Teddy was by himself in the common room. Several of his female housemates had tried to engage him in conversation, but he just wasn't up for it. He passed it off as needing to catch up on his work after his bout with the "flu", which satisfied them. The truth was, though, he was just too tired to keep up a pretense around them at the moment.
He stared morosely at his Gran's letter before letting it flit into the fireplace, where it evaporated in a puff of smoke. It had detailed her plans for spiriting him away for Easter break, even though he was supposed to be with Uncle Harry, again. Which just meant that Uncle Harry was going to be seriously angry. Again. But his attacks had been getting worse, not better, and he just couldn't risk having one while sharing a room with James. What if that shackle he'd gotten so good at conjuring failed?
With a wince, he rubbed his raw wrist gingerly. Man, it hurt. The full moon on the sixteenth had been bad this time, and he'd gone frantic within his sleep, apparently trying to get away. He was lucky his wrist wasn't broken.
When he'd written that to Andromeda, she'd been really worried, and quite insistent that they leave for Rumania over Easter, where she'd found some healer that might be able to help him out. But they couldn't tell anyone. Teddy knew full well what would happen if it got out in the school that he had signs of Lycanthropy. Hell, he knew what he went through just being the son of a werewolf, the prejudice he had to fight against. If this got out...his life was as good as over.
He reached listlessly over to stoke the fire a bit, still feeling 'off' from his magically-induced illness. A voice spoke calmly to him.
"Mr. Lupin." Professor Morgainne's voice was firm but not angry. She grasped his outstretched arm just below the elbow and held it up for examination. "What has happened to your wrist?"
Damn! Teddy thought. He'd never heard her come in. He thought furiously. "Was trying to spell my watch to be fancier." He lied quickly. "Backfired."
"I should say so." She gave him a curious look; he wasn't sure if she believed him or not. "Come."
He followed her into her offices, and sat where she told him to; she took a poultice out and wrapped it around his raw, blistered skin. "This should help. Funny...you're normally quite good at transfiguration. Very careless of you to let a spell slip like that."
Teddy blushed and looked away. "Just screwed up, is all."
"Mmm." Professor Morgainne said nothing else, though she watched him carefully. "I am your head of house, Mr. Lupin. You know you can come to me if somebody is threatening you. Or hurting you. I am here to help you."
He sighed, and forced himself to look her in the eye. "I've hurt myself, Professor. Nobody else has hurt me." It was the complete truth, and he was therefore quite confident in being believed.
And she did believe him, he could see that, though it surprised her. "Then I hope it does not happen again, Mr. Lupin. However, if it does...if you find yourself with a backfiring spell once more, please do come to me." She kept looking at him for a few more minutes, waiting for him to speak, and when he didn't she nodded at him in dismissal, and he walked away.
He found himself back up in the now quiet dorm room, and he pulled his curtains around him, spelling them once more to keep the sound of any dreams he might have away from his mates. He was over six feet tall, and looked every bit a man, but at the moment Teddy felt like a terrified five year old, just wanting to curl up in somebody's lap and have a good cry. And the somebody he wanted was his Uncle Harry, like when he'd been on the playground and some older kids had pushed him off a swing, calling him names for who his father had been.
He hugged that memory to himself, to a time when Uncle Harry had been the biggest, strongest, most important person in the world, and the one person he knew would never push him away. But that was a time before Teddy became what he was now, before he would pose a danger to James, Albus and Lily. And even if Uncle Harry wouldn't push him away, he loved his god-siblings too much to risk their lives.
He wanted...oh, he wanted to go back to being five years old again, and have everything be alright. But that just wasn't going to happen.
WWWWWWW
Minerva McGonagall was resting, her life long friend, the recently retired Pomona Sprout, watching her carefully. "I can't thank you enough, Pomona, for opening up your house to me."
Pomona shook her head. "After the terrible illness you had, it's the least I can do." She passed Minerva a cup of tea. "But why is everything so secretive? Shouldn't you be heading back to school?"
Minerva sipped the tea appreciatively, gathering her thoughts. "Pomona...strange things have been happening to me..." Her mind drifted.
