Chapter Text
Harry Potter pushed his plate aside and settled back in his chair to enjoy his second cup of tea. His temples had greyed slightly, and his eyesight had long since been fixed so that he no longer needed glasses, but he was still instantly recognisable by his somewhat shorter, but still unruly mop of black hair, not to mention the faded lightning scar on his forehead. Though he was no longer a young man by nearly anyone’s definition, many wizards half his age would give up their wands to be as fit and hale as Harry Potter was at age sixty.
“Thank you, Dobby, that was excellent.”
“You are most welcome, sir.”
Dobby’s face and skin had become somewhat wrinkled over the years, but his green, tennis-ball-like eyes were just as keen as they had been on the night Harry had first met the odd little house-elf, back in his former bedroom at number four, Privet Drive. Unsurprisingly, Dobby had enthusiastically accepted Harry’s offer to hire him away from Hogwarts all those years ago, when he had first moved into a home of his own.
Life had greatly improved for most house-elves, largely thanks to Hermione’s efforts. She had worked hard through the Ministry to alter their legal status so that they were no longer considered ‘property’ — which, among other things, helped protect them from the kind of abuse Dobby had suffered at the hands of the Malfoys. While most elves still preferred to be bonded to wizarding families, Dobby was far from the only dismissed house-elf to find gainful employment. Hermione’s original goals for S.P.E.W. were still far from being fully achieved, but at least some semblance of progress had been made.
“Do you need Dobby for anything else, sir?” asked the elf, as he cleared Harry’s plate.
“No, thank you,” replied Harry. “I think we’re mostly packed, but I’ll let you know when we’re ready to leave.”
“Very good, sir,” said Dobby, before popping away.
With a sigh, Harry gazed out the large windows of his breakfast nook and across the fields surrounding his home. He had felt drawn to Godric’s Hollow since the night he first visited the village with Professor Dumbledore, on Halloween of his fifth year at Hogwarts. So, unable to find an existing dwelling that suited his needs, he procured a sizeable plot of land on the outskirts of the village within a few weeks of leaving school and immediately began construction on his new home.
Sirius, of course, had been more than happy to let him continue staying at Grimmauld Place in the meantime. In fact, his godfather would have preferred it if he continued to live there indefinitely, but he also understood why Harry felt he needed a place of his own — especially knowing his plans for a large family.
“Have you seen the papers, yet?”
Harry turned to see his wife entering the room with a mischievous grin on her face, holding in her hand what he assumed to be that morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet. Part of him had been dreading the announcement, but his face still broke out in a wide smile the moment his eyes met hers. It had been more than forty years, and yet somehow, she still managed to take his breath away.
“No, I’ve managed to avoid it so far,” he admitted. “How bad is it?”
Astoria rolled her eyes at him playfully. “How bad is it?” she teased, bending down to kiss him on the cheek, before taking the seat next to his and setting the paper down in front of him. “It might be the most glowing article I’ve ever read about anyone, ever.”
Harry smoothed out the paper with his hands and stared down at the headline.
HARRY POTTER NAMED HOGWARTS HEADMASTER
In an unexpected move, long-standing Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonagall has announced that she is stepping down from her position, in order to pursue a quiet retirement. Assuming the role of Headmaster will be Harry Potter, who has served as Professor of Transfiguration for the past ten years, and Deputy Headmaster for the past five.
“I still don’t understand why the two of you decided to wait until the first day of term to let them make the announcement,” remarked Astoria.
“Didn’t want to cause a fuss,” he shrugged, pushing the paper aside. “We figured this way, it would be too late for the news to disrupt the start of term. The governors agreed, and that was that.”
“Well, my guess is that you’re underestimating your impact…again,” she countered, picking the paper up off the table. Looking Harry directly in the eyes, she cleared her throat and began reading the rest of the article aloud.
“For most of us, Harry Potter will forever be known as the wizard who finally put an end to the Dark Lord Voldemort in the year 1996. However, Potter is arguably just as famous (particularly with the younger generations) for leading England to three consecutive Quidditch World Cups (2006, 2010, and 2014), causing many to name him the best Seeker in modern history, surpassing even his longtime rival, Bulgarian superstar Viktor Krum.”
