Chapter Two: The Establishment
I: Unoriginally, beginnings
This is a story about many things and many people, but first and foremost, it is a story about growing up. This is a story about a boy named Teddy Lupin, and how, all of a sudden, his life, and the world around him began to change in ways that no one could have possibly predicted. This is a story about friendship, and how it is possible to survive anything with the help of one's friends (however cliché that may sound). This is a story about the complexity and uncertainty of life, and how, despite our best attempts to trick ourselves into believing so, there is no such thing as normal.
No one can be exactly certain when it all started, because it is rather difficult to pinpoint the exact event that set the ball rolling. It could be that it all began on the fifth of April, 1998, when, at precisely thirteen thirty-four, Nymphadora Tonks gave an almighty shout, Remus Lupin gripped her hand, and a minute later, the midwife declared that she had given birth to a healthy baby boy. Or perhaps it began less than a month later, on the second of May, when both parents were murdered tragically, leaving their son in the care of his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks. Maybe it started when eleven-year-old Teddy Lupin received a letter written in green ink, and went off to Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the very first time.
Any one of the above moments—and a great number not listed—would be an adequate starting point for our story, but when Teddy looked back on it several years later, he believed that it all began on the twenty-first of August, 2013, during the summer before he began his fifth year at Hogwarts.
And since, after all, this is primarily Teddy's story, we should probably begin there, on that warm summer's day in Diagon Alley.
.oOo.
II: Before things changed
If Teddy Lupin had to pick his favourite part of wizarding London, he would choose Diagon Alley.
It was, perhaps, an odd choice; he was the kind of person who preferred things to be a little offbeat. Crowded places were often not his scene; he liked little known shops, and cafes because they made him feel as if he was in on some kind of special, exclusive secret. But Diagon Alley was different; he loved its ever-changing nature, and it held a special place in his heart, likely because of all of the great memories he had had there.
So many things had happened to him in Diagon Alley. He'd bought his first wand, got lost down Knockturn Alley with Victoire Weasley, his childhood best friend, had his first Butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron, and, five years ago, had met one of his very best friends from school, Alfie Hayes, in Flourish and Blotts.
They sat together now, under the warm afternoon sun, outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, chocolate sundaes in hand. A discarded copy of the Daily Prophet lay on the table next to them; neither boy had paid it much heed, for they were far too preoccupied to care about the news now. They hadn't seen each other in months, and were busy catching up.
"St. Andrews was awful," Alfie told Teddy earnestly. "It's a beautiful place and everything, but it was just so boring, and I had nothing to do for a week, while Dad gave his presentation. He tried to explain it to me and get me enthusiastic about it, but," he shuddered dramatically, "psychology. It's so dull." Alfie was a muggleborn, the son of an Oxford professor, and, as a result, had spent much of his summer traipsing around the country as his father attended numerous conferences.
"At least you got out of Oxford," Teddy said. He, on the other hand, had spent most of his summer at his house in Godric's Hollow with his grandmother, save for the occasional visit to his godfather. Still, nothing nearly as exciting as what Alfie had been up to.
Alfie shrugged. "I think I'd rather have stayed, honestly. It'd have certainly been more relaxing."
"Bet you Ella had a better summer than both of us."
"Doesn't she always?" Alfie said, dryly. "She's allowed to traipse all over wizarding and muggle London, and do whatever she wants all day. If only I could live in London— I'd never run out of things to do. Speaking of Ella—where is she?"
Teddy checked his watch. "She said she'd be here at two forty-five, there're still about fifteen minutes."
"Oh." Alfie sounded almost disappointed.
"Were you hoping she'd be late?"
"Well, it'd be one for the books if she was, wouldn't it?"
At this, Teddy laughed. Ella Anderson was his other best friend from school, and unlike Teddy and Alfie—who were both Hufflepuffs—she was a Ravenclaw. Unsurprisingly, she was more conscientious than the two of them combined: she was never late, she handed her homework in on time, and she always started studying for exams at least two months in advance. Sometimes Teddy wished that his life was as well put together as hers.
"I can't believe that she blew us off for Leonardo Torricelli, though," Alfie said huffily. "We were supposed to meet this morning, until she said she couldn't because she had to meet that Torricelli bloke, god knows what for."
