It was a bleak day for early summer. Neither cold nor warm, neither rainy nor sunny, neither windy nor still. It just was what is was, white and grey and entirely insignificant. The small party standing in the middle of what was ordinarily a deserted meadow could not have been in a more average place. There was no grandeur about it, no excitement, not even the depressing, wild beauty of the hills around Hogwarts. This piece of land was flat except for the small elevation they were standing on. Their view extended across more long grass, some bushes and trees, a yellow rapeseed field in the distance.
Mrs Weasley hadn't been up to it, her husband explained in a hushed voice. "Not right after-" he broke off. They nodded, expressionless. Harry couldn't bear to think of Molly Weasley, because he couldn't recall anything about her other than the hug she had given him at Fred's funeral, sobbing into his robes. He hadn't been able to get a word out, not even condolences. Arthur Weasley, however, had shown up today. He looked weary, balding, damaged. Perhaps he, too, felt simply numb and exhausted now. He was fading.
And Harry's mind wandered once again. And he thought suddenly of the Weasleys' garden, and of how they had played two-a-side Quidditch there. You needed equally strong teams for it, otherwise it just wasn't fun. He wanted, childishly, to go back to that garden now. It was so easy to fade and go there, to pretend. Just being in that garden forever, playing Quidditch, would have been enough. Maybe if they had stayed there, no harm would have come to the Weasleys, or to any of them. It was very clear to him, suddenly, that they all should have stayed in that garden. Then there would still be a Mrs Weasley who baked cakes in the shape of snitches, who made them peel carrots or who made the twins' fake wands whack them around the head. George wouldn't be half of a whole then, with half his ears, half sentences, half himself. It all seemed like a marcabre joke, some kind of cruel trick of Fred's that George had been standing beside his grave, stone-faced, while Ginny grasped her brother's hand, tears streaming down her face for once. April Fool's!
"Harry!" Ginny approached them, wearing simple black dress robes – different ones, he noticed, from the ones she had been wearing two days ago. Another set she might not keep. "Thought you might be over here with the others."
"Hi."
They stood for a moment, looking at each other, until Hermione said "Oh, there's Kingsley. Let's go say hello, Ron." She grabbed his hand and pulled him away, his dad following.
Harry wondered whether Ginny expected him to take her hand, too. No one would care here, but he didn't feel like flaunting their relationship…or whatever this was. It didn't seem right, here and now, and it was all too much to figure out at this moment. They hadn't even talked properly yet. He had hardly spoken to her at Fred's funeral, not wanting to disturb the mourning family, who had asked him to sit with them to his great embarrassment. He hadn't wanted to intrude upon their grief, to sit there as a constant reminder of and reason for Fred's death. But he couldn't think about that now, about why Fred, Lupin, Tonks and so many others had died, or whether they might not have if things had gone a little differently. There was no such option. But Ginny was here, and alive, and looking at him with an unreadable expression. Her eyes were dry and although she was rather pale with shadows under her eyes, he couldn't help noticing how beautiful she was, in any situation, under any circumstances. It was confusing to stand so close to her now after months of not talking, after months of imagining her face, her voice, her scent. All the things he had wanted to say suddenly escaped him. These past few days had flown by in a haze. It was hard to remember sometimes he wasn't on the run anymore. Ginny was here. He could want her now.
"I didn't think you'd come" he muttered stupidly.
"Oh, didn't you?" she replied in a cutting tone you couldn't miss. "I happened to like them, too."
Like them? What? His confusion lifted quickly. Tonks and Lupin. "That's not what I meant" he replied, having an image of Tonks and Ginny sitting by the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, laughing. One more thing not to think about today. "I just…I mean…it's got to be difficult…" He could feel an uncomfortable heat rising up the back of his neck. His heartbeat seemed to echo the name…Fred, Fred, Fred.
"Oh. Right." Her expression softened, her lips quivering slightly.
"How are you?"
"Oh, you know…" she gave a non-committal shrug. "A hell of a week, isn't it? Mum wanted to come, but…" She broke off, averting her eyes.
"Hell of a week" Harry mumbled. He stepped closer to her, lightly brushing the outside of his fingers against hers.
She slipped her hand in his, squeezing it firmly. "Hard for you, too" she whispered. "I mean Lupin was the last…"
"Yeah." The last remaining link. He wished she hadn't said it. Their entire conversation seemed to be composed of half sentences, of thoughts half expressed then restrained because they couldn't be completed. It made him want to run off again.
"There are quite a few people here." It was a matter-of-fact statement, although her voice still sounded oddly thick to him.
