Chapter One
Victoire Weasley considered herself a practical girl.
She usually wore her hair in a high ponytail. Her clothes weren't fancy or expensive. She spent most of her days buried in books, and she had picked a practical career: Healer. Today, she'd leave her childhood home to stay with her aunt and uncle while pursuing her Healer certification in London.
"Victoire! Ready, ma petite?" Her mother knocked on the door of Victoire's bedroom at Shell Cottage.
"Oui, maman," she said, crossing the room to open the door.
Her mother, beautiful and luminous as ever, stepped in. "Oh," Fleur Weasley whispered. "Oh—c'est vide. It's empty."
Victoire turned to look at her bedroom. The pale pink walls were bare. The places where she had stuck posters and photographs shone a little more vibrantly. She turned back to her mother and gave her a small smile.
"Maman, don't be sad! I'll be back loads to visit—and I'll be staying with Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry for a little while so you can both come visit!" Victoire threw her arm around her mother's shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. Fleur nodded slightly, very evidently holding back tears.
"Hey, you two, are you ready to g-" said Bill Weasley, popping his gingery head in. He paused, assessing the situation. "Hey now… What's going on here?" He stepped in, too. Victoire couldn't help but smile at her father—his handsome face scarred from the Second Wizarding War, his red hair lined with silvery-gray, his brown eyes still full of mischief.
Fleur sniffed. "Our bébé is leaving us…for good this time!" she exclaimed to her husband. Bill's expression softened and he put his arm around her shoulders so Fleur was sandwiched between her husband and daughter.
"She's going to be just fine," Bill said gently, winking at his eldest daughter over his wife's head. "She's a Delacour, after all."
"Oh, all right!" Fleur said, wiping her eyes absently with one hand. "Let us leave tout de suite, oui?" She looked at her daughter, gave her a little squeeze on the shoulder. "We'll be waiting by the fireplace."
Her parents left. Victoire took one last glance around; her packed trunk had already been sent to London. She grabbed her purse, absentmindedly touched the half-moon charm at her neck and whispered, "Bye."
She turned and walked out the door.
"Well," Aunt Ginny grinned. "Now that that's over, how about a little help unpacking?"
Victoire smiled gratefully at her aunt. They had just said goodbye to her parents and siblings, Dominique and Louis. It was a very tearful goodbye. Fleur had made Ginny and Harry promise repeatedly to keep an eye on Victoire. Victoire was privately grateful that her aunt considered herself more a friend to Victoire than a parental figure, and all the better for it. Victoire was yearning for a taste of freedom from her parents' eyes.
"You really don't have to, Aunt Ginny, I can—" Ginny held up a hand.
"It's no problem, Vic. You're my first niece—what kind of aunt would I be if I didn't help you?"
Victoire followed Ginny up the soft carpeted stairs of their comfortable London home. Victoire looked at the framed photos that lined the stairwell, showcasing the years of Ginny and Harry's life together.
After they'd gotten married, Harry and Ginny had moved to London, into a tiny flat on Diagon Alley. Victoire remembered the flat well, with its mismatched furniture and fire escape from where Victoire had once almost taken a headlong tumble. After the Potters started doing well at work, and shortly after Ginny retired from professional Quidditch, they moved with their eldest son, James, to the white rowhouse on St. Dionis Road. Ginny became pregnant with Albus shortly after, and Lily came along not much later.
Victoire had spent many holidays at the Potter house, but now that the house was her home, it felt different. Foreign and strange. She hoped this wouldn't convey on her face as Ginny opened the door to Victoire's room and looked around.
"We've made up the bed for you," Ginny said, gesturing at the bed. It was covered in a quilt sprigged with blue and yellow flowers. "Now let's unpack that trunk."
Ginny waved her wand and Victoire's trunk popped open. Inside were neatly folded witches' robes, jeans, shirts and new, green robes to start her Mediwitch training at St. Mungo's Hospital of Magical Maladies. On the very top of the pile, however, was a framed photo of herself and—
Victoire dashed over and snatched the photo up. Ginny raised her eyebrows but said nothing. "Would you like to tell me where you'd like your things, dear?"
"Robes and dresses should be hung up. I'll do the rest," Victoire said, feeling a blush creeping up her neck. Ginny got to work arranging the robes and dresses in the closet.
Victoire always enjoyed watching her aunts and uncles do magic—everything seemed so effortless to them. The robes soared into the closet and neatly hung themselves on hangers. Ginny marched the dresses toward the closet like a general leading troops to war. Victoire, meanwhile, hastily waved her wand. The drawers to the dresser slammed open and shirts and trousers went flying haphazardly into them.
An hour later, Victoire looked around, impressed. Aunt Ginny had ended up doing most of the work, and her room looked more like home than ever. Her family photos were clustered on a small desk. The posters of her favorite Quidditch players, including one of Aunt Ginny, were plastered neatly on the wall.