"For the Transfiguration project, Alfie," Teddy reminded him, gently. "The one that we haven't started."
Alfie turned pink. "I forgot about that."
"Don't worry, we've got plenty of time."
"Why must teachers give us work over the holidays? It takes all the fun out of them! Not that my holiday's been much fun anyway."
Teddy nodded in agreement. His certainly hadn't been—he loved his grandmother, and his godfather, but the lack of company his own age had certainly gotten to him a little bit. Victoire Weasley, who was usually around during the summer, had gone off to France with her parents for the entirety of the holidays, and Alfie, in Oxford, and Ella, in London, lived too far away for him to see them regularly. It was only because they had to buy their new books for school that they were able to meet up like this again. He'd been looking forward to seeing them ever since they planned the trip; just seeing Alfie again had brightened his mood significantly.
Now, he thought, checking his watch again, if only Ella would hurry up.
.oOo.
III. A little about Ella
Ella Anderson did not fancy herself like other fifteen-year-old girls.
Other fifteen year old girls spent hours on their make-up, poured over Teen Witch like it contained the secret to eternal life, gossiped with their girlfriends, and obsessed over every boy that passed their way. Ella rarely wore more than a smidge of eyeliner, preferred to read Transfiguration Today, had very few girlfriends, and had no interest in any single boy.
Well, okay, maybe one boy.
And even that interest had only surfaced fairly recently. As in, five minutes ago.
It was all Professor Ellacott's fault, she mused, as she stood on the Tube on her way to Charing Cross. If Professor Ellacott had simply let her work in a three with Teddy and Alfie on their summer Transfiguration project, she might never have been paired with Leonardo Torricelli. If she'd never been paired with Leonardo Torricelli, she would never have arranged to meet him at the Shafiq Public Library of Magic, and he would have never asked her to lunch—and paid for the whole thing himself, despite her protests. And then she would have never found out that they liked the same books—historical fiction, both wizard and muggle—that they both listened to the Pygmy Puffs (and that they both agreed that the new album was a bit awful), and that they were both rather fond of current affairs.
She had to admit, it was awfully nice of him to take her to lunch. He certainly didn't have to do that. She almost wished he hadn't done that, because then she most certainly wouldn't be obsessing over whether it was a date or just a casual lunch between friends.
It was probably the latter, she told herself. But quite honestly, she wouldn't have minded if it was a date. She quite wanted it to be a date, actually.
Merlin, what is wrong with me?
Sighing, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and attempted to distract herself by looking at the news. Although she spent most of the year immersed in the wizarding world, she had grown up in the muggle world (well, partially), and it was the world that her parents, and—much to everyone's disappointment—her brother were a part of. She felt a sort of responsibility to keep up with what was going on in it.
An item at the top of the BBC website caught her eye: eleven-year-old girl missing in London area. She clicked on it, and an image of a doe-eyed, freckled-faced brunette loaded. She was wearing a green striped school tie and a blazer, and was staring up at the camera with an eager smile. The caption read: Melissa Cooper, eleven-year-old resident of Parsons Green, and former student of Queen Victoria Primary School was reported missing eighteen hours ago.
Ella's heart went out to the poor girl. Parsons Green wasn't far from Kensington, where she lived; she hated to think that such horrible things could happen so close to home.
She was about to put her phone away when it rang. One glance at the caller ID, and she picked it up immediately. "Is everything okay?"
"God, you worry too bloody much, sis."
"Language, Ashton," Ella warned.
"Sorry," Ashton Anderson, Ella's thirteen-year-old brother, said at the other end of the phone, although he did not sound remorseful at all.
"So I'll assume everything's okay, then."
"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Mum and dad are at the office, Rajiv just gave me lunch, and…" He trailed off for no apparent reason.
"And?" Ella prompted.
Silence.
"Ashton?"
"Can I go to the park with Abby and Daniel?"
Ella groaned. Although she was glad that her brother had several friends in the Kensington area, she didn't like the idea of him wandering around London alone. They might live in a rather affluent locale, but the city wasn't exactly safe, as the news item about the kidnapped girl had reminded her all too well.