It had been just after she'd sent Alfred Weasley to his family that she'd first come over ill. Strange how it had settled on her, and how violent her illness had been. Fever and chills and nausea, lightheaded and dazed. Cotswold Grainsworth had managed to spirit her off to a healer and she'd improved a bit. Well enough to go back to Hogwarts, anyway, and just in time to chew out Grainsworth for how he'd handled the situation with CJ Diggory.
But the illness kept recurring. And she worried...if she weren't able to work more than a day or two at a time, might the board of directors not consider replacing her?
In the end, she took a leave of absence. They'd granted that willingly; after all it had been Minerva who'd held together the school in the years after Voldemort, who kept things together no matter how dark. But she'd left in secret, with none but the board knowing her story, not even her staff. They knew she was ill...they did not know where she was going for recovery.
Because Minerva was beginning to suspect something wasn't quite normal with this illness. And she had help in looking in to it. She had old friends, trusted friends, and they were working quietly on her side. While she rested in a villa in Tuscany with Pomona, now almost thoroughly recovered from her symptoms., they were investigating things.
"Pomona, I'm doing what I need to do." Minerva loved Hogwarts with an intensity that was scary, and she wasn't giving up her life there without a fight. "Please trust me on this."
"Always have, Minerva." Sprout chuckled. "Glad for the company, anyway. You sit back and relax; you deserve a bit of rest."
Rest. Time to rest later. I should be teaching. And I will be teaching once again. I will.
WWWWWWW
The wives of the Weasley (and Potter) households were gathered at Fortescues. A day out, a day's break. Molly, with help of George and Percy, were watching the children at the Burrow, and Ginny, Penny, Hermione, Fleur and Michelle were gathered around copious sundaes and giggling like school girls. Except for Michelle, who kept worriedly looking at a spelled coin she carried.
"You know, my mother has watched infants before. Rumor has it, anyway." Ginny deadpanned.
Michelle blushed, and managed a laugh at herself. "I'm terrible, aren't I? It's the first time I've been away from him and I feel like I've abandoned the little guy."
"Eet gets easier, as time goes on. With Victoire, I waz alwayz worried." Fleur smiled serenely, dipping in to her Sunday. "Now, of course, eet is not so bad. Zo I will worry now about my Ricky."
"Worry about Ricky's teachers!" Ginny replied. Her oldest nephew was a major handful. He was in day school now, and already running everyone ragged with his pranks.
"Yez, but I waz at home before." Fleur said. "Now I will not be, if zer iz a problem."
Fleur had just been appointed as the Medi-witch in charge of reforming the Maternity Wing at St. Mungo's. This of course being the result of the great debacle that had nearly happened during baby Freddo's birth. Percy had pushed, prodded, schemed, manipulated, and officiated everyone at the ministry to the breaking point until they gave in and agreed that reform was needed.
"Just make sure his teachers know that they can call any of us if he's in need of help." Penny soothed. "We've always been there for each other; we're not about to stop now."
Michelle turned to Penny. "I've heard that Little Ced cursed a lawn gnome?"
Percy's wife rolled her eyes. "Not even two years old and doing magic. Consciously, too...the little bugger nipped his finger, and he stupefied it."
"The bat bogey curse is next." Ginny said, sagely. "Or that may be a more female trait."
Hermione nodded fervently. "That one is Rosie's favorite. It must be some kind of genetic marker with the Weasley clan...right along with the red hair! I swear, the first time I saw Ron coming out of her bath with tiny bats pouring out of his nose..." She started to giggle, and all the ladies joined in.
"I think Fred and George might have taught me that when I was just a toddler." Ginny mused fondly, scraping caramel from the bottom of the glass. "Nobody was happier than they were when Inailed Ron with it the first time. Of course, I did make them come to regret it...on many occasions!"
"So I've heard." Michelle teased. "Every time George goes to get Freddo when he's really fussing, he holds him at arms length for a second or two, making sure he's not in the line of fire."
"Is Freddo still the budding musician?" Penny asked.
"Whistling with whatever music is in the background, yep." Michelle was still wondering about that herself. "I sure can't sing, but George has a lovely voice, so that must be where he gets it from. Amazing skill, though…he can even mimic the birds outside his window!" Michelle looked around when she realized that all the other women were staring at her. "What?"
