"I don't want to go," Teddy said flatly. "Can't you tell Harry to come back and get me another time?" His amber eyes glared furiously. "I want to stay here." Lyall chuckled.

"Teddy, you were supposed to go back last week. I can't keep you here—school starts in just a few days, and I've already had to tell Harry off once—I can't do that again. You don't want him thinking you don't like staying there, do you?" Lyall asked.

"No," Teddy muttered. "But I like it here too."

"Then visit!" Lyall exclaimed. "I'll be here waiting for you until I can't wait anymore and I fetch you myself," he joked. "Just because you're leaving doesn't mean you can't come back—I told another young man that once."

"Who?" Teddy mumbled, still somewhat spiteful.

"A young Remus Lupin," Lyall said quietly, "Who went on and on about liking the chocolate here better than at Hogwarts, and who finally admitted the real reason he didn't want to leave was fear. But you aren't scared, are you?" Lyall asked, joking a bit. But Teddy wasn't laughing. "…Are you?"

"What if you aren't here when I come back!" Teddy exclaimed. "What if you go and die like the rest of them, and I never get to see you again? What if this is the last time, and it took me ten bloody years to realize everything I had been missing by not seeing you?" He huffed. Lyall instinctively reached his arms around Teddy.

"I'm not going anywhere, my boy. I'm not sick, I'm not dying, and there are certainly no dark wizards here to get me. I've lived in this house for nearly fifteen years, and I'm not planning in the next fifteen being any different." Lyall held the sobbing boy close to his heart. "I'm not going anywhere. In fact," He said, musing, "I can write you letter until you're absolutely sick of me. Dear little Teddy Bear this, and dear little Teddy Bear that, until you start to dread the sight of your own bloody owl. How does that sound, my boy?"

"Good," Teddy mumbled, still sobbing into Lyall's chest. "Better than good."

Later that night, when Teddy was just finishing packing his things, he saw his—and his father's—journal sitting on the nightstand. Perhaps this was the time for some fatherly wisdom. Teddy crawled into bed, turned off the lights—save the desk lamp by the bed—and turned to the first entry in his father's journal, seeing the same boyish scrawl from the "property of" page he had seen earlier.

I'm terrified. Yes, going to Hogwarts has always been my dream, but what if no one likes me? What if I don't make any friends? Worse, what if I do and they find out about me? It's safe here, with my mum and dad. They take care of me, feed me chocolate from France. What happens if the chocolate at Hogwarts isn't as good? What if, for all my childhood, I've been so looking forward to the chocolate there and it isn't what I've built it up to be in my mind? My mum says Honeydukes will be right next to the shack I transform in, but I think she's missed the point. The chocolate here is good, safe, kind. There's plenty of chocolate out there that isn't like the chocolate I have here.

I don't think I'm really writing about chocolate. I'm just worried about leaving my bubble that I've been so cozy in. And I know my parents don't want to see me go—my mother puts on a brave face, and my father has told me how wonderful "Minnie" is and how kind Albus Dumbledore has been to make sure I have everything I need…but it's not the same. I might not even be any good at magic—I've heard that we learn how to kill werewolves in defense class. I can't be good at that! What kind of werewolf learns how to kill its own?

My parents say I have nothing to be afraid of but that simply isn't true. People aren't like them out there in the world. My dad gave me this journal to write my fears in—by giving them truth, it's the only way I can get over them or some nonsense like that. I guess I'm worried that when I come back home, it won't be the same ever again. My life won't be the same, and it'll all be because I left home. Maybe I could get a job with Mum at the muggle place she works. They don't ask any questions when she takes off work for me, why would I be treated any differently there?

My dad says that's nonsense and that I'll be perfectly good at magic and school. He says defense is much more than killing werewolves—something he claims simply doesn't happen, which I know isn't true. Besides, he says I might be good at charms, since that was his strongest subject. I'm not sure I'll be good at anything, except for maybe History of Magic—I do like to read.

I doubt I'll write much in this journal, but if I do, I surely hope no one reads it. They'll find all my fears and weaknesses and secrets and make fun of me for it. I told my dad this, but he says I shouldn't worry so much. No one at Hogwarts is making a living reading the diaries of eleven-year-old boys.

Tomorrow I go on the train, and in just three weeks I have to go through my first transformation without my parents. They say Hogwarts has a great lady who will take care of me, but I can't help but picture the horrible ladies at St. Mungo's who treat me like garbage. I suppose I can't be too mad at them—it's not their fault they don't see me as a boy. I am considered a monster to most of the wizarding community that they've begrudgingly made me a part of.

Maybe I'll write after a week, if I don't go home first.

-Remus

Teddy paused and sniffled. Had his father really thought so little of himself as a boy? Remus Lupin had been the best defense teacher his godfather and all their friends said they had! And never in his life had Teddy learned how to kill werewolves—though maybe the professors thought it best not to teach that to students in his presence, knowing he'd blow up at any mention of it.

For all of young Remus' ramblings, however, Teddy understood why the boy wouldn't want to go to Hogwarts, especially not to leave his parents. Teddy could almost laugh—he was sure he had told Harry he didn't want to go see his grandfather the same way he told Lyall he didn't want to go back to England. But it was different for him—sure, the chocolate had been better, but there wasn't a reason not to go back to school. Teddy loved Hogwarts: his friends, his classes, everything about the place. He just wished his father had felt the same. Teddy closed his father's journal, placed it in his suitcase, and dozed off to sleep.

Of course, Remus did write in his journal after a week—and for weeks and weeks after that. For all his lies saying he went home to see his mum, Remus never left Hogwarts except during official breaks. Following entries were more about the pranks his friends pulled and less about his worries—though there were plenty of those too. But each ensuing year, Remus never once wrote again about not wanting to go to school. In fact, he dreamed about it.

Teddy, too, would dream of Hogwarts that night. Only he dreamed of going to school with his father. It was hard to imagine what an eleven-year-old Remus Lupin would look like, but the boy's subconscious did its best. He imagined telling Remus it would all be alright, and that Hogwarts was nothing to be scared of. He imagined what it would be like to hold his father's hand, telling him that his father was always going to be there—even when Remus could not. He imagined what telling his father about his achievements in the War would be like, and how the little boy would beam knowing how braved and loved he truly was. In short, Teddy dreamed of what could never be. But isn't that what dreams are for?

FIN