Prologue.
Well, here it is: the first official installment of For Teddy that you've all been waiting for. Bella has also decided to include a theme song for each part with a link where you can go and download the song. So read, listen, tell all your friends - and enjoy. :)
Theme song: Kill All Your Friends
by My Chemical Romance
Prologue: May 16, 1998
Through a small window overlooking the kitchen sink, Harry could see, much to his dismay, the new and unbelievably real graves of Remus and Nymphadora Lupin. Even though seeing the graves so soon after the funeral was not pleasing, Harry had to admit that it was a very beautiful sight. He couldn’t imagine a more ideal spot for Remus and Tonks: They were buried next to Ted Tonks, beneath the young willow tree in Andromeda Tonks’ attractive garden, and surrounded by countless wildflowers. Like the Potters’ headstone and Dumbledore’s tomb, the Lupins’ headstone was made of white marble and engraved with a simple inscription:
Remus Lupin
Born 10 March 1960
Died 13 May 1998
Nymphadora Tonks Lupin
Born 20 June 1973
Died 13 May 1998
Each life must wend its way towards death and pain.
Though we died young, our story will remain.
Harry did not know who had chosen the epitaph - Andromeda, most likely - but he thought it was perfect. The words comforted him and helped diminish the sorrow that consumed all who attended the funeral earlier in the day. It had been raining, which Harry thought was appropriate - any other weather would have felt like an insult on such a sad occasion. Although most of the attendees grumbled about the rain, Teddy loved it; wonderfully oblivious, he laughed gleefully and changed his hair from deep purple to vivid turquoise the moment the rain started falling. His laughter, so bright and happy, made some of the mourners smile tearfully and others cry into neighboring shoulders. Harry didn’t cry, but he understood - he knew exactly what they were thinking: It simply was not fair that Teddy, who was barely two months old and already an orphan, would never know his parents. It wasn’t right.
As he washed his hands, Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley in the next room fawning over Teddy while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, among countless others, delighted in the ever-changing color of Teddy’s hair. Even though Remus and Tonks were dead, Harry wasn’t worried for their son. Too many people loved Teddy for him to ever feel alone, as Harry had during his childhood. In fact, so many people adored Teddy that it was very likely that he would be the most spoiled child in Britain before the age of two. Though, Harry thought as looked upon his parents’ graves, if any kid deserves to be spoiled, it’s Teddy.
“Harry?”
The deep, soothing voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt came from just outside the kitchen, and Harry, distracted from his thoughts, turned to face him. With a small smile, Harry said, “Hello, Kingsley - or isn’t it Minister now, officially?”
Perhaps on another day, Kingsley might have laughed, but today, he only smiled sadly. “Not to you, Harry,” Kingsley replied evenly as he strode across the petite kitchen. “Call me anything but Kingsley, and I just might put you in Azkaban, Harry Potter or not.” Harry conceded with a smile and nod of his head.
Kingsley joined Harry by the window, and together they looked at the graves of their friends. The white marble glowed in the distance, hazy and ethereal through the heavy rainfall. Harry suddenly thought that the small graveyard was uncomfortably close to the house, but he supposed the proximity would console Andromeda - and Teddy, once he was older - more than it would pain her. After a few moments of stillness, they heard Teddy shriek with laughter from the other room, and Kingsley shook his head and said softly, “They shouldn’t be dead.”
Harry felt a twinge of guilt run through his chest as he said thickly, “No, they shouldn’t.” Kingsley sighed heavily and ran a hand over his scalp, unexpectedly desolate. As his hand fell back to his side, Harry blurted out with sudden awareness, “No one told me, after everything that happened. I mean,” he said hastily as Kingsley furrowed his brow, “no one’s told me how they died.” Harry glanced out the window, and then looked back at Kingsley, who considered Harry steadily.
Without any hesitation or prelude, Kingsley said calmly, “Remus was dueling Dolohov when Tonks found him. He told her to go back - she refused, said she was an Auror and she wasn’t going to run away from a fight. I suppose Bellatrix Lestrange heard her, because she attacked Tonks from behind, with no warning, and Remus went back to his duel. Tonks held her off for a while, but in the end, Bellatrix got the better of her.” Kingsley’s voice wavered slightly, and he looked away from Harry and out the window. After a moment, he continued, his voice stronger than before and laced with suppressed wrath. “Bellatrix started cackling - she always got particularly joyous when she killed off one of her relatives, you know that - which distracted Remus, I think. He looked around, and Dolohov killed him almost at once - didn’t even give him a chance to see his wife’s body.”
Harry swallowed and said hoarsely, “Good.” Kingsley looked at him. Harry held his gaze and continued, “Remus didn’t know. It would’ve killed him to know that - that she died, too.”
Kingsley nodded once slowly. They stood in silence for a few moments, and then Kingsley said abruptly, “Actually, Harry, I need a word with you, you and Andromeda. About Remus and Tonks’ will.”
“Oh,” said Harry, slightly surprised. “All right.”
“It won’t take long, I promise you,” Kingsley said with a kind smile. “So, if you’ll just come with me.” Harry nodded, somewhat bemused, and they walked out of the kitchen together. The crowd had diminished greatly since his departure into the kitchen; now, only five Weasleys and Hermione remained in the living room, Andromeda and Teddy in their midst.
At the sight of the others, Harry felt something strangely hot rising in his throat; for the past four days, the Weasleys had worn only black as they mourned for Fred, and today was no different. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing behind a small sofa - Arthur looking painfully bewildered and Molly deathly pale, her dark veil bunched together tightly in her hands - with George in between them. Harry couldn’t bear to look at George for very long; without Fred by his side, he looked like a lost child, small and alone. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione sat together on the sofa, all of them smiling at Teddy, who was bouncing happily in Hermione’s lap with a new shade of vivid orange hair. Andromeda sat next to Hermione, gazing at Teddy with infinite depths of love and loss. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Teddy even knew his parents were gone. The black clothing served as a painful physical reminder of that fact to all of those old enough to understand it, but black clothing meant nothing to Teddy. He couldn’t know that they were gone. Perhaps he felt that something was missing, two loving faces that used to greet him every time he awoke but did not any longer. Harry supposed that Teddy was too young to keep remembering them. He had probably forgotten them already.
Upon Harry and Kingsley’s entrance into the living room, Teddy gurgled and waved vaguely in their direction, and Harry quickly smothered his morose thoughts; for now, the living needed his attention more than the dead.