Victoire sat down on the bed, stuffing the photo from her trunk under the mattress. Ginny came and sat down next to her. She put her hand gently on Victoire's. A light scent of flowers wafted toward Victoire, the familiar smell of Ginny.
"He'll be here for dinner tonight," she said kindly.
"Who?"
"Teddy, of course," Ginny said, giving Victoire's hand a little squeeze. "Are you going to be all right?"
Victoire's stomach turned but she didn't want to let her aunt know how much this news stunned her. She shrugged, hoping to seem nonchalant. "He broke up with me almost a year ago," she told her aunt quietly. "I'm over it."
Ginny was quiet for a moment, seeming to struggle to find something to say. "I'll give you some time to rest. We'll see you at dinner." She got up and left, closing the door behind her.
Sighing, Victoire flopped back onto the narrow bed and yanked the photo out from underneath the mattress. She gazed at it, wondering what she'd say to the boy in the photo when she saw him tonight. She closed her eyes, pressing the picture to her chest, and promptly fell asleep.
Teddy Lupin was late.
He had been working late at The Daily Prophet, where he was a reporter, and lost track of the time while attempting to write the introduction to a particularly complicated story. The only way he remembered that he was supposed to be at dinner was when his watch yelled at him, "Time to go, scruffy!"
Now he was walking quickly from The Daily Prophet's office to his godfather's house, wishing that he had simply Apparated instead. Teddy was hoping to clear his head with the walk. Writing often left him cloudy-headed, especially if he was struggling to come up with the words. If only I could figure out how to say… He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts out of his brain.
Doesn't matter, he said, approaching the scarlet door of the Potter house. He raised his hand, getting ready to knock, thought better of it and just opened the door.
What he saw made his jaw drop.
Or rather who he saw. It was her. Victoire.
He could see down the foyer, into the hallway and in the kitchen a glimpse of silvery blonde hair and a familiar, lilting laugh. He stopped moving, staring at her as she took a stack of plates from Ginny and moved into the dining room. She looked astonishingly the same: blonde, tan and freckly from the Cornwall sun. He wasn't sure why he thought she would look different.
Why didn't they tell me she'd be here? He panicked, groping for the doorknob, but the door had already announced his arrival.
"Edward Remus Lupin has arrived for dinner," the door sang loudly. He heard footsteps and then the familiar untidy head of his godfather emerged in the hallway.
"Teddy!" Harry Potter exclaimed. "Back again? Weren't you just here yesterday?" His green eyes sparkled mischievously, teasing Teddy. This was their usual greeting; Harry teased and Teddy teased back. However, today, Teddy looked at Harry with a blank expression. Harry quietly registered his godson's shocked expression.
"I know, Ted," he said in a low voice, clapping an arm on Teddy's shoulder. "But you'll have to talk sometimes. We're all family!"
Teddy recoiled. "She's not my…family. She's…" He stopped. What was she? Who was she to him?
Harry's expression clouded with confusion. "She's my niece. Ginny's niece. You're my godson. We want you both here."
Teddy turned, looked his godfather right in the eye and said, "I…can't." He grabbed the doorknob, opened the door and fled.
Victoire heard none of this. From the moment the door called, "Edward Remus Lupin has arrived for dinner," she stopped hearing anything. The blood pounded in her ears. Her heart was racing. She was focusing so hard on setting plates at the table that she didn't hear the door slam again, didn't hear the footsteps that came back into the dining room. She didn't hear her three cousins bounding down the stairs exclaiming, "Teddy!"
She looked up to see her Uncle Harry come back into the dining room and give her a sad shrug. She stared determinedly at the plate in her hand.
Her hearing suddenly seemed to return even louder than ever.
"Teddy!" she heard Lily exclaim as she ran into the dining room. "Teddy?" She looked around. "Where is he?"
Harry patted her shoulder as his two sons barged in, inquiring similarly. "He had to go, sweetheart," he said, looking into his daughter's green eyes. His eyes. "He couldn't stay. He had to work." Victoire watched in horror as Lily's eyes filled with confusion. She was, after all, the closest to Teddy.
"But…why?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide the mourning in her voice.
"My goodness, what is happening in here?" Ginny called, coming into the dining room, a variety of bowls and platters hovering behind her, waiting patiently to be placed on the table. "James, are you torturing your sister again?"
"Mum! Why do you always think it's me?" James looked affronted.
Because it always is you, Victoire thought unkindly.
"Mum!" Lily rushed over to her mother. Harry was very pointedly avoiding Victoire's eyes. "Mum, Teddy left. He won't be here for dinner tonight because-"
"LILY," Harry warned. "Don't—"
Victoire felt a lump rise in her throat; she swallowed, but it sat resolutely where it was. Ginny glanced at her before looking at Harry, giving him a Very Significant Look and beginning to set their dinner dishes down.