“Viktor will love that,” Harry said sarcastically. “I’ll have to make sure I send him a copy.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll find out either way,” smirked Astoria. “Not that he can really complain, of course — after all, he may have beaten you the first time, but you won the next three,” she pointed out, before continuing to read.
“Potter, of course, played seven seasons with Puddlemere United, winning the club several league crowns before signing on with the Appleby Arrows, following a well-publicised dispute with United’s new ownership. He then went on to play 17 seasons with the Arrows, winning a record 10 consecutive league titles before retiring, following the 2021-22 season. It’s also worth noting that Potter, along with his wife Astoria and father-in-law Elias Greengrass, purchased the club outright in 2013, making the Arrows the only team where the owner also served as its star player.”
“I still can’t believe we got your dad to go along with that,” chuckled Harry, as he topped off both of their mugs.
“Neither can I, but I’d say he’s more than made back his investment.”
“And then some,” nodded Harry.
“We would be remiss if we failed to mention that Harry’s wife of 39 years, Astoria Potter née Greengrass, has experienced her own share of fame. Mrs. Potter, age 58 —”
“Whoever wrote the article must’ve missed that it’s your birthday today.”
Astoria’s eyes darted back up to the top of the page. “Holly Creevey,” she said unconcernedly.
“Is that Colin’s daughter, or Dennis’s?”
“Colin’s, I think. Anyway…Mrs. Potter, age irrelevant…” Astoria continued, shooting Harry a wry look, “…is herself a world-renowned novelist, often credited with inspiring a generation of authors and providing the spark for the now-booming industry surrounding wizarding literature. The Potters have four children together: James (36), Lilian (34), Charlotte (32), and Edwin (29). They also have seven grandchildren, three of whom are currently enrolled in Hogwarts.”
“It’s nice they mentioned the kids, but hearing you read all their ages like that makes me feel old,” sighed Harry.
Astoria reached over and took his hand in hers. “Maybe so, but you’re still even more handsome than the day we met,” she reassured him. “Besides, in just a couple more months we’ll be up to eight grandchildren, and I, for one, think that’s a wonderful thing.”
Harry raised their joined hands and kissed the back of hers. “So do I,” he said sincerely.
“Of course, the Potters’ contributions to our society extend far beyond the worlds of sport and entertainment,” said Astoria, continuing to read. “Perhaps most notably would be their collaboration following the war with longtime friend and current Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger-Weasley. With their combined efforts, along with the support of a large group of allies formed during their school days (who allegedly refer to themselves as the ‘Hogwarts Underground’), they successfully championed a series of reforms aimed at stabilising the country, ushering in a new era of equality whilst continuing to respect and maintain our long-standing history and traditions.”
“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose,” grumbled Harry.
Astoria set the paper down and fixed Harry with a stern look. “I know there’s still a long way to go, but please don’t downplay all the progress we’ve made over the years,” she pleaded. “Honestly, our world looks almost nothing like the one that existed when we were children. I truly believe that the next generations will do even better than we have, especially with you there to help grow and shape their young minds. You’ll be a wonderful headmaster, and you are going to do so much good for so many people.”
Harry had to admit that Astoria made a compelling point. They had made considerable progress, to the point where — in most circles, at least — one’s blood status was largely irrelevant, and the influence of old money over their laws and way of life had dwindled significantly. Change had been slower than he would have preferred, but at the same time, the gradual shift also meant that they saw little more than token resistance from the old pure-blood crowd. Of course, the aggressive prosecution of the Death Eaters and their collaborators following the war may have also had something to do with it.
As for her other point, Harry also had to admit that the older he got, the more he realised just how much Professor Dumbledore had shaped the way he saw the world. While they didn’t see completely eye-to-eye on everything, the legendary professor’s influence on him was undeniable. It was this realisation, in part, which drove home to Harry the sheer enormity of the responsibility he had just accepted.
It had been five years since Minerva had informed him of her plans to see him succeed her as head of Britain’s premier school of magic (during her own 100th birthday celebration, no less). While his stint as Transfiguration professor had re-kindled the love for teaching that had developed during his time with the Hogwarts Underground, it still wasn’t an easy decision. Harry knew that if he accepted the position, it would be the last job he would ever hold during his lifetime — there was simply no way he could, in good conscience, accept the responsibility without committing himself fully.
