Four For A Boy
Teddy Remus Lupin. Named for his grandfather, who died a month before he was born, and his father, who was killed a month after. He was born in the afternoon when it was chilly and raining outside, and he cried loudly when pushed into life. He took to the breast hungrily, and it was a few tearful minutes later when his father asked if he was imagining things, or was the baby's hair changing colour?
Teddy's dad wouldn't have admitted it to anybody, but he wanted a girl. More than anything Remus wanted a healthy baby who wasn't a werewolf, but if he had the choice he would have chosen to have a daughter. A son would have been too much like him, and Remus spent most of the pregnancy hoping that his child wouldn't be like he was. But the baby was male, and Dora and Andromeda insisted that his face looked just like Remus'. They probably thought that they were being truthful and generous. Generosity from Andromeda was rare, so Remus tried to look touched and grateful. Perhaps, he hoped, it was a genetic compromise; the child could look like him, think like him, like the things he liked- as long as it didn't have his blood. Anything but that. Mercifully, Teddy didn't have the lycanthropic curse in his veins, and mercifully his father found that out before he died.
What Remus Lupin didn't live long enough to find out was that his son was grew into a boy much like he had been; thoughtful, bookish and artistic. For the most part the child did look, think and act like him. If Remus had lived he would have been proud of his son, of course. But as he never told anybody that he wanted a girl, nobody wonders if Remus would have been pleased to know how much his son is like him. There is nobody to wonder if he would feel that the boy is his redemption.
For Andromeda, having a grandson is a relief. She'd grown up between two squabbling sisters; Bella the bossy eldest and Narcissa the spoilt baby. Mother liked to dress the three of them in matching dresses with sashes and bows. Cissy was the only one who enjoyed it, whereas Bella and Andy would yank their bows out as soon as they could and "accidentally lose" their satin sashes. For the first few years the nursery was full of dolls, pink, princesses and a toy kitchen, until Bella kicked up enough of a fuss to be given a train set and a box of toy soldiers one Christmas. They were intensely competitive in lessons; before Hogwarts Andromeda would desperately try to read the books that Bella was, and when they were at school together Andromeda would compare her end-of-year exam results to the ones Bella had received two years earlier. Cissy was less academic but her looks drew attention, and Andromeda would have been lying if she said she wasn't jealous. Then Ted came along, and the attention Narcissa got didn't seem important any more. Andy never found out if she'd beaten Cissy at NEWTs because by the time Narcissa finished school Andromeda and Ted had eloped to Manchester. Andy never saw her sisters again.
Marriage wasn't the end of it though, because soon after the wedding Andromeda found herself pregnant. The pregnancy was difficult and the labour was long, and when the Healer gently handed the wailing baby into Andromeda's arms, Andromeda was so exhausted and bewildered that she passed the child straight to Ted. In hindsight that was an omen for all of their daughter's childhood; Ted was hands-on, affectionate and seemed to naturally know what he was doing, and Andromeda was flummoxed and waspish. She went back to work four months after the baby was born, so it was Ted who raised their daughter for the first years. Andromeda supposed that as the working parent she should have been Fun Mummy- coming home in the evening and not having to deal with constantly entertaining and disciplining. But in event she was the bad cop. She found herself constantly barking, "Fingers out of mouth, Nymphadora", "Sit up straight, won't you?", "Fingers out of the biscuit tin, Nymphadora", "Be quiet and stop fidgeting", "Fingers out of nose, Nymphadora". Despite her multicoloured hair and her jeans and Ted's accent, Nymphadora reminded Andy too much of herself and her sisters as children. Nymphadora was a funny, talkative, sparky child and Andromeda liked being part of a family, but she couldn't help the feeling of resentment towards her daughter. It was hardly a surprise when Nymphadora came home from Hogwarts for Christmas in her first-year and announced that everybody at school called her by her Muggle-born father's surname. She grew up, applied to the Auror academy, was trained by the bravest of them all, fought the Dark Lord and died alongside her husband and friends, but not before she had birthed a baby. Andromeda was left to the raise the child (with many helping hands from the Weasleys and the rest of Nymphadora's friends) and perhaps the one small mercy is that he's a boy. Teddy may have his grandfather's name but he is his own person. He doesn't feel like a shadow of Andromeda's childhood, nor does she see him as a new version of his mother. She doesn't resent him for being too like Bella, Cissy or Nymphadora. He is her Teddy. He loves his toy hippogriffs and his parliament of cuddly owls. He tips his head back when he laughs, which is often. Andromeda's just started to teach him how to write his name, and he clumsily grasps the pencil as he traces out wobbly letters. Teddy R Lupin. Her grandson. Her boy.