“I think he looks rather good with orange hair, don’t you, Harry?” Hermione remarked with a fond smile. Andromeda beamed and ruffled Teddy’s tuft of hair, but the tear streaks on her face from the funeral were still visible and shining in the lamplight.
“Definitely,” said Harry.
“Andromeda, I wonder if I might have a word with you?” Kingsley interjected casually. Andromeda looked slightly puzzled by Kingsley’s request, but she must have found his deep, calming voice reassuring, for she nodded before kissing Teddy on the head once and standing.
“In the parlor, then?” Andromeda suggested as she indicated a door to the right of the kitchen. “It may be a bit crowded, the food baskets were overflowing in the kitchen so I had to start moving them in there -”
With a consenting wave of his hand, Kingsley followed Andromeda to the parlor. As Harry followed the both of them, he felt Ron, Hermione, and Ginny’s eyes watching him curiously, but he avoided their gazes; Kingsley obviously hadn’t mentioned the will to any of them, and Harry could always tell them later, when he himself knew what he was receiving. Harry couldn’t imagine what Remus and Tonks could have left him, anyway - perhaps some old photographs or an aged book of Remus’? Surely nothing could be as significant as the Snitch that concealed the Resurrection Stone Dumbledore had left him, for which Harry was extremely grateful; he could do without anything magically significant for a very long time. No, Harry decided, it could only be something sentimental, something that Remus wanted Harry to have and never had the chance of giving to him. But wouldn’t he have given everything of sentimental value to Teddy? Harry shook his head. It was impossible to guess - he would just have to find out.
They entered the dimly lit parlor one after the other, where innumerable food baskets and gifts from the funeral guests were tucked away in corners and spilling onto the floor. They picked their way carefully across the small room to a sofa and two chairs, and after moving several baskets, Harry sat down on the rather stiff sofa.
Andromeda and Kingsley settled into the neighboring chairs, and it was then that Andromeda realized that Harry was there as well, for she looked rather surprised. She said nothing, however, as Kingsley began speaking again in his deep, rich tones.
“I’d like to speak to both of you regarding Remus and Tonks’ will,” he said slowly. “The Ministry reviewed it just yesterday, but Remus had already confided its contents to me, simply as a precaution. Some of it, Andromeda, you already know, regarding their burial and the epitaph they requested -”
“It’s from Romeo and Juliet, did you know?” Andromeda interrupted. “They picked it out together. It was Dora’s favorite, Romeo and Juliet. That and Twelfth Night. She loved Shakespeare, they both did.” Andromeda looked very proud.
Kingsley smiled. “Well, the rest of the will is simple, so this should be quick.” He reached inside his pocket and drew out a scroll, unraveling it, but Harry felt as though Kingsley already knew what it said - perhaps for a while he had known.
“‘To Andromeda Alcyone Tonks, we leave all our possessions, including Nymphadora’s coveted 1967 Nimbus 1000, flown in the Quidditch World Cup of the same year.’”
“She never let anyone touch that broom,” Andromeda said quietly, and as Harry looked at her, he saw tears glistening in her pensive eyes. “She always said she’d take it with her to the grave. Her great-uncle Alphard gave it to her for her seventh birthday, you know,” she added, leaning towards Kingsley slightly. “It was her most prized possession. A real treasure.”
“I know,” he said reassuringly, with a faint smile on his lips. “She talked of it often. Bragged, really. ”
Andromeda nodded and withdrew back into the comfort of her armchair, looking both touched and melancholy. Harry shifted uncomfortably, feeling slightly intrusive; whatever Remus and Tonks were leaving him he felt would probably serve Andromeda better.
“‘We also bestow upon her the primary care of our son, Ted Remus Lupin, and ask that she raise him in our place.’” Kingsley looked up at this point, and judging from the note of finality in his voice, Harry guessed that Andromeda’s part of the will had concluded. She gave a sniff and nodded to no one in particular, her glistening eyes fastened on one of the larger food baskets in the corner. Then, in the silence, Kingsley turned his gaze on Harry.
“And this was written personally from Remus.” He glanced down at the parchment, but again Harry had the impression that Kingsley already knew what it said. “‘To Harry James Potter, I leave all of my photo albums. I particularly hope he will enjoy the picture of Sirius, his parents, and me on the day of his birth.’
“That’s all,” Kingsley said quietly. “Harry, from what Remus told me, he kept his photo albums in Tonks’ room.” He looked at Andromeda for confirmation, and she nodded, gave a heavy sigh and dabbed at her eyes with a black handkerchief. As Kingsley rolled up the parchment and stuck it back in his pocket, he continued, “Andromeda, we will notify you of any further findings upon -”
But Harry was no longer listening. Although he wondered why Remus had personalized his part of the will, he felt a strange sense of apprehension, completely the opposite of what he felt when he received the Snitch from Dumbledore. Where the Snitch had been mysterious, the photographs could only be painful. Harry didn’t know if he could stand looking at photographs of the people who had loved him and subsequently died for him, photographs of people when they were young, carefree, and ignorant of their short amount of time left in the world.
Not for the first time in the past few days, a profound sense of loss eclipsed any relief Harry felt at the end of the war. It was overwhelming - and suddenly Harry thought of Andromeda sitting across from him, and he felt guilty once more, and a little ashamed. She had lost everything in the war: her husband, her son-in-law, her daughter - all killed by Death Eaters, one of them by her own sister! Harry knew that he had suffered losses too, but at least he still the Weasleys and Hermione; Andromeda only had Teddy, and adorable though he was, he could never replace her family.
Soon enough, Kingsley finished talking with Andromeda and offered to walk her and Harry back to the living room, for which Harry was thankful. The food baskets - and his thoughts - were making him feel sick to his stomach.
Back in the living room, Harry walked in to see Teddy, propped up against the cushions of the sofa, chewing on Ron’s wand. Harry was about to say something when Mrs. Weasley shrieked with realization and made a grab for the wand, gingerly taking it from Teddy’s mouth. A moment later, she turned on her youngest son and thrust the wand back into his hands with an uncharacteristically angry face.
