A/N: This is it. The end. The last words to this story. Some of you might not like how I ended it, but I truly saw it ending no other way. And to those of you who do like how I end it, well, good. I don't know what else to say other than thank you for supporting this until the end. Thank you for your reviews, for favoriting this, following this, putting in in a community! Just thank you.

Harry Potter stood quietly over his own grave. There were many flowers scattered around it, spilling over onto the graves of his parents. It seemed fitting, to end it all here, where it all really began. He remembered the words Dumbledore had spoken those few short years ago. How, when they were all saying goodbye, he was finally getting to say hello. If only that had been the case.

Without a word he turned away, spotting Black and Silver standing near the edge of the trees, he merely nodded to them. Earlier they had been busy warding the muggle homes from any stray spell that might be sent. He would not have even thought to have the final battle here if that wasn't a predetermined condition of the battle field.

Stepping towards the magical tribute to the Potter family, he gave a small smile. Tonight, he would avenge his parents, and seal the last words on that god forsaken prophesy.

He didn't have to wait much longer, as many pops of apparition sounded throughout the small village. He almost laughed, knowing Voldemort would have never come alone. Although their faces were hidden beneath masks, he would be willing to bet high against Gold that their faces were ones of shock and outrage. Just another predetermined condition to the field. The battle would be between two people only, no one else had any say in the outcome.

"Are you ready then Tom? To end this?" Harry asked, watching the rage burn harder in the man's scarlet eyes.

"Are those your last words, Potter?"

"If those are yours," Harry replied, taking out his staff, bringing it to full length.

Voldemort quickly hurled three successive killing curses his way. The man almost dared smile at the boys stupidity. He wasn't moving out of their way, but rather than hit him, the spells passed right through him. A scream tore through Voldemort's throat, as he turned every which way, looking for the young man that dared challenge him. "Show yourself Potter!"

"Right behind you," Harry whispered, and without another breath, sent his own killing curse to the man that killed his parents.

Voldemort was quick though, as he dodged the sickly green spell.

"So you've learned tricks then, too bad they won't match the powers that I hold," Voldemort boasted, sending an array of spells towards Harry.

The young man quickly shielded and avoided, sending back his own spells, ones that honed in on the older man, breaking through his shield, and hitting him. Angry slashes ripped through the black cloak, and into his skin, spraying bits of blood over the few yards between the two men.

Outside the ward, the Death Eaters were stunned to silence. While they had previously been yelling, and trying with all their might to break down the ward, they were unsuccessful. And they had just seen their master get hit.

Anger quickly fueled them though, as they renewed their efforts to take down the wards. So focuses they were, they didn't notice when spells started hitting them from behind, binding them to their fate in a newly built prison. It seemed, the auror's had arrived.

Rather than try to bring down the wards, they made short work of capturing the Death Eaters, before watching as the final spells were released between the two men behind the powerful ward.

With one last look of ultimate fear, Voldemort fell, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, before he turned to the wards and nodded to the stunned group of witches and wizards.

No one could stop him as he vanished. The wards previously keeping them from the open space next to the monument, dropped too, along with the one in place in an office up in Scotland.

Everyone lifted their heads as they heard the voice of the young man that had sealed them in the office, "It is done, you're free." Looking around the room though, they realized that the man was no where to be seen.

Roman and Gold exchanged a quick look before the latter of the two apparated out, further shocking the group who had quickly accepted their old friend hadn't come back.

"But why hasn't he come back?" Hermione asked, looking hopefully to Roman.

"I believe he needs some time to rest," Roman answered, a small smile appearing on his face. "The wards he placed have definitely lifted, you are free to come and go as you please."

"He will come back, won't he?" Sirius questioned, a wild look appearing in his eyes.

Roman smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "He might, but you can rest assured that you will all receive letters."

"He really did it? You-Know-Who is dead?" Ron whispered, shocked.

"He wouldn't have let the wards down if that weren't the case," Roman said, walking towards the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some place to be."

"Are you going to him?" Hermione questioned, jumping up from her seat.

Roman just gave her a look and a small smile before continuing on his way.

The next morning a special report from the Daily Prophet mailed itself to every wizard and witch subscribed, and the radio was continuously confirming the news. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was indeed dead, and at the hands of the previously thought dead Boy-Who-Lived!

There were many questions left hanging in the air though, and through out all the celebrations, witch and wizard alike were claiming they knew the boy hadn't met his end.

One question in particular though was one that wouldn't leave the members of the Order of Phoenix alone. Just where did Harry go?

Dumbledore had spent most of the night confirming facts, and learning that almost every single Death Eater was caught. He was quite happy to be given the privilege to view the memory of the last battle. When he saw the end of it, there was nothing keeping the tears of joy and awe from his eyes. Harry had truly become a remarkable wizard.