"Yes." Harry looked around the open field. He wasn't sure why it surprised him. With Fred, it had been almost self-evident that half of Hogwarts would be there, loads of people around their age who had wanted to say goodbye to one of the most popular students in recent years, the extended Weasley family and so forth. Yet here, it was strange to remember that people outside the Order had known Lupin and Tonks. He remembered something Lupin had said to him about not really being a part of wizarding society, unacceptable to most, an outcast. Not even a wizard with full human rights under the most recent laws, which had been reversed immediately. But as he looked around, he couldn't help thinking that some of these people might have come for him, too.
The partly empty rows of white chairs on the grass were filled with the remaining Order members, dressed in dark dress robes, with both people he knew and didn't know. There was a group of witches and wizards in their 20s standing at the back of the rows of chairs, looking slightly uncertain as to where to sit. He imagined they had to be school friends of Tonks'. He had never realized Tonks had had friends her own age, too used to seeing her around the Order. They looked so young in comparison to her. It wasn't their appearance; it was something else. This wasn't a huge assembly, not like Dumbledore's funeral, but not small, either. Nearly all the teachers from Hogwarts were there, including, to his astonishment, Professor Trelawney, dressed in a ridiculous black array of shawls wrapped around her body and sitting with a rather somber expression, staring at her hands. Somehow, it seemed that the battle in all its terror had brought them all closer, forging an invisible bond between those who had fought side by side and lived. But Lupin would never see this new world order, never know that werewolves were not the thing on people's minds today. 'You were wrong'he thought.
"Look at Trelawney" Ginny whispered. He could feel her breath near his ear.
"I know. Nice headscarf." Harry was suddenly close to laughter, and he had no idea where it had come from. Thinking about Lupin one minute, Trelawney the next. It was all so unreal. He held his breath and gulped it back down, contorting his face in a grimace. It made him feel less perverse to see the same, mad glint in Ginny's eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching. What was wrong with them?
"Shall we go find a seat?" she asked after a moment, pulling him in the direction of the others.
"Yeah, okay." They walked over to the rows of delicate chairs, so neatly arranged to face something he did not dare to look at. It was an open congregation, no boundaries, no tent, nothing, just the clouded sky overhead. The grass they were standing on was covered in white sheets of a soft material, smooth and simple. A gust of wind messed up his hair again as they were walking, the sheets fluttering around the edges. It reminded him of Bill and Fleur's wedding. The only exception to the general appearance of simple elegance was the extra sturdy chair Hagrid was sitting in, right at the back, wearing his big ugly suit and desperately trying to look appropriate for the occasion, but already sobbing into a gigantic handkerchief. For a brief moment, Harry considered going over there, trying to say something, but he noticed that Professor McGonagall had already seated herself beside Hagrid, talking to him with one hand on his arm. He would speak to him later.
They walked through the rows of chairs, some filled, some empty. He saw Luna sitting with Neville and his grandmother, and they exchanged a nod and a smile. Luna's big, glassy eyes followed them, while Neville raised his hand in a sort of half-hearted wave. Harry returned it, remembering with a pang the way Lupin had singled Neville out on his first day of teaching, letting him tackle the boggart first. The bizarre image of Snape in a wig, the laughter that had finished him a million years ago.
A hundred dementors were floating towards him across the lake. He tried hard to swallow, but the thing that was stuck in his throat wouldn't leave. Grasping Sirius' arm to make sure they wouldn't take him. Happiness would come, it would. It was finished, he reminded himself, all over. He couldn't allow the dementor thought to form now, the idea that everyone was finished, too. 'Remember King's Cross.'
"…and the Order." Ginny finished.
"Huh?"
She squeezed his hand. "I was just saying Dad's sitting with Kingsley."
"Yeah." Without further discussion, they approached Ron and Hermione, who were seated one row in front of the now packed row of Order of the Phoenix members, only a short distance away from the thing he didn't like to look at. Hermione's eyes were already sparkling with moisture, and Ron had his arm around her.
"Hey." They sat down next to them, Harry between Ginny and Ron.
"More people than expected, isn't it?" asked Ron quietly. "What are all these guys doing here?" He jerked his head at the young adults at the back.
"I expect they wanted to come pay their respects." Hermione said, looking around. "But I don't really see anyone who belongs with Remus."
"I don't reckon he had too many friends. Not-" Ron broke off with a quick glance at Harry.
'Not live ones' Harry mentally added. "Not anymore."
"Well, that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve a proper...goodbye…" She took a gulp of air, tears streaming down her face now.
"The Order is here" Ginny remarked quietly, still clasping Harry's hand rather tightly.
"Yeah" Ron agreed quickly. "And I mean…us too, right? We're here."