"Please, Ella?"
"You know mum and dad don't like you going out by yourself."
"I'll be with Abby and Daniel! And you go out by yourself all the time."
That's because I can protect myself in ways you can't, she thought to herself, but she said nothing. Magic was a slightly sore subject around her brother; no one had been more disappointed that he had been when he didn't get his Hogwarts letter, even though their parents had raised both of them to understand that the likelihood of either of them being able to go to the school was very, very slim. Still, there had been a chance; after all, Ella had managed to somehow get the magic.
"Fine," she relented. "Just, be careful, okay? It's dangerous out there."
Ashton snorted. "It's Kensington. How dangerous could it possibly be?"
"A girl was kidnapped in Hammersmith & Fulham yesterday."
"Yeah, but where in Hammersmith & Fulham?"
"Parsons Green."
There was silence at the other end of the phone. "Oh."
Ella didn't like bursting her brother's bubble, but he needed to be aware that the muggle world – even the wizarding world, for that matter—was not all it was cracked up to be. Ashton might be privileged enough to live a rather cushy life, but he needed to be aware that there were dangers out there.
"Tell Rajiv where you're going, and when you'll be back," she said.
"He'll just put a Locator Spell on me," Ashton complained.
"And that's a good thing," Ella reminded him. Rajiv, the Anderson's butler, of sorts, was the only other person in the household who had skills like Ella's. He had been with the family since before Ella was born, and his family had assisted her mother's family for generations, even before her grandmother had moved to England from India. His loyalty was unwavering; when it had become evident what her mother was, he'd looked after her as she made the transition into the muggle world, and stayed with her even when she'd married Ella's father, a British muggle fashion designer.
"If you insist," Ashton grumbled. "Have fun in Diagon Alley."
"I will," Ella said. "Love you."
Ashton grunted, and disconnected the phone. She shrugged—he was a thirteen-year-old boy, what else could she expect?
The tube came to a screeching halt at Charing Cross station, and she got off. As she moved up the escalators, through the turnstiles and into the busy London streets, she felt a wave of excitement rush through her. All thoughts of Leonardo Torricelli, the poor kidnapped girl, and her brother left her head; all she could focus on was seeing her two best friends again.
Little did she know that in less than three hours, she would learn something that would change everything.
.oOo.
IV: The trio, reunited.
The first few moments of being reunited with friends are always the best. They're full of excitement, of questions being thrown around without really being answered, of allowing the other's presence to really sink in. They're about catching up without really catching up, about establishing that despite time passing, nothing truly important has really changed. And most importantly for Teddy, being with his friends again was full of the recognition that he was no longer alone. It was full of the knowledge that a whole new set of adventures was soon to begin.
Not that he had any idea about the magnitude of those adventures quite yet. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
They spent the first five minutes or so hanging outside the ice cream shop as Alfie finished his second sundae, catching each other up on their summers. Neither Alfie nor Teddy had much to say—Ella, on the other hand, had been to West End shows, gallery openings and had even had a weekend in Milan, but still somehow thought her summer had been boring.
"I wish my summer was as boring as yours, Ella," Alfie moaned, jealously.
Ella rolled her eyes. "You really don't."
"But I do."
"I'd much rather have gone on the tour of the universities with your father. All that knowledge," her eyes gleamed, "all those hallowed halls of knowledge."
"You're such a Ravenclaw."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Well…"
"It's not a bad thing! Ravenclaws are wonderful! Just because you're a Hufflepuff…"
"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?"
"Nothing!"
"Speaking of Ravenclaws," Teddy interjected.
"We were speaking of Hufflepuffs, actually," Ella said, matter-of-factly
"Oh, never mind. How was your library date with Leonardo Torricelli?"
He expected her to shrug, mention something about his ineptitude (as far as Ella was concerned, everyone except her was inept when it came to schoolwork) and how frustrating it was because he refused to listen to her even though she obviously knew best.
Therefore, he was very, very surprised when she turned a bright shade of red.
"I didn't mean real date, Ella," he said, puzzled. "It's a figure of speech, you know, not—"
"He took me to lunch."
"He what?" Teddy and Alfie exclaimed in unison.
