((Here it is guys. The official epilogue. I don't know about Bluekait, but I don't plan on writing a third Jalbus book. This idea came to me earlier today, and I had to write it before I lost it. It's been a long road, but a fun trip. Let's hope the future generations have just as much fun.))


FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

A PROMISE KEPT



I leaned back in my chair and surveyed the room. It was the smallest room in the house, but so familiar. It was only natural that I work in here. Aside from my computer on its desk, the only other furniture in the room was an old wardrobe, two tall bookshelves, and a glass-fronted case. The wardrobe was left for sentimental reasons. Both bookshelves were stuffed with books, both Muggle and magical. In a section of the impromptu لائبریری devoted to the Dark Arts, I had unceremoniusly dumped four black books.

The glass-fronted case held seven of my most prized possesions. The کتابیں were looking quite a bit battered سے طرف کی now, especially considering what they had been through.

I turne back to the computer with a smile and decided to try to get a few مزید sentences out before calling it quits. My dream of being an مصنف had finally been realized. Of course, thanks to the Statute of Secrecy, I had decided to write under my maiden name.

A soft knock on the doorframe jolted me out of my thoughts. I whipped around, wand in hand, searching for the disturbance.

In the doorway stood a tall man with messy black hair and bright green eyes. "Seems Dad rubbed off on you," he said, pulling me up from the chair.

"Well, considering how I found out about the Wizarding world, it really isn't much of a surprise," I replied, finishing with a quick peck to his cheek.

"Jo Potter, I can't BELIEVE آپ would leave me with such suspense," he کہا dramatically.

"Well, Al Potter, I AM an مصنف after all. It's my job to keep people on their toes." Al could be such a dramatist sometimes. The constant joke was that he could be an actor and I'd end up writing plays for him. But with the Potter name so well-known in the Muggle world, it was a chance neither of us was willing to take.

I walked over to the glass-fronted case and gazed at the seven کتابیں inside, Al right beside me. I dredged up memories of before I knew I was a witch. Back then, I had made a promise. I had promised myself that, when the time was ripe, I would read these seven کتابیں to my own children, just as my mom had done with me.

Carefully, I eased open the case and lifted the thinnest volume from its place. It felt so familiar in my hand, even after all these years. I smiled as the memories came flooding back.

"I have to do something," I told Al as I left the room.

"What are آپ doing?" he asked.

"Fulfilling a prophecy of sorts." And with those words, I left my very confused husband in the study and headed to our daughter's room.

***

Alice Nymph Potter was a very observant seven-year--old girl. Al swore she hadn't gotten the same hair the other Potters couldn't avoid. I knew better. She loked just like me, except her eyes. Oddly, they were a darker green than Al's. She was sitting up in bed, looking like she had just pulled a great prank on someone.

"Hey, Mum. What s with the book?" she asked with a gesture to the thin volume in my hands. I pulled the book closer to my chest, partly out of comfort, and partly so she couldn't see the title.

"In a few years, Ali, you'll be getting your Hogwarts letter. I came from a Muggle family, so no one was there to really explain anything to me. Yet I still did better than most ither Muggle-borns. And it was all becaude of this," I said. I sat down on the end of her بستر and held out the book. "It's somewhat of a tradition in my family to read it out loud during times of great change."

Ali smiled, and I opened the book. The spine crackled a bit, and the pages were yellow with age, but it was as much a part of me as my wand.

"'Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone,'" I started. "'Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived.'" And so began the story I had heard a thousand times, the story of my father-in-law, Harry Potter. It was time for the new generation to take their place, time for their story to be written.

***

Later that night, as Al and I prepared to drift off to sleep, he turned to me. "Youshould write it down."

"Write what down?" I asked.

"Our story. How we met, and got together, and all the adventures we've had. آپ should collaborate with Ruby on it. Get her side of the story."

"Al, no one will ever take it seriously, especially in the Muggle world. Besides, I can't just do that. I'd practically be stealing from another author."

"Post it on the Internet. That way, everyone can know the truth, without thinkingg it's the truth."

"Albus Severus Potter, آپ are a genius."

"Always." And with that, we sank into our respective dreams.