212The last four paragraphs of the much-discussed Epilogue to HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS—
"[Albus Severus will] be all right," murmured Ginny.
As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead.
"I know he will."
The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.
Chapter 1
Hermione Weasley Feels Strange
Around 4 a.m.
Monday, 4th September 2017
For Hermione Weasley, the 37-year-old loving wife of Ronald Weasley, all was definitely not well.
She had gone to bed feeling oddly. Now, hours later, she actually was blasted awake by a splitting headache, and last night's strange feelings in Hermione's body had turned into full-body muscle aches.
Her plan, as she slipped out of bed, was to seek out a headache potion in the bathroom, then to sleep on the couch. (Ron's snoring was loud enough that Hermione knew that going back to sleep in the mage-sized bed, tonight, would be impossible.)
Hermione's plan lasted only until she had taken three steps toward the bathroom. While walking, Hermione discovered that even her toes and feet had muscle-aches. Not to mention—
Ron cheated on the driving test, I know he did! Why did I lie to Harry that I had faith that Ron had passed the test honestly?
—Not to mention, strange thoughts were popping into Hermione's head.
Molly Weasley pretends to be the perfect mother, but in truth she's nothing of the sort.
Now Hermione recalled a maths problem that had stumped her in her seventh-year arithmancy class. The oddest thing was not that Hermione was recalling this old maths problem, years later; no, the oddest thing was that now Hermione could see the way to work the old problem, when she couldn't before. Hit that git with the Chain Rule, and the solution is almost trivial.
Hermione had a torturous headache, muscle aches, strange thoughts—she concluded, I'm feverish. It's probably a nasty muggle flu. I need medical help.
Hermione's first impulse was to floo to Saint Mungo's, and the Healers there could fix Hermione up, sure. There was only one problem with sick Hermione going to Saint Mungo's: She was forever part of the Golden Trio, the three friends who had defeated Voldemort in 1998. In 2017, Hermione was, to quote Ron from three days ago, "extremely famous." She had no doubt whatsoever that if she received treatment at Saint Mungo's this morning, a write-up about her visit would appear in tomorrow's Daily Prophet, "patient confidentiality" be damned.
Hermione's next idea was, Maybe I could catch Luna before she goes to work? The Hogwarts Hospital Wing had two Healers working there now, trading shifts; this meant there was a fifty-fifty chance that Healer Luna Longbottom was not on duty yet, till after breakfast in Hogwarts Castle.
And speaking of Luna—was feverish Hermione hearing Luna's voice now, at 4:09 in the morning, coming out of the floo? Hermione pulled on a sleeping robe over her nightgown, grabbed her wand, then walked out of the bedroom to solve this minor mystery.
As Hermione walked through the bedrooms-corridor on her way to the floo, she got another out-of-the-blue thought: Ron has worse table manners than a starved werewolf.
"Hermione. Hermione," Luna was fire-calling from Ron's and Hermione's floo—but Luna was speaking quietly, so as not to wake Ron or Hugo.
When Hermione got close to the floo, she asked, "What are you doing awake, Luna, and fire-calling me now?"
Luna replied, in her dreamy voice, "You need a Healer now, right?" Then Luna's tone of voice turned formal: "Regent Longbottom permits you to enter Longbottom Manor."
Hermione marvelled, "Merlin, Luna, you already know I've the flu? You are a seer, aren't you?"
Then Hermione told Luna, "I need to tell Ron that he has to fix breakfast for Hugo, then Ron needs to floo Hugo to school. I'll get dressed, then I'll come through. Figure five minutes. Thank you, Luna."
In the dark master bedroom
Hermione woke up sonorus-snoring Ron to tell him, "I'm really sick, it's probably the flu, and Luna has offered to check me out."
Ron said, "Why are you bothering with Loony? Go to Saint Mungo's, and you'll get your name in the Prophet."
Hermione had to work hard to stay silent, and to not call Ron a glory-hound idiot. Hermione now believed, as Harry had believed twenty years ago, that being famous was a right bloody nuisance more often than not.
Ron asked his wife, "You going to be back in time for breakfast?"
Hermione replied, "Not sure. If worse comes to worse, you'll have to wake up in time to fix breakfast for Hugo and to take him to school."
"Fine," Ron snapped, "but just so you know: Mum never made Dad make breakfast for us kids."
Hermione thought, but did not say, And I would never humiliate Rose at Hogwarts by owling her a Howler. Yet how many times did I see Percy, the twins, Ginny, and you get screamed-at in the Great Hall by Molly? Your mother is no paragon, Ronald Bilius.
One minute later
In Longbottom Manor
As Hermione stepped through the floo, another random thought jumped into her head: There is a reason that Harry outranks Ron now.
In 1999, both Harry and Ron had graduated from Auror School at the same time, as newly-minted Aurors Second Class. Ron had actually been promoted first—the excuse given had been that Ron's skill at chess meant he had more potential for improvising tactics in the field. But the real reason, so Hermione now realised, that Ron had been promoted to Auror First Class before Harry was that Ron had been a pureblood; while Harry, for all his fame and achievements, had been "only" a halfblood. But Ron had never been promoted again, while Harry was now a Master Auror. Furthermore, the rumour that Hermione kept hearing was that when the Ministry someday needed a new Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry would be a shoo-in for this job. Whereas Ron, that chocolate-frog-chomping lazybones, might eventually reach retirement age and still be ranked as only an Auror First.
Hermione received a surprise as soon as she entered the Floo Room of Longbottom Manor. Standing next to Luna—who looked disgustingly alert and cheerful at four in the morning—was Luna's husband Neville. Now Neville's back straightened, he locked eyes with Hermione, and his tone of voice turned formal—
"Mrs. Hermione Granger Weasley, I, Regent Longbottom, bid you welcome to Longbottom Manor. I grant you the sanctuary of this manor for as long as you feel you need it."
Hermione was more than confused; she stared at Neville. Right now, Neville should be sleeping in his professor's quarters, somewhere in Hogwarts Castle, instead of being awake in Longbottom Manor and greeting Hermione with such unexpected and formal words.
Hermione decided that both Longbottoms were acting quite strangely, considering that Hermione had almost the same symptoms as a bad case of the muggle flu. Muggle flu was unpleasant, yes, but it was nothing for magicals to take special note of.
A thought hit Hermione's mind: Do Luna and Neville know something I don't?