"George? Has a lovely voice?" Ginny gaped.
Hermione continued. "George Weasley? You're joking, right?"
Michelle was confused. "An absolutely lovely voice, yes." She blinked around at them. "Tenor. Sounds wonderful. Don't tell me you've never heard him sing?"
"Oh, I've heard him sing!" Penny said, quite seriously. "Every start of term, him and Fred with that dreadful dirge version of the school song."
"Always thought George had a voice like a toad." Hermione said. "No offense."
"I'd say we were confusing them...but they both sounded the same to me. Absoltuely ghastly!" Ginny emphasized.
Michelle shook her head. "I swear, this isn't a case of love being blind, or rather deaf. He really can sing!"
Three suspicious stares of disbelief answered her. Fleur had never known George to sing, so she could hardly take sides. Ginny finally shrugged. "If you say so, I suppose...but I can assure you, if you'd been at school with us, you'd be shocked too!"
WWWWWWW
"Oi, Ricky, where are you…Gran has lunch ready!" George called out into the yard.
It hadn't been a bad day so far. Even with the multitude of kids they were watching, all had seemed to be going well. James was playing nicely with Albus and Rosie; Hugo and Lily and Perri were set to finger painting outside, and toddling Ced was in a playpen amusing himself. Freddo was napping at the moment, after an active morning where Percy had entertained him with WoWo tricks.
Ricky, two years older than James, had been a bit of a handful…he always was. He'd be off to Hogwarts next year, just behind his sister, and he clearly felt out of place within this grouping.
George finally found him, of all places, resting on Fred's grave. His knees were drawn up to his chin, his silver eyes narrowed and his red hair pushed off his face while he pouted. "Hey, Ricky…what's wrong?" George asked, sitting next to him. "Not hungry for lunch?"
"Everyone hates me." Ricky grumbled.
"Okaaaaaaaay." George was really puzzled. "Does this have something to do with your having put a dung-bomb next to James's bike?"
"I thought it was funny!" He protested, plaintively.
Actually, George had kind of thought it was funny too…James could be such a wise ass sometimes and he'd been bragging on that muggle bike like it was the greatest thing ever. He was the only one who could ride it, and that made him insufferable. Molly had been less than amused, though, at the mess left behind by Ricky's response.
Still, George's lips twitched as he thought of it, and he had to fight to keep a proper, fatherly look about him. "Perhaps a less messy way of getting to James would have been better, for Gran's sake?" He nudged him gently.
Ricky huffed. "I guess. It's just. I'm not a Weasley!" He protested.
George made a show of reaching over and lifting up a strand of Ricky's hair, one eyebrow raised.
"I mean…" Ricky continued. "Mum was a bloody tri-wizard champion, and Dad was head boy…everyone in the family was successful…now Alf is in Ravenclaw, and so is Victoire! I know I'm not that smart, and not that talented. I feel like…like…"
"Like a neighbor?" George said, with sudden understanding.
"YEAH!" Ricky looked up with wide eyes. "Like I don't belong! But nobody understands that."
"I do."
"Geroff." Ricky scoffed. "You're the most successful of all!"
Holy hell, when had THAT happened? George wondered. "Ricky, there are so many things that I could say to that. First, success isn't about money, and I hope you know that. Your Gran and Grampa raised seven kids without much money, but we were happy and we loved each other. THAT's success, Ricky. But as for me not understanding you…you know, Fred and I were the only ones in the family who never made prefect?"
That surprised his nephew. "But why?"
"Because Fred and I were much more concerned with having a good time. Oh, we were smart enough, but we were never the brains that Bill and Percy and, I hate to say this, Ron were. And never quite as athletic as Charlie. For a long time we thought we only had one real gift…and that was for making trouble!"
"Like me!" Ricky said at once.