Ella looked rather affronted. "Why are you two acting so surprised?"
"No reason," Teddy said, quickly. He didn't actually know why the idea of Leonardo Torricelli taking Ella Anderson out to lunch was so shocking—Ella was, after all, fairly pretty, with glossy dark hair, soft features, and deep, thoughtful eyes that were, rather unfortunately, obscured by her glasses. Perhaps it was the thought of Leonardo Torricelli, who was just so…unremarkable. Teddy didn't think they'd exchanged more than a perfunctory conversation in their four years of acquaintance.
There was silence for a few moments, before Alfie said: "Did you have a good time, then?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, it was wonderful. Leo and I like loads of the same things and—"
"He's Leo now?" Alfie interrupted.
The Ravenclaw turned an even deeper shade of red; so much so that it was distinctly perceptible against her tanned skin tone. "Well…yes, that is his name, you know, and he was awfully nice and…" she trailed off and sighed dramatically. "You know what, I'm making too big a deal of this. It was probably just a casual thing as friends, nothing more."
"No, no." Teddy shot Alfie a look. "Tell us about it!"
She shook her head. "No, I don't really feel like elaborating. Let's just change the subject, please? Have you heard from Victoire lately, Teddy?"
Teddy sighed; he was awfully curious about Ella's lunch with Torricelli, for some inexplicable reason (all right, perhaps it wasn't inexplicable—he was just very interested in what his best friends got up to), but had no way of bringing it back into the conversation. "Victoire's fine," he said. "She's in France, with her family, and she wants me to send her love." Although Victoire was Teddy's childhood friend, she was in the year below them at Hogwarts, and had often spent time with the trio. She wasn't necessarily close to Ella and Alfie, but she did count them among her friends.
"And Riley?"
Teddy snorted. "Does anyone but Victoire ever hear from Riley?"
"She wrote to me that one time before third year, remember?" Alfie piped up.
"Because she wanted your Herbology homework."
"Oh." His face fell. "Right."
.oOo.
V: Money, money, money (and time)
Shopping for school, Teddy thought, was not much fun.
"I just don't understand," he said, as they paid for the last of their schoolbooks at Flourish & Blotts. "Instead of buying all these books, and potions ingredients, and robes and everything, I could've bought myself—oh, I don't know—an owl—"
"Or a nice broom," Alfie, who had been a Hufflepuff Chaser since second-year, chipped in.
"Exactly."
"You're exaggerating," Ella said, lifting the heavy bag of books over her shoulder—Teddy couldn't help but think that she'd bought at least twice as many as he and Alfie put together. "Books are important. They're far more valuable than one of those racing brooms of yours."
"Speak for yourself," Alfie muttered grumpily.
"Well, think about it! You'll buy a broom today, and it'll be the latest and greatest, but then a new one will be out in a couple of months and the broom you bought will be worthless, and it'll be money down the drain. Books, on the other hand, will never go out of style."
"That's because they're already out of style."
Ella gave Alfie a murderous look.
As usual, it fell to Teddy to diffuse the tension. "What say we go to the Leaky Cauldron for a butterbeer?"
"Can we stop at Quality Quidditch Supplies on the way?"
"No," said Ella.
"Don't be mean, Ella!" Alfie pouted.
"No, I'm serious—you'll spend hour in there, and I've got to be home in an hour, so if you want a butterbeer, we'll have to go now."
Alfie looked as if he was having trouble making the decision, but eventually relented, "Butterbeer it is then."
"He made the right decision," Ella whispered to Teddy, as they walked in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. "I'd have found some way to hex him otherwise."
.oOo.
VI: (w)(b)itches
Until a month ago, jokes about the Leaky Cauldron's appearance had been circulating around wizarding society. The pub had been around for longer than anyone could remember, and yet no one could recall the last time it had been properly refurbished. The wood was scratched, the beds creaked and when it rained heavily, as was common in London, the ceiling leaked.
All that had changed recently, when Hannah Abbot, the landlady, had decided that her pub was seriously in need of modernisation. Although it retained its age-old feeling, the wood had been polished, the furniture had been replaced, new lighting had been installed, and the ceilings had been fixed, making it an altogether much more enjoyable place to spend a few hours in.