Harry Potter is an orphan boy. Teddy Lupin is an orphan boy. They are not alike. Harry had had nothing of Lily and James' for ten years, so every photo, object and anecdote was like gold-dust. For Teddy he's ensured that memories of his parents are everywhere. Andromeda insisted too and Hermione's been a big help, organising stuff and writing letters. Harry recalled being mesmerized by Lily's handwriting in the letter she'd written to Sirius; physical proof that she'd moved and thought. Perhaps it was all the more special for being an ordinary letter and not something magical. It hasn't been hard to find examples of Lupin's handwriting; he was a big list-maker and Harry's got his notebooks in the attic, plus his drawings. Teddy's eight now and good at art so he likes seeing his father's sketches. Most letters written during the war had been burned upon reading as a precaution, but Molly and Arthur had kept the note Lupin had written to tell them of Teddy's birth. It's hastily-written, with Lupin's already messy handwriting wilder than usual. It means the world to Teddy.
Harry and Hermione wrote to their classmates asking for their memories of Professor Lupin's Defense lessons ("As if Lavender's Boggart was an eyeball," Ginny scoffed) and Andromeda found his lesson plans. Harry could pull strings at the Ministry to get hold of Tonks' Auror application and paperwork- Ginny's good at reading a mission report and re-telling it as a story for Teddy. Plenty of Order members had lots of memories of Lupin and Tonks and a few photos of them together, although not as many as Harry and would have liked. When he remarked on this, Andromeda, who had taken most of the photos and kept the originals, snapped, "Well, there wasn't much time for cosy photoshoots that year, was there?". There's a Professor McGonagall-ish mildly terrifying authority about Andromeda and, cowed, Harry mumbled an agreement.
Harry throws himself into this physical, commemorative side of godfatherhood because the other aspects are more complicated. Being a father figure to a baby boy when Harry was still a boy himself was bewildering, although Harry reckons he's got better now that he's got a son of his own and another baby on the way. There is, Hermione sometimes says, a nice cycle to it; Harry being Teddy's father figure when that's what Lupin was to him. Harry thinks that's a bit soppy, but she does have a point. But Lupin was always easy to talk to whereas sometimes Harry struggles with Teddy. James is a toddler and Harry likes sounding out words with him as he learns to speak, but Teddy's a chirpy, chatty eight-year-old and so much has changed since Harry was that age that he doesn't know how to hold a conversation about toys or imaginary friends.
What worries Harry most, however, is that Teddy's starting Hogwarts in a few years- surely he'll want to know about his dad at school. Andromeda's got Tonks' uniform and lots of photos of her as a kid, but Harry knows that for a boy there's something reassuring about knowing his dad specifically was going through the same things. James' schooldays were the part of his life that Harry was and is most curious about. The is is uncomfortable because when it comes to the Marauders, Harry is Teddy's equal, not his father figure. He's finding out things along with Teddy. Once, Harry was the boy with questions and Lupin was the man with the answers. Now it's Teddy whose asking questions but Harry doesn't know the answers. He doesn't know how Remus met Sirius and James, he doesn't know how the Marauders found out Lupin was a werewolf, he doesn't know whose idea the map was. There's going to be more of questions like that once Teddy starts school. Harry barely knows anything about Lupin's life between James and Lily's deaths and when he came to teach at Hogwarts. Sometimes he asks himself how he could count himself as close to Lupin, how Lupin could have made him godfather to his son, when Harry only knew him for five years. So when Teddy asks questions, Harry can only reply sadly, "I'm sorry, little man. I wish I knew".