Yes, they were. Harry's mind wandered to the task that lay ahead, the task he had been dreading for the past couple of days. He finally looked to where Lupin and Tonks lay, in clean clothes on plain white sheets. He could see some of the scars on his former teacher's face from where he was sitting, but no new ones had been added by the curse that had killed him. Both he and Tonks lay as he remembered them, fairly unharmed but clearly dead. Not sleeping, too pale to be sleeping – dead. Tonks' hair was a mousey, plain colour in death as if to match the general lack of vivaciousness she had once possessed. He studied their faces since this was, after all, the last time he would ever see them. They would be ingrained in his memory like this, paler than usual and with frighteningly blue fingernails.
He rehearsed the words in his mind, words he had prepared about courage, and what he had been given. How much it had meant. He was glad at this chance to say it out loud in front of all these people, to repay Lupin, in a sense, for what he had said about Harry on the radio. He just wished he could have told him to his face. He also dreaded it, afraid that he would forget, that his voice would fail or that people would start crying too much. He was glad that the things he had to say were very short, a couple of sentences only, and that Kingsley would be doing the main speech, with his soulful voice and calmness. There was something fitting about having the Minister for Magic do it. Harry only had to say a few sentences afterwards, that was all. It wasn't so daunting. "Expecto patronum, expecto patronum!" He wished his stag could stand guard.
Ginny nudged him, and he returned to the present to see Andromeda Tonks sitting down in the first row, just feet away from them, escorted by an older friend or family member, a baby's pram rolling of its own accord beside her. "Oh." He could only see her back, very erect in immaculate robes, and a head of thick, dark hair she had pinned back today. Her friend was leaning towards her, whispering something, but she didn't react. Instead, she put one hand on the pram and rocked it gently. Harry could feel his heart leaping up to his throat again. This was his godson. This was Tonks' mother, who had now buried her husband and was about to bury her only daughter, killed by her sister's hand. She had lost everything, but here was Teddy, a baby. Harry was supposed to be responsible for him even though he didn't even know him. He didn't know how to approach her or how to raise the subject, when to do it.
"Harry-" Hermione began gently, but he cut across her.
"I'll be right back." He got to his feet abruptly before he could change his mind, Ginny's hand slipping from his grasp. He walked to the end of the row and around to the front, feeling the eyes of his friends on his back. As he approached, the two women in the first row looked up.
"Harry." Mrs Tonks said it as if it were a statement, not a greeting. He was surprised at her appearance. She wasn't tearful, but her face was more lined than he remembered it, her cheeks sunken, which made her dark eyes stand out more. There was a hardened look in them. It made her look even more like Bellatrix, her sister, her daughter's murderer. It gave him the creeps. Her hair now had small streaks of grey at the front, which were partly falling out of the pins and down to her shoulders.
"Hello, Mrs Tonks" he said. Her friend eyed him critically, immediately gaping at his scar. He ignored her. "I'm very sorry for your loss." The words came out as if someone else were speaking them using his voice, contrived and insufficient. He was never able to say them in a natural way, no matter how many times he had spoken them over the past few days. They just didn't express what he really meant, how much he really meant it. "About your husband, too."
"Thank you." Her face softened a bit, her jaw relaxing. A bit less Bellatrix now.
There was an awkward pause. Harry remembered how worried she had been nearly a year ago when he had come to her house, and how he had been the cause of it. She blamed him for this; he just knew it. He subtly wiped his palms on his robes. The unknown friend gave Andromeda's arm a little squeeze, excusing herself for just a minute. It was only him and her left now, but Andromeda's eyes had drifted from Harry to where her daughter was lying, waxen and rigid. She shook her head. "Nymphadora liked you."
"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus!" A small rush of relief washed over him. He recognised her statement for what it was – a conciliatory gesture. "She was…great. Really brave. And funny, too." He felt like he should come up with more positive attributes to list, but his brain was as blank as her voice sounded hollow.
"Yes."
"I'm really sorry" he repeated sheepishly.
Her gaze left her daughter's body reluctantly and she nodded. Black pools zoned in on him. He could see traces of Sirius in her if he looked closely enough. A small mewl came from the pram, stopping as quickly as it had started. "Shh, I'm here." Andromeda began to rock it again. It was a gentle movement, but a hint of steel was still present in her way of going through the motions, something of a tigeress ready to pounce if anyone approached her cubs.
Harry took a careful step closer, peeking under the navy fabric bit. Inside lay a baby boy, covered in a blanket, his head only just visible. He seemed to be stirring in a semi-awake state, little legs moving under the blanket, but his eyes were closed.