“How will you ever be a father with such a careless attitude?” Mrs. Weasley scolded fiercely; behind her, Hermione blushed a healthy shade of scarlet, and Ron’s ears turned bright red. Harry caught Ginny’s eye and grinned at her. However, before Mrs. Weasley could continue with her reprimands, Teddy let out a rattling wail, suddenly noticing that his new toy had disappeared. Andromeda rushed past Harry and Kingsley into the room, scooped up her grandson, and took a Muggle baby pacifier, a gift from one of her husband’s relatives, out of the pocket of her black robes, which Teddy accepted immediately. From the doorframe, Harry watched her bounce Teddy up and down on her hip as Teddy struggled to keep his tiny eyes open.
“He’s tired,” she said quietly, now patting him softly on his back. “He’s due for a nap now, I believe.”
“We’ll take our leave then, Andromeda,” said Mr. Weasley, standing from an armchair beside the fireplace. “We won’t intrude any longer.”
Mrs. Weasley hurried forward to thank Andromeda for her hospitality as George, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione followed suit. Then they all turned towards the hall, ready to Apparate back to the Burrow, where everyone was currently lodging.
But Harry hung back, struggling with an internal decision. Andromeda was still bouncing Teddy and shushing his muffled grunts and whines and Harry didn’t want to disturb her, but something was nagging at him, despite his best efforts to stop it -
“Are you coming, Harry?”
Ginny had detached herself from the Weasleys, who were rapidly disappearing into the hallway. Despite her simple funeral wear, Harry thought she looked beautiful in black, even though it was a melancholy sort of beauty. Her long, cascading red hair brightened her entire appearance in spite of the dark clothing, and for a moment she seemed to stand for everything that was still good in the world, everything that was still good for Harry, and his mood lifted a little.
“Not right now,” he said softly. “I need to ask Andromeda something. I’ll meet you back at the Burrow as soon as I can. Tell your Mum for me, will you?”
Ginny nodded and looked at him a little bemusedly for a heart-stopping moment before squeezing his arm and disappearing around the corner with a flash of red hair. He watched her go, feeling strangely alone without her, but he ignored the feeling and followed through with his decision.
“Andromeda?”
They were the only ones left in the living room now, which seemed considerably less empty as everyone, including Kingsley, had left. Teddy’s cries had finally died down, and Harry thought he heard a calm, quiet snoring coming from Andromeda’s shoulder.
“Oh, yes, Harry?” She turned around, looking slightly surprised that he was still there but not completely unfriendly. Even though she bore many resemblances to her two sisters, Harry could not imagine Bellatrix or Narcissa caring for a child as lovingly as Andromeda cared for Teddy, even though Narcissa had mothered a child herself (but, Harry thought with pity, he was nothing to be proud of. They turned out all right at the end, but she’s nothing to Andromeda).
“Er, I wondered if I could go up to Remus’s room and collect his photo albums. I won’t disturb Teddy, I promise,” he added quickly.
Andromeda considered him for a moment. Then she smiled faintly and said kindly, “Of course. His and Dora’s room is the second on the right. I’m not sure where his albums are, but he kept his things fairly orderly, so you shouldn’t have much of a problem.”
Harry nodded and with one last look at the snoozing infant on Andromeda’s shoulder, he turned and ascended the narrow, rickety stairs to the second level.
There were two small windows at the top of the stairs, which the rain rendered completely useless. The dark hall seemed smaller than it actually was because of the muted, gray light from the windows, and only after his eyes adjusted to the cold light could Harry tell which door led to Remus’ room. He approached the wooden door, still a little apprehensive, and he hesitated for a mere second before reaching out and turning the chilly pewter knob.
The room was as dark as the hall, again lit by the gray light of the rain through a single wide window; after much fumbling and groping, Harry found the light switch near the door and flicked it upwards, and moments later a bright lamp near the bed illuminated the room. His eyes swept the space, taking in the neatly-made bed by the window, the antique dresser against the right wall, various books organized on an adjacent bookshelf, and a large trunk pushed back into a dark, dusty corner. Harry assumed that this was the room Tonks had grown up in, as the walls were a faded shade of violent pink - arguably Tonks’ favorite color - but the room looked as if it had recently served the sole purpose of temporary lodging for the couple. There were no personal adornments, such as photo frames on the dresser or posters decorating the walls, anywhere; in fact, the only physical evidence that Tonks had ever inhabited this room, aside from the color of the walls, was a rather old but highly polished broom perched on a shelf above the bed, clearly the room’s focal point.
As Harry looked towards the trunk in the corner, he wondered if perhaps Remus’ photo albums were stored inside. On top of the trunk rested a small, battered, and vaguely familiar case. He crossed the wooden floor and knelt down to see the name “Professor R.J. Lupin” printed across one corner in ancient, peeling letters, and he recognized the case as the one Remus had used during his days as a Hogwarts professor. Harry smiled sadly; now, that seemed like a completely different lifetime.
He withdrew his wand from inside his robes, pointed it towards the rusty lock on the trunk, and whispered, “Alohomora.” But as he had anticipated, nothing happened; the trunk was locked with a stronger magic than Harry knew, which meant the photo albums were elsewhere. Clearly the case’s secrets were not for Harry to know.
Harry didn’t much want to linger in the room; for one, it seemed as if Remus and Tonks still lived in it, as their belongings, however sparse, were still scattered throughout the room (although Andromeda had been correct in saying Remus kept his own things quite tidy). The navy-colored and slightly ruffled bed sheets were tucked down under the mattress, looking as if someone had just recently made the bed. Had it been Remus, or Tonks? Either would have completed the chore for no purpose, Harry mused, for the trim, empty bed was now awaiting a man and woman destined never to return.
A creaking set of footsteps sounded outside in the hall and reminded Harry that time was indeed passing - in fact, a lot of it was passing, and quickly. He didn’t want to intrude on Andromeda any longer, especially as her grandson was just settling down for a well-deserved nap, but until he found the albums, he couldn’t make himself leave. He rather felt that by taking his time, he was snooping around in Remus and Tonks’ room, which he did not want to do in the least; he only wished to find his inherited photo albums, as Remus wished, and set off for the Burrow. Unfortunately, the task was obviously not as simple as Harry had anticipated.