Just as she always had, Astoria promised to fully support Harry no matter what he decided. Talking it over with Ron and Hermione only helped to cement the decision in his mind, and now Harry was mere hours away from stepping into the shoes of the greatest wizard he had ever known, taking over for one of the most well-respected witches of the century, and beginning a journey that would ultimately see him wielding similar influence over thousands — entire generations — of young witches and wizards.
It was a lot to take in.
“Are you still listening?”
Harry snapped out of his moment of reflection to see Astoria staring at him with a barely concealed look of concern.
“Sorry…I was just thinking.”
“That’s okay,” she replied gently. “Shall I continue?”
“Sure.”
“The Potters are also responsible for the endowment of two separate charitable organisations: one named for Mr. Potter’s late mother, Lily, and another bearing the name of Mrs. Potter’s late sister, Daphne Greengrass. Their foundations’ many contributions include both the newly opened Potter-Greengrass ward of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and the Lily Potter Home for Vulnerable Children. The pair also sit on the board of the Cedric Diggory Foundation, which over the years has helped dozens of disadvantaged children attend Hogwarts.”
Astoria opened the paper to the second page before refolding it.
“While all of this is undoubtedly impressive,” she continued, “it is Mr. Potter’s magical accomplishments that have earned him the coveted role of Hogwarts Headmaster. Even though Potter has been known to downplay his involvement in the Battle of Hogwarts, in favour of highlighting the contributions of his friends and allies (in particular, his wife’s famous wounding of Voldemort himself), his performance that day as a fifteen-year-old wizard has been described by eyewitnesses as nothing short of astounding. What some may not know, however, is that Potter’s legendary victory over Lord Voldemort was only the beginning.
“According to those who know him, Potter’s close relationship with Albus Dumbledore inspired in him a deep curiosity for magic. Even after finishing Hogwarts, he was known to devote a large portion of his limited free time to visiting the castle and discussing magical theory with professors Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick. In the years following his retirement from Quidditch, he even authored two papers for the academic publication Transfiguration Today. That is why it was hardly a surprise to those closest to him when he was offered and accepted the position of Professor of Transfiguration in the year 2030.”
“I’ll never forget the look on Minerva’s face after she read that first paper,” chuckled Harry. “It was like she couldn’t make up her mind whether she was proud or annoyed.”
“That’s because you didn’t bother to tell her it was being published ahead of time,” Astoria pointed out.
“Yeah…” replied Harry, smiling fondly at the memory.
“Almost done,” Astoria smirked, before continuing on. “During his tenure, Professor Potter managed to develop a revolutionary new method of teaching the subject, introducing intent-based transfiguration to students as early as first year. Because of this, the Wizarding Examinations Authority went as far as to collaborate with Potter in overhauling their O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. testing methodology. According to outgoing Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Potter will continue to work with Transfiguration students even as headmaster, sharing duties with another new hire, Leonis Black (age 39), of London.”
Astoria briefly looked up from the paper. “Leo must be so excited about getting to work with you,” she said with a beaming smile.
“Almost as much as Sirius,” grinned Harry. “I talked to both of them last night. Leo’s almost as nervous as he is excited, but I think he’ll be fine.”
“Of course, he will,” replied Astoria. “You’ve been working with him since he got his wand — just like all the other children.”
“In the beginning, at least, he’s going to observe me with the first years — I’m not ready to give those up quite yet,” explained Harry. “Otherwise, he’ll take years two through five, and I’ll handle the N.E.W.T. students. I suppose he’ll take over fully at some point…just not yet.”
“I understand…and I’m sure Leo does, too.”
“I know,” nodded Harry. “Is that all?”
“More or less,” replied Astoria, setting down the paper. “They go on to congratulate you on your appointment and wish you luck, but that’s about it. There’s a nice article about Minerva in there, too.”
“I’ll read it later,” promised Harry. “So…are you all set for tonight?”
“I think so,” she sighed, gazing wistfully around the room.
Harry reached over and took both of her hands in his. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked her. “Moving into the castle full-time?”
Astoria reached up to touch his cheek. “I go where you go, dear husband,” she replied lovingly. “Don’t worry about me; I adore Hogwarts — it’s where we fell in love. There are plenty of relaxing places where I can write, and I’ll get to see at least some of our grandchildren almost every day.”
“As long as you’re sure…”
“I am,” she replied confidently. “Besides, it’s not as though we’re not allowed to leave the place. And we know the house will be in good hands whilst we’re away.”
