Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Chapter 41: Birthdays

Career Options

Lily Potter looked at the clock that hung on the wall beside the door and then glanced at the two cooling tea cups and the no-longer-quite-fresh scones on the kitchen table with a frown. It was Tuesday. Monday and Tuesday were 'Remus days'. Remus was always punctual to the minute. Now, if it had been a Wednesday or a Friday, that is to say a 'Sirius day', she would have been quite prepared for half an hour's delay. Peter sometimes didn't turn up until an hour later on Thursdays, because he would forget it was his day to look in on her. But Remus being this late was highly irregular. So much so that she was beginning to get slightly worried when, at last, she heard the sound of the knocker rapping against the front door. After the usual ritual of question and answer, she let Remus into the hall. They returned to the kitchen, where Lily apologised at once for the cold tea and scones.

"But you are rather late today," she said. "What kept you?"

"An interview for a job, actually," he replied, taking a seat and reheating the tea with a flick of his wand.

"And?"

"I got it."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Lily exclaimed. "Well done! What is it? When do you start?"

Remus laughed. "I shouldn't get too excited about it. It's nothing fancy, and it's only temporary. Still, it ought to be quite enjoyable, and every little bit of money is always welcome, especially since Dad left the Ministry. Actually, it was Bridget who helped me get it. She asked her employer, Mrs. Shaw, if they couldn't do with an extra hand. Well, Mrs. Shaw said she couldn't afford to employ anyone at the moment, but she does have a friend who runs a library in Kensington. That's where I've been this morning. I didn't expect it to take so long, or I'd have let you know I was going to be late. But the head librarian was pleased with my knowledge of what he calls 'Fantasy and Myth', and insisted on showing me round the library after I'd signed on the dotted line."

"Why is it only temporary?"

"That part will probably amuse Sirius. I'm going to be standing in for the woman who usually runs the 'Fantasy and Myth' section, who's off on maternity leave."

"Oh yes," Lily agreed with a grin, "Sirius is bound to have something to say about that."

Sirius did not disappoint them on this point. When he was told the news that evening at dinner, he roared with laughter until Remus said, "Well, all right, I knew it would tickle you, but I don't quite see that it's as hilarious as all that."

"I was just thinking," Sirius gasped between laughs, "this poor bloke's probably glad to think he's finally getting a worker who doesn't come over all funny once a month. He's in for a disappointment, poor devil."

"Hm. Yes, it does look like I'm going to have to rake up the old creative excuses again."

"When did you ever have creative excuses?" James teased. "Aunt taken ill, mother taken ill, grandmother taken ill ... they were very unimaginative for a person of your intelligence. Is your grandmother even still alive?"

"I think one of them is. Anyway, I think I'll start making my way home now. I start work tomorrow morning, I don't want to be caught nodding off on my first day."

Remus came home to find the light still on in the living room and his father sitting pensively in his armchair, reading glasses on his nose and a letter in his hand. He looked up over the rim of his glasses when Remus entered and gave a tired smile.

"Your mother's told me the good news," he said as Remus lowered himself onto the sofa. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. It's not going to pay much, unfortunately, but what I do get paid ..."

"What you do get paid, you will keep for yourself," his father said firmly. "Invest it in your future, in things you're going to need some day, when you become a teacher."

"I doubt that's ever going to happen ..."

"Remus," John interrupted him, and he looked and sounded very grave, "if you expect me not to reproach myself for what Greyback did, then you had better prove to me that it isn't going to ruin your life. You've always wanted to be a teacher, haven't you?"

Remus could not deny it.

"Well then. You've studied for it. You've taken exams. I know many don't bother with all that, a certain amount of skill is usually all that's required, but you said from the beginning you wanted to do this properly, and I respect that. But do it, Remus. Carry it through to the end. Don't give up."

"All right. I won't. But if you won't let me give you the money I earn, what are we going to do? We must have something to live on."

