Disclaimer: I can barely write fanfiction well, much less a best-selling novel. Or seven! Don't own.

A/N: I literally just typed this up because it's the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. This takes place at the exact time I wrote it. Teddy is in his seventh year. This isn't supposed to be funny, and humor's all I'm good for, so sorry if it sucks.

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It was late. Really late. Teddy was the only one still awake in his dorm. He was sitting on the window sill, his forehead resting on the cold glass as he looked outside.

The weather was gloomy. The sky was grey, and raindrops were falling slowly, in a scattered way, as if the sky didn't have the will to commit to actual rain.

It reflected Teddy's feelings perfectly.

May 2nd…

To muggles, it was a normal day.

For him… well, not exactly.

It was the day his parents died.

He was barely a month old when the Battle of Hogwarts began. When his parents were killed.

Antonin Dolohov and Bellatrix Lestrange were the killers. One of them jailed, one dead.

For the Wizarding World, this was a day to honor the dead. All they had done. What they had fought for. Died for. But Teddy knew that half of them didn't really care much. Why should they, when the dead were just names in a textbook, or on a memorial of some sort, and not on their birth certificate?

They didn't understand. They just couldn't. No one understood.

Well, perhaps, one person.

Teddy hesitated briefly, wondering if it was too late, but his desire to talk to someone won out, and he hopped off the window sill and made his way to his four-poster bed. He got down on all fours and pulled his trunk out from under the bed. He flipped it open and rummaged through its contents, until he found what he was looking for. The shard of what used to be a mirror shone, despite the dimness of the room.

"Harry?" Teddy whispered tentatively. He saw a glint of startlingly bright green, before his godfather's full face appeared in the shard. Harry wore a small, comforting smile.

"Couldn't go to bed either, eh?" He asked. Teddy nodded.

"I was just… Thinking…" He murmured.

"About them?" Harry asked.

"I just wish I could-"

"See them? Talk to them? Remember them?" Harry must've learned Legilimency since Teddy last saw him, because he took the words right out of his mouth. Teddy slowly walked back to the window sill, stumbling once on his way, and heaved himself back onto it. He curled himself into a bit of a ball, and held the mirror in front of him. "Teddy… You're not mad at them, are you?" Harry asked him softly.

"For leaving me?" The question hung in the air as Teddy contemplated it. A few years ago, he had been mad. He had been angry for being abandoned. But now… He glanced around his dorm in the Hufflepuff Basement, with his roommates snoring softly behind closed curtains. He glanced at the cupboard where his broom resided, along with his Quidditch gear. He looked at his bed, at the pile of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes joke products near the pillow. He had a happy life, with friends, and family. Without wars, and constantly feeling the need to look over his shoulder, or prejudice. A world of peace and joy. That was what his parents wanted, wasn't it? This was what they died for. Teddy glanced back down at the mirror, where Harry watched him with a concerned expression. Teddy shook his head. "No. I wish it could've happened differently, but I'm not mad." He decided.

"I'm proud of you, Teddy." Harry told him. Teddy saw his bright eyes flicker upwards, glistening with what looked like tears. "They're proud of you too."

"You think so?"

"I know so."