An: So here we are... the end. Thank you all so much for sticking with me till the final close of this the last chapter.

.

.

The sky weeps, the wind howls and a strangled moan echoes from the lake.

Hogwarts is cold and dreary the light is gone.

Dramatics aside professor Lalonde's last day has come, she's served as the divination teacher since anyone one can remember, -and unlike Bins she's actually alive and doesn't bore them all to sleep.

She'd even known Albus Dumbledore and taught Harry Potter; the prevalent theory was that she was somehow related to the long deceased Nicholas Flamel of legend.

No one knew just how old she was, and didn't that raise all sorts of questions, especially given her obvious lack of blood drinking or fangs and her love of sun and apparent eternal youth. But today she was finally retiring.

No one was quite sure what had prompted it, one day she'd just promptly stood and announced that it was time for her to go.

Go where?

Her cryptic answer so full of barely hinted at mystery and softly concealed amusement as was her usual style had simply been: "Somewhere far away."

The ghosts were sad to see her go; though they accepted it as though she was one of their own simply moving on. The portraits had been sad to see her go –even the surly portrait of Headmaster Snape though he pretended he wasn't. Even the castle itself seemed sad to see her leave.

The students and staff were also sad to see her leave, hell most of wizarding Britain and a considerable chunk of the international population were sad to see her go.

In her long tenure her strange presence and the stranger happenings and visitors that surrounded her had become a fixture of Magical Britain and Hogwarts itself.

She'd taught half of the magical population of the isles at some point in one manner or another and the other half who hadn't had heard about her from those who had.

The goblins all but worshiped her and her quick wick and strangely accurate market predictions, wand makers and admirers vied for her favour and hair –the strange wands of her own crafting were particularly sort after and of considerable power and value and her hair strangely made for a powerful wand core, centaurs and thestrals alike venerated her and merpeople and phoenixes sand and wrote songs about her.

She was a legendary figure, some even said that she was the second coming of Merlin himself, or perhaps it was she from who he had learnt his Craft.

Rose Lalonde merely gave a smile in answer to such suggestions.

It was undoubtedly the end of an era.

.

.

.

An: To everyone who reviewed, favourited, followed, and read: Thank You. I could not ask for a better group of readers to have shared this experience with. I hope to see you all again in the future whenever I revisit Homestuck in fanfiction once again.