The change was reflected in the clientele; although he knew it had always been a popular destination, Teddy didn't think he had ever seen the Leaky Cauldron so crowded. He, Ella and Alfie were unable to find an empty booth, and so perched themselves at the bar instead, and ordered three butterbeers.
"It's madness in here," Ella said, as she took a sip of her chilled drink. "I suppose the refurbishment has really worked out well for them."
"I'm glad," Alfie said. "Isn't the lady who owns it—"
"Professor Longbottom's wife, yes," Ella finished for him.
"I hope we don't see Professor Longbottom."
"I thought you liked him!" Teddy exclaimed. Professor Neville Longbottom, who taught Herbology, was one of his favourite teachers at Hogwarts. Although Herbology wasn't necessarily his best subject, Longbottom was a close friend of his godfather and had made a concerted effort to look after Teddy during his time at Hogwarts.
"Of course I like Professor Longbottom—I just haven't started the Herbology essay yet, that's all."
"Alfie," Ella groaned, "how many times do I have to tell you to organise your time better? If you'd done it at the beginning of the holiday's like I had, you'd wouldn't be—"
"Teddy? Alfie?"
A petite girl with long ginger hair approached them, a glass of water in her hand.
"Oh great," Ella muttered under her breath.
"Hi Daisy," Teddy said. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Oh, Teddy, you know I don't live too far away! It's so wonderful to see you, and Alfie! I suppose you were doing your shopping then."
Ella cleared her throat. "Hello, Shipkins."
Daisy Shipkins, fifth-year Hufflepuff, turned, looked at Ella and nodded. "Hello, Anderson," she said mirthlessly.
Teddy and Alfie exchanged looks. There was absolutely zero love lost between Ella and Daisy Shipkins—they had never gotten along, ever since first year, when Daisy had made some choice comments about an older Hufflepuff girl that Ella had not agreed with. Teddy supposed he couldn't blame Ella; after all, although Daisy quite liked Teddy and Alfie, whether they liked her was another matter entirely. Daisy was, and always had been, rather petty and, quite frankly, a bit bitchy. She was the self-proclaimed alpha of her little gaggle of Hufflepuff girls, and was the kind of girl who thought herself far more superior than everyone else.
In any conversation, including this particular one, she made this little fact very clear, very quickly. "Did you hear? That old hag McGonagall didn't make me Hufflepuff Prefect. Can you believe it?"
Teddy thought he rather could, but he feigned surprise.
"I suppose, you're one of the Hufflepuff Prefects then, Teddy." Teddy nodded—much to his and his grandmother's excitement, he'd received the badge in the mail with his Hogwarts' letter. "Congratulations," she said, without sounding like she meant it. "It's probably the only good decision that witch made—did you hear who's Head Girl?"
"No," Alfie said. "Who?"
"Bella Watson." She said the name as if it was a dirty word.
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Alfie exclaimed. "She definitely deserves it—she's such a wonderful person. She helped me with my Defense Against the Dark Arts last year, she's the reason why I passed. And she's a wonderful Quidditch player too. Oh, I'm so happy." He suddenly caught sight of Daisy's face, which was as red as her hair. "Should I, er, not be?"
"Of course not!" she practically bellowed. "She's a slag—she's snogged all the boys in her year, and probably some of the girls too."
"She's not a slag," Ella pointed out calmly, taking a sip of butterbeer.
"What do you know, Anderson? I bet you've never kissed a boy before."
If this bothered Ella, she didn't show it. "You just don't like her because she beat out your sister for Hufflepuff Seeker."
"Laura deserved to be on the team!" Daisy exclaimed. Her suspicions confirmed, Ella settled back on her chair and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say 'what did I tell you?' She picked up a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet on the bar, and began to skim read it, removing herself from the conversation. Teddy wished that he could do the same.
"So who's the other Hufflepuff Prefect then?" he asked, figuring that if anyone knew, it would be Daisy.
"Matilda Goshawk," she muttered darkly. "The bitch."
Teddy had heard Matilda Goshawk described as many things: quiet, mousey, a little odd, a bit of a loner, but never, ever a bitch. Matilda Goshawk was the kind of person who'd probably never had a bitchy thought in her life.