John glanced thoughtfully back down at the letter in his hands, then handed it to his son. Remus read it. When he looked up, his expression was both surprised and pleased.

"Professor Dumbledore wants you to be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"What do you think of the idea?"

"I think it's great," said Remus, handing the letter back to him. "Have you told Mum?"

John shook his head. "Not yet. I'm not sure how she'd take it. If it comes to that, I'm not really sure what to make of it myself."

"You're definitely qualified."

"I suppose I have 'a certain amount of skill', yes," said John with a wry smile. "But that isn't what bothers me about it. Teaching at Hogwarts would mean living there for the better part of the school year. The term starts in a few months' time, and I don't know how often I would be able to come home after that."

Remus thought about it. "Mum wouldn't like you being away so much, of course," he said. "But I still think this is a good thing, and I think she will see it that way, too. She couldn't come with you, I suppose?"

"I'm afraid not. Hogwarts isn't a hotel for its professors' families, after all. It's a school, and from what I've heard the teachers' rooms are just about large enough for one person. And the income won't be enough to rent a place in Hogsmeade."

"All that set aside," Remus said, leaning forward in his seat and watching his father's face intently, "do you fancy the job?"

"I don't know," John said. He removed his glasses and leaned back in his arm chair, closing his eyes in thought. "I suppose ... I might enjoy it, actually. It's very different from what I'm used to, of course. It would be a challenge. But it is a very important job, particularly at a time like this. It could prove very rewarding."

"Then why not give it a try? I'm sure Professor Dumbledore won't hold you to anything if you find it doesn't suit you."

"I'll think about it."

"You do that," said his son. "And talk to Mum about it."

"I will, when I'm a bit clearer in my own mind."

"All right. But don't wait too long." Remus got to his feet. "I'm going up to bed. Good night, Dad."

"Good night, Remus."

* * *

A Quiet Birthday

For the next few days, John spent a lot of time reading Dumbledore's letter over and over in secret, whenever Faith wasn't looking, and he discussed it with Malcolm and Bridget, but he still hadn't told her about it. Finally, one Monday morning at breakfast, when Remus had just left for work, Faith surprised him by bringing the subject up herself.

"So - have you decided what you're going to do about the job Professor Dumbledore has offered you?" she asked, piling the dirty breakfast plates into the sink and turning the tap on.

John's jaw dropped a little in surprise. Faith turned round slowly to look at him. "When were you going to let me into the secret?"

"I ... soon. I suppose Remus told you?"

"In a way. He didn't mean to. He just happened to mention it yesterday. He seemed to be under the impression we had already talked about it. I gathered from what he said that I'm the last to know."

"Not quite. I mean, I've talked to Bridget and Malcolm, and Remus, of course, but no one else." Seeing her frown, he added quickly, "I'm sorry. I wanted to talk to you about it. I just wanted some time to consider it by myself."

"By yourself? And yet you discussed it with Malcolm and with Bridget? But not with me." Faith turned the tap off and returned to the table. She pulled a chair closer to his and sat down. "What you really mean," she said, "is that you were going to make up your mind to refuse Professor Dumbledore's offer because you didn't think I'd like it, isn't it?"

He smiled guiltily. "Something like that. If I accept this position, it means I'll have to spend a lot of time away from home. I don't like the thought of leaving you alone like that, and I didn't think you would like it either."

"John ..." She took his hand and squeezed it. "Of course I'm not overly enamoured with the idea of your being so far away, but we do need to eat, and I gathered from what Remus told me that you're really quite keen on the job."

"I never would have thought of it myself," John said quietly. "I would never have put myself forward. But since Dumbledore has suggested it, I've thought about it a lot, and yes, I must admit the idea is growing on me. I'm sorely tempted to accept."

