The last trace of steam evaportated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. Harry's hand was still raised in farewell.
"He'll be alright," murmured Ginny.
As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absent-mindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead.
"I know he will."
The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.
Until now where the..