He could sense Tonks' mother watching him intently as he stood there, uncertain how exactly you introduced yourself to a one-month-old infant. "Harry" Andromeda leaned forward, lowering her voice now and speaking with greater urgency than before. "I know my daughter and Remus named you godfather. They told me so. They said…"
"What did they say?"
She paused, exhaling slowly. "Well, they thought you were suitable."
He had a feeling that this wasn't quite what they had said, and that Andromeda disagreed with them, but didn't want to press the matter. He did not reply.
"I respect that" she continued quietly. "But in all honesty, you're a…well, a teenager. It isn't easy to bring up a child, you know, at any point in life, but-"
"I know" he interjected quickly. "I don't know anything about babies. I don't even know where I'll live yet. I can't…raise him." The word sounded absurd in his ears. It felt cowardly to say it, but it was the truth. The thought of having a baby on his hands full-time was more daunting than the idea of an eighth horcrux would have been.
Andromeda looked visibly relieved. He realised that she had to have been worried that he would try to take her grandson away from her, on top of everything else. Her eyes suddenly shone overly bright, her lips pressed tightly together.
"I want to help though" he added, to clarify that he didn't want to be as absent in Teddy's life as Sirius had been in his life for the first 13 years. He wanted her to hear him, to know that he was taking this seriously. He had been thinking it over, mulling over the situation. They were thoughts of loss and guilt, anger and unfairness, unpleasant memories and determination. And in spite of the uncertainty in his own life at the moment, one thing had been perfectly clear to him: Ted Lupin would not grow up like him, dumped on the doorstep of some so-called relatives who despised him, neglected at the best of times and bullied at the worst. He would be a kid long before Hogwarts. He would be allowed to ask questions. He would have people, a set of people, because if there was one thing Harry had learned it was how quickly people could simply disappear. But standing here, with a baby over in that pram, he didn't quite know how to make that happen.
"Of course" Andromeda replied. "We'll sort something out." He noticed again how tired and drawn she looked. Maybe she needed the help, too.
Teddy was stirring more vigorously inside the pram now, making small noises through his nose. Andromeda got up, bent forward and lifted him out with the faintest of smiles. She was shielding him with her long, billowing robes. "Yeah…you don't want to be here either, do you?" She said it in a quiet, high-pitched voice, and Harry wasn't entirely sure she knew that she had said it out loud at all. He felt a bit uncomfortable, as if he were watching something very intimate. She seemed to be communicating with the little boy without words, gazing down at him intently. He wasn't sure how she did it or what was going on. He couldn't help feeling a bit left out, disappointed in his first, distant encounter with his godson. He wondered if he should leave, as the last of the people who had been standing around had now taken their seats, waiting for the ceremony to start. The crowd was subdued, muttering in low voices if at all, a few people already dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs.
"Would you like to hold him, Harry?"
"Uh, sure. Yes." He wasn't so sure about it. Of course he would have to hold him sometime, but he didn't want to…break him or something. He looked so tiny, all head and fragile limbs.
"Make sure you support his head. He can't hold it up himself yet. Here, hold your arms like mine. That's it. Okay…careful there…" She laid him in his arms as if she were giving something extremely valuable away, tucking his blanket around him. "Keep your hand there. That's it. You're doing fine. There."
She pulled away slowly, still remaining close enough to touch. The little bundle in his arms felt heavier than expected, warm and mobile, but entirely quiet now. "Hi" he croaked. He gazed into the small face, the big blue eyes staring up at him expectantly. It was a curious thing. A fluff of blond hair, a snub nose, a mouth, and the smallest round ears. He tried to push the blanket away from Teddy's face a bit, and brushed his cheek with his little finger. As he did so, Teddy's head turned slightly to the side, his mouth opening and closing at the empty space. It was the most amazing thing. He carefully brushed against his other cheek, and the same thing happened again.
Then, something inside Harry happened, too. Somehow, seeing the tiny movement, the reaction to touch, was everything. A cascade of shivers ran down his back while something else rose inside him. It wasn't happiness exactly, but strong and beautiful, yet frightening in its intensity at the same time. And it was a strange thing, because it was as if Harry understood, more completely, what Dumbledore had meant by saying it was more powerful than anything else.
"I'm Harry. I'm your godfather."
Teddy stared up at him, his mouth still slightly open in an "O" shape. An irresistible smile tugged at Harry's lips to his own surprise. Teddy. Little Teddy Lupin, part of Lupin and Tonks. His godson. His parents' son, a part of his parents alive forever.
"He... "Andromeda gasped, and Harry glanced up to see that tears were rolling down her face now, all the way down to her neck. "…he looks like Dora, don't you think?"