"Right. Only unlike you, I had company." George felt a small pang, but he gave Ricky a smile. "But we began to realize that we had another gift…a gift to make people laugh. Trouble for the sake of trouble wasn't much fun…but trouble that brought a smile to someone's face, who was otherwise having a bad day, was a whole different thing. And that's when we found our way." George got up, and offered a hand to Ricky, lifting him to his feet. "So you're a Weasley, right enough, Ricky…you just need to channel your talents in the right way."
Ricky flashed him a big smile, and then asked quickly. "Gran didn't make corned beef for lunch, did she?"
George laughed outright. "WEASLEY, through and through. And no…I brought a beef stew. Off with you, now!" George laughed as Ricky ran tearing towards the house, and set to following him at a slower pace.
"Well done, George."
"Mum!" George turned in surprise as his mother came from around a hedge. "Didn't see you there!"
"I was looking for him too, dear." She came up beside George, and grasped his arm as they walked back towards the house. "You handled that brilliantly."
George blushed, but smiled after him. "He's okay, Ricky is. Just, as Fleur would say, "Eye Speereets."
Molly chuckled. "As she would also say, not unlike his namesake. Or you." She looked up at him. "And you are successful, George." She pointed out.
"Never said I wasn't." George answered her. "I just wanted him to understand that it isn't the store that makes me so."
Molly sighed as they approached the house. "Happily married father of three. You're the only one who still has a shot of having seven kids, realistically!"
George came up short and looked at his mother in happy surprise. "Thank you."
"For what?" She asked.
"For seeing that I have three kids." George replied.
"I have eyes in my head, George." She looked into the kitchen, where Percy was coping surprisingly well, now with Ricky's help, at getting food out to all the brood. "Alf is as much your son as Fred's, and CJ is just a part of the family now."
"Yeah, but people don't always realize it." George shrugged. "But me, last fall when we ran in to Amos Diggory, the fear that I felt was no different then when I've thought Alf was in danger. He's my son…OUR son, too. Like Alf and like Freddo." George gave a little scowl. "I can't tell you how many idiots in the past three months have asked me what it felt like to FINALLY be a father. Like, where have they been for the past three years?"
"My Grandma Hattie had a muggle saying that I think is appropriate, dear." Molly teased him. "God must have loved stupid people…he made so many of them!"
George laughed, feeling glad to know that Molly had managed to so totally understanding him, and wondering if he would ever not be surprised by his mother.
He rather hoped not.
WWWWWWW
"Why doesn't your family know you can sing, George?"
It was evening. They were at home in the kitchen, George getting some writing done...he was up to book four of the Harry Potter chronicles...and she was swinging the baby back and forth, as he fought off sleep as per usual.
George looked up at her, startled out of his thoughts. "Come again, love?"
"Today at Fortescues, I mentioned that Freddo seemed to have inherited your gift of music, and your sister, and sisters in law, acted stunned that I thought you had one." She offered the baby a pacifier as he started to fuss a little, he took it begrudgingly, as if he were aware of what she was up to. His eyes did begin to droop, however.
"Oh, er. My voice isn't really that good." George protested.
Michelle sat upright. "George Weasley!" She exclaimed, quickly regretting it as Freddo's eyes popped wide open, his mouth now working the pacifier double time. "You have a beautiful voice, you know you do!"
"Really, not so much. Or maybe you bring out the best in me." He tried to joke. "Nobody ever liked my voice before."
She crossed her arms in front of her and raised eyebrows at him. Freddo, overtired but unwilling to admit it, suddenly let up a whimper that was threatening to turn in to a wail. And Michelle watched, her mouth twitching, as George rushed forward to pick him up, cradling him in his arms and immediately crooning a gentle lullaby in his perfect tenor. After about five minutes, the baby was sleeping soundly, George smiling gently down at him. He lifted his head, and gave Michelle a very sheepish grin. "I'll just go put him down, eh?" He blushed as he turned away.
She waited until he came back down to the kitchen, and then she came forward and put her arms around him. "So...why am I the only one who knows you can sing? Beside the baby, now."
"It's complicated." George murmured, nuzzling the top of her head.
"And what about you isn't?" She replied.
He gave a little laugh. "Point." He took a deep breath. "Fred couldn't sing."
She waited for more. When George made no move to speak, she stood a little back from him. "And?"
