition later with a music school. He played piano, and Andrew always enjoyed listening to him play.
"Like my godfather," he'd say fondly, tapping on his knee. "Just lovely, magical."
"You coming?" he called. "Ella just called, we'll be late for breakfast."
Taking a last look at the grave, around the grounds, Maeve nodded. "Yeah, I'm coming."
Two figures moved through the hazy morning, a chilly mist drifting over a river that wound between banks that used to be overgrown and rubbish-strewn. The immense chimney, relic of a disused mill, no longer reared up above the town. There was no sound apart from the whisper of the black water and no sign of life apart from the two figures that appeared by the edge of the river.
A Bowen had not stepped foot in Little Winging since 1998, but the twins had only been there once before in 1996. To search for their father.
The neighbourhood that had once been a labyrinth of rows and rows of dilapidated brick houses was now very clean, many of them either torn down or renovated. Neat and tidy garden full of buds and green grass had replaced old tires, trash and broken toys.
Sonia Bowen pulled up her sleeve, stroking the long, bumpy scar that had not faded over the years.
"Don't," Andrew said, taking her hand.
"It reminds me of Mamma," she shrugged. "I know that's sick, but the same lunatic scarred us both in the same way. I understood her better, after I got it."
Keeping her hand in his, Andrew led them down the tidy street. A dog barked somewhere close by, and the babble of a child who had woken early trickled from an open window. It was a very different place than it had been thirty-two years ago. Much had changed.
They stopped before a row of houses on Spinner's End. Their footsteps echoed on the cobbles as they passed, until they reached the very last house, where thirty-two years ago a dim light had glimmered through the curtains in a downstairs room.
The garden was bursting with forget-me-nots and lily of the valley.
"Amazing," breathed Andrew, "After all these years."
Sonia was baffled. "Her magic stayed."
They plucked a few blooms, and together stood at the base of the hill, Bowen Manor sat atop it. Their wanderings took them to the river, the old willow where Hazel had taken refuge time and time again. Everywhere they looked, lily of the valley and forget-me-nots bloomed.
Dawn was fading as the twins disapparated back to Hester grounds, where they walked hand in hand down the lane. They knew that at home, where they had grown up, their whole family was waiting. Honourary siblings, children – grandchildren.
The twins stopped, watching their childhood home slowly become bathed in golden light. The gentle sound of the breeze going through the trees was familiar, the smell of clean air and fresh bread welcoming.
Sonia looked at her brother, older and scruffy – he reminded her of Remus. His glasses were tucked into his shirt pocket, his ashen hair still curly and mussed from wind or lack of care. "Andrew."
"Hm." He squeezed her hand, glanced down.
"Thank you."
"Whatever for?"
"For being there," her voice was thick, the words heavy. "For being my brother, even when I was so hard to deal with."
"Sonia..."
"Just, I was thinking the other day –" she was looking up now, her eyes recalling a spring day long ago in 1996. "Of a conversation with Sirius. I was sixteen, very bitter as I'm sure you remember. I was telling him that I thought love was silly and unsafe, that it was a waste of time." She took a deep breath. "He told me to slow down, that adventure wasn't everything. I should have listened."
"You don't have to thank me." Said Andrew gently.
"But I do Andy, because I can't thank Mamma, and you're still here, have always been right here when I need you – because you understand what Sirius told me, that love means being there for someone even if they think they don't need you." Sonia welcomed his arms around her, rested her head on his chest. "Thank you for everything."
Andrew almost didn't know what to say, so he just held Sonia close and let a few tears fall onto her curly haired head. "Mamma told me to keep you safe," he said finally. "That was the last thing she ever said to me."
"We have had a happy life," Sonia said, seeing her mother in Andrew's features. "And we will always have each other, right?"
"Always." Agreed Andrew, kissing the top of her head.
"Hey!" a voice called to them from the porch. The siblings looked up; it was Ella, her son Wes on her hip. "You two coming in?"
"We're coming," Andrew called back.
Max appeared, handing and insistent four-year-old Margo to her Nana. "Where have you been all morning?"
Shrugging, Sonia pecked Margo on the cheek. "Nowhere really. Where's Josephine?"
"Teddy's putting her down for a nap."
"And Hester?" asked Andrew. "Hasn't gone into labour, has she?"
"Not yet, Pa – two more weeks." Laughed Ella. "Believe me, we'll know when she does. James'll lose his head."
Andrew shook his head, chuckling. "Just checking."
Robin spun through the room; he was eighteen and constantly moving. He was learning advanced astronomy now, and was planning on permanently moving to London with his girlfriend Daisy. "Mamma says hurry up!"
The twins smiled at each other across the breakfast table, surrounded by their kids. Charlie was feeding tiny baby Josephine a bottle while Hester complained that James was too much of a worrywort, that she was fine. Robin was pleading to get out of the evenings festivities so he could attend a concert with Daisy. Beside her father, Maeve was thinking about Hazel and the graveyard.
The day was sunny, everyone was happy, there were healthy babies and happy young couples. It was all okay.
It was later, when everyone had arrived – four generations of Weasley and Bowen, the Potter's, gathered to celebrate thirty years of peace, that she felt safe to appear. A little beyond everyone was a wide, wooden crib; it sat in the shade, so baby Josephine could sleep peacefully. Every few minutes someone would come over, peek in and see if she was still sleeping, untroubled.
In the lazy afternoon light, Hazel Bowen leaned over the crib, frothy with lace. It was the same bassinet the twins had slept in, then Max; three generations of Bowen. Now it sat on the lawn, under the great old willow tree she'd sprawled under for many summers.
"What a pretty girl," she whispered, reaching down. The baby's hand grasped her finger, and Hazel's tears fell onto the blanket. "Isn't she pretty Sirius?"
Sirius put his hand on her shoulder, smiling at the baby, but mainly at Hazel. He had waited for her, as she'd known he would. "Very pretty. She looks like Max." Nodding, Hazel watched Josephine's coppery curls shift in the light breeze.
"Lucky, lucky girl. You have such a wonderful family Josephine, the best family in the whole world." Hazel smiled at her great-granddaughter, then at Sirius. "You will always be loved, always be safe. And I will always be around, don't you worry. Close by, in the shadows – but I'll be there for it all."
T h e E n d
A/N: Well, that's the end.
As I said in the dedication, I hope this series had given you a little something. Without it I would be a different person. Hazel is...well, she is such a part of me now, I would feel as if something were missing if she did not exist.
To everyone who has read from the very beginning, or close to...thank you. Your support and dedication has meant everything to me.
You may be thinking, "Hey, if this is the end, why oh why is there a next chapter??"I'll tell you why! The next part is a FAQ and, get this extras. That's right, EXTRA CONTENT. Not much, but the epilogue I scratched (which is why this is late, late, late) and snippets of stuff that did not make it into the final book. Please, enjoy and tell me what you think!
And now, for our final question.
If you could ask/say/tell Hazel or the twins one thing, what would you?
I would tell her thank you.
Much love,
Rose