mega apologies for the huge delay in updating- I hope you all haven't lost interest in this! A combination of severe writers block and deciding the story seemed too sad haha! (the very last chapter- which I wrote a while ago- was good at the time but I read it again and decided I didn't want it to be that sad, and believe me it was tear-your-heart-out-and-throw-it-at-a-wall sad, and I just couldn't deal with such a sad Teddy.) So I've been trying to rewrite it to make it a bit happier for poor old Teddy. I'm still not massively keen on these next two chapters but I sort of just wanted them out of the way because they were driving me mad!
Fifteen.
Teddy is fifteen. The fifth year boys' dormitory is alive with excitement. Gasps and murmurs of appreciation snake around the room, as most of Gryffindor house admire the latest edition to the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"A Cepheid! Wow Teddy!"
"Hickory wood handle, it means its super lightweight."
"And look at the finish of the wood!"
"It just looks fast, Teddy. We're going to win the Quidditch cup for sure!"
The attention makes Teddy feel uncomfortable. He wants to grab the broom and stuff it under the bed where no one will see it. It is a present from Harry- one his Grandmother and Ginny had wholeheartedly disapproved of. And Teddy agrees with them. He doesn't deserve it. It was incredibly expensive and it's far too extravagant, and really it's a racing broom. It's too fast for school, if he were to use it during Quidditch it just wouldn't be fair.
Harry had told him it was a gift. He'd mentioned something about it being a thank you for looking after the children over the Easter holidays, and also something about helping him wrestle a Grindylow out of the pond, and then he can also remember Harry telling him it's a congratulatory present for his O.W.L. results, only Harry couldn't wait until Teddy had actually sat the exams to give him his gift.
But Teddy is clever enough to work it all out; he has heard the hushed conversations, he has seen the worrying glances between them all. He knows that the arrival of the gift coincides with the anniversary of his parents' death. He needs cheering up, they've agreed, and Harry's spontaneous decision was to purchase him the latest top of the range broom. But it really hasn't had the desired effect- in fact, if anything, it's made Teddy feel worse.
Back downstairs in the common room, and after all the excitement of the broom's arrival has died down, it doesn't take long for the impressed exclamations to turn into covetous whispers.
"Of course, it's a gift from his godfather."
"You know who his godfather is, don't you? It's Harry Potter!"
"What? THE Harry Potter? Do his parents know him or something!?"
"Well, I wouldn't be sulking like that if my godfather gave me a Cepheid."
"How ungrateful! He's probably got the past three models at home lying under his bed."
He's managed to block most of them out; after all, it's not like he's never heard it before. He's always been Harry Potter's Godson first, and Teddy Lupin second. But then, he hears it. He hears what he's been waiting for. He doesn't know who said it, but it was said nonetheless, and no doubt most of them were thinking it.
"He doesn't realise how lucky he is."
It makes Teddy's blood boil. Let them have the extravagant gifts from the famous godfather. Let them have the newest racing broom in the world. Let them ride it around the pitch. Let them win the house cup with it. Let them face the fact that the only reason it was bought was because their parents are dead and no one will tell them why.
For Teddy, it's a gift laced with the poisonous reminders of his tragic history.
He'd trade everything with them- let them be the lucky ones, if that's what they think- if it meant he could return home to his parents at the end of the school year. They don't realise how lucky they are.
Teddy's best friend Norman settles himself into the comfy chair beside Teddy. The broom lies upon the low table between the chairs and the fireplace. More than once, the thought of gently kicking the broom off the table and into the fire has crept into Teddy's head, but as soon as it arrives, he banishes it. He might think the gift is unnecessary, and he might resent the reason he's been given it, but he isn't malicious, and he knows that Harry means well. For that small commiseration, he supposes he must be grateful.
"It is nice, though, isn't it?" Norman offers. His eyes glitter as they glide along the broom's handle, drinking in every detailed cut and defined incision. Teddy can practically see the images flicking though Norman's head, of brooms being chased around the pitch and the Quidditch cup being held aloft as Teddy sits astride the gleaming broom.
Norman is a brilliant best friend, and he never fails to make Teddy laugh, but sometimes he isn't really very tactful, and this, Teddy thinks, could be one of those times. Norman ploughs on into his conversation, unaware of Teddy's sour mood.
"You've got to feel pretty special, Teddy. A Cepheid!" Norman moans enviously. "No one at Hogwarts has even seen a Cepheid in real life before, let alone owned one!"
"It's because they're racing brooms, Norman. I shouldn't have it. I can't use it to play school Quidditch games. It wouldn't be fair." Teddy replies bitterly.
"Who cares about fair! I can't wait to see the Slytherins' faces when we beat them!"
"Fine. You can have it." Teddy turns in his chair. Norman just won't understand why Teddy is upset, and just like the rest of the Gryffindors, he seems too intent on the prospect of slaughtering the Slytherins on the Quidditch pitch to be interested in Teddy's feelings.
Norman laughs dryly. "If I had a broom even half as nice as a Cepheid, I'd probably have to share it with my brother. Honestly, you're lucky you don't have to share it with anyone. You won't have to wipe sticky finger marks off the handle. You won't have to dig it out of any hedges. You won't have to spend a week fixing it when they crash it into the shed and bend all the bristles. You don't want me to have it, Teddy."
Something about the idea of having to share the broom with younger siblings makes Teddy smile. Teddy would happily trade a broom for a brother.
Back in his dormitory, away from all the judging, jealous eyes, Teddy settles onto his bed and pulls the curtains around it. He opens the book he retrieved from his trunk.
It is The Tales of Beedle the Bard. He wonders if it's childish for him to be reading fairy tales, but Teddy doesn't care. He had once borrowed a copy from Hermione, but she bought him his own copy for his birthday several years ago. His is now battered and the pages are dog-eared and torn, but he thinks it adds character. The only story he really reads is The Tale of the Three Brothers. It is easily his favourite of all of Beedle the Bard's tales. But it isn't because of the fantasy of the incredibly powerful wand, nor the invisibility cloak which Harry has tried to convince him is the same one he keeps in his cupboard, and it isn't even the draw of the stone that can resurrect deceased loved ones- it is simply the fact that they are brothers.