He was about to say as much when Ella, not looking up from her newspaper, suddenly shouted: "Hey! It's that girl!"
"What girl?" Teddy asked.
"This one." She flipped the newspaper around and pointed at an image that took up most of the page. The first thing that Teddy noticed was that it was stationary—rather odd, considering that the Daily Prophet was, after all, a wizarding newspaper. The photo seemed to be a portrait of a girl: round-faced, freckles, messy brown hair. She couldn't have been more than eleven years old.
"Where've you been, Anderson?" Daisy said in a dull voice. "You live in London. Didn't your family get the wizard alert by post last night? You couldn't have expected it not to be in the Prophet."
Teddy and Alfie were both fully aware that Ella's family would not have gotten the wizard alert - the Ministry's system of warnings delivered to all wizarding households - but they didn't say anything. Ella simply shrugged. "My parents got an owl, but they haven't read the letter yet. They're busy people."
"Then how did you recognise the girl?"
"Who is this girl?" Alfie said, looking rather perplexed.
"She was on the muggle news," Ella said. "Her name's Melissa Cooper, she's eleven, and she went missing from Parsons Green yesterday."
"Where?"
"It's a place in London. But why's she in the wizard news? I thought she was a muggle!"
"She's a muggleborn," Daisy said, rather gleeful that she, for once, actually knew something Ella didn't. "Due to start at Hogwarts this year, only…well, she's missing now, so I suppose she won't be."
"Don't say that," Teddy exclaimed. "They might find her, you never know."
"Does the Ministry of Magic have some kind of police force?" Alfie asked.
Ella rolled her eyes. "Alfie, you've met Teddy's Uncle Harry. What do you think he does?"
"He's an Auror."
"And what do Aurors do?"
"Oh. Well, then. I'm sure wizards will be able to find her."
"Mm, I hope so," Daisy said, although she looked as if she couldn't care less. "At least there's a possibility of a happy ending there. There's none for me, you know. I tried to get my mum to write to McGonagall like she did when that slag Bella Watson got Prefect over my sister, but she refuses to because apparently it'll be of no avail. God knows why she chose Matilda! Matilda Goshawk, of all people." She sniffed, and Teddy rolled his eyes- how was it even possible to be so self-centred? "It's probably just because she's a Goshawk, you know. Her good-for-nothing twin's a Prefect too."
"Oh, Michael's a Prefect?" Teddy said, interested. "I didn't know that." Michael Goshawk was Matilda's Slytherin brother—he and Teddy were fairly good friends, although Michael preferred to hang around with Terence Gates. And Terence Gates and Teddy were most certainly not good friends—they were whatever the opposite of good friends were.
But more on that later.
"Yes, he is. I suppose it's to be expected, I mean, he's the only Slytherin who most people actually know- except Wallace Stimpson, of course, but that's only because he snogged Becca Dillion while he was still dating Morna Clemmons. The nerve, can you believe? Morna's so cute, why a boy would cheat on her, I don't understand. But anyway, back to the point."
Teddy was tempted to ask whether Daisy even had a point.
"Matilda," she said again. "Matilda bloody Goshawk, a bloody Prefect. God, I hate that girl."
"I thought you and Matilda were friends, though," Alfie said, puzzled. "I don't understand why you're so angry."
"Friends?"
"Yes, friends."
"Why would we be friends?"
"You share a dormitory," Teddy pointed out. "You've hung out together since first year, you sit together in classes and at lunch, you've visited each other during the holidays, she helped you when you almost failed Astronomy-"
"- We don't speak of that."
"Sorry. But that's not the point."
"What's the point?" Daisy asked innocently.
Teddy sighed dramatically. "The point, Daisy, is that you and Matilda are friends, and friends are happy for one another."
At this, Daisy gave a furious snort. "Ha! If we were friends, she'd have known how much I wanted to be a Prefect, and she'd have given it up. Fancy her telling me that I should be happy for her. As if."
She downed the last of her water, and declared, "I'm going to get some more. Just thinking about it makes me mad."
As she stormed away, the trio watched her wordlessly.
"You know," Teddy said, dryly. "For someone who claims to be popular, Daisy certainly has some funny ideas about friendship."