He stood as a particularly loud clap of thunder exploded on the other side of the window, and he thought the heard a faint cry from Teddy, protesting against the escalating rainstorm. His eyes wandered toward the crowded bookshelf, and for a fraction of a second, he thought he saw something glimmer in the lamplight. Crossing the room again, Harry began to scan the titles of the books on the shelf; some had certainly belonged to Tonks, as the titles were all Quidditch-related, while others had surely been under the ownership of Remus. Harry saw Muggle tomes written by Shakespeare and other famous poets, as well as several classic novels; there were encyclopedias dedicated to the Dark Arts, which had probably served Remus during his teaching days, as well as many other informative-looking volumes. Finally, running his finger along the spines of the books, Harry came to the one that had attracted his attention across the room; it was thick and leather-bound, and the title on the side, in gold lettering, simply read, “Memories.”
The cover itself was devoid of writing, but, unlike some of the other books on the shelf, it was not dusty; perhaps, Harry thought, Remus had flipped through this one quite often. With a vague idea of what he would find, Harry opened the album to the first page, which was stiff and slightly brown with age. And there it was, a single black-and-white photograph in the center of the page, its primary position in the book suggesting it had been a favorite of Remus’.
Lily Potter was lying in a hospital bed, her red hair pulled back untidily, and judging from her surroundings, she appeared to be in St. Mungo’s. Remus stood on the left of her bed, his hand placed on her shoulder in a sort of brotherly fashion, wearing an amused countenance; an incredibly jittery James was on the right, his hair ruffled but his face alight with laughter; and there, sitting in a chair next to James, was a ridiculous-looking Sirius holding a baby wrapped in blankets with a small, visible tuft of black hair sticking out at one end. While Sirius was making gleefully absurd faces to the bundle in his arms, Lily was watching Sirius with blatant apprehension, apparently convinced that he would surely drop baby Harry at any moment, but she was still glowing with an unadulterated happiness. All of them were delighting in the birth of the newest Potter, and although Harry’s heart lurched a little at the sight of the four people he had loved the most and lost, the fact that Sirius and Remus - and not Peter; his conspicuous absence was rather shocking - were present for his birth made his mouth twitch into a small smile.
He spent the next ten minutes flipping quickly through the rest of the photo album - he could spend more time looking at it later - and then discovered three more albums stored on the lower shelves of Remus’ bookcase. The albums chronicled Remus’ life from his first days at Hogwarts up until what seemed to be the splitting of the Marauders, when James and Lily died and Sirius was sentenced to life in Azkaban. The last picture Harry found was another of everyone: James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius were sitting on the front steps of what must have been the house in Godric’s Hollow and this time, Lily held Harry protectively in her lap. Carved pumpkins were visible to the right of the frame and judging by the red and gold leaves of a large tree in the background, Harry assumed it was nearly Halloween; this was probably the last picture taken of James and Lily before their deaths.
At the sight of himself as a baby, Harry thought of Teddy. By now, Teddy was probably asleep, which meant Andromeda had most likely retreated back downstairs to attempt to organize the overflowing baskets of food. Harry decided he would thank her once more for her hospitality before Apparating back to the Burrow where he could pore over the photo albums at his leisure - and perhaps share them with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, if he felt like it.
Harry had placed the four thick, leather-bound photo albums on the empty bed as he finished with each; now, he picked up the first album once more and quickly flipped to the picture in the very front, which he had decided was his favorite. Lily was still watching Sirius, scared for her one and only child’s life, while James and Sirius were enjoying themselves and wholly disregarding her anxiety. But Harry now noticed something else, something he hadn’t taken in the first time he looked at the photo; below it, written in a neat, black script Harry recognized as Remus’, was the carefully-written caption:
“Speak in private: You are Teddy’s Sirius.”
It made no sense at all to Harry. He had expected the caption to somehow refer to the scene in the picture above, maybe even something clever and loving written by his mother, like the letter she had written to Sirius. But Teddy wasn’t even in the picture, and besides, it was taken well before his time. What did Remus mean?
“‘You are Teddy’s Sirius,’” Harry mumbled aloud, hoping the words would make more sense when spoken. Then, an unlikely, outlandish thought struck him; he glanced over his shoulder quickly to make sure the door was still shut and that he was indeed alone before looking back to the photograph.
“I am Teddy’s Sirius.”
To Harry’s immense surprise, the photographed Remus suddenly turned his head and looked directly out of the picture and up towards Harry as if he had heard him. Harry watched for a change in Lily, James, or Sirius, but none came; it was as if they had heard nothing, for they continued to watch over his small, baby counter-part, completely ignoring Remus.
And then Remus opened his mouth and spoke, his familiar voice loud and clear as if the real Remus were standing in the room next to Harry.
“Harry, if you are listening to this, then both Tonks and I are dead. I’m sorry to be so blunt and I wish I could explain more to you, but I’m afraid this spell, though terribly convenient, does not last very long. Listen carefully. There is a loose floorboard in Dora’s bedroom - it’s the fifth down from the bed and the sixth to the right, in the very center of the room. Lift it up and underneath you’ll find a bright pink scrapbook. Dora and I began it, but now that we are gone, we want you to finish it, Harry, in our stead. We want Teddy to know us, to know that we died fighting to make the world a better place for him and his generation - make sure he knows that. Watch him grow for us, Harry, and be with him, as Sirius should have been with you… for Teddy…”
Remus’ voice trailed off in the end and died as his face reassumed its amused look once more and he gazed off towards his friends and the baby. Harry waited, hoping he would speak again, but Remus did not; the photograph became as it was before, and Harry knew that his parents and Sirius would not speak to him, either. The photograph was completely silent.
Harry’s heart was racing. He did not stop to think much about what the photographed Remus had just said as he dropped the album onto the bed and stepped backwards across the floor, counting five floorboards down and then six over. When he spotted what he thought to be the correct floorboard, he knelt down, prodded it with his finger, and found that it was indeed loose. With an excitement he had not felt in days, he gripped the edges of the wooden floorboard and forced it upward; it came quite willingly, and seconds later Harry was looking down into a dark, dusty space, empty except for one item: a vivid, colorful book that wasn’t exactly hard to miss.
It was the size of one of his old textbooks, but unlike A History of Magic or Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, it was chock full of loose papers, bright pink, and emblazoned with hand-drawn stars. Only Tonks, Harry thought, smiling sadly. He wondered how old Tonks had been when she had first bought it - surely she had been in her teens - or if Remus had laughed when Tonks showed it to him.
Feeling incredibly guilty, Harry swallowed and, with unsteady hands, removed the scrapbook from its hiding place. As he wiped a thin film of dust off the cover, he read the inscription on the front - it said, in two very distinct, simple scripts: "For Teddy,” and then, “Just in case we snuff it. Love, Mum and Dad."
