Euphemia grumbled to herself, "I'm used to not receiving letters for at least three or four days, so why do I feel so troubled?" She asked herself, and she looked at her reflection. It had been an entire week without a single form of correspondence, something must be wrong. She got her response when a dark grey owl made his presence known.

Now, this owl, she didn't recognize, she immediately picked up the letter, that it protruded, the penmanship was different, but still familiar, she recognized this handwriting, this was Albus Dumbledore's work. Something must definitely be wrong.

"Well, well, well… what's this?" She grasped the letter attached to the owl's leg, and gave it a curt thanks. She opened the envelope and a letter popped out.

Ah, a talkie. The headmaster's voice came out sounding rather softly, "Dear Mrs Potter, it is with a heavy heart that I notify you of the passing of your children and your daughter-in-law, James, Sirius and Lily. Together, they came up with a plan to put an end to Voldemort. They gave their lives to make sure their son could have a brighter future. They were some of the brightest students I have ever had the privilege of knowing. I will have Minerva bring young Harry to Potter Manor tomorrow morning, Poppy is currently doing a checkup on him.

Sincerely,

Albus."

Euphemia shuddered, her eyes shut and her knees quivered, until they gave out, causing her to fall to the ground. Her cries of anguish echoed through the Potter family home.

The next twelve hours were spent in turmoil for Euphemia. The pain was fresh, but she had a grandson to watch over now, even though she couldn't help but feel a little impatient. Minerva was taking a very long time, and although she understood, it didn't stop her from worrying about young Harry. "I don't have much time to gather supplies, but it's better than nothing, his crib is probably gone, if what the news reports were saying are accurate. Let's see, I have a couple of pillows, and a spare bed, which I could possibly transfigure into a cot, at least temporarily until he's old enough for his own bed. I have to go shopping soon. Get some food and other such things." As Euphemia spoke out loud to herself, she couldn't help but hear a rapping on the door to the manor.

Euphemia slowly made her way to the front door, opening it and staring at her friend carrying a small baby boy in a sturdy basket.

Euphemia went to speak, but was cut off by Minerva, placing a finger just above her lips, suggesting she quiet down, she leaned closer to Euphemia and whispered, "I don't know how, but he managed to fall asleep without any coaxing, and quite frankly, I'm not going to risk, waking him up, at least not yet. Hello, Euphie."

"Hello, Minnie," Euphemia croaked, her pain still fresh, "I hope little Harry wasn't too much trouble for Poppy."

Minerva chuckled, "I believe her exact words were, 'I've been a healer for forty years, and never in my lifetime has there been a child with such powerful lungs.'"

Euphemia rolled her eyes in jest and slightly groaned, "I don't know how I'm going to be able to hear if what you say is true, Minnie. James was so loud that we could hear him from the meeting room on the second floor of the house!" Though she complained, Minerva could easily see the reminiscent smile on her old friend's face.

"Well, I hope Lily's half of the genetics are able to temper that loud screaming, I wish I could stay longer, but I really must get going, students to teach and ceremony to prepare for. I will write as often as I can, I am truly sorry for your loss, Euphemia, I'm only one letter away. If you need me, have a good night."

"Good night, Minerva, please tell Hagrid, I said hello," Euphemia responded softly.

"I will." And with that, Minerva McGonagall disappeared.

A sorrowful breath left Euphemia's lips, before looking down at her grandson, "I know I might not be what you need right now, my little Harry, but I will do my best to make sure that no one will hurt you. Grandma promises…"

The next few months were a test of patience for Euphemia, despite her adoration for her grandson, his rather quiet nature (when he wasn't crying), was almost unsettling. She would often stop by his cot just to make sure that he was still breathing.

A soft huff left her lips, "He's fine, Euphemia!" She quietly admonished herself, "You are acting like you've never raised a child! If he needs something he will let you know!"

Euphemia slowly dragged her hand down her face, but then she heard a small whimper: "Mama…"

Her heart sank, as she made her way to Harry's makeshift cot, gently picking up her grandson and swayed softly as she whispered, "I'm sorry baby, grandma's here, mummy can't be here, she went to heaven with your daddy, but it's okay, grandma's here…" Euphemia continued to whisper sweet nothings as tears silently rolled down her cheeks.

On that night, the two held each other as much as the chirping of crickets surrounded their bleak home.

"Hmm… I wonder where that old bed went… What was the name James gave it? Sigmund? No… Edwin? No… Ah! Edmund to me, please!"

Then, a steady stream of clopping came into hearing range, Euphemia looked at the enchanted winged-horse shaped bed.

"Hello Edmund, I want you to meet Harry, my grandson."

The bed hopped around with an enthusiastic neigh.