It is the 100th anniversary of the start of the First World War.
"They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe."
Harry stood with his godson, listening to the sermon. Although the words had long meant the deaths of those who had given their lives many years before fighting for England, both Harry and Teddy couldn't help but think of their parents.
James and Lily Potter had fought to the end. With straight backs and strength in their eyes they had faced death.
Sirius Black had fought to the end. He had protected his godson and lost his own life for him.
Remus and Nymphadora Lupin had fought to the end, fighting for a world in which their son could grow without fear. Fighting for Harry, with Harry.
They five had fallen as heroes had, had their memories treasured.
"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them."
Harry's hand curled intuitively as if he still now held the Resurrection Stone within his fist. He knew, as he had told Teddy, that his parents, and Teddy's parents, had remained young. Regained their youth. As Harry grew older, his parents remained as they had done in life, waiting for him to return to his own youth and join them at last.
It was true, the two orphans considered, 'at the going down of the sun and in the morning', there was not a day, had never been a day, when either had not thought of their parents.
"They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam."
Of course, they knew that to not be true. Their parents and Sirius were mingling with their laughing comrades, but only because they were together again in death after they had been separated in life.
Of course they sleep beyond England's foam, Harry thought bitterly. In every interaction they had had, it had been with spirits or reflections. They would be separated by a barrier until finally they died.
Teddy's face was sad as he listened to the words of the speaker, and Harry leant to whisper words of comfort in his ear.
"At least with our parents we can visit them, eh Ted?" Teddy nodded slowly, and Harry continued.
"Many of the boys who fought in the First World War never came home. They're buried out there somewhere." He paused, collecting his thoughts.
"Your other grandma was a muggle. It's possible some of your relatives are out there."
Teddy looked startled and turned his gaze inward as they listened to the speech. Ginny and their children had gone to the Burrow, but Harry had brought Teddy to Westminster Abbey.
As 10 o'clock struck, the few buildings they could see from the windows of within the cathedral went dark. The lights had gone out. The Abbey itself was bathed in the flickering glow of candlelight, and each other building was turning out it's lights in memory.
'The lamps are going out all over Europe; we shall not see them lit again in our life-time.'
As they sat in silence, they quietly thought of all they had lost, of all the country had lost.
"We will remember them."
How could they ever forget?