Theme song: Kill All Your Friends
by My Chemical Romance
Prologue: May 16, 1998
Through a small window overlooking the kitchen sink, Harry could see, much to his dismay, the new and unbelievably real graves of Remus and Nymphadora Lupin. Even though seeing the graves so soon after the funeral was not pleasing, Harry had to admit that it was a very beautiful sight. He couldn’t imagine a more ideal spot for Remus and Tonks: They were buried next to Ted Tonks, beneath the young willow tree in Andromeda Tonks’ attractive garden, and surrounded by countless wildflowers. Like the Potters’ headstone and Dumbledore’s tomb, the Lupins’ headstone was made of white marble and engraved with a simple inscription:
Remus Lupin
Born 10 March 1960
Died 13 May 1998
Nymphadora Tonks Lupin
Born 20 June 1973
Died 13 May 1998
Each life must wend its way towards death and pain.
Though we died young, our story will remain.
Harry did not know who had chosen the epitaph - Andromeda, most likely - but he thought it was perfect. The words comforted him and helped diminish the sorrow that consumed all who attended the funeral earlier in the day. It had been raining, which Harry thought was appropriate - any other weather would have felt like an insult on such a sad occasion. Although most of the attendees grumbled about the rain, Teddy loved it; wonderfully oblivious, he laughed gleefully and changed his hair from deep purple to vivid turquoise the moment the rain started falling. His laughter, so bright and happy, made some of the mourners smile tearfully and others cry into neighboring shoulders. Harry didn’t cry, but he understood - he knew exactly what they were thinking: It simply was not fair that Teddy, who was barely two months old and already an orphan, would never know his parents. It wasn’t right.
As he washed his hands, Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley in the next room fawning over Teddy while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, among countless others, delighted in the ever-changing color of Teddy’s hair. Even though Remus and Tonks were dead, Harry wasn’t worried for their son. Too many people loved Teddy for him to ever feel alone, as Harry had during his childhood. In fact, so many people adored Teddy that it was very likely that he would be the most spoiled child in Britain before the age of two. Though, Harry thought as looked upon his parents’ graves, if any kid deserves to be spoiled, it’s Teddy.
“Harry?”
The deep, soothing voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt came from just outside the kitchen, and Harry, distracted from his thoughts, turned to face him. With a small smile, Harry said, “Hello, Kingsley - or isn’t it Minister now, officially?”
Perhaps on another day, Kingsley might have laughed, but today, he only smiled sadly. “Not to you, Harry,” Kingsley replied evenly as he strode across the petite kitchen. “Call me anything but Kingsley, and I just might put you in Azkaban, Harry Potter or not.” Harry conceded with a smile and nod of his head.
Kingsley joined Harry by the window, and together they looked at the graves of their friends. The white marble glowed in the distance, hazy and ethereal through the heavy rainfall. Harry suddenly thought that the small graveyard was uncomfortably close to the house, but he supposed the proximity would console Andromeda - and Teddy, once he was older - more than it would pain her. After a few moments of stillness, they heard Teddy shriek with laughter from the other room, and Kingsley shook his head and said softly, “They shouldn’t be dead.”
Harry felt a twinge of guilt run through his chest as he said thickly, “No, they shouldn’t.” Kingsley sighed heavily and ran a hand over his scalp, unexpectedly desolate. As his hand fell back to his side, Harry blurted out with sudden awareness, “No one told me, after everything that happened. I mean,” he said hastily as Kingsley furrowed his brow, “no one’s told me how they died.” Harry glanced out the window, and then looked back at Kingsley, who considered Harry steadily.
Without any hesitation or prelude, Kingsley said calmly, “Remus was dueling Dolohov when Tonks found him. He told her to go back - she refused, said she was an Auror and she wasn’t going to run away from a fight. I suppose Bellatrix Lestrange heard her, because she attacked Tonks from behind, with no warning, and Remus went back to his duel. Tonks held her off for a while, but in the end, Bellatrix got the better of her.” Kingsley’s voice wavered slightly, and he looked away from Harry and out the window. After a moment, he continued, his voice stronger than before and laced with suppressed wrath. “Bellatrix started cackling - she always got particularly joyous when she killed off one of her relatives, you know that - which distracted Remus, I think. He looked around, and Dolohov killed him almost at once - didn’t even give him a chance to see his wife’s body.”
Harry swallowed and said hoarsely, “Good.” Kingsley looked at him. Harry held his gaze and continued, “Remus didn’t know. It would’ve killed him to know that - that she died, too.”
Kingsley nodded once slowly. They stood in silence for a few moments, and then Kingsley said abruptly, “Actually, Harry, I need a word with you, you and Andromeda. About Remus and Tonks’ will.”
“Oh,” said Harry, slightly surprised. “All right.”
“It won’t take long, I promise you,” Kingsley said with a kind smile. “So, if you’ll just come with me.” Harry nodded, somewhat bemused, and they walked out of the kitchen together. The crowd had diminished greatly since his departure into the kitchen; now, only five Weasleys and Hermione remained in the living room, Andromeda and Teddy in their midst.
At the sight of the others, Harry felt something strangely hot rising in his throat; for the past four days, the Weasleys had worn only black as they mourned for Fred, and today was no different. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing behind a small sofa - Arthur looking painfully bewildered and Molly deathly pale, her dark veil bunched together tightly in her hands - with George in between them. Harry couldn’t bear to look at George for very long; without Fred by his side, he looked like a lost child, small and alone. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione sat together on the sofa, all of them smiling at Teddy, who was bouncing happily in Hermione’s lap with a new shade of vivid orange hair. Andromeda sat next to Hermione, gazing at Teddy with infinite depths of love and loss. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Teddy even knew his parents were gone. The black clothing served as a painful physical reminder of that fact to all of those old enough to understand it, but black clothing meant nothing to Teddy. He couldn’t know that they were gone. Perhaps he felt that something was missing, two loving faces that used to greet him every time he awoke but did not any longer. Harry supposed that Teddy was too young to keep remembering them. He had probably forgotten them already.
Upon Harry and Kingsley’s entrance into the living room, Teddy gurgled and waved vaguely in their direction, and Harry quickly smothered his morose thoughts; for now, the living needed his attention more than the dead.