"Then go ahead. I've seen you struggle on for so long in a job you had started to hate just to get by, and if this is something you feel you could be happy doing, then don't waste any more time. Tell Professor Dumbledore you'll take it. If this will give you something to do that you enjoy, I'll be happy for you. And I'll be a lot happier knowing you're near Dumbledore, and that you're safe at Hogwarts." There was a pause, then she got back to her feet and returned to the sink. "Think about it, John. But think about what you want. Don't worry about me. I'll be all right."

She said it quite lightly, but her voice was slightly choked, and he did not miss it. John came to stand beside her and picked up a dish cloth. She gave him a watery smile.

"Seriously, John," she insisted. "Don't let me stop you doing what you want to do. Promise me."

He hesitated briefly, then he nodded.

* * *

Bridget and Malcolm came round that afternoon, and no one talked about jobs any more for the rest of the day. Instead, Malcolm brought up the discussion of John's birthday for about the hundredth time.

"I've told you," John said warningly, "that I have no intention of making a big thing of my birthday. I'm going to spend it the same way as every year - just a quiet day at home with the family. That's all I want."

Malcolm shook his head vehemently. There was a mischievous glint in his eye. "No, no, no, John, that won't do. How many fiftieth birthdays do you think you're going to have? It's always the same with you, you always did have to be forced into having some fun on your birthday. You should have seen him on his thirtieth," he added as an aside to Bridget. "I had to drag him out of the house by the scruff of his neck, but when he got to the Bouncing Banshee, he had the time of his life. The barmaid took a shine to him, and we had free cocktails all night - because it was his birthday, she said."

"No, Malcolm, you had free cocktails all night, because you paid for them out of my wallet after I had fallen asleep at our table," John recalled with amusement. "Remus was just a few months old, and still making his presence very much known every night, and all I wanted was a quiet day ..."

"... at home with your wife and baby, yes, I know. But you've got to get out at least once in ten years. Remember your fortieth birthday?"

"I prefer not to," said John.

"Oh, come on, you enjoyed it, really. And you'll enjoy this one, too. It'll do you good to get out."

"I don't want to get out. I'm quite happy staying where I am."

"Well," Malcolm told him, leaning back against the sofa cushions. "We've all got our hearts set on a nice, noisy party, so I suggest you cooperate, or you'll have no say in the matter whatsoever. And just so you know: I ran into that belly dancer from ten years ago the other day, and she gave me her new address, just in case. I can promise you, if you thought she was a sight to give you sore eyes then, you don't even want to think about what she looks like now. So, what's it to be? The Leaky Cauldron's a bit too stuffy for partying ..."

"Maybe I like 'stuffy'."

"The Three Broomsticks just hasn't got the atmosphere, and it's old-fashioned ..."

"So am I."

"And it's full of school kids at weekends."

"I don't mind school kids."

"The Hog's Head smells funny."

"It's goat," Bridget put in.

"What?"

"The smell you were referring to," said Bridget. "It's goat."

"Right. So. Anyway - how about reliving old times and going back to the Banshee? We haven't been there for years."

"You are joking!" John exclaimed, but he didn't sound too sure.

Malcolm just grinned.

* * *

June came, bright and warm, and life continued much as usual. John finally made up his mind to accept Dumbledore's job offer, and Faith put a brave face on it, as she had promised she would. No more mention had been made of viable locations for John's birthday party for weeks now, but he still felt apprehensive when he went to bed the night before - he had known Malcolm long enough to be distrustful of his apparently having given up trying to persuade his old friend to have some sort of party.

John woke on the day of his fiftieth birthday, feeling much the same as he had on his forty-ninth. Really, he thought, one birthday was very much like another. He rolled over. Faith's side of the bed was empty. He wondered when she had slipped out. She had closed the bedroom door behind her, and he rose now and opened it.

