“And that was the way of it,” said the deep, second voice and the world fell into silence again. The dawn was coming quickly; already, the spread of orange and the beginnings of blue could be seen on the horizon. The stars resigned from their nightly vigil as the sun began its own.

Finally, the first voice spoke up. “I remember it now. What happened after? To everyone?”

“With the death of Bellatrix, her remaining supporters were quick to surrender, and the war was finally ended. Peace returned to the world, but for a time, for such a state the world can never maintain for long.”

“The rest of the DA and the world went back to the way it was. The heroes were remembered, and honored, and then the people moved on. It does no good to dwell on what was past, especially in a war.”

“Ronald Weasley survives and is living a happy life with Luna Lovegood. He is a different man from the one he had formerly been: grimmer, some might say, but more decent for it.”

Quietly, and with a hint of nervousness, the first voiced asked, “And what of Hermione?”

“She disappeared.”

“Disappeared? What do you mean?”

“After the funerals, she simply vanished. People say they see her, appearing when someone's need is great, or a great injustice is committed, but she never stays anyplace for long. She does great things for people, but asks nothing in return. There are rumours that she visits Ronald and Luna regularly, and they alone are her contacts with the world, but one can't believe every rumour that one hears,” the voice clearly showing that this was one rumour that was true.

“She always was the brightest witch of her age,” the first voice said, and the smile could almost be heard in the words.

“Many attempts at finding her failed, and eventually they gave up, knowing that if she wanted to be found, she would be.”

***

A lone monk left the Abbey at Glastonbury and headed down to the Brue just as the sun was starting to rise in the east. The shore and river was covered in mist, but that was certainly nothing new. He wrapped his cloak closer about him, and made for the boats at the shore.

Today was his day to do the fishing for the Abbey, a duty that was loathed by almost all the monks, for it meant spending a day on the Brue - a day on waters that many considered cursed. However, he didn't mind it; he didn't believe in that type of thing anyway, and he enjoyed the quiet.

He found the small fishing boat that the Abbey owned, and started to push it into the water when he looked up into the mists on the waters. As they moved about, seemingly with a mind of their own, for a second the small isle in the middle was revealed - and on it sat two figures.

The monk rubbed his eyes, but the figures remained. Then the sun peaked over the horizon, throwing its light all around. A beam hit the pair on the island, and the priest gasped - they seemed to be transparent, for he could see the mists swirling behind them. They both looked at the sun for a moment, before a cloud of mist obscured his view. By the time it had passed, they were gone.

The monk shook his head and pushed the boat into the water, jumping in and rowing out. The mists were breaking up with the approach of day, and things were becoming clearer.

That's what I get for waking up so early, the monk though as he rowed. He thought it best not to mention to anyone what he saw. Who would believe a young boy with glasses and bearded man with a crown had been sitting on the isle anyway?

***

“Do you suppose I'll ever see her again, Sir?” the first voice asked, hope and sadness mingled in the single question.

“Master Potter, I think after what we've both been through, you have earned the right to call me Arthur. And yes, I do think you shall. When the time is right, she will be with you again.”

“How long will I have to wait, Arthur?”

“Does it really matter, lad?”

“No,” Harry Potter said, a new lightness in his words. “I suppose it doesn't.”

Fin