The other two nodded in silent agreement.
.oOo.
VII: Meals and their words
Dinner at the Anderson household was a formal affair: the family sat around the large, ornate dining table, with all the dishes laid out in the middle, and discussed the weather, school and work (but rarely magic—at least, not when Ashton Anderson was present). Dinner at the Hayes household was a warm affair: the family sat on the couches in front of the TV, getting up occasionally to help themselves to freshly-cooked food from the kitchen. Dinner at the Lupin-Tonks household, on the other hand, was a quiet affair: just Teddy and his grandmother, alone in the house in Godric's Hollow.
Teddy had lived in Godric's Hollow for most of his life. After the war, his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks, had sold her old house—it just had too many bad memories – and scraped together enough money to buy one in the locale where his godfather and his family lived. The house was small, but it was enough for the two of them, and Teddy wouldn't move anywhere else for the world; this was home.
He had returned from Diagon Alley after enduring another hour of Daisy Shipkins going on and on about Matilda Goshawk, Bella Watson and numerous other people who'd he'd barely known before, but was now intimately acquainted with, thanks to Daisy's blabbermouth.
"I mean, I did not want to know that Cynthia Zhang snogged Walter Hopkins in the broom cupboard on the second floor, or that Cordelia Cataware had gotten sma- er, tipsy, at Professor Slughorn's very last Slug Club party before retirement—but when Daisy Shipkins gets started, there's no stopping her," he told his grandmother who laughed lightly.
"She was probably trying to impress you with her knowledge."
Teddy made a face. "I certainly hope not. I don't like Daisy Shipkins that way. I don't really like Daisy Shipkins much in any way."
"I cannot say I blame you."
"You should have heard her talk about Matilda Goshawk- it was awful!"
"I'm sure you stuck up for the poor girl."
"Of course I did. Well, sort of." He hadn't actually explicitly told Daisy that she was over-reacting and being rather mean to the absent Matilda. Not that it made much of a difference anyway. "When Daisy makes up her mind about someone, nothing's going to change it."
"She's a lot like your friend Ella in that way."
"Yeah, but Ella's never mean. Stubborn, but not mean."
"That, from what I have heard, is true."
For a moment, they were silent. Teddy looked at his grandmother. She wasn't old, not as far as grandmothers went—only sixty-one—and yet the lines etched on her face told stories of ordeals beyond anything he could imagine. How she managed to still be so light-hearted, he did not know, but he was so very grateful to her.
"You didn't run into any trouble at Diagon Alley, did you?" she asked suddenly.
Teddy rolled his eyes. "Gran, I don't get in trouble everywhere I go."
"Really? That's news to me."
"Gran."
She laughed again. "I'm sorry, Teddy, you're right, I should be more trusting. I was simply wondering, what with that awful article in the Daily Prophet about that poor little girl…I would have expected some kind of Auror presence in the Alley."
"If there were Aurors, I didn't see them, which means that they're probably doing a fairly good job. I heard about the girl though—Ella saw her on the muggle news."
"Horrible, isn't it?"
"Yeah. I wonder if it had anything to do with wizards though—I mean, she hadn't even started at Hogwarts yet."
"Whatever happened, whoever took her, it must be awful for her poor parents." Andromeda Tonks was silent for a moment, and Teddy saw something like pain flicker through her eyes. When she spoke again, the quality of her voice had changed—it had become more raw, less controlled. "No one should ever have to lose a child."
It was at moments like this that Teddy Lupin was reminded that he was not a normal boy.
It wasn't because he was a wizard—there were plenty of those—or because he was a Metamorphmagus—although there weren't as many of those. It wasn't because his hair was a bright turquoise, or that it occasionally changed colour based on how he was feeling (although he'd gotten a lot better at controlling it in recent months). It was because a month after he was born, his parents were murdered, stolen away from him by people who had affiliated themselves with death and had barely any regard for life—especially not the lives of what they called half-breeds and blood traitors.
It was at moments like this that Teddy was reminded that although he had lost his parents, Andromeda Tonks had lost her daughter and son-in-law. He knew a few vague details about how she had left her pureblood family to marry a muggleborn, but it was enough to know that he was the only real family she had left.