Out in the hall, a delicious scent of freshly baked bread wafted up the stairs, and John went downstairs and entered the kitchen, still in his pyjamas and dressing gown, to find the kitchen table laid out with a white table cloth and set for five. It was laden with a delicious selection of cheeses, meats and jams, jugs of juice and pots of steaming tea and coffee. Faith and Remus were already fully dressed and greeted him with enthusiastic congratulations and hugs.

"I thought I said I didn't want a fuss," John remarked amusedly.

Faith kissed him. "You've got to be made a fuss of today, my love, sorry."

"Can we even afford all this?" he wondered aloud.

"On the expectations of your new job," Remus said with a grin, "yes."

Faith said, "You might want to go and get dressed before you open your cards." She indicated a stack of envelopes at the head of the table. "Bridget and Malcolm said they'd be here by half past ten."

"In that case, I've got plenty of time. I've never known your brother to be punct..."

But just then, there was a loud knock at the front door.

"There's always a first time," said Remus, going to answer it.

"So, thought we'd be late, did you?" Malcolm said, laughing as he preceded Remus and Bridget into the kitchen. "You should have known I'd want to make sure there's some of the best food left." He glanced at the table and added appreciatively, "You've outdone yourself, sis, and that's saying something. John, my old, old friend - happy birthday."

He embraced his brother-in-law and then stood aside, making way by taking a seat at the table while Bridget took her turn.

"Happy birthday, John," she said, with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I'm not exactly suitably attired to receive guests."

Malcolm said jovially, "We quite understand. I hear old folks take a bit longer to get going in the morning."

John laughed. "I'll remind you of that in two years' time!"

Malcolm grimaced and turned to his wife. "Give him his present and shut him up, will you?"

Bridget smiled and said, "Do you realise you're one of the hardest people I know to buy presents for?"

"I can imagine," said John, putting an arm around Faith and squeezing his son's shoulder. "I've got all I need."

"Not quite. Faith said you could do with a new pair of slippers," Bridget continued. She looked down at his feet. "I love the ones you're wearing, by the way."

These were a very old pair Malcolm had bought him once as a joke. They were faded and threadbare, and had pictures on them of animals dressed up as Robin Hood and Little John. Malcolm had told him they were something called 'merchandise', connected with a Muggle 'film'.

"I'm rather attached to these myself," he admitted.

"Which is why we've spent months hunting high and low to buy you these," Bridget announced, presenting him with a carefully wrapped parcel. He unwrapped it, opened the box, and revealed a brand new pair of slippers exactly like the ones he was wearing. Everyone laughed, and they sat down cheerfully to enjoy their breakfast.

Bridget and Malcolm left around lunch time, wishing the other three a nice, quiet day, and John finally had time to go upstairs and get dressed. When he came back down, he found his wife and son waiting for him in the living room. There was a small parcel on the coffee table.

"What's this?" he asked. "I thought we'd agreed not to buy each other presents any more."

"We had to get you something, though," Faith said.

John picked up the parcel and unwrapped it carefully. It contained a very old, tarnished gold pocket watch. He recognised it at once. It had belonged to his father, and John had been forced to pawn it a month ago, shortly before he had made up his mind to become a teacher as Dumbledore had suggested. Deeply moved, and not knowing what to say, John pulled them both into a hug.

* * *

Summons

It was nearly seven that evening, and John, Faith and Remus were sitting together comfortably in the living room. The magical violin was playing soft music, and John was happily enjoying the peace and quiet when, suddenly, the fireplace coughed. Well, actually, it was not the fireplace, but the head of Gordon Gryffindor, which had made a sudden appearance there. The old wizard's expression was both apologetic and serious.

"Good evening," he said. "I'm sorry to disturb you - happy birthday, by the way, John - but I'm afraid something rather urgent has come up. There's an emergency meeting of the Order, you had better come at once. In fact, I think it's best if all three of you come. You'll see why when you get here."

And with that, he was gone again. John sighed. "I should have known something would come up. It seems there's no such thing as an evening of rest to be had any more these days."