For me as well as you, he adds in his head. And then he feels guilty for not knowing, guilty that he selfishly wishes he had the answers too and, most of all, guilty that he's the reason Teddy's parents are dead.
Harry Potter is an orphan boy. Teddy Lupin is an orphan boy. They are too alike.
He's not like other boys. Other boys are rough and cocky and always showing off for each other. Teddy's more mature. He and Vic have been friends since they were tiny so they pretty much grew up together. He's in fifth year now; she's in third. Most boys double-take when they first see Vic, but Teddy's known her so long that Vic doesn't think he's ever really noticed her looks (sometimes she wishes he did). Teddy's got a gentler sense of humour; he's quirky and witty, whereas Vic's more barbed. Most boys don't like that, but Vic's met Teddy's grandmother so she knows that he can handle it. Most boys cannot change their appearance at will. And if they could, most boys would make themselves the handsomest boy in school so they could get girls. Teddy doesn't. He uses his morph powers to do crazy things to his hair and to make people laugh.
He isn't like other boys because of everything that's happened to him. Most boys are not orphans. Most boys were not raised by their grandmothers. Most boys do not get more stares and questions than a part-Veela Weasley whose parents were in the Order (Vic knows this from experience). The questions make him weary and he gets upset when kids ask where in the castle his Mum and Dad died. A couple of times they've been alone together and talking about it and he's got tearful. He always cries silently. Once he muttered, "Sometimes they make me so angry,"
"Who?" Vic asked, "Kids asking questions?"
"No," Teddy answered hoarsely, "Mum and Dad."
Most boys' fathers were not werewolves. Vic gets the odd howl or wolf-whistle because of Dad, but Teddy gets loads more. Vic's heard people taunt him by asking when next full moon is. They call him "Wolfie", "Mongrel", "The Werewolf Prefect". Vic's seen younger kids scuttle fearfully out of his way. Vic gives as good as she gets back to anybody who says anything to her about her dad, and she wants to do the same when it happens to Teddy, but he always hisses, "No". He insists that it's better to ignore it. Vic tells him that's daft, and he puts his hands on his shoulders and tells her that it's his problem, not hers.
"But both of our dads-"
"It's different," he says sharply, "Don't fight my battles for me, Vic".
Most boys would argue with her further, but Teddy walks away. All of Vic's friends- boys and girls- act cold for a day or so after arguing, but Teddy acts as if nothing's happened and the next day will be back chatting and joking with her. Vic likes to think that being with him makes her more mature too. It's definitely a more grown-up friendship because although they joke, chat about music and moan about homework, they have a…a shared understanding of everything that makes them different. Their families and their fathers' bites and their mothers' magical looks. Being the oldest of the post-war generation with a direct link to Harry Potter. Being children of the Order.
Most boys graffiti cocks, boobs and skulls all over parchment and desks and people's arms. Teddy draws animals and trees. He's drawn Vic a couple of times, which she loves. Most boys sound petty when they swear, but with Teddy it's more natural. He swears because he's cross or for emphasis, not because he's trying to look tough. He likes Quidditch but he isn't as fanatical as the boys Vic is friends with. He's not uppity about being a prefect like the other Prefect boys are.
Vic doesn't know any boys who get chocolate all over their face like Teddy does when he eats it. She hasn't met any boys apart from Teddy who want to be Healers when they leave school. Nobody else makes her think like Teddy does; he's always got an interesting way of looking at things. Vic doesn't know anyone who dresses like Teddy does- most boys wouldn't be seen dead wearing girls' jeans. Most boys don't carry a tatty paperback in their pocket at all times. Most boys don't think that Where The Warlock Wanders is the best Wizheds song. Most boys aren't constantly stubbing their toes. Most boys aren't like Teddy Lupin. There is, Vic thinks, smiling as the turquoise-topped figure waves a hand and strolls across the great hall towards her carrying a stack of toast, only one of Teddy Lupin.