“I think he looks rather good with orange hair, don’t you, Harry?” Hermione remarked with a fond smile. Andromeda beamed and ruffled Teddy’s tuft of hair, but the tear streaks on her face from the funeral were still visible and shining in the lamplight.
“Definitely,” said Harry.
“Andromeda, I wonder if I might have a word with you?” Kingsley interjected casually. Andromeda looked slightly puzzled by Kingsley’s request, but she must have found his deep, calming voice reassuring, for she nodded before kissing Teddy on the head once and standing.
“In the parlor, then?” Andromeda suggested as she indicated a door to the right of the kitchen. “It may be a bit crowded, the food baskets were overflowing in the kitchen so I had to start moving them in there -”
With a consenting wave of his hand, Kingsley followed Andromeda to the parlor. As Harry followed the both of them, he felt Ron, Hermione, and Ginny’s eyes watching him curiously, but he avoided their gazes; Kingsley obviously hadn’t mentioned the will to any of them, and Harry could always tell them later, when he himself knew what he was receiving. Harry couldn’t imagine what Remus and Tonks could have left him, anyway - perhaps some old photographs or an aged book of Remus’? Surely nothing could be as significant as the Snitch that concealed the Resurrection Stone Dumbledore had left him, for which Harry was extremely grateful; he could do without anything magically significant for a very long time. No, Harry decided, it could only be something sentimental, something that Remus wanted Harry to have and never had the chance of giving to him. But wouldn’t he have given everything of sentimental value to Teddy? Harry shook his head. It was impossible to guess - he would just have to find out.
They entered the dimly lit parlor one after the other, where innumerable food baskets and gifts from the funeral guests were tucked away in corners and spilling onto the floor. They picked their way carefully across the small room to a sofa and two chairs, and after moving several baskets, Harry sat down on the rather stiff sofa.
Andromeda and Kingsley settled into the neighboring chairs, and it was then that Andromeda realized that Harry was there as well, for she looked rather surprised. She said nothing, however, as Kingsley began speaking again in his deep, rich tones.
“I’d like to speak to both of you regarding Remus and Tonks’ will,” he said slowly. “The Ministry reviewed it just yesterday, but Remus had already confided its contents to me, simply as a precaution. Some of it, Andromeda, you already know, regarding their burial and the epitaph they requested -”
“It’s from Romeo and Juliet, did you know?” Andromeda interrupted. “They picked it out together. It was Dora’s favorite, Romeo and Juliet. That and Twelfth Night. She loved Shakespeare, they both did.” Andromeda looked very proud.
Kingsley smiled. “Well, the rest of the will is simple, so this should be quick.” He reached inside his pocket and drew out a scroll, unraveling it, but Harry felt as though Kingsley already knew what it said - perhaps for a while he had known.
“‘To Andromeda Alcyone Tonks, we leave all our possessions, including Nymphadora’s coveted 1967 Nimbus 1000, flown in the Quidditch World Cup of the same year.’”
“She never let anyone touch that broom,” Andromeda said quietly, and as Harry looked at her, he saw tears glistening in her pensive eyes. “She always said she’d take it with her to the grave. Her great-uncle Alphard gave it to her for her seventh birthday, you know,” she added, leaning towards Kingsley slightly. “It was her most prized possession. A real treasure.”
“I know,” he said reassuringly, with a faint smile on his lips. “She talked of it often. Bragged, really. ”
Andromeda nodded and withdrew back into the comfort of her armchair, looking both touched and melancholy. Harry shifted uncomfortably, feeling slightly intrusive; whatever Remus and Tonks were leaving him he felt would probably serve Andromeda better.
“‘We also bestow upon her the primary care of our son, Ted Remus Lupin, and ask that she raise him in our place.’” Kingsley looked up at this point, and judging from the note of finality in his voice, Harry guessed that Andromeda’s part of the will had concluded. She gave a sniff and nodded to no one in particular, her glistening eyes fastened on one of the larger food baskets in the corner. Then, in the silence, Kingsley turned his gaze on Harry.
“And this was written personally from Remus.” He glanced down at the parchment, but again Harry had the impression that Kingsley already knew what it said. “‘To Harry James Potter, I leave all of my photo albums. I particularly hope he will enjoy the picture of Sirius, his parents, and me on the day of his birth.’
“That’s all,” Kingsley said quietly. “Harry, from what Remus told me, he kept his photo albums in Tonks’ room.” He looked at Andromeda for confirmation, and she nodded, gave a heavy sigh and dabbed at her eyes with a black handkerchief. As Kingsley rolled up the parchment and stuck it back in his pocket, he continued, “Andromeda, we will notify you of any further findings upon -”
But Harry was no longer listening. Although he wondered why Remus had personalized his part of the will, he felt a strange sense of apprehension, completely the opposite of what he felt when he received the Snitch from Dumbledore. Where the Snitch had been mysterious, the photographs could only be painful. Harry didn’t know if he could stand looking at photographs of the people who had loved him and subsequently died for him, photographs of people when they were young, carefree, and ignorant of their short amount of time left in the world.
Not for the first time in the past few days, a profound sense of loss eclipsed any relief Harry felt at the end of the war. It was overwhelming - and suddenly Harry thought of Andromeda sitting across from him, and he felt guilty once more, and a little ashamed. She had lost everything in the war: her husband, her son-in-law, her daughter - all killed by Death Eaters, one of them by her own sister! Harry knew that he had suffered losses too, but at least he still the Weasleys and Hermione; Andromeda only had Teddy, and adorable though he was, he could never replace her family.
Soon enough, Kingsley finished talking with Andromeda and offered to walk her and Harry back to the living room, for which Harry was thankful. The food baskets - and his thoughts - were making him feel sick to his stomach.
Back in the living room, Harry walked in to see Teddy, propped up against the cushions of the sofa, chewing on Ron’s wand. Harry was about to say something when Mrs. Weasley shrieked with realization and made a grab for the wand, gingerly taking it from Teddy’s mouth. A moment later, she turned on her youngest son and thrust the wand back into his hands with an uncharacteristically angry face.
