Author's Note - Based on criticism, it has been suggested that I remove this chapter and repost it later. For now, let me just say that it is entirely skippable. It takes place 34 years later (at the title states), and the next chapter returns to the 'present.' Many readers have complained. For now, I am leaving it. If you do skip it, it should be obvious when you'll need to come back and read it.

Summer had lingered, but by the time that Harry James Pevel crossed the threshold to Platform Nine and Three Quarters fall had arrived. The muggle world felt cool and serene and not at all humid, and the temperature dropped lower still when he crossed the threshold, trailing his children. His youngest - nine with unkempt blonde hair that resisted all attempts at combing with a quiet defiance - broke away from the family while Luna stared at the steam coming from the locomotive engine, entranced and lost in private memory. She recovered, squeezing Harry's hand and then Luna dashed forward calling "Petunia! Petunia!"

Harry had originally taken her name, but Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres-Lovegood had been a mouthful, so he'd simply changed it to Pevel. That contained all the sounds in the right order and also honoured and symbolically linked him with the Peverells, an added bonus. Technically he kept the name Harry Potter, since he was the Lord of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, but that didn't really matter much anymore.

But his biological parents had probably cared, and some factions of wizarding society still placed stock on these things, so Harry sometimes used his formal title, especially during contentious Wizengamot sessions. But most days he was simply Harry Pevel.

Harry looked around the station, at all the children running back and forth, gossiping, hugging, trading stories of their summer vacation, and otherwise acting like children. Well, like normal children, anyway. After his first year he'd stopped coming early to the train rides, because the pressure of being The Boy Who LIved made it an exhausting experience, although he would always remember the first train ride and meeting Hermione. After his second year, Harry couldn't afford to waste a full day going to and from Hogwarts each semester, and had simply skipped the trips completely. He'd never been one to enjoy crowds of people, in any case.

A familiar couple waved and Harry waved back. Harry's middle son called out to them. "Hi Aunt Hermione! Uncle Ron!" Michael ran off and hugged his aunt, then went to play with young Draco Weasley. Harry started to head over to them, quietly flanked by Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe. Harry could ignore the rest of the parents on the platform, confident that they were scanning the crowd for threats. Gregory had argued against a public appearance, but Harry had overruled them. Correction, said Ravenclaw, Gregory acquiesced.

Harry hadn't been physically attacked in nearly two decades. They still worried. In many ways they still blamed themselves for not seeing the attacks coming in the first place, even though there had been no earthly way for them to know, during the early years.

Harry looked down at his oldest, who had trailed along beside him. "Why don't you join the other children?" Harry didn't hide the pang he felt letting him go off, even thought it was only to Hogwarts.

Harry had scheduled Albus for the first train. Hogwarts required two trains now, class sizes being so much larger. Harry could have taken him personally, but wouldn't dream of denying his son the full experience of the Hogwarts he loved. Albus had asked why they needed a train to get to Dad's office and Harry had started to explain, but had just shrugged.

"What if they don't think I'm smart, Dad? What if they don't put me in Ravenclaw?" Albus said, with the slightest hint of desperation in his voice.

Harry crouched down so that he was looking up at his son and stared at his beautiful blue eyes. "Why are you worried about that?" Harry's long white beard touched the ground. At first, the beard had started as an affectation, just playing the part for the country of the wise old wizard he'd hoped to become someday. Now, it seemed natural, and he rarely thought about it, but he instinctively scooped it up off the concrete. Albus met his eyes, and Harry saw the worry.

"Because … because! I'm not you, Dad! Everyone says you're the most clever, that you invented cleverness, and they'll expect me to... you know." Albus hyperventilated slightly, before getting his breathing under control. "I can't live up to it..."

"You, Albus Quirinus Pevel are named after two great men. Quirinius Quirrel made Offense against the Dark Arts what it is today. He was a Slytherin. And Albus Dumbledore had both my jobs and did them both better. And he was a Gryffindor."

Albus gulped a breath. "A Gryffindor? Really? But they ..." He stopped.

Harry shook his head. "The houses show your most dominant trait, or the one you must wish to improve. But no person can be reduced to a single adjective. The houses are only a shorthand, and then are great wizards and witches in every house. Remember what I say. If I can see farther than those who came before me..."

"It's only because I stand on the shoulders of giants. Not literal ones. Figurative." Albus said, finishing the quote. He hugged his father and ran after his mother to say goodbye.

