~o0O0o~

I was not alone. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Charons on the river. Some nights – and it was always night – the soft swishing of oars in the water created a rush of sound… others, it was a gentle rhythm lulling the rest of us to sleep. I was only called when the passenger was one I knew… someone whose life had touched mine.

The task of the Charon is to ease the soul’s transition. No one should pass through the veil alone, uncomforted.

Sometimes I wondered about Black’s journey. Sometimes I even felt sorry for him. Only sometimes, though.

~o0O0o~

When Lucius Malfoy stepped into my boat, I debated whether to reveal myself. The soul who faced me was surprisingly older than I remembered. The Lucius I had known would have chosen to appear at the peak of his youthful beauty and power. Why did he value this distinguished, yet slightly worn, aspect?

Who had he become?

When I spoke, he smiled broadly. It was the first time I was greeted with pleasure, rather than mere respect. He told me of Draco’s marriage and family… of the joys of being a grandparent.

For the first time, I envied the living.

~o0O0o~

Many followed. Minerva, Narcissa, then awhile later, Arthur and Molly Weasley, divided by only a few souls – a short time. Each greeted me kindly. Each stepped out of my boat with the wish that they would see me soon, on the other shore.

I believed them to be sincere.

The next generation trickled in. I learned of the two whose transitions would end my duty. Draco had earned the respect of many in the financial world… he had become a man of character. Harry Potter was Head Auror. He remained undefeated.

I couldn’t recall why that had once been important.

~o0O0o~

Finally, Draco Malfoy joined me on the river. A prosperous man, I would not have recognised him were it not for his resemblance to his father. He was civil and kind… as to a long-forgotten acquaintance. I was pleased that life had filled the space of time so well.

Many souls later, a small man with black hair, green eyes, and a faded scar greeted me joyfully. He was joining his wife and his friends, he told me, as well as many who had gone before I took up the oars.

His work was complete.

And so, nearly, was mine.

~o0O0o~

With each new passenger, I checked my pockets for a coin. With the third – a woman who had been a firstie when I was headmaster and who checked behind her with every dip of the oars – a coin appeared in my hand.

I explained, and when we reached the other side, she took my seat and turned back to the river. I stretched, left the boat, and began to climb the bank.

Hands extended to assist me. One strong and masculine, the other fair and slender. I looked up into two identical pairs of welcoming green eyes.

“Sir…”

“Severus…”

Home.