And here we are, Chapter six! This was done very quickly, and it's not very long, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways. It's only meant to be a short sort of epilogue, anyways, and now the story is officially done! I might do a sequel, but for now this is it.

Cloak, wand, ring.

Cloak, wand, ring.

Harry had spent a year living quietly before he gave up.

His first letter to the Winchesters in a year he sent by owl, since he had no way of knowing where they were even though they probably wouldn't appreciate the method. He asked about the ring and they sent back a message asking why.

They also included a method for contact in person.

America was warmer than the last time he'd visited, especially considering it was now mid-July. He waited by the bus station-he didn't know how to drive and couldn't rent a car-and when a sleek black car drove by and Dean rolled down the window, he thought that he should have expected them to have something this flashy.

'The Bunker', which must have been the same one listed in the phone they'd given him years ago, was a slightly rundown place, mostly underground, which looked like it had come out of a 1950s era James Bond movie. Harry wondered why it looked so much older than the one they'd stayed in in Britain, but he didn't voice the question.

He couldn't explain why he needed the ring. Even if the Winchesters were the most likely people to actually believe him, it felt personal in a way that he couldn't explain-like some sort of sixth sense was telling him that it wasn't their business.

Sam and Dean reluctantly accepted the explanation. The three of them had ended up with a sort of mutual trust, even though they barely saw each other. The brothers had left England very quickly after the explanation of just how Voldemort had been defeated spread-luckily, the story never really left Britain. It would have been incredibly frustrating to have to duck wizards wanting to thank them all over the place. The last thing the Winchesters needed was another fan base.

The ring was deep in storage, and Harry nearly got lost in the maze of filing cabinets and shelves full of boxes before they got to a hidden door which, when opened, revealed a room full of talismans and curse boxes. The one the Winchesters pulled out was covered in runes and symbols and even chained shut, but a simple unlocking charm took care of that [they had forgotten to bring the key] and it was only then that Harry realized he'd brought the Elder Wand instead of his old one.

The ring was a simple one, a gold band holding a black, sharply cut stone in place. When he picked it up, Harry thought he saw the silver sign of the Deathly Hallows flashing at him from inside it.

Nothing happened when he held it. There was no reaction of magic, no strange wind, nothing at all. It was as if he'd picked up any ordinary ring. Death had put so much emphasis onto Harry having these three items, and even with the wand in one hand, the ring in the other, and the cloak in his bag no reaction of any sort had taken place.

It was only after he'd left the confused Winchesters behind that he realized something he'd forgotten about the story-there was no ring, it was the stone that was important.

He wasn't sure what happened next.

Hermione and Ron never got together. They both accepted that they were better off just friends, and Hermione still came round to the Weasley's every year for Christmas and other family events. Harry did too, and the three of them celebrated the fact that they were getting on with their lives and enjoying themselves, without any sort of catastrophe every year.

Hermione had stayed in contact with Viktor Krum this whole time, excluding last year, and they eventually got together. Ginny had dated Dean Thomas for three years and they showed no sign of stopping. Ron met a Muggleborn witch named Petra and fell in love.

Everyone seemed to be hooking up or getting married, and Harry felt like his friends were becoming something separate. Sure, they still met for outings and had fun together, but Ron brought Petra with him half the time and Hermione was making plans to stay with Viktor for a year, and Harry had visions of being on his own in Britain.

Luna had cornered him at a party once, some sort of gala celebrating the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. It was horribly stuffy and boring, and Harry was sure at least half of his old yearmates were going off somewhere later to get drunk.

"You could always come with me, you know," she said, sipping some sort of blue drink that Harry was sure she'd brought herself.

"I'm sorry?"

Luna grinned, and pulled down the robes over her shoulder to show him a tattoo of what looked like a pentagram inside a sun.

"Not dating, of course," she assured him. "I understand how you feel. And the Redglares have warned me about the gifts you got, so I won't mind."

Harry told her he'd think about it.

He'd turned the resurrection stone over and over in his hand millions of times, never quite with the intention to bring someone back, because even if so many had died in the Battle he didn't dare to pull them back here from whatever Heaven they were relaxing in, because every single one of them deserved the peace of the afterlife.

An accident occurred near his flat in Muggle London, and looking out at the scene a day later he say Luna there flashing a badge and wearing a neat black Muggle suit.

Harry took her up on her offer the next day, because the quiet life was more boring than he could have ever possibly imagined.

Three years later, he and Luna were official rogue members of the Men of Letters. They both laughed at the title 'rogue', because it really just meant that they were Hunters who were good enough at what they did to join the Men and it was worth the look on their faces during initiation when Luna kicked their asses. Every member of the Men who had devalued her at one point or another was set up against Luna during her initiation, and the other members laughed as she beat them all and set a new record for melee fights against that many opponents.

Harry took her out to dinner later that night, as a celebration for breaking the record. She smiled all night, and neither of them worried about Magical Britain or any other sort of thing because it was their one night off, and even in a busy life a quiet day or two is certainly welcome.

Huge amounts of energy at random places around the globe had been recorded, flaring and fading within seconds, and the Men of Letters were rushing around the bunker trying to find an answer to what it could be when Harry's phone rang.

He discreetly answered it among the chaos currently surrounding it, and when the person on the other end hung up after an abrupt message he laughed and flipped in closed.

"Oi, Jack!" He called up to the man who was in charge of the bunker. "No worries, the situation has been resolved! It's just the Winchesters."

Brian and Arthur laughed, and Jack just rolled his eyes. "What the hell have they done now?"

"They should really send out a warning for this sort of thing," Brian laughed. "What do you wager the international community is having fits? Oh, they'll hate the Winchesters after this."

"With their penchant for breaking rules, I'm surprised they don't already!"

As the years went on, it was easier and easier to realize the consequences of the hallows.

Harry, who was getting gladder and gladder that he'd waited to retrieve the ring, appeared to be permanently stuck at twenty-one.

When the Men of Letters first started to realize this, his friends in the bunker panicked a little bit, thinking he'd been cursed. Harry had to calm them down and reassure them that no, he wasn't cursed, yes he knew what caused it, yes he was human, no he wasn't telling them what it was and most definitely NOT sharing the method.

Luna had a funny little half-smile on her face the whole time, and Harry finally asked her about it right before they left for the day.

"I was just thinking," she said idly. "I'll miss you when we're all gone, although I suppose you'll miss us more. You'll have to promise not to use the stone on me, though."

Harry's mind had jolted to a stop with the implication that he would outlive his friends.

"We should go to Hermione's wedding," Luna continued. "She'd like to see us. We haven't been very good friends lately, I've forgotten to send my letters. How about you, Harry?"

Dumbledore had once told Harry that Death is but the next great adventure. To an eleven year old sitting in the hospital wing, it didn't mean much. Now, much, much, later, the phrase held a very heavy meaning.

"I suppose," Harry said to himself, "If Death is the next great adventure, then I'll have to content myself with making this one good." He stood up slowly. "I wish you all luck, though. The man is a bastard. If you see him, give him a good punch for me, alright?"

He turned and left slowly, leaving behind the flowers he'd brought for his friends.

The End.