It seemed an entire month passed before any of them got their answers, and even then it just brought up more questions.

After checking with a few members and friends, it seemed that the letters were all generally the same. Some of them were more personalized than others, but the one thing no one knew for sure was when they would seem him again. Or if they would see him again.

That was until seven years later, when Dumbledore was lying on what truthfully was his death-bed, he came back. The young man didn't look much older than he had when he old man had saw him last, but if one were to look into his eyes, they would be able to tell that the young man had grown. They were, in a word, deeper, than they had been.

"They miss you, you know," Dumbledore said, his voice weak and exhausted. "I've missed you."

Harry gave a soft smile and nodded. "I know," he whispered, not turning away like Dumbledore thought he might. "They'll all see me again someday." His voice was heavy when he said this, and although Dumbledore noticed, he didn't say anything. After a few minutes of silence stretched past them, Harry spoke again, "You were a great leader, Sir, even if I didn't exactly follow under you."

Dumbledore smiled and gave his own small nod. "Did you pick up a craft?"

Harry smiled again and nodded. "I even finally got it out of Gold who he was in his past."

"Will you tell me what it is you study?"

A small flicker of amusement played through his eyes as he answered his old professor, "I'm furthering my mastery in Potions. It goes quite well with helping a friend with his Healing profession."

Dumbledore smiled again and closed his eyes. He really wouldn't have expected that, but then again, he really didn't know the young man at all. Opening his eyes once more he let his last sight be that of the young man that had saved them all, he was finally on to his next great adventure.

With a heavy sigh Harry placed his lesser known glamour back on, and went to alert the medi-witch of the man's passing.

Another twenty years passed by before Harry felt comfortable enough with his mastery to settle into a career of it. He slowly made his way up to the castle, a wide smile on his tanned face. He had carefully figured out his glamour with his friend Indigo, adopting hair that went well past his shoulders, gaining a nose that was, if you looked closely, slightly crooked, and eyes that were the deepest blue.

He knew that it would most likely be seen through, and that the Headmistress would demand he take it down, if even for just a minute, but he was ready for that.

When he finally stopped in front of the gargoyle he wasn't surprised when it opened for him before he could give it the password. Knocking on the door, he waited before being told to enter.

He wasn't surprised when he saw her that she was just the same as she was when she taught him in his first two and a half years, with the exception of the added age, and greyer hair.

"Ah, Mr. Viridis, welcome, please, take a seat," the Headmistress spoke. "Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you ma'am," he replied, taking the offered seat. "How're you today?"

"I'm quite well, and yourself?"

"Just as good," he answered, smiling.

"Now what makes you think you're the best qualified for this job? Surely one such as young as yourself can admit that there is still a lot you probably don't know?"

Mr. Viridis smiled politely and shook his head, "I'm sure there are others who have applied that are just as good as I, but I assure you that I'm the best fit. I'm great with kids, I've taught before, and I'm the best at what I do. While I agree there is probably things I still don't know, the same could be said about the other candidates."

Minerva smiled and nodded, happy with his answer. "And you don't have any significant other or children of your own to speak of?"

Mr. Viridis shook his head slowly, "I've been very dedicated to my craft ma'am."

Minerva gave him a sharp look and for a few minutes sat there silently. A smile slowly stretched across her face and her eyes softened. "That would surely explain one of your letters of recommendation. Tell me, Mr. Viridis, how long have you known Silas Gold?"

Mr. Viridis smiled too and bowed his head to the Headmistress, "We go way back, Professor."

"Well then," she said standing up and offering Mr. Viridis her hand. "Unless you have your own home, you can stay here as long as you like. Term starts September first, as I'm sure you know, but I expect you here on August first as to start getting ready for the semester. On a lighter note, it's good to see you again, the years have been kind."

"Thank you ma'am," Mr. Viridis said, smiling. "I'll be back in August, before I go though, perhaps you would be willing to show me my office and classroom?"

"Of course," Minerva said, gesturing for him to go ahead of herself. "The students will have a wonderful teacher, I am sure."

Mr. Viridis smiled again and nodded. He was truly happy that she hadn't asked him to take down his glamour, never having adjusted to being fully comfortable with his true looks around people other than those in the circle.

The smile became even wider as he remembered the questioned that always popped up once a year in the Daily Prophet. His true self became something of a legend, a question to never be answered, because just what happened to Harry Potter was never going to have a one solid answer, and in the years to come, he was sure, he would hear some of the students would spread tall tales about the Boy-Who-Lived. He would just smile at them, as he was smiling now.

A/N: One last review? Or am I still a fool?