for editing

THE END OH NO

Harry turned and caught a reflection of his image in the darkened windows of the achingly familiar Hogwarts Express. He was old now, much like he had seen himself portrayed so many years ago in the Mirror of Erised, and exactly like how the mirror reflected before, Oona was standing beside him.

She was older now, like him. Her hair was still that shade of strawberry blonde, but highlighted with silvery-grey, and underneath an older, carved face was her bright smile. But instead of staring up indignantly at Harry like their school days, Oona was gazing lovingly at four rowdy children in front of her.

"No, Mum, you don't understand," whined one child.

Her hair was long and dark red, and she was noticeably short in comparison to the other children milling around. She appeared to be a second-year by the innocent youth in her face, green eyes narrowed at her somehow calm mother.

"I do understand, Lily," said Oona, curls pulled back into a messy, fretful bun. "I was a student here too, remember? So was your father."

She glanced up at Harry, who smiled back, feeling the skin around his eyes crinkle as he did so.

"But you're not listening! I need Galleons to buy food off the trolley, because if I can't get sweets, then I can't make a friend like Dad and Uncle Ron."

"You don't need to buy sweets to find friends, love," murmured Oona, struggling to hold back her son while talking to an exasperated Lily. Their voices were the same: bubbly and full of laughter, even when they were both impatient with each other.

Lily's silky, straight strands of hair were so similar to Harry's mother, who must have held very strong recessive genes, reflected in Lily Genevieve Potter's hair and obvious, glaring beauty, though Harry always said that Lily inherited that from her mother.

Oona turned to Harry, silently communicating to assist her with Lily, but he was in his own world. He was standing with the other two of his children behind his back, as he watched the students around him talking to each other, catching up on summer activities and sharing shreds of gossip from the past year. It was pleasant to see laughing and giggling students, reminding him, if only for a moment, of what once was and what could be in the future for his four children whom he loved so fiercely.

"Harry?"

Oona's voice jolted Harry out of his trance and he looked over at her, unable to hold back the smile spreading across his weathered face. Oona took a sharp breath while trying to hold another child back from sprinting across the landing towards a group of students about his age.

The boy she was handling was a stunningly accurate carbon copy of Harry: the same unkempt black hair; the same sparkling bottle green eyes, alight with energy and excitement.

"James," she said sharply, warning the boy and trying to contain both Lily and him at the same time. He continued to push against her. "Control yourself! James Sirius Potter!"

The use of his full name finally stopped James; his shoulders dropped, his entire body slouched, green eyes narrowed, and skinny arms crossed. He turned to face Harry, his young face looking into an older copy, and his expression became even grumpier.

"But all the Gryffindor's are meeting up! I wanna talk to them before Albus gets sorted in with us, so we can figure out —"

Harry felt something shift behind him, knowing it was his son, Albus, whose body had stiffened.

"Just hold off, James, we're meeting up with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione first," said Oona.

"Why can't I go to my friends? Look, Lucy Weasley's gonna save me a seat!"