With a frown, he reluctantly heaved himself out of his chair and led the way into the hall. Faith cast a glance at Remus who, to her surprise, winked at her. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he whispered, "I think I know what the 'emergency' is. I shouldn't worry too much."

* * *

The great door at Gryffindor Hall was opened to them by Cronky, the very old House Elf, who bowed so low to them that his nose nearly brushed the floor.

"Hello, Cronky," John said. "Where is everyone?"

But he did not have to wait for an answer. A chorus of voices from the gallery above began to sing "Happy birthday to you" rather dissonantly, finishing with a loud shout of "Surprise!"

Balloons magically began to rain down on them, and Malcolm led the others down the stairs. There was soon much patting on the back, hugging and congratulating going on. There was old Gordon, now smiling benignly, Dumbledore, the Longbottoms, James and Lily, Sirius, Peter, Bridget and Malcolm, Alastor Moody, the Prewett brothers and Benjy Fenwick, Dedalus Diggle, the McKinnons, Edgar Bones and Dorcas Meadowes - not the whole Order, but quite a turnout, nonetheless.

Malcolm said, "I hope the venue's not too modern for you, John."

"A bit grand, perhaps," he answered a little hoarsely. "But just about old-fashioned enough to suit me."

They all sat down to a delicious, sumptuous meal in the dining hall. For once, no one talked about fighting at all. They drank wine and told jokes, James and Sirius provided entertainment by reliving some old pranks from their school days and describing a few of the inventions they were most proud of, such as the penetrating omnioculars which aroused Moody's interest greatly. Once everyone was full up and the table had been cleared, Gordon signalled to Cronky, and the House Elf disappeared with a pop, only to return a moment later with a parcel so neatly wrapped that only a House Elf's deft fingers could have performed the job. The tag read, 'To John, from your friends.' Intrigued, John opened it slowly. It was a small suitcase, of good quality leather. Across the corner was written 'Professor J. Lupin'.

"It's from all of us, the Order," Bridget explained. "We thought it might come in useful.

John looked around at them all. His eyes were suspiciously bright. "Thank you all," he said with feeling, "for everything. This present, and the evening. It's been wonderful."

"See," said Malcolm, "I told you you'd enjoy your party, if you only made the effort to have one."

John smiled at him. "I must admit, I have. This was definitely one of your better ideas."

Malcolm glanced sideways at Bridget and grinned. "Yes, well, I can't take all the credit. Personally, I still don't see what's wrong with the Banshee."

* * *

That night, John did not go straight to bed. Remus stayed up with him for a while, smiling as he watched his father examining his new suitcase with barely concealed pride.

"I gather you like it," he remarked with amusement.

John nodded. He snapped it shut, and put it down carefully next to his chair. "It makes it all seem more real, somehow, and more right. It's strange, I haven't felt like this for such a long time."

"Like what?"

"It's hard to explain. Like ... like something is going right, for once. Like there's still a purpose, a meaning in all of this. I used to believe everything had a meaning, once upon a time, that there was a reason for the things that happen to us, somewhere in the grand scheme of things. I had forgotten what it felt like to believe that. I had begun to doubt that there even is a 'grand scheme'. But now ... now, at last, I feel like I will be doing something that's worth while and maybe, somehow, preparing the way."

"Preparing the way for what?"

"For a better future. For a new world, and a better life. Isn't that why one teaches? To help prepare the next generation for life? It is a job worth doing. The children should be taught as much as possible about how to defend themselves against what we're all facing. I think I can help them, and I think I'll enjoy doing it. My work at the Ministry used to be about helping people, and these past few years have been frustrating. Now, I will finally be doing something for people again, giving them something they need. And also," he added meaningfully, "preparing the way for you."

"For me?"

John smiled. "Now that I've got used to the idea, I'm genuinely looking forward to my new job, but I won't be doing it forever. I like to think that I won't be the last Lupin to teach at Hogwarts." He pointed to the case. "There's room for an extra letter on there, Remus. And one day, I want to see it there. Nothing could make me prouder."

