A/N: I'm not usually one for content warnings, and I won't be putting in any before a character death. That's just something you guys will have to expect at some point. I feel as though revealing it at the start of the chapter softens the blow and makes the death less impactful, which is antithetical to its purpose. In any case, I would like to say that this chapter discusses death and grieving somewhat. It's not too bad I reckon, but considering the hell world we are currently living in, I thought it would be prudent to mention that topics like these, and darker ones as well, will be explored throughout this story. But I'm not into gore, and I'm not into shocking and depressing content for the sake of it. I promise that any unpleasantness will service the story and will not be dwelled on longer than it has to be. See you at the end.

Chapter Seven: Reflections

Thursday, May 7, 1998: Mid-Morning

"I thought you said he would want to speak with you, Albus," said a soft voice from a corner of the room. The other man did not miss the derision that was clearly evident in the speaker's sly tone.

"He seems to be preoccupied with something." A portrait of a white-haired man with a magnificent beard hung behind Headmistress McGonagall's desk. He had blue eyes and sat on a comfortable-looking armchair that left all others of its kind to shame. He surveyed the empty room with his fingers steepled in front of him and a thoughtful expression on his face. It had been painted that way, and was thus how he looked most of the time.

"Perhaps the boy does not care very much for you after all," replied Phineas, running a comb through his perfectly-maintained goatee. "Especially after he caught wind of your little plan."

"He took it quite well at the time," said Dumbledore. "Better than I thought he would, after the events surrounding Voldemort's public return."

"You mean the death of my last living heir? I daresay he wasn't the only one with strong feelings about that."

Phineas' voice had risen only slightly, but Dumbledore knew that his words had struck a nerve. Of course, he knew they would. That had been his intention.

"I am merely surprised that he did not wish to further discuss the events of his death. To my knowledge, I was not very helpful when we spoke at his Crossroads. He had many questions, and I believe that I chose to only answer those I thought would be in my best interests for him to know."

"Scheming from beyond the grave now, Albus?" A sneer had seeped into the other man's voice, but Dumbledore suspected it was only there to mask the awe that resided beneath the surface. "I suppose that is only par for the course with you, isn't it? Though it pains me greatly to admit this, you really should have been a Slytherin."

"I do what I must, Phineas." The old man's face sagged, crushed by over a century of hardship. No tears leaked from his eyes, but his expression was heavy. The dancing flames illuminating the curtained room drained away the youthful spirit that had once concealed the old man's true age. "The world is never truly safe. There are always people who seek to cause harm, or gain power that they cannot control."

"So wise," said Phineas, suppressing a snort. "I just hope you're wrong. Britain can't handle another wizard like the Dark Lord, especially not so soon."

"Indeed," replied Dumbledore. "But we are only paint and canvas. How the future plays out lies solely in the hands of the living." With that, the old man did not speak again, and the other portraits that lined the walls continued pretending to sleep.

._.

"Harry!" A kindly, middle-aged woman with dark hair stared at the heap of robes on her hearth in open shock. "I can't say I was expecting you."

"No, I shouldn't think so," replied Harry, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. "Headmistress McGonagall thought it would be a good idea for me to visit." The woman gave him an approving nod but drew back slightly. "I wanted to come," Harry went on, "but I didn't know when would be a good time, what with all the rebuilding and things to take care of."

"Understandable," the woman nodded again, and her smile regained the warmth it had lost a few seconds earlier. "It really is a pleasure." The baby she held in her arms had quieted immediately after laying its eyes on Harry. When the young man noticed it staring, he looked back at it and smiled.

"Is this Teddy?" Harry asked, stepping closer to the pair. "His hair…" The baby was sporting a flaming red afro and looked very proud of himself. It was difficult to confirm its identity at first. He looked different in every photograph Remus had shown them. At the thought of his father's old friend, coupled with the colour of the baby's hair, Harry had to swallow hard to get rid of the lump that had risen in his throat.

"He changes it all the time, along with the rest of him," said the woman fondly, tickling Teddy on the neck. He burst into high-pitched giggles that filled the room, and Harry couldn't help laughing along. "He has maintained this colour for a while, he's only been playing with the length and style. I think he's practising.

Harry inclined his head, impressed with the control the little guy already had over his abilities. "I expect nothing less from my godson," He spoke with exaggerated bravado, but was unable to keep a straight face.