“How will you ever be a father with such a careless attitude?” Mrs. Weasley scolded fiercely; behind her, Hermione blushed a healthy shade of scarlet, and Ron’s ears turned bright red. Harry caught Ginny’s eye and grinned at her. However, before Mrs. Weasley could continue with her reprimands, Teddy let out a rattling wail, suddenly noticing that his new toy had disappeared. Andromeda rushed past Harry and Kingsley into the room, scooped up her grandson, and took a Muggle baby pacifier, a gift from one of her husband’s relatives, out of the pocket of her black robes, which Teddy accepted immediately. From the doorframe, Harry watched her bounce Teddy up and down on her hip as Teddy struggled to keep his tiny eyes open.
“He’s tired,” she said quietly, now patting him softly on his back. “He’s due for a nap now, I believe.”
“We’ll take our leave then, Andromeda,” said Mr. Weasley, standing from an armchair beside the fireplace. “We won’t intrude any longer.”
Mrs. Weasley hurried forward to thank Andromeda for her hospitality as George, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione followed suit. Then they all turned towards the hall, ready to Apparate back to the Burrow, where everyone was currently lodging.
But Harry hung back, struggling with an internal decision. Andromeda was still bouncing Teddy and shushing his muffled grunts and whines and Harry didn’t want to disturb her, but something was nagging at him, despite his best efforts to stop it -
“Are you coming, Harry?”
Ginny had detached herself from the Weasleys, who were rapidly disappearing into the hallway. Despite her simple funeral wear, Harry thought she looked beautiful in black, even though it was a melancholy sort of beauty. Her long, cascading red hair brightened her entire appearance in spite of the dark clothing, and for a moment she seemed to stand for everything that was still good in the world, everything that was still good for Harry, and his mood lifted a little.
“Not right now,” he said softly. “I need to ask Andromeda something. I’ll meet you back at the Burrow as soon as I can. Tell your Mum for me, will you?”
Ginny nodded and looked at him a little bemusedly for a heart-stopping moment before squeezing his arm and disappearing around the corner with a flash of red hair. He watched her go, feeling strangely alone without her, but he ignored the feeling and followed through with his decision.
“Andromeda?”
They were the only ones left in the living room now, which seemed considerably less empty as everyone, including Kingsley, had left. Teddy’s cries had finally died down, and Harry thought he heard a calm, quiet snoring coming from Andromeda’s shoulder.
“Oh, yes, Harry?” She turned around, looking slightly surprised that he was still there but not completely unfriendly. Even though she bore many resemblances to her two sisters, Harry could not imagine Bellatrix or Narcissa caring for a child as lovingly as Andromeda cared for Teddy, even though Narcissa had mothered a child herself (but, Harry thought with pity, he was nothing to be proud of. They turned out all right at the end, but she’s nothing to Andromeda).
“Er, I wondered if I could go up to Remus’s room and collect his photo albums. I won’t disturb Teddy, I promise,” he added quickly.
Andromeda considered him for a moment. Then she smiled faintly and said kindly, “Of course. His and Dora’s room is the second on the right. I’m not sure where his albums are, but he kept his things fairly orderly, so you shouldn’t have much of a problem.”
Harry nodded and with one last look at the snoozing infant on Andromeda’s shoulder, he turned and ascended the narrow, rickety stairs to the second level.
There were two small windows at the top of the stairs, which the rain rendered completely useless. The dark hall seemed smaller than it actually was because of the muted, gray light from the windows, and only after his eyes adjusted to the cold light could Harry tell which door led to Remus’ room. He approached the wooden door, still a little apprehensive, and he hesitated for a mere second before reaching out and turning the chilly pewter knob.
The room was as dark as the hall, again lit by the gray light of the rain through a single wide window; after much fumbling and groping, Harry found the light switch near the door and flicked it upwards, and moments later a bright lamp near the bed illuminated the room. His eyes swept the space, taking in the neatly-made bed by the window, the antique dresser against the right wall, various books organized on an adjacent bookshelf, and a large trunk pushed back into a dark, dusty corner. Harry assumed that this was the room Tonks had grown up in, as the walls were a faded shade of violent pink - arguably Tonks’ favorite color - but the room looked as if it had recently served the sole purpose of temporary lodging for the couple. There were no personal adornments, such as photo frames on the dresser or posters decorating the walls, anywhere; in fact, the only physical evidence that Tonks had ever inhabited this room, aside from the color of the walls, was a rather old but highly polished broom perched on a shelf above the bed, clearly the room’s focal point.
As Harry looked towards the trunk in the corner, he wondered if perhaps Remus’ photo albums were stored inside. On top of the trunk rested a small, battered, and vaguely familiar case. He crossed the wooden floor and knelt down to see the name “Professor R.J. Lupin” printed across one corner in ancient, peeling letters, and he recognized the case as the one Remus had used during his days as a Hogwarts professor. Harry smiled sadly; now, that seemed like a completely different lifetime.
He withdrew his wand from inside his robes, pointed it towards the rusty lock on the trunk, and whispered, “Alohomora.” But as he had anticipated, nothing happened; the trunk was locked with a stronger magic than Harry knew, which meant the photo albums were elsewhere. Clearly the case’s secrets were not for Harry to know.
Harry didn’t much want to linger in the room; for one, it seemed as if Remus and Tonks still lived in it, as their belongings, however sparse, were still scattered throughout the room (although Andromeda had been correct in saying Remus kept his own things quite tidy). The navy-colored and slightly ruffled bed sheets were tucked down under the mattress, looking as if someone had just recently made the bed. Had it been Remus, or Tonks? Either would have completed the chore for no purpose, Harry mused, for the trim, empty bed was now awaiting a man and woman destined never to return.
A creaking set of footsteps sounded outside in the hall and reminded Harry that time was indeed passing - in fact, a lot of it was passing, and quickly. He didn’t want to intrude on Andromeda any longer, especially as her grandson was just settling down for a well-deserved nap, but until he found the albums, he couldn’t make himself leave. He rather felt that by taking his time, he was snooping around in Remus and Tonks’ room, which he did not want to do in the least; he only wished to find his inherited photo albums, as Remus wished, and set off for the Burrow. Unfortunately, the task was obviously not as simple as Harry had anticipated.
He stood as a particularly loud clap of thunder exploded on the other side of the window, and he thought the heard a faint cry from Teddy, protesting against the escalating rainstorm. His eyes wandered toward the crowded bookshelf, and for a fraction of a second, he thought he saw something glimmer in the lamplight. Crossing the room again, Harry began to scan the titles of the books on the shelf; some had certainly belonged to Tonks, as the titles were all Quidditch-related, while others had surely been under the ownership of Remus. Harry saw Muggle tomes written by Shakespeare and other famous poets, as well as several classic novels; there were encyclopedias dedicated to the Dark Arts, which had probably served Remus during his teaching days, as well as many other informative-looking volumes. Finally, running his finger along the spines of the books, Harry came to the one that had attracted his attention across the room; it was thick and leather-bound, and the title on the side, in gold lettering, simply read, “Memories.”