* * *

New Lives

It was two o'clock in the morning on July 30th, and Frank Longbottom was feeling shaken up and exhausted. There had been times during the last twelve hours when he had begun to reproach himself for having put his wife through this, and when he questioned the reasons. Was it really so important to have a child? Surely his wife's comfort was more important to him than the selfish wish for an heir? They didn't need a child, they could have got on fine on their own. Or they could have adopted. Anything, anything to spare her the pain, and himself the torment of standing by, watching and listening helplessly, fearing for her.

"Frank?"

Her voice, faint and insecure, broke his thoughts, and he practically leapt from his chair to her bedside and took the hand she held out to him. "Alice, I'm so sorry."

"W-what? What are you talking about? Where's Neville? Is he all right?"

Frank gave a small start. They had not talked about names for a long time. He had not really thought about it. There had seemed to be no need, and he had never even wondered why. Now he realised. In both their minds, their child had already been named. And now, as he turned towards the cot and lifted the tiny bundle of life out to place it in his wife's arms, all his earlier thoughts and fears seemed small and insignificant. They were alive and well, both of them. Alice's face had never looked so soft, or so happy, despite the pallor. She smiled.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?"

"That's because he's yours," Frank said tenderly.

She looked up, and reached out a hand to pull him closer. He kissed her, and then he kissed their baby son. He touched Neville's tiny fingers, and they closed tightly around his, holding on as if they would never let go.

"What was it you were sorry about?" Alice asked quietly.

"Putting you through this," said Frank. "You seemed to be in so much pain."

"Was I?" she asked detachedly. "Maybe. I don't know. It doesn't matter now."

"No," he agreed. "Nothing matters. Nothing but you two. Whatever happens, I promise I will always look after you both, until my last breath, I ..."

"Frank," she interrupted him gently, placing her fingers over his lips. "Some moments are best enjoyed in silence."

He nodded. She was right. This was one of those moments. A perfect moment, filled with more happiness than he had ever thought possible. Words would only spoil it, they couldn't express half of what was in his heart, anyway.

* * *

Lily Potter was very busy combining the name of Sirius Black with all the curses she had ever heard of, and making up some of her own when she ran out. He was late again. In the normal way, she wouldn't have minded, but today was different. She had been having cramps all morning, and was becoming increasingly sure that they were nothing less than genuine contractions. They had started some time ago, and she had held on only by telling herself that it would be all right, Sirius would be coming soon. But when the appointed time had come and gone and there was still no sign of Sirius, she had first gone into a panic, and then started thinking of all the curses and hexes she would like to try out on him.

"It would have to be a Friday," she muttered under her breath, clenching her teeth.

She went to the phone again. James had had one of these Muggle devices installed for her, so she could phone her mother. This she had done. But her mother, of course, was in Surrey, and there was little she could do except advise Lily to "hang magic and call an ambulance". So Lily now dialled Bridget and Malcolm's number. She let it ring, and ring, and ring, but no one answered. Evidently, then, the Marleys were not home.

"Couldn't you have waited till tomorrow?" she asked the bulge that was causing her this distress, stroking it with one hand and making her way into the kitchen. "I don't know where your Daddy is today, and your godfather-to-be is as conspicuous by his absence at the agreed time as ever. Ouch! Oh, for goodness' sake!"

She made it to the kitchen, took a pinch of Floo powder and chucked it into the fire. She pulled up a chair, leaned forward as far as she could and said, "Faith Lupin!" Quietly she added, "Come on, please be home, please ... Faith!"

Faith's head obligingly appeared as summoned. "Lily!" she exclaimed, "what is it?"

"It's ... ouch ... the baby. I think it's due," Lily said, and to her own annoyance tears began to spring to her eyes. "And Sirius should be here, but he's not, and I don't know where James is, and I called Mum, but she's too far away, and Bridget's out, and I don't know what to do."

