I loved the reviews. And when you critique me in a polite manner it just gives me chills of joy. I think that's the ultimate compliment. When you like my story so much you want it to help make it even better. But remember, polite is the key word. I've seen too many authors lose their will to write because of a mean reviewer. Disclaimer: Not mine.

Albus, Lily, and I were sleeping over our grandparents' house the first night of summer. Mum and Dad were home doing 'research' for the war, whatever research meant to them.

It was two in the morning and I couldn't fall asleep.

An hour before Lily had crawled into my bed because she was frightened. I couldn't really blame her, so I let her sleep next to me. My little sister could act crazy sometimes. But I still loved her. I moved her out of my and crawled out of the bed. Good thing I didn't wake her. She really needed some sleep.

I walked out of Uncle Bill's and Uncle Charlie's old room to the kitchen. Usually Albus and I slept in their room while Lily would sleep in Mum's old room.

At the kitchen table was my grandfather sitting, looking relaxed and calm. I knew he wasn't relaxed and calm though. How could he be? He was drinking a cup of tea and reading the Daily Prophet. I was already pouring a glass of milk before he even noticed my presence in the room. He put down the paper and looked at me sternly. Granddad couldn't pull off stern with anyone though, especially not his grandkids.

"James, why aren't you in bed?" he asked me. I gave him a look that said 'you know why' and sat down across from him. "Ah, well great minds think alike, don't they? I feel sick to my stomach and I really don't want to go through this again."

He took a sip of his tea and sighed. I knew exactly what he meant when he said 'this' no matter how vague the word was. "It's not fair, James. I thought this mess was done and over with. I thought that when your father defeated You-Know-Who I would never have to go through this again."

"Are you afraid that…"

I couldn't finish the sentence. I just couldn't. How can you ask someone if their afraid another one of their children will die? What if the next person that died was Mum or Dad? Could I handle that? Could Granddad or Grandmum handle losing another child? I ran a hand nervously through my jet black, messy hair.

"Yes," Granddad said, "I'm very afraid." My grandfather looked at me intensely. Mum always told me I have Granddad's stare. I also have his 'jolly eyes' according to Mum.

Albus walked into the kitchen and was rubbing his eyes, trying to adjust to the light in the room. I probably woke him up when I left the bedroom. I forgot sometimes that Albus was a very light sleeper. He sat down at the table with us but not before taking a sip out of my glass of milk. What a bloody git.

"Thanks for waking me, James," Albus stated. "It was a very nice thing to do."

"No problem, Al," I replied.

Deciding to be a good brother for once, I got up from my seat, got a glass out of one of the cupboards, and filled it with milk. I sat back down the table and handed Albus the glass. "You're welcome, my dear little brother. Anything and I mean ANYTHING, for you!" I exclaimed with false enthusiasm.

Al took a sip and smiled. "I thank you very much, big brother. When was the last time that I told you that I love you?" I gagged. "Oh, but I do, James! I love you oh so much, big brother!" He mimicked my enthusiasm.

Granddad sighed. "You two are pretty odd. You remind me a lot of Ginny and Ron."

I laughed. "How do Al and I remind you of Mum and Uncle Ron? Well, besides the fact that we're brother and sister. Albus is a girl and I'm a boy, to explain more clearly." Albus slapped me on the arm. "What!" I exclaimed. "It's true! You're at least a pretty girl. Not as pretty as Lily though I'm afraid to say."

"Now you sound exactly like Ginny and Ron. I'll admit, James, you have your mother's wit. She knew how to put her brother in his place."

Granddad smiled at us and behind his thick rimmed glasses I saw his eyes sparkle. I knew Granddad really missed our mum, especially since her and Dad moved to Adersville, where I grew up.

I finished my milk and put the glass in the sink.

"I'll clean that up tomorrow," Granddad told me. "Right now we can just relax and talk for a bit more. But not for too much longer. You two really need to get some sleep. So do I, for that matter."

My gaze wandered around the kitchen. How many memories had my grandfather made in this very room? I wondered whether most of them were good or bad. Reason told me that they were mostly good ones. Granddad seemed to be a truly happy man. Not at that moment, because of the upcoming war, but I always remembered him being happy whenever I saw him. He must have lived a really great life.