“Speaking of which, have you spoken with James yet today?”
“Not yet, but I imagine they’re busy getting Luke ready for school.”
Harry was getting ready to stand when his communication mirror suddenly began to vibrate. “Perfect timing,” he remarked, holding up the mirror and tapping it with his finger.
“Good morning.”
“Hey, Dad — that was some article,” announced the grinning face of their firstborn. James was practically the spitting image of his father, which also meant that he closely resembled his grandfather and namesake. “Oh — hi, Mum,” he added, as Astoria squeezed in next to Harry so they could speak with their son together.
“Hello, dear. Is Luke all ready for his second year at Hogwarts?”
“Pretty much,” replied James. “Rosie’s got him all packed up, but the other two haven’t exactly been helping.”
In an odd bit of serendipity, James had wound up marrying Rose Granger-Weasley, Ron and Hermione’s eldest. Oddly enough, not a single one of them had seen it coming. They had obviously spent plenty of time together over the years, considering how close their families were, but Rose had always been closer to James’s younger sister, Lilian. No one was surprised when both of them were sorted into Gryffindor, but being two years older, James seemed to spend most of his time at school with his own friends or obsessing over Quidditch. That’s why it was such a surprise when Rose stepped off the train at the end of her sixth year and planted a kiss on James’s lips, right in front of everyone.
“It’ll be their turn before long,” said Astoria. “In just a year’s time, Noel will be boarding the Hogwarts Express, too. They grow up so fast…”
“Tell me about it,” sighed James. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that we’ll be coming straight over, once we’re done at King’s Cross. Are you absolutely sure you want us moving back into the house?”
“Positive,” replied Harry. “There’s plenty of room, and your mother and I will feel much better knowing you’re here to take care of the place.”
“We’ll be coming back to stay every so often, particularly during the summers,” added Astoria. “Even so, you’re welcome to take over the primary bedroom — we don’t really need the space anymore.”
“Wow — okay, we’ll think about it,” James responded, apparently having not considered that possibility. “Either way, we’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Can’t wait,” said Harry, shifting slightly in his seat. “I am curious, though…have you decided when you’re going to give him the Cloak?”
James quickly glanced over his shoulder before replying. “No, I’m still thinking about it,” he said quietly. “I know you gave it to me before my second year, but he still seems so young to me — I just don’t want him getting into any trouble. Honestly, part of me wants to wait until he’s done with Hogwarts completely.”
“I can understand that, I suppose.”
The Deathly Hallows had weighed heavily on Harry’s mind in the months following the battle of Hogwarts. Dumbledore had been steadfast in his assertion that Harry was somehow destined to unite all three Hallows, yet during their final conversation, the professor had been pleased to learn that the Elder Wand had been destroyed. If the Wand’s destruction was indeed the ideal outcome, as Dumbledore had suggested, then what was the point of uniting them in the first place? The power of the Wand certainly helped him keep up with Voldemort during their duel, and the Cloak had kept Astoria safe during the battle, but was there more to it than that? And what about the Stone?
Those questions plagued Harry for months, to the point where he considered using the Resurrection Stone to ask Dumbledore himself. He even attempted to broach the topic with the headmaster’s portrait, but it too refused to speak on the subject. It was eventually Astoria who helped him put the pieces together, albeit unintentionally.
One day, a few months into his sixth year (Astoria’s fourth), she surprised Harry by asking him to either hide the Stone someplace she could never find it, or to figure out a way to destroy it. Their conversation with Daphne following the battle had been cathartic for both of them, but unbeknownst to Harry, Astoria had been struggling every day since then with the temptation to use the Stone again.
She had admitted to him that even though she knew it was a terrible idea, whenever she found herself missing her sister — which was often — Astoria had to fight the almost unnatural impulse to ask Harry for the Stone. That’s why, afraid she may one day do something drastic — like take it without permission — she approached Harry and tearfully asked him to save her from herself.
Her request had caught him off-guard at first, but after spending some time thinking back to his many conversations with Dumbledore, Harry arrived at the conclusion that his role as ‘Master of Death’ was not actually to wield the Deathly Hallows, but to be the one who would see the end of them — as a trio, at least.
