The day I was born

The day I was born on was the day when, two years before my birth, a battle took place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Battle of Hogwarts.

I was born in those very school grounds; my mum and dad were attending a memorial service for those who died that day, on the second of May, 1998. My name means victory, symbolising what the Battle meant to most. The demise of the most feared dark wizard ever known. The end of the second Wizarding War. But not to me.

Despite what joy and celebrations my birthday holds, my thoughts are always drawn to the lost loved ones. My uncle is the most charming, funniest and silliest person I have ever known, and growing up, it's hard to believe that he was missing his other half. Will always be missing his other half. My other uncles, and aunt, and father will spend a quiet moment to think about Fred Weasly. They miss him too.

My granny cooks for about twenty people at a time, scolds her grown-up children for not finishing their tea, and spoils all us grandchildren rotten. She cries on my birthday, mourning for her child. The man I never knew.

But what hurts the most, what makes me hate the second of May most of all, is seeing the person you love try to mourn the two people who never got a chance to know. To hug, to kiss, to whisper goodnight, to show scribbled drawings, to clamber on their laps, to be with. Teddy Lupin's parents died on the second of May. He was a baby. He looks at the very few photographs he owns of them, memorising their faces, imprinting their smiles onto his brain, as if when you look away, they'll be gone, vanished from the picture frame forever.

When I turned sixteen, I found him in our hallway, gazing at their picture on the wall. I walked up quietly to stand beside him, close to him. There we stood, not moving, not speaking, until he murmered,

"Sometimes, when I'm not thinking about anything at all, someone says something about them, and I wonder, who are they? My parents. Who are you to talk about my parents as if I'm not in the room? Why not tell me about them? And why do you keep going on about it? It's like they're trying to force memories into me, things I don't remember. I don't have to remember. I can't."

I placed my hands on his arms and rested my chin on his shoulder. His hair was green that day.

"You're right," I said into his ear. "You don't have to remember. You could if you wanted, but why not just hold on to the good things you know about people, about what you already knew. You have…subconscious memories. Whispers of things, like smells and colours. Do you ever feel…connected?"

"Yes," he breathed.

"Don't worry about it, then." He turned to look at me. I peered around his shoulder to smile at him. The corners of his mouth pulled back a little bit. He looked very cute, very vulnerable and young. "Enjoy what you have already. It's now that counts."

I honestly wasn't expecting him to walk away, but I wasn't expecting him to kiss me either. But he did, and it was the best first kiss ever. Until Dominique found us.

I like to think that I'll be kissed by Teddy, every birthday from now on, as I have every birthday since the day I turned sixteen. He hasn't let me down yet. And I'll never let him down when he wants to talk about the people called Nymphadora and Remus.

Dieu ait leurs âmes.