"Granddad, what was Mum like as a little girl?" I asked him. "What were all of our uncles like as children?"

Granddad took off his glasses and placed them on the table. Then he took another sip of his tea before answering:

"Ginny had spunk, to say the least. Your little sister Lily is a lot like her. I remember Ginny would just jump up on my lap some days and beg me to tell her stories. She doesn't do that anymore, of course. It cracks me up because Lily does that sometimes."

Lily looked like Mum too. She had Mum's straight red hair, dark brown eyes, and oddly large feet. Mum wasn't tall, but she had really big feet for her petite stature. Lily had inherited Mum's body structure and abnormally large feet. Did I mention she was feisty like Mum too? She was very feisty.

"Then there was Ron. Ron was always close with Ginny. Even if they were fighting, the two were inseparable at home. Poor Ron was abused by his older brothers. Sure, we all loved him, but he was teased an awful lot by the boys in this house."

Granddad smiled at us. I could tell he liked talking about his children. He really loved his family.

"Then there were my boys, George and Fred." I could see sadness in his eyes as he said Fred's name. "They were a funny pair. It was almost impossible to say one of their names without saying the other one's name. Usually I'd say Fred and George, not George and Fred. But…you know how that story ends. I never figured out where they got their comedic ways from, but I'm glad they got them. Though they brought your grandmum tons of trouble, they brought us all joy too.

"Anyway, Percy was always a good boy." Granddad got a far off look in his eyes and started laughing. "Fred always called him Perfect Percy. Then when Percy became a prefect Fred called him Percy the Perfect Prefect. Fred always teased Percy. He probably shouldn't have considering Percy is older, but Fred wasn't much for following any sort of rules or respecting authority. Fred wasn't scared of anything. He wasn't scared of anything…" Granddad's voice was much softer as he said that last sentence.

"I wish we could have met him," I said.

Granddad nodded his head. "You would have liked him. Everyone liked him. I know for a fact he would have been Freddie's favorite uncle by far."

"Charlie was always a nice boy. He was considered very cool in his days at Hogwarts," Granddad continued. "So was Bill."

"Sam is a lot like his dad. Calm, cool, and collected."

Though it was true that Sam was cool, I had to make a joke about it. How could I help myself from it?

I laughed. "Sam, cool? You've got to be joking."

Granddad put back on his glasses and smiled. "Compared to you? Of course Sam is cool." He patted my hand. "I'm just kidding, James."

Albus shook his head. "No, Granddad. You're really not just kidding. You're just too afraid to speak the truth. Don't worry, James can handle it. He's a big boy now."

"Okay, you're right," Granddad chuckled. "You two should get to bed now. If your grandmum knew I kept you up so late, she'd murder me. And I hope you don't think I'm joking about that."

All three of us walked up the steps to our bedrooms on the second floor.

"Good night, boys. Don't wake up your little sister, please. Unlike us, some people actually like to sleep and don't want to be disturbed," Granddad said to us in a soft voice.

"Night," we both replied at the same time. We opened the door to our room, stumbled around in the dark to find our beds, and then crawled into them as quietly as possible.

Carefully, I moved Lily over so I wouldn't wake her up. Unfortunately, I did.

She opened up her brown doe eyes and smiled at me. Lily, at that exact moment, looked almost angelic. I'll admit, I love my baby sister. I loved her a hell of a lot. During the upcoming war, I made a vow to protect Lily above all. I refused to let anything or anyone hurt her. Ever.

"Hi, James," she said. Her voice was scratchy and she was rubbing her eyes, trying to wake herself up. Lily was eleven, but she always looked really young for her age. Most of the time she looked like a nine-year-old, but when she was tired she reminded me of a six-year-old.

"Lily, go back to sleep," I told her. "It's late and you're tired. You need to get some sleep."

She nodded her head. "I love you, James."

Then she rolled over and was out like a light. It's a good thing I didn't permanently wake her up. She would have probably made me go down stairs for breakfast or something weird like that. Once Lily got an idea into her head, it was extremely hard to talk her out of it. If she wanted breakfast at three in the morning, she would get breakfast at three in the morning. Nothing could stop that girl.

"Love you too, Lily," I whispered and kissed the top of her head. Then I fell asleep.