They were, after all, incredibly dangerous artefacts — the Wand and the Stone, in particular — and it was not unreasonable to believe that few others would be willing to voluntarily destroy such rare, and potentially valuable items. So, knowing that it continued to function even after being cracked by the Sword of Gryffindor, Harry travelled alone to an uninhabited island during the winter holidays and melted the Resurrection Stone down to nothing, by way of Fiendfyre.
For a brief moment, he considered destroying the Cloak of Invisibility as well, but he ultimately decided against it. After all, the Cloak was not particularly dangerous in itself, and leaving it intact after the other two Hallows were destroyed made for a compelling parallel to ‘The Tale of the Three Brothers’. Besides, Harry reasoned, the lines of Antioch and Cadmus Peverell were both at an end, so it seemed fitting that their artefacts should also pass out of existence. With that in mind, he saw no reason to get rid of the Cloak, as long as the line of Ignotus lived on through his own family.
“Oh, I don’t know, James,” Astoria said eventually, deciding to take her grandson’s side. “I think you should just give it to him. Part of the fun of Hogwarts is exploring the castle and trying to learn its secrets.”
A wry grin suddenly appeared on Harry’s face. “You mean like during my seventh year, when you figured out the Room of Requirement could create a passage directly into the Head Boy’s room?” he muttered to his blushing wife, who slapped him playfully on the shoulder.
“Ugh, I so did not need to hear that,” groaned James. “And I’ll ask that you not mention that one to the kids, either. I will think about giving him the Cloak, though,” he promised. “There’s probably not enough time before we leave, but maybe during the winter holidays.”
“Sounds good, but it’s your decision either way,” Harry assured him.
“Right, well I’ve got to go. See you in a bit.”
“‘Bye,” they replied together, as James’s face disappeared from the mirror.
Astoria stood up from the table. “Did you want any more tea?” she asked Harry.
“No, I think I’m — hang on, looks like we have a visitor.”
“The floo?”
“Yep,” he replied. “Pretty sure it’s Lilian.”
Sure enough, a few seconds later a tall, beautiful witch wearing lime-green robes strode into the room, looking slightly harassed.
“Hey Mum, Dad,” said Lilian, who began searching the room as soon as she walked through the door. “Sorry for popping in like this, but Olivia thinks she left her Charms book when we were here for dinner on Saturday.”
“Try my study,” suggested Harry. “She likes to curl up in my chair and read when she visits.”
“Good call, thanks…”
Harry and Astoria chuckled quietly as they watched the oldest of their two daughters walk briskly out of the room in search of the missing book. They had given Lilian the middle name ‘Daphne’, which turned out to be more prescient than either of them would have predicted. Apart from being the only one of their children sorted into Slytherin, she quite closely resembled her aunt in both looks and temperament — apart from having Harry’s dark hair, of course.
Born only a month apart, Lilian and Rose Granger-Weasley had been best friends their entire lives, so they would never have let something as insignificant as petty House rivalries come between them. The Gryffindor-Slytherin divide had already improved greatly by the time they went to Hogwarts, but their friendship may have done more to heal the rift than anyone else who came before them — the lone exception being the one day per year when they faced each other on the Quidditch pitch, as they were both Chasers for their House teams.
“Found it,” announced Lilian, as she re-entered the room. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go,” she added apologetically. “Abby has been literally bouncing off the walls all morning and Olivia’s barely packed, not to mention I’ll have to hustle out of platform nine and three-quarters if I even stand a chance of making my shift at St. Mungo’s.”
“Don’t worry, we more than understand,” Harry replied gently. “Feel free to call me on the mirror later, if you want to hear about Abby’s sorting.”
“I just might do that,” she nodded. “I have a bet going with Ernie — loser has to do all the laundry for a month. He thinks she’ll be a Hufflepuff like him and his dad, but I think she’s secretly a Slytherin at heart.”
“Nope, that girl is a Ravenclaw through and through,” countered Astoria, looking almost smug about her prediction.
“Well, I suppose we’ll find out in a few hours,” chuckled Harry, as his daughter waved goodbye and went off to floo home. Turning to Astoria, he said, “That’s two out of four we’ve heard from so far today. I wonder who’ll be next?”
“Seeing as how Edwin has his hands full at home with a toddler and a pregnant wife, I suspect we’re more likely to hear from Charlotte.”