There was silence for a moment. Teddy reached out and placed his hand on his grandmother's delicate skin. "I'm sorry, Gran."
She smiled ruefully. "It's alright, Teddy. There are some things that are out of our control. Let's just focus on the things we can control, okay?"
He nodded. "Okay."
"So," the older woman said, with what Teddy was fairly sure was forced enthusiasm, "remind me how you eventually managed to get rid of Daisy Shipkins?"
It was at moments like this that Teddy Lupin and Andromeda Tonks were reminded that there was something missing from their lives, and although they'd never be able to fill that gap, life would have to go on.
.oOo.
VIII: Ten days later
The days ticked by slowly. The twenty-first became the twenty-second, the twenty-second the twenty-third, and so on until it was the thirty-first of August. But if one relied on the Daily Prophet to gauge the passage of time, it would have seemed as if hardly any had gone by at all. The headline was the same, day in and day out.
Muggleborn girl remains missing. Auror office says no leads.
That was all about to change.
Night had long since fallen over London, and the face of the city had changed. The tourists and children had gone to bed, the businessmen had returned to their families and the streets were no longer clogged up with people trying to find their way through the maze of neighbourhoods. An entirely different population had come out: the clubbers, the night-dwellers, and, in some areas, the criminals.
The masked individual waited in the darkness of Whitehall until he was sure everyone had left the underground structure. The Minister, he knew, worked late, and the last thing he wanted was to run into him while carrying out his task—it would certainly make for an awkward interaction, and even he would struggle to get out of the incriminating position.
But eventually he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt's dark muscular figure leave. He watched as the Minister walked down the street, and he wondered, for a moment, whether he had a family to go home to, whether he had a family who would be able to console and comfort him when this all blew up in his face.
Probably not.
The smirk grew beneath his mask, and after waiting another half an hour—just to be sure—he slipped into the bathroom, and took the worker's entrance in.
The Ministry of Magic was eerily silent: the Atrium was pitch-black, and he blended right in. No one would ever know he was here: the others were taking care of that, and the lone Security Wizard simply didn't see him until it was too late.
"Stupefy."
The wizard's eyes went blank and he fell to the ground. The intruder stepped over his unconscious body. One of the others had suggested that they kill the wizard, to send a message, but he had decided against it. He had no qualms about taking lives, but at this stage it was wasteful, unnecessary.
Plus, he had seen the rosters; he knew who was on duty, and there was simply no point in spilling decent blood.
He checked once again to make sure that he was alone, and then set about his work. He completed his task quickly, but with great precision and attention to detail; if he was going to do something, he might as well do it right, give them a proper piece of work to write about, rather than a shoddy, messy inscription.
He left the Ministry the same way he came. As he moved out into the street, a group of muggle teenagers bumped into him; they were laughing, and he could smell the alcohol on their breath.
They had no idea what was coming.
He disappeared into the city, allowing its blackness to envelope him whole.
.oOo.
IX: Three hours past midnight
When the Security Wizard – a man by the name of Randy Brocklehurst—woke up, his head was pounding, and he knew something was wrong.
When he realised what was wrong, he knew that he had to call his superiors immediately, even though he would probably be fired.
When his superiors arrived, they called the Minister of Magic immediately, and told Brocklehurst that he was not fired (much to his relief), but he must not under any circumstances say anything to anyone, and most particularly not the Daily Prophet.
Somehow, the Daily Prophet found out anyway, but after a request from the Minister, agreed not to publish what had happened. Instead, the headline the next morning read "Ministry closed to the public today for unknown reasons."
They did not run the picture that had been anonymously sent to them: an image of a pillar in the centre of the atrium, with a message freshly engraved on it, and signed with a grotesque, intricate inscription of a skull:
We have Melissa Cooper. She is still alive, and shall continue to live if you comply with our demands. More to come.
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Thank you to all the amazing people who have reviewed, faved and followed - you guys are the best, and you totally make my day! If you loved, hated or are indifferent to this chapter - review, review, review! I'd love to know what you guys think and I promise you my eternal love.
Chapter Three is entitled 'The Journey' and will be with you next Wednesday! See you then!