Hermione walked over, looking completely normal, although she'd cut her hair short over the summer, Harry noted. She'd managed to completely hide her glamour and had even gone so far as to adjust her appearance to look ... mundane. But even before she'd deglamoured with her self-invented potion (the final ingredient was a claw from a Blast-ended Skrewt) the Girl-Who-Revived didn't draw much attention these days. Hermione rarely did anything dangerous and - as far as the public knew - hadn't done anything important in fifteen years. If you'd seen her as a teenager, like Harry had, you'd have imagined her as a a movie star by the time she grew up. In actuality, she didn't stand out or turn heads, and that was mostly by design. She'd had enough with well wishers and followers by the time they'd turned twenty.

Harry didn't really see the woman standing in front of him as she was. In his mind, she was always a teenager. He knew that was a flaw, but it was one he preferred to live with.

Harry had known instantly that Draco's Diary, not his Letter, was the final gambit. Draco's way of ensuring Hermione Granger helped Harry Potter, but always at arm's length. At a distance. As a friend. When he'd finally gotten up his courage and asked her on a date, Hermione agreed they could be more without risking the world. But we never will be, she'd said. If Draco had been around, one of them would have ended up with Hermione. But with Draco gone...

Harry reminded Hermione too much of those they'd lost. He could move past it, but Hermione hadn't. She felt much more deeply than he did, a side effect of his coldness. Harry experienced great joy and great loss and felt pain for the damage he'd done. He knew about countless millions he hadn't saved, but lingering on it wasn't useful and didn't help them. Harry planned as carefully as he could, but emotionally lived in each movement, then moved on. At least, he usually did, but seeing Hermione reminded him of his regrets. And he knew the same was true for her.

My joys and pain echo constantly, she'd said all those years ago. By way of apology.

Harry never understood what she saw in Ron.

After the hugs and handshakes Hermione pulled Harry aside and whispered "I think we should delay repealing the Statute."

Harry Pevel sighed internally then put on his finest wise face, his Albus Dumbledore #2, "We've been over this. If we miss this Convocation, we'll have to wait five years for the next one."

"We are immortal, Harry. There's no rush."

"People will die." Harry didn't cry, not any more, when considering the price his caution had cost. They both knew he felt it, that the disapproval in his voice was real. "What reason do you have?"

"It's Xare, he's looking a bit peaky. I don't think he'll be available, should a problem arise. I'll have limited tactical mobility with all the warding going on." Harry could sense Gregory, just two feet behind him, dividing his attention. Vincent hadn't stopped scanning the crowd, but this was now a security matter and so now they were splitting duties and paying attention to Harry's conversation, since it was no longer just politics. Gregory and Vincent would discuss it amongst themselves, later. They might even ask my opinion, Harry thought.

"Who would attack us, Hermione? I think we've run out of Dark Wizards."

Hermione interrupted. "Sethra Lavode..."

Harry inter-re-upted. "Yes, she lives; but stuck in her mountain for a few hundred years. After that? I think she'll be impressed."

"Harry, doesn't it seem, I don't know, convenient? How everything is working, how the opposition has melted away, to finally be unified after all of that political maneuvering. All the obstacles, all the delays."

Harry considered it.

"No, it doesn't. We spent decades arranging this. How much pain did you go through, dying all those times? How often did we have to prove, time and again, that I wasn't Voldemort. How many did I fail to save? How many shadows we jumped at, just to make sure there was no threat. Now - finally! - we're gaining numbers. We aren't alone. We've pushed the rationality of graduating classes at least one standard deviation to the right. This generation is firmly behind us, they've moved the needle! Albus fears he's not smart enough! Not smart enough, Hermione. And you know he'd have done well, been a General by 3rd year, back in the day."

Harry looked down. "Now he's just an average wizard boy."

Harry saw that Hermione knew how much it hurt him to admit that. He hoped she knew how much wisdom he'd gained over the last decade. Draco had been right in this, that for too long Harry's strength had been its own corresponding weakness. Now having his own family had provided balance and given Harry a lot of practical insight into how other people reacted to him. Draco came so close to being right about everything. Harry realized he'd drifted into thought and refocused on Hermione, as the prefects starting herding the first years onto the train.

"No, Hermione, it does not appear convenient to me at all. And once I finish this task, I will have time to rescue Dumbledore, and beg his forgiveness."

"The last part is irrelevant, and you know it..."

Harry Potter shrugged, conceding the point, but Hermione knew what he'd meant. By unspoken agreement, they agreed to let work wait until family was gone and the rushed around the station, hugging kids and greeting old friends. They'd save their strategizing and politicking for a few hours, once they were back at the office. They'd saved most of the Wizarding world.

Soon, they'd save everyone else.

All was well.

Author's Note - If you read the previous chapter during the first day it was posted, two sections were (near) duplicates of part of Chapter 45 and have been removed. There was no grand plan on that, it was just an oversight.

And yes, I'm going to go back to the 'present' in the next chapter. (I'm not a monster).