Breaking Point

Breaking Point
Epilogue

The wind pulls at our robes, but we ignore it. As long as the cooling charms on our robes hold, we're fine. There are only a few trees on this hill, and none so large for a windbreak yet. When we first were here, Katy's was one of only a few stones. Now this section of the cemetery is full with no new gravesites in the last three years.

"Do you think she would have approved, Dad?"

I turn to look at my daughter. She's grown into a beautiful young woman who, in many ways, reminds me of Katy. The thought isn't as painful as it once was. Today is Emily's eighteenth birthday -- and the fifteenth anniversary of her mother's murder.

I reach over and tuck an errant strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear, making her huff and swat my hand away. I don't try to hide the smile at the corner of my mouth at her response.

"Yes, Em, she would have approved," I murmur in reply.

She pulls out her wand -- holly and dragon heartstring -- and whispers, "Orchideous." A small bouquet of tulips, Katy's favorite flower, erupts from Emily's wand. I step back and allow her a few moments alone as she kneels to place them at Katy's grave.

I can see that Jennifer and Matthew paid their respects earlier by the small bouquet of roses at the left side of the tombstone. It doesn't seem to matter to them that Katy never liked roses -- a fact I found out when she threw them at my head the first and only time I brought her roses.

I'm torn from my memories when Hugo Weasley walks up to Emily, resting a hand on her back. She straightens, brushes dirt from her knees, tosses a sheepish smile over her shoulder at me, then returns to the limo with Hugo. Our driver knows we'll be here for a while.

It was not a shock to me when Emily received her Hogwarts letter. I had tried to make a go of it in Philadelphia after those fateful few days, but nothing ever seemed to be right again. To my in-laws' dismay, I took the opportunity Emily's letter presented to return to the United Kingdom. I still keep in touch with Tony, and his new wife, but no one else (except my in-laws, and that is under duress). In fact, I will be visiting with them and their new son tomorrow.

The FBI wanted me arrested when I contacted them on the fifth, Sikes especially. It was one instance in which Veritaserum in the Muggle world would have been a good thing. After I allowed the FBI to verify Emily was truly rescued, I dropped her off at Matthew and Jennifer's. Even though Emily's fear at being separated nearly destroyed me, as fragile as we both were at that point, I had to do it so I could take the FBI and police to the warehouse on the river.

Only to discover it had burned to the ground without one fire alarm being triggered or the fire department being alerted.

After that, I confronted Pike about his relationship to Zabini and discovered they were half-brothers by one of Zabini's mother's many marriages. Pike confirmed Zabini had been a bit obsessed with me ever since that final battle with Voldemort, during which Zabini received the horrific scar on his face -- for which he blamed me.

Malfoy eventually led Tony to Katy's body. Tony never told me what exactly happened, and there was a closed casket, but he assured me it was Katy. I never asked to verify, trusting Tony thoroughly. I'm sure my imagination, as evidenced by my nightmares, provides enough to feast upon without knowing the truth. He also coordinated the restoration of our Philadelphia home and, in the process, discovered nothing had been stolen, it was just destroyed for the sake of destruction. The knowledge has been like a thorn in my side even after so many years.

When I notified Ron and Hermione I would be returning to the United Kingdom and bringing Emily, they insisted I move in with them. I declined because I had a job: Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Hermione just laughed knowingly even as Ron shook his head.

It was difficult to step back and allow the romance to blossom between Emily and Hugo, despite the fact she was a Slytherin and Hugo quintessentially Gryffindor. I don't know if it would have been easier to witness them fall in love via letters, but as a professor, I had front-row seats to their courtship.

She has tried to get me to date a few times in the last few years, but I have declined every witch she's tried to set me up with. When she asked if I wanted to date wizards instead -- and laughed at my stunned reaction -- she began teasing me that she's a modern witch and can handle her dad dating men. I'm not interested in men, either. I think she was disappointed.

Ron murmurs that he's returning to the car and I nod absently. Hermione rests a hand on my arm. "Can you do this, Harry?"

I glance at her, my eyes already swimming. "Yes, I must."

She smiles wistfully. "No, you don't, but you will." And, with that, she returns to the car as well.

I cross to Katy's grave and kneel before it. I brush dirt off the headstone, then wipe my hand on the grass.

"This is the last time we'll be here for a while, Kate," I say softly, shoving a hand through my hair. "I know we come every year, but we can't visit for the next few." My smile is watery. "Emily wants to be an Auror, Kate." Scrubbing furiously at my face, I force myself to continue. "She'll be in the Academy for the next few years and neither of us wants to visit you alone."

My voice fails as the tears slide down my cheeks. Cursing under my breath, I pull a tissue from my pocket. After two tissues and several throat clearings, I can continue.

"She's never really gotten over what happened to you, you know. I've tried to help her, but . . . but I can't." The years of therapy we both endured have allowed us to cope. I think Emily has survived better than I have, but I can live with that. "She wants to help children. There's . . . there's this special department in the Aurors -- Hermione helped set it up after you . . . well, after -- that helps kidnapped children. She wants to join them."

Another three tissues.

"Fuck, Katy, you'd be so proud of her."

I stand, knees protesting, and lay a hand on her headstone.

"I love you, Katy."

And, though it has to be my imagination, I swear I hear, "I love you, too, Harry."