The cover itself was devoid of writing, but, unlike some of the other books on the shelf, it was not dusty; perhaps, Harry thought, Remus had flipped through this one quite often. With a vague idea of what he would find, Harry opened the album to the first page, which was stiff and slightly brown with age. And there it was, a single black-and-white photograph in the center of the page, its primary position in the book suggesting it had been a favorite of Remus’.
Lily Potter was lying in a hospital bed, her red hair pulled back untidily, and judging from her surroundings, she appeared to be in St. Mungo’s. Remus stood on the left of her bed, his hand placed on her shoulder in a sort of brotherly fashion, wearing an amused countenance; an incredibly jittery James was on the right, his hair ruffled but his face alight with laughter; and there, sitting in a chair next to James, was a ridiculous-looking Sirius holding a baby wrapped in blankets with a small, visible tuft of black hair sticking out at one end. While Sirius was making gleefully absurd faces to the bundle in his arms, Lily was watching Sirius with blatant apprehension, apparently convinced that he would surely drop baby Harry at any moment, but she was still glowing with an unadulterated happiness. All of them were delighting in the birth of the newest Potter, and although Harry’s heart lurched a little at the sight of the four people he had loved the most and lost, the fact that Sirius and Remus - and not Peter; his conspicuous absence was rather shocking - were present for his birth made his mouth twitch into a small smile.
He spent the next ten minutes flipping quickly through the rest of the photo album - he could spend more time looking at it later - and then discovered three more albums stored on the lower shelves of Remus’ bookcase. The albums chronicled Remus’ life from his first days at Hogwarts up until what seemed to be the splitting of the Marauders, when James and Lily died and Sirius was sentenced to life in Azkaban. The last picture Harry found was another of everyone: James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius were sitting on the front steps of what must have been the house in Godric’s Hollow and this time, Lily held Harry protectively in her lap. Carved pumpkins were visible to the right of the frame and judging by the red and gold leaves of a large tree in the background, Harry assumed it was nearly Halloween; this was probably the last picture taken of James and Lily before their deaths.
At the sight of himself as a baby, Harry thought of Teddy. By now, Teddy was probably asleep, which meant Andromeda had most likely retreated back downstairs to attempt to organize the overflowing baskets of food. Harry decided he would thank her once more for her hospitality before Apparating back to the Burrow where he could pore over the photo albums at his leisure - and perhaps share them with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, if he felt like it.
Harry had placed the four thick, leather-bound photo albums on the empty bed as he finished with each; now, he picked up the first album once more and quickly flipped to the picture in the very front, which he had decided was his favorite. Lily was still watching Sirius, scared for her one and only child’s life, while James and Sirius were enjoying themselves and wholly disregarding her anxiety. But Harry now noticed something else, something he hadn’t taken in the first time he looked at the photo; below it, written in a neat, black script Harry recognized as Remus’, was the carefully-written caption:
“Speak in private: You are Teddy’s Sirius.”
It made no sense at all to Harry. He had expected the caption to somehow refer to the scene in the picture above, maybe even something clever and loving written by his mother, like the letter she had written to Sirius. But Teddy wasn’t even in the picture, and besides, it was taken well before his time. What did Remus mean?
“‘You are Teddy’s Sirius,’” Harry mumbled aloud, hoping the words would make more sense when spoken. Then, an unlikely, outlandish thought struck him; he glanced over his shoulder quickly to make sure the door was still shut and that he was indeed alone before looking back to the photograph.
“I am Teddy’s Sirius.”
To Harry’s immense surprise, the photographed Remus suddenly turned his head and looked directly out of the picture and up towards Harry as if he had heard him. Harry watched for a change in Lily, James, or Sirius, but none came; it was as if they had heard nothing, for they continued to watch over his small, baby counter-part, completely ignoring Remus.
And then Remus opened his mouth and spoke, his familiar voice loud and clear as if the real Remus were standing in the room next to Harry.
“Harry, if you are listening to this, then both Tonks and I are dead. I’m sorry to be so blunt and I wish I could explain more to you, but I’m afraid this spell, though terribly convenient, does not last very long. Listen carefully. There is a loose floorboard in Dora’s bedroom - it’s the fifth down from the bed and the sixth to the right, in the very center of the room. Lift it up and underneath you’ll find a bright pink scrapbook. Dora and I began it, but now that we are gone, we want you to finish it, Harry, in our stead. We want Teddy to know us, to know that we died fighting to make the world a better place for him and his generation - make sure he knows that. Watch him grow for us, Harry, and be with him, as Sirius should have been with you… for Teddy…”
Remus’ voice trailed off in the end and died as his face reassumed its amused look once more and he gazed off towards his friends and the baby. Harry waited, hoping he would speak again, but Remus did not; the photograph became as it was before, and Harry knew that his parents and Sirius would not speak to him, either. The photograph was completely silent.
Harry’s heart was racing. He did not stop to think much about what the photographed Remus had just said as he dropped the album onto the bed and stepped backwards across the floor, counting five floorboards down and then six over. When he spotted what he thought to be the correct floorboard, he knelt down, prodded it with his finger, and found that it was indeed loose. With an excitement he had not felt in days, he gripped the edges of the wooden floorboard and forced it upward; it came quite willingly, and seconds later Harry was looking down into a dark, dusty space, empty except for one item: a vivid, colorful book that wasn’t exactly hard to miss.
It was the size of one of his old textbooks, but unlike A History of Magic or Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, it was chock full of loose papers, bright pink, and emblazoned with hand-drawn stars. Only Tonks, Harry thought, smiling sadly. He wondered how old Tonks had been when she had first bought it - surely she had been in her teens - or if Remus had laughed when Tonks showed it to him.
Feeling incredibly guilty, Harry swallowed and, with unsteady hands, removed the scrapbook from its hiding place. As he wiped a thin film of dust off the cover, he read the inscription on the front - it said, in two very distinct, simple scripts: "For Teddy,” and then, “Just in case we snuff it. Love, Mum and Dad."