“I hope we do…I wouldn’t mind seeing Maisy one last time before the start of term,” Harry replied, with a look of consternation. “As much as I love my job, it’s always hard when September rolls around and I have to go back, after getting used to seeing the grandkids so often. I know we’ll have three of them at the castle this year, but still…”
“The rest will all be coming through Hogwarts before long,” Astoria said reassuringly. “And then before you know it, there’ll be a wave of great-grandchildren coming along just behind them.”
Harry stared back at her dumbly for a moment. “Great-grandchildren…I hadn’t even thought of that,” he admitted, as Astoria smiled kindly at him and sat down on his lap. Harry automatically wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. His wife was as vibrant and full of life as ever; the Greengrass blood malediction had never resurfaced in her, nor had it affected any of their children or grandchildren. “Did you ever expect our life would turn out like this?” he asked her, with a sense of wonder in his voice.
“Of course, I did,” she replied sweetly, kissing him softly on the lips. “Happily ever after, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Harry grinned in reply. “I’d say we’ve done a fair job of it, wouldn’t you?”
“Definitely,” agreed Astoria, before kissing him again.
Later that evening, after their things had been moved into the castle, the students had arrived in the Great Hall, and the first years had been sorted, Harry sat back in the throne-like chair at the centre of the staff table and looked out over the crowd of excited (and hungry) children. There were far more students than there ever had been when he attended Hogwarts, which he had always taken as a sign that their world was finally healing.
Glancing to his left, he saw Neville — who was the Herbology teacher and head of Gryffindor House — flashing him a thumbs-up. Next to him was Hannah; they had married almost immediately after leaving Hogwarts, and after a brief stint as the landlady of the Leaky Cauldron, she had taken over for Madam Pomfrey as the Hogwarts matron and had been there ever since.
To Harry’s right sat Astoria, who was chatting animatedly with her former head of house, Professor Flitwick. While she would not serve the school in any official capacity, the other teachers had assured them both that Astoria was more than welcome to be a visible presence around Hogwarts.
Knowing better than to delay the Welcoming Feast any longer than necessary, Harry rose to his feet, quickly quieting the chatter in Great Hall.
“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts!” he began enthusiastically. “For those of you who haven’t heard the news, Professor McGonagall has decided to retire, and so the school governors saw fit to promote me to headmaster.”
The entire room erupted into wild applause, from the teachers all the way down to a few slightly confused first years. Harry was somewhat taken aback by the reaction, but when he turned to see his wife smirking at him, he understood that as far as she was concerned, it was simply another case of him underestimating his own popularity.
“Yes, yes, thank you — thank you,” he said while holding up his hands, asking for quiet. “I have a few start-of-term notices, of course, but I think I’ll save those until after we’ve all eaten.”
There were a few appreciative laughs from the crowd.
“Of course, I’ll always be grateful for what Professor McGonagall has done for me, and for the generations of witches and wizards who learned Transfiguration from her over the years, and we all thank her for her service to our school,” he continued, pausing for a moment while the students clapped politely. “Having said that, I will always remember the first time I entered the Great Hall, when it was Albus Dumbledore who sat in the headmaster’s chair. Apart from being the greatest wizard I have ever known, Professor Dumbledore was my mentor, and my friend. Now that I’m here, I find that I lack the words to describe how it feels to be here in front of you all, standing where he once stood.”
Harry had to pause for a moment, as he was unexpectedly overcome by a wave of emotion.
“I’m not exaggerating when I say that without Professor Dumbledore, most of us wouldn’t be here today. And even if we were, our school would be unrecognisable from the Hogwarts that has stood here for centuries,” Harry declared gravely. “That being said,” he continued, more brightly, “if I knew anything about Albus Dumbledore, it’s that he would much rather be remembered for his many discoveries, his contributions to our greater understanding of magic, and most importantly, all the students he taught and the lives he touched as a professor of this school. He certainly inspired me to be the man I am today, and I know I’m not the only one.”
A wide grin crept across Harry’s face as a memory came unbidden to the forefront of his mind, and part of him knew that somehow, Dumbledore was there with him in spirit.
“And so, before we begin our feast,” continued Harry, his grin broadening. “In honour of the wizard without whom none of this would be possible, I would like to say just a few more words. And here they are: Nitwit! Oddment! Blubber! Tweak!”
“Now, tuck in!”
The End
Finite Incantatem