Harry followed Andromeda into the kitchen, eyeing the homely atmosphere of the space. He thought that this would be the best place for Teddy, at least for now. He did not think that he would be able to give the boy a life as good as this. He would visit whenever he could though — if ever he had the time. He suspected that a lot of his waking hours would be filled with repairs and impassioned speeches.

His time would be stretched even thinner once he started back at Hogwarts in a few months. He was still finding it difficult to accept this new reality, the one that didn't involve prophecies and pain and fighting to make it through each day. Just another year at school with all his friends. The notion that his life could become any sort of normal was laughable, especially in the wake of such a bizarre and wholly unpleasant time away. He almost wanted to get straight into Auror training, skip Seventh Year. But it would feel wrong abandoning Ron, Hermione, and everyone else who decided to study once more. There was probably still a lot he could learn about magic, useful stuff too. Merlin knew his spell list was pathetically short, especially in combat. But he had known enough to defeat Voldemort, and that had to count for something.

Perhaps he should just go with it, allow himself to be a teenager again, to exist in a state where his worries were blissfully uncomplicated. And most importantly, not life-threatening. But the mere thought of all the schoolwork and study sessions made him shudder. And that was without taking into consideration his Quidditch commitments. He wouldn't mind reclaiming his captaincy of the Gryffindor team, and would do his best to win the Quidditch Cup for his house. Moreover, the extra training in dual-wielding he would undertake as soon as possible was sure to be a challenge. At least once a week, I will visit at least once a week, he promised the bundle of cloth Andromeda was holding.

"So, anything interesting happen since the battle?" asked the older woman, gesturing for him to take a seat at the kitchen table. "You can regale me with stories while I feed him."

Harry was surprised to find that, yes, he actually did have some things to tell her. He filled her in on Aed and Will, and the Aurors that had been past the castle to help with the restoration effort.

"I would like to meet this Aed," said Andromeda when Harry had finished catching her up. "She sounds interesting, to say the least. I actually have news to tell you about myself."

Harry looked up, eyes glittering with curiosity. Finally! Something about the outside world. He was beginning to question if anything existed beyond Hogwarts.

"Lucius Malfoy has been arrested, along with his son."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, his head snapping backwards in shock. "Draco? In Azkaban?" He gasped, and a look of comprehension dawned on his face, but he said nothing more.

"I know, I was just as surprised as you are. Arthur told me yesterday when he came to check on Teddy. I struggled to believe it myself, but it seems that the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement isn't taking any chances."

"Well," replied Harry, relaxing his rigid muscles, "they hardly want any more Dark Lords rising to power, do they? I think that imprisoning Draco is definitely going a bit far, but I guess it makes sense." He laid his hands on the table, and watched as Teddy crawled over the pristine surface and pulled curiously at one of his fingers. He had to suppress a laugh as Andromeda answered.

"He says the Aurors are stretched thin, what with all of the new prisoners and the heavy losses they sustained during the war. They're actually calling for aid from the other departments. They've especially gone after members of the Order to guard the cells, probably because they actually know how to defend themselves. He is a dear, isn't he?" She spoke the last part fondly, in reference to Teddy's antics.

"Wait," said Harry, confused. "I thought the Dementors guarded Azkaban?"

"They did," replied Andromeda, "but they no longer listen to the Minister's commands."

"Well, they probably don't see the point in listening to us anymore. This is going to become an issue in the future, isn't it?"

"I believe it might," she said, looking grave. However, Arthur says that Kingsley has stepped into the Minister role for now, and there are rumours going around that he will be keeping the position."

"That's great!" exclaimed Harry, happy to finally hear some good news. "With him in charge, along with this new Head Auror who seems to mean business, the Ministry won't be nearly as useless and corrupt if something big happens."

Andromeda nodded, offering Harry a small smile. "That's the idea anyway. Draco and Lucius have their trials tomorrow if you want to go and see them."

"I think I'll pass," said Harry, shaking his head. "I haven't had many dealings with Lucius, and it's not like I can prove he's broken any laws. Besides, I'm not a fan of hearings and trials, especially after mine." He hoped that Andromeda would accept his flimsy excuses. Truthfully, the mere idea of Draco sitting in that chained chair filled him with an uncomfortable ambivalence he didn't understand.

"Hmm…" Andromeda thought for a moment. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but instead simply closed it, giving her head a little shake. "Well," she finally managed to say. "Come back here soon, and I can tell you how it went."

"Thanks," said Harry, beaming at his godson.

"Do you miss her?" She asked suddenly, interrupting the tense silence that had fallen over the pair as Teddy played. He began pulling at her robes, but she ignored his pleas for attention.