"And...we couldn't be different. I didn't want us to be different. I knew I could sing okay...I'd hum along with things quietly when I was a kid. But when we were first at Hogwarts Flitwick had tryouts for the choir. At the time tryouts were mandatory, and Fred, being older by all of five minutes and also alphabetically my senior, went first." George's eyes grew a little sad. "Fred was actually quite bad. I mean, horrifically bad. Though he was trying really hard. It wasn't one of those times that he was goofing off on purpose." George's gaze went hard. "And everyone laughed at him. Kind of quiet at first, little snickers here and there, and then some seriously nasty comments. It bothered him; really, really, bothered him. Well, I wasn't going to let anyone laugh at Fred. So when I went next, I sang worse."
"On purpose." Michelle said, leaning her head against his chest.
"Very much so; very off key and very loud at the same time. And then Charlie got wind that people were laughing at us and he threatened to rip their vocal chords out. You didn't mess with Charlie, mind." George gave a little shrug. "But after that, it was set as almost a joke. The Weasley twins couldn't sing, not that we didn't stop from trying. And we always chose whatever song we could make sound worst, and sang it loudest, like the school song."
"In dirge melody." Michelle remembered the story from the afternoon. "And you never let on?"
"Not till you." George shrugged. "You caught me off guard, you know, the first time you heard my voice...across the pond and incognito. I didn't even think about it."
"You don't even sing 'happy birthday'!" She realized with a start. "You've always been silent at parties when we sang."
"At the long ago request of my family. It just seemed easier to humor them." He admitted. "Never bothered me much." He kissed her tenderly. "So you get to see a side of me, again, that others don't. Is that really such a bad thing, love?" He murmured.
"Not as long as you promise to keep singing to me." She agreed. Then she wiggled an eyebrow for emphasis. "Freddo's likely to be asleep for a good couple of hours."
George just grinned before kissing her more deeply, glad for their life together.
WWWWWWW
"...so that's what the kids suspect is going on. Anyway, it was George who thought you might be able to offer some insight as to what Teddy is going through. Any ideas, Bill?"
Bill Weasley sat across from Harry at the Leaky Cauldron. He was in town on Gringot's business and Harry had caught up to him and asked him to lunch. He had a bowl of the pea soup...still as dangerous as ever...and was making a show of adding a dash of pepper while Harry waited for him to reply. Because he was quite unsure how to articulate exactly what he was thinking.
"Teddy. You want me to help Teddy." Bill stirred the soup, then took a careful sip, stalling for time. "That would be your god-son, the one who ripped my daughter's heart out last summer?" Bill finally leveled an even gaze at Harry.
Harry came up short at that. "Well...yes. He's just a kid, Bill. I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt Victoire."
"Didn't mean to hurt her. Right. He accidentally called her a silly child, accidentally ignored her for a whole month, and accidentally has treated her terribly all school year. Right. He didn't mean to do any of that, I'm sure." Bill turned back to his soup, letting Harry splutter in indignation.
"Bill...wait, what do you mean treated her terribly all year?" Harry ran his fingers through his hair in surprise.
"She does write home, you know. He won't speak to her, won't even smile at her, brushes past her like she doesn't exist." Bill huffed. "Look, I'm not saying that he should have been her best friend, but he's known her since she was born and he always treated her like she was special. And she always stuck up for him when others wouldn't. What he's done to her has been really inexcusable, and here you are asking me to help him."
"Ruddy hell Bill!" Harry huffed out. "He's a kid! Just turned fourteen years old. I know he looks like a man now, but he's still just a little boy." Harry set his shoulders. "And, if the other kids are correct, he's a scared little boy. One who's going through horrible changes, way beyond puberty. Things that no kid should have to deal with alone. Look, I'm not going to excuse every choice he's made this year, but I can certainly forgive it, because even I never knew what he must have been going through. And I'd be willing to bet that Victoire would forgive him too, if she knew what he was dealing with. God, Bill, didn't you ever do anything stupid at the age of fourteen?"
Bill rubbed his head furiously. He hated to admit it, but Harry did have a point. It's just that with Teddy being so tall and so adult looking it was easy to forget how young he was. And, of course, he had been a bigger ass than Teddy, and with far less reason. "Alright." He said, finally.
