Homeward Bound

HOMEWARD BOUND

Ron Weasley starred at the tombstones of the people who once meant so much to him. His mother, his father, his brothers, his sister, his wife Hermione and his best friend Harry. Standing here today with Neville Longbottom brought everything into perspective. He was an old man now. He and Neville were the only two left alive out of their graduation class. Ron had lived to see the birth of his great grandson- Oliver Weasley. Now five, he was the only Weasley with blond hair. He was very fond of the boy, who, even now, stood by him resolutely. He had lived through the second war, seen Harry triumph over evil. He had seen Harry and Ginny married. Stood as godfather to their first born son. He well remembered the sense of pride the day Hermione walked up the isle to exchange vows with him. Memories, painful memories, which kept surfacing now in his old age- screaming echoes of a life long gone. A long forgotten saying sounded in Ron's head like a bell toll. It was a saying of his fathers, which he had uttered on his deathbed.

"Son, remember, even muggles have magic. We have the same brand of magic. Its called life. When the magic of life wears out, we no longer exist in this world. We move on to better things."

The magic of life? Ron held it in abundance. So did Neville. Voldemort knew this. Neither spoke of it, though each knew about it. What would be the point? Leaning over, he kissed Hermione's grave and whispered "It will run out soon dear."

Walking back to the Burrow with Neville and Oliver seemed to take an age that Ron wished would end. Voldemort's last curse had taken effect now. Knowing that he could not get at Harry he had hit Ron. Long would Ron remember the words- 'You will wish for death long before it finds you.' His curse had hit home.

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That night Ron sat alone. Ron was tired of life. He was world-weary, tired of the existence which he lead. He was pondering his fathers dying words when a blond head caught his attention. From deep within a pocket he withdrew a lemon drop- Oliver's favorite. He smiled at this, the youngest of the extended family, and probably the last child he would see born into any of the family's, though one of his granddaughters was heavily pregnant. He then took Oliver onto his knees and told him the story of the great Harry Potter, and his famous defeat of Lord Voldemort. He told him of their adventures at Hogwarts, and of the great Dumbledore, his power and the beginning of two legends.

"Oliver," he said, "remember that both wizards and muggles have magic. It's the magic of life. It runs in our very veins, it's on our blood. When this magic wears out, we no longer exist in this world. We move on. Better things await us in the next life."

Hidden from the little boy was the wish that this brand of magic would wear out, and the fear that it would pass down through the line to Oliver whom he cared for so much

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Oliver watched as they lowered his great-grandfather into the grave beside his great-grandmother. His great-grandfather had received his wish. He was homeward bound.