Harry was about to say 'miss who', but caught himself at the last second. "Yes, I miss everyone. I can't stop thinking about them."

"Does it hurt?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes bright and burning.

"All the time," he replied with a sigh. "I can't get away from it. I don't want to get away from it. But everyone fought so hard, and I just can't imagine them being gone."

A tear squeezed through Andromeda's eye, even though she tried desperately to hold them all in. "It's unbearable, going on without her. She was all I had left after Sirius. If I saw any of my other relatives, I don't know what I'd do. And Remus…" Whatever she had been clinging to broke, and her face quickly became wet. After she had sobered some, Andromeda cleared her throat. "What ever happened to Pettigrew? He wasn't at the final battle."

"Oh, him," said Harry, not bothering to hide his disgust. "He died in Malfoy Manor, in the cellar where they were keeping all of us. He couldn't make himself kill me, and the hand Voldemort gave him choked him out." His tone was flat and empty, Peter had hardly been one of his favourite people. "Probably had something to do with him being disobedient, I don't know," he added as an afterthought.

"So that's all of them then," murmured Andromeda, so quietly that Harry wasn't sure if he had heard right.

He didn't know what to say. This really was Hermione's area of expertise. Well, one of many. After a moment, Andromeda's meaning finally struck his tired brain. All four Marauders were dead. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. The creators of the Marauder's Map, responsible for countless hijinks during their time at Hogwarts. His parents and their best friends. No matter what time or the war had done to them, they all in some way protected him. James, Sirius, and Remus had been like his fathers, though their approaches had all been different. He had loved them all the same. Hell, he still did. He hoped that was what she meant anyway.

What would it be like if they were still alive? Would Sirius and his dad be cracking jokes, receiving scoldings from Mrs Weasley? Would Remus do his best to stay out of the way, only making his presence known when he was needed? Would they hug him, tell him that everything was going to be okay? They had been there at the end, when he had faced Voldemort and taken the killing curse. They had stood around him with sad little smiles, wishing they could join him, but all too aware that they didn't belong in this world.

"I always thought it was a stupid name," said Andromeda, breaking Harry out of his musings. "The Marauders. Sirius and your father had always had a flair for the dramatics. I'm certain they were the ones who came up with it. Remus would have shrugged and agreed, happy to indulge their little games. And Peter would have been too scared to speak up regardless of what he thought."

"You knew them all really well," said Harry haltingly, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I unfortunately missed them at school, we were too far apart in age, but I saw Sirius and the others occasionally. You pick things up. Dreadfully awful at hiding things, those boys." A small smile crept onto her face as she reminisced, but the woman's eyes were still rimmed with red, and her skin was still blotchy.

"They must have been really nice people, even if they were gits to Snape." Harry had never quite been able to shake the memory of his Occlumency professor. The memory he was never meant to have seen.

"Please don't let that sully your impression of them. Their actions were more than unkind, but we all do stupid things." Harry opened his mouth to say something, but she continued speaking. "I know you'd never do anything so cruel, but we are all different. We all have flaws, and your father was never known for his maturity. Not until his final year at school. He loved you, they all did. I'm sure you know that, but it never hurts to be reminded."

Harry's face burned, and he tried to keep his expression steady. They had lost so much in this war, regardless of the final result. They sat together for a while, grieving for everyone who had given up their lives for the cause. Andromeda's hand moved across the table to cover his own, and Teddy sat between them, his hair and face rapidly going through equally adorable transformations.

He left soon after, giving Teddy a big hug before departing. The tiny bundle of cloths babbled happily in Harry's presence, which he supposed was a good sign. Even though the conversation had been anything but light and airy, he felt a lot better than he did that morning. He had even played with Teddy a bit. The baby was very easy to amuse, something that Harry was eternally grateful for. When he got back to Hogwarts, he decided that he would locate Ron and Hermione and find out how Aed was doing. He hadn't seen them for a few days outside of meals, and thought that he should inform them of what Andromeda had told him. Beyond that, he didn't really know what to do with himself except get some well-earned rest.

A/N: First, please allow me to vent. I had done my final round of edits earlier in the day, but they hadn't saved for some reason so I had to do them again from memory. I probably missed a few things, but I don't think it turned out too badly.

I hope this chapter wasn't too much of a downer; I try to keep things light regardless of the subject matter. At the end of the day, I want my stories to be easily digestible, even if we have to look at Marauder death. :( Catch you on the flip side.