Bathilda's Words

"GO ON, HARRY! GET HIM!"

Summer had been long that year. The heat had been stifling and Lily had suffered most of all, being the size that she was. Of course, she didn't mind. Nobody did.

James' son was laughing loudly, tottering round the garden. He was chasing a giant, shaggy black dog that would strike fear through any muggle or naive wizard. To Harry, this animal was his Godfather.

"Woof, woof!" Harry giggled, lunging for the dog's tail. The dog barked a laugh, tickling the toddler by nudging him in the ribs with his nose. Harry shrieked in delight, eventually collapsing into the dog's thick fur, hugging him. The dog obligingly lowered his back. James chuckled to himself, knowing full well what Harry wanted. He walked over to his son and friend and lifted Harry onto the dog's back. Carefully, the dog cantered round the cherry blossom tree in the middle of the lawn. Harry clung safely to the dog's fur, still having the time of his life.

"JAMES!" called a voice. The game stopped and the three boys looked up. Lily was leaning out of an upstairs window, her red hair darkened with water. She was wrapped in a towel.

"Someone's at the door! Answer it, will you?"

"Oh, alright then!" James groaned teasingly. The dog chuckled to himself. James crouched down beside his son for a quick word.

"Who's this then, Harry?" he whispered in his son's ear.

"Padfoot!" said the toddler, eliciting a round of applause from James and from Lily, who was still watching the scene from the bathroom window. It had been only recently that Harry had learnt to pronounce his godfather's name properly.

"Better change back, Padfoot," James warned his friend as he straightened up. The dog playfully nuzzled his godson in his neck before slinking off down the side of the shed, where he'd left his clothes when he transformed. James walked back through the tiny, stuffy house, smiling to himself about the significance of this day. Two years since his world became bigger and scarier... two rocky but bloody brilliant years.

When he opened the door, he was delighted to see another friendly face.

"Where's the birthday boy?" grinned Bathilda, stepping over the threshold. She held a cardboard box in her hands.

"Nice to see you, Bathilda," James smiled, kissing the old lady on the cheek. She still smelt powdery and soft, much like she always did.

"You look well, James. You were very tired last time I saw you!"

"Yeah, well, my son's two years old now. He sleeps all through the night!"

James showed Bathilda through to the garden, where Sirius sat in human form on the grass with Harry, pulling funny faces and making the boy laugh.

"Hello there, dear!" Bathilda said to Sirius, who waved cheerfully.

"How's that beautiful lady of yours, Sirius?" she asked.

Sirius grinned. "Isabelle? She's erm... well, we're engaged."

Bathilda squealed and rushed to hug him. From behind Sirius, Harry looked up at the visitor and flashed a great big smile. Bathilda gasped dramatically.

"You have so many teeth! Those will come in useful later!" she bent down and held the box towards Harry. He waddled over and, with Sirius' help, opened the box. Inside was a messy-looking cake with blue icing and a shakily-drawn broomstick on it.

"Wow, Bathilda!" exclaimed James. The three adults laughed as Harry prodded the cake with his finger and fed himself some icing.

"He must be hungry..." said Sirius suggestively. James rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright, I'll get the plates,"

Lily joined them for the cake. She and Bathilda gushed about her imminent birth while James and Sirius continued goofing around, making Harry laugh by drawing moustaches and lipstick on each other with the icing. It wasn't long before Lily was falling asleep at the table. James carried her to bed, closing the bedroom door on her and re-joining his friends afterwards. By the time he was downstairs again, the air was cooling and the sky had turned dark blue. Bathilda had conjured floating yellow orbs that hovered around the blossom tree, illuminating the garden. James joined her on the recliners while Sirius continued to play with Harry.

"It's such a shame that you couldn't be living in your new house for Harry's birthday, James..."

James stretched. "I think Lily was more disappointed than I was. She's more sentimental about that stuff. We'll be there in time for the birth, that's all that matters. It's closer to St Mungo's, you see,"

When Bathilda didn't reply, he looked to her. She appeared deep in thought.

"How's the new book, Bathilda?" he asked, distracting her.

"Oh, slowly. I'm quite tired nowadays..." she trailed off. " You mentioned St Mungo's. I was there yesterday."

"Oh? What for?"

"Augusta invited me. We were visiting the Longbottoms."

Silence fell between them. Not even Harry was laughing any more. Clearly, Sirius had worn him out.

"How's their little boy?" he asked her finally.

"Neville? Oh, he's very handsome! Such a happy baby. You wouldn't know..." she stopped herself. James knew what she was going to say next. You wouldn't know that his parents are insane. Bathilda looked hurt. Hurt by her own thoughts. James picked up his wand from beside his recliner and pointed it towards the house.

"Accio Butterbeers!"

Two bottles of butterbeer drifted out of the back door, clinking together as they flew. James caught them both and passed one to Bathilda. She smiled warmly as she took it. James held his bottle aloft.

"To Frank and Alice Longbottom?"

Bathilda's smile grew into something nostalgic and grateful. They heard Harry cry from his room. It didn't pierce James' heart like it usually did when Harry was in pain or lonely. It was just a reminder that Harry was safe, and that hope was always round the corner.

"To Frank and Alice."