For the strength of the pack is the wolf,

and the strength of the wolf is the pack.

-Rudyard Kipling, The Law of the Jungle

The Letter

Everyone, in our world, remembers the excitement and joy that comes on their eleventh birthday, when they receive a letter of great importance. My letter was no different from anyone else's. It was mailed in a thick yellowish envelope, addressed to me in brilliant green ink and sealed in purple wax bearing the Hogwarts Crest.

However, to me this letter meant more than acceptance into the greatest wizarding school of all time. It meant everything to me. My parents had once received these same letters. In the same thick yellow envelopes, with the same green ink and purple wax. They had both attended the school to which the letter invited me. They had lived there, studied there, slept there. My father had, for a short time, been a teacher there. Later, after I was born, they had fought a war there. They had died there.

This was what I thought of as I held the letter in front of me, staring at it for several moments. I felt slightly sick at the thought of opening it. I briefly entertained the idea of throwing it into the trash, but decided against it. Instead, I flung it onto the dining room table, running to my room and slamming the door shut behind me.

I lay on my bed, biting hard on my lip to keep myself from crying, my parents smiled at me from the large photograph of them that stood, propped up, on my bedside table. My father's face was warm and kind, and his arm wrapped around my mother's waist. My mother beamed. Her hair was short and bright pink. Grandma had told me that this was how she looked when she was happiest.

I watch their happy memories in the photograph for a moment. But I know that no matter how much I wish for them to be more than memories, they never will be. I find that there is a large lump in my throat.

How can I go to Hogwarts and know everyday I am there that it is the place where my parents died? If I don't go, maybe I will just forget, I can just pretend….

There's a knock at my door and I know that Grandma will be wondering why I haven't opened my Hogwarts letter.

"I don't want to talk to you Grandma." I yell, and wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt.

"I'm not your grandma, I'm your godfather." A voice calls from outside and the door is pushed open. I look up and see Harry step hesitantly into the room, shutting the door behind him. He holds up my letter.

"Didn't want to open it?" He asks.

I shake my head.

"You'll need to, it has a list of everything you'll need for first year classes…"

"I'm not going to Hogwarts." I tell him.

He doesn't look shocked, or even confused. He simply sighs and sits down on the bed beside me, holding the letter and looking down at it.

"It looks exactly like mine did." He muses, and it seems like he's talking more to himself than to me. He stares at it for a moment then says, "So, why aren't you going to Hogwarts, Teddy?" He asks this as if he were simply asking what kind of tea I would prefer.

"I don't want to be a wizard anymore."

"Ah… I see." He says quietly, turning the letter over in his hand to examine the seal that bears the school crest. "Why not?"

"Because-because…" I start, chocking back tears. "Because if my parent's weren't magic they wouldn't have died. They'd still be here!" I take a deep shuddering breath.

Harry looks up at me, "If your parent's weren't magic, then Lord Voldemort might still be alive, and he might still be killing people and tearing more families apart."

"It wouldn't have mattered if they'd been there or not, you still would have won the war." I say, and there are tears on my cheeks now.

Harry shakes his head. "I doubt it. You're dad taught me how to produce a Patronus charm. If he hadn't, I'd have been worse than dead long before I ever had a chance to fight Voldemort. Your parents helped rescue me at the ministry of magic when Lord Voldemort tricked us into going there. Without your parents, things might have turned out very differently in the war."

"But why did they have to die?" I ask, and I lean against Harry, he lets me cry on his shoulder and pats me gently on the back.

"They died because they loved you, they died to protect you, just like my parents did."

I look up into his kind green eyes. "I talked to your dad, just after he died." He continues.

"What do you mean?" I ask in confusion.

"He appeared to me, as a shadow, or a ghost, or a memory, whatever you'd like to call it, along with my parents and godfather." Harry explains. "I told him that I was sorry he had to die, so soon after he'd had you." He pauses and gives me a sad smile, "And he told me that he was sorry as well. Sorry that he wouldn't be there to see you grow up, that he wouldn't get the chance to know you. But that he hoped you'd understand that he died so that you could live in a better world."

I look at Harry and I realize that he understands. Both our parent's died and yet we both sit here, whole and healthy, because they loved us, because they died for us.

"I guess they'd want me to go to Hogwarts then?" I say after a minute, still sniffling slightly.

Harry smiles, "Of course they'd want you to go to Hogwarts Ted." He pats me on the head, and messes up my hair, which is brown with red streaks at the moment. Then he hands me the large yellow envelope.

I glance back at the smiling picture of my parents as I tear open the seal. This time I can't help smiling back.