"Lily. Come here right now," Harry said, indicating that she join him outside the dining room. Victoire stood awkwardly while James and Albus stared at her. Ginny motioned for everyone to sit down; they did as ordered, silent. Harry joined them moments later.
"Lily won't be joining us for dinner," he announced. Almost as if on cue, they heard Lily raging up the stairs.
"I'm sorry," Victoire whispered urgently. She looked up at her aunt and uncle, who looked surprised. "I didn't know it was a problem. I'm so sorry. I can leave—" She moved to stand up, but Ginny put a hand on her shoulder.
"Victoire, you are as welcome in our home as anyone," Ginny said. Victoire choked back tears. Again, she smiled gratefully at both her aunt and uncle, but inside a battle was raging.
You can't even have a dinner with me? She thought angrily at Teddy. What did I ever do to you?
And then a smaller voice in her head spoke up. You know what you did.
After leaving his godfather's house and jogging several blocks away, Teddy remembered that he was hungry. His stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of Harry and Ginny's cooking: fresh salads, warm stews, breads & pastas.
Since the office of The Daily Prophet was near Diagon Alley, he stopped into The Leaky Cauldron. "Hello, Imelda," he said to the manager of the pub.
"Hullo, Teddy," she said to him kindly. "Back again?" At this, Teddy thought with a pang of his godfather, Harry, and their ongoing joke.
"Yes," he said. "Can I get a burger to go? Gotta get back to work."
"Coming right up," she said. "It'll be four Galleons." He paid her and sat down at the bar to wait.
His mind drifted back to Victoire. Her eyes had been crinkled in a smile. His stomach lurched as he thought back to their last time together.
With a twinge, he remembered that they had been in her bedroom at Shell Cottage. Her beautiful face had been wet with tears; his eyes burned from holding back his own tears.
"I'm leaving," he'd said to her back. She hadn't turned around when he left. Her hair had been down then, cascading down her back in silvery waves, the way he always liked it.
The things I said, he remembered, grimacing. I wish I could-
"Teddy?" Madam Imelda was holding a brown paper sack. Her voice cut through his reverie. He stood up, thanked her, took the sack and left.
The walk back to The Daily Prophet was short, and the weather was exceptionally pleasant as dusk started to seep into London. The front of the Prophet was enchanted to look like an old Muggle music shop full of useless old CDs and cassette tapes. Now that Muggles listened to all their music on their mobile phones, the storefront was a perfect cover for a bustling magical journalism enterprise. No one ever went in. He looked casually at the window, looked around to make sure no one was watching and placed his hand on the front window. Immediately, he was in the lobby of the Prophet.
Even after hours, The Daily Prophet's offices were extremely busy. The newspaper had adopted the flying memos from the Ministry of Magic and a brightly colored flock fluttered in through one of the fireplaces that lined one wall. The fireplaces were labeled according to their purpose. Anonymous Tips, Floo Network and Ministry News were among them.
Teddy belonged to the Lumos team. He worked with a team of six other investigative reporters, all of whom were older than Teddy. He had only been with the Prophet for two years, and while he contributed and collaborated with his colleagues, he had never taken the lead on a story. Taking the lead on a story would mean presenting an original idea-something he hadn't had in over a year.
He sat down at his desk, nodding at Susan Ames, the only one of his colleagues who still remained at her desk.
"Back so soon?" she questioned him. They all knew about his dinners with famous Harry Potter, The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived.
He shrugged. "Just ran out to get a bite. Got too much work to do."
Susan wasn't paying attention. She was looking with a furrowed brow at a flying memo that moments ago had been pestering her. Her mouth was moving rapidly, but she wasn't making any sound. Her eyes flashed up to the top of the memo and she began to read again, this time more slowly. Teddy watched her interestedly, unpacking his dinner.
"Whoa," she finally breathed a sigh and set down the memo. "What a load of bollocks."
"Wazzit?" he said through a mouthful of burger and fries.
"Something about people being checked into St. Mungo's complaining of headaches only to suddenly turn into werewolves at the hospital," she said offhandedly, beginning to gather her belongings.
Teddy choked, coughing and sputtering.
"Turning into…what now?" he said.
"Werewolves," she repeated. "As if there's such a thing as new cases of lycanthropy now. There hasn't been a werewolf attack since, well, your godfather defeated You-Know-Who."
There was silence. Did Susan know about his father? Teddy wondered.
"Anyway, good night, Lupin," Susan said, waving her hand as she left. "See you!"
Teddy waited until he couldn't hear her anymore. Then he stood up, swiped the memo from her desk and read it over. Words popped out at him…incurable headaches…diseased with wolf's blood…punished for their treachery…werewolf army…it will happen.
Teddy gave it a once over, snorted and tossed the memo in a bin. She's right, he thought savagely. It is a load of bollocks.
He gulped down the remainder of his dinner, shrugged on his jacket and left the office.