"Alright?" Harry said, in surprise.
"Aright. I'll help him." Bill rubbed at his scarred face thoughtfully. "After I was attacked, I went through a really bad year, although not many people knew it. It took time and some careful investigation into some potions to come up with something to relieve me, but the pain I went through around the full moon was fierce."
"I didn't know you took meds for it." Harry replied.
"Yeah...I don't talk about it much. You know how Mum would have fussed. Anyway, as long as I take the medication, all that I have to really deal with frequently is the taste for raw meat." Bill thought more, and then scowled. "I had Fleur with me through the changes; Teddy shouldn't be handling them alone. What is Andromeda thinking?"
"I don't know." Harry answered honestly. "I spoke with her about Easter, and she seems to be fine with Teddy being with us. But I still plan on being there early to pick him up. Actually think I'm going to go to the school to meet him, rather than expect him off the train."
"Wise move. And wiser still not to let her know what you were thinking." Bill agreed. "You wouldn't remember this, because they weren't letting you know order business back in the day, but Andromeda was very much against Dora and Remus marrying."
"What?"
"Yeah...she liked Remus well enough, but she harped, constantly, on her fear for what a child would have to endure if it inherited Remus's issues. By the time we rescued you from Privet Drive, she'd accepted it. Still, I bet if it were over the summer that Teddy had started having these episodes, I can see her panicking." Bill was quickly forgetting Teddy's slight of Victoire as he began to put himself in the kid's situation. "We'll get him through this, Harry." He paused. "If you're right, that is. But what if you're not."
Harry drew up his shoulders. "Then I swear, I am locking myself in a room with him and not letting either of us out until he tells me what in the blazes is going on. He's hurting others, and he's hurting himself, and this has to stop."
Bill remembered how crushed Victoire was by Teddy's changes, and thought he couldn't agree more.
WWWWWWW
Easter. Leaving tomorrow. Teddy was pretty sure that Gran would be meeting him at Hogwarts instead of at the train. She'd promised to tell Harry this time that they would be together. Twice Teddy had almost written to him, to make sure she'd done it, but he felt guilty...Andromeda was good with a guilt trip...about doubting her. Besides, what would happen if he told his god-father? They would argue, they would fight, and somehow Harry would end up finding out his secret. He couldn't have that.
He walked towards his common room after dinner, hoping that this healer in Romania would be better than the others. But before he could turn the corner, Professor Grainsworth put a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Lupin? Your Grandmother is here."
"Already?" Teddy gaped in surprise. "I didn't expect her yet."
"I gather not. I took the liberty of getting your bag from your room. I trust you packed well?" The Defense Against Dark Arts teacher spoke in low tones.
"I...er...well, yes, I was ready to leave tomorrow, but..."
"Excellent. Come with me to my office, where she is waiting. You can floo from there." A firm hand guided him away.
"But my friends will be expecting me." Teddy protested. Then he saw where they were heading. "And this is Professor McGonagall's office, not yours!" He said, stoutly.
The hand on his shoulder gripped him painfully, making Teddy wince. "It's mine at the moment." He snarled. "And your Grandmother wants you now, not later."
"Teddy!" Andromeda said, as he walked in the door. "Please don't put up a fuss, dear...this is all for the best, you know."
Teddy felt his throat closing up. He was terribly afraid it wasn't for the best, and somehow he knew...she didn't mean for him to come back this time.
"I don't want to go away." He said, wondering if there was any way to break and run for it.
"I won't have them tormenting you." She said, firmly. "This isn't where you belong."
No, no, no...I don't want to go. Oh, why didn't I say something to someone...to Alf or CJ or Eileen? Even to Professor Morgainne? How will anybody find me?
"Come, dear..." She reached out to grasp his arm. He was bigger than her; he could fight her off. But Professor Grainsworth was taller, and more solidly built. He'd never break away. His shoulders slumped heavily, and he went forward to the floo, wishing he could somehow undo every decision he'd made all year.
But done was done. And Teddy stepped into the fire of a bleak future, convinced he was going away for good.