The Last Word

It occurred to me that this might be how book seven ends ...
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When Harry awoke, he was lying on his back in the grass on the grounds at Hogwarts, his face full of blue sky. Only it wasn't Hogwarts. It felt like Hogwarts, but somehow he knew that if he sat up and looked, the castle wouldn't be where he remembered it. He did not sit up. It felt too good to lie in the grass and stare into the sky. He realized he had lost his glasses, but he didn't need them.

Gradually, he had the sense that he was being watched. An old man sat on a low stone bench at the foot of a battered old tree staring at him. He knew that man. Harry sat up. The sword of Gryffindor lay broken beside him. He did not have his wand. The man beckoned Harry to come sit beside him. Harry stood. His side no longer ached. He could put his weight on his foot without pain, and when he looked at it, there was no blood. As he walked to the bench, he wondered if he were dreaming, and then the thought came to him that no, now he was truly awake. it was everything before that had been like a dream.

Harry sat beside the old man who said simply, "Well done, Harry. I have waited a long time for this day."

"Professor, where are we?" asked Harry.

"It's a little like the end of a school year, Harry. Long ago you got your new books, you worked, you made friends. We are past Christmas and on beyond Easter. You've passed your final tests with outstanding marks. Your term is over. And now you're home."

Home. The last word filled Harry with a warmth and happiness he had never thought possible. They sat together on the bench in silence enjoying the beauty of the grounds. Harry felt it odd that he was not full of impatient questions. He felt like he knew nothing, but he could think of nothing he wanted to ask.

"Let's walk." The old man stood beside him and began to walk with a surprising lightness to his step. They were on a path that led through a wood. The path climbed the side of a hill. Harry was so filled with the beauty of the place and the richness of the very air, he felt he could climb forever and be utterly happy.

Part way up they came to a level place. "Our first stop, Harry," the old man said. "Someone is here for you." But Harry was already running across the clearing. It was Sirius. He threw himself into his godfather's waiting arms.

Some time later the three of them were on the path again, climbing the pleasant slope together. Sirius was whistling. The woods around them seemed full of watching and expectation, and Harry wondered how they would sound when all those trees were finally allowed to sing the song Sirius had started.

They were nearing the top. "Our second stop, Harry." Harry looked around, but saw no reason for stopping. "We're almost there and I want to prepare you, though by now you don't really need my help. A few more steps and we'll be at the top, and you will see some others who have come before you. If I'm not mistaken, the first you see will be Severus. He has been particularly anxious to see you and begged to be first, though my request was granted instead. But it is Severus who will bring you at last to James and Lily. And then there is one more."

Harry noticed the most trivial thing he could have imagined and found himself saying, "Your hand, professor. It's not black."

"Yes, Harry, completely healed at last. And your forehead no longer bears the mark that burdened you for so long. You will see here that those things are past. You are now very close to the source of the power that overcomes all such troubles. The power that enabled your mother to save you by giving her life. You will look into the face of infinite love and infinite suffering that has utterly confounded every power raised against it. James and Lily will lead you to the only one here who shows the marks of his wounds. He is the only one here who wears a scar."