She suddenly started sobbing. Faith said quickly, "It's all right, Lily, don't worry, we'll work this out. Hold on." She disappeared for a moment, then returned. "Can I come through to you?" she asked.

"Oh yes, please!" Lily exclaimed. "Come in," she added, remembering the correct phrase that would make their fireplace allow Faith to join her.

An instant later, Faith was standing in her kitchen, and put her arm around Lily's shoulder.

"It's all right," she said, "John's going to find James for you. They'll come straight to St. Mungo's. All we need to do now is get you there. The Knight Bus is probably the quickest way. Come."

Lily allowed Faith to guide her into the hall and wrap a cloak around her shoulders. It was then that they heard the roar of an engine outside the front door, and Lily could not be stopped from tearing it open and yelling at Sirius.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

He gaped at her, stared at Faith, and then leapt forward to catch Lily as she gave another gasp of pain and doubled over. His face went very white. Faith held out her wand, and with an ear-splitting noise, the purple triple-decker Knight Bus pulled up beside them. Faith told the driver where they wanted to go, while Sirius guided Lily to a fluffy arm chair. She had started sobbing again.

"I was waiting for you," she complained. "You were supposed to be coming to make sure I was all right, but you didn't turn up, and I wasn't all right."

"Lily," he said, mortified, "I'm sorry, honest, I didn't mean to be late, I got held up, I ... I'm sorry."

He looked even more terrified when she suddenly clutched at his collar and began crying into his shirt, and was relieved when Faith rejoined them and took over, talking soothingly to Lily and getting her to relax a little. They reached St. Mungo's quickly, and Sirius's relief was even greater when James turned up just five minutes later.

* * *

Sirius was pacing. He had been pacing for close to three hours now. For the first few hours after their arrival at St. Mungo's, he had exercised patience - or what passed for patience in Sirius's world. Then he had paced for a few hours, up and down the waiting room, and down and up again until he was too tired to go on pacing. He had sat down and waited some more. Presently Peter had turned up, explaining that there had been a message from James waiting for him when he had got home from work. Remus had been the last to arrive. He had come straight from the library where he now worked, and where his parents had called on him earlier, on their way home, to tell him Lily had gone into labour. And then Sirius had started pacing again.

"Do all children take this long to be born?" Peter wondered.

"I don't think it's all that unusual," said Remus.

It was another half an hour later that the door to the waiting room finally opened, and the appearance of James put an abrupt end to Sirius's pacing. The beaming smile on his face told all. Sirius heaved a relieved sigh, and all three of them took turns at hugging James.

Then Sirius asked, "Well? Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy," said James, grinning from ear to ear. "We're going to call him Harry."

"Why Harry?" asked Peter.

James shrugged. "No particular reason. We just like the name, that's all."

"That's a bit lame, isn't it?" Sirius remarked, slowly regaining his typical jovial air. "I mean, no reference to any historic personality or to someone to whom you feel particularly close emotionally or anything like that? Just Harry."

"Yes, just Harry," James said. Then he added, "Well, Harry James, actually."

"Very original," Remus said with a smile. "I congratulate you."

"Well, we thought it was better than something portentous and legendary or being named after a star," James said with a wink.

"You have a point," Sirius admitted. "Okay, Just Harry it is, then. When can we see him?"

James beamed. "I thought you'd never ask. Come on."

* * *

The sun was setting, colouring the horizon a deep shade of pink, against which the branches of all the trees in the forest surrounding the Lupins' cottage were silhouetted like an enormous spider's web. Malcolm stepped out of the house and searched for Bridget with his eyes. She had not gone far. She was leaning against a broken down bit of fence just a few yards from the front door, and he came up behind her.

"Bridget," he said, "is everything all right?"

She nodded a little too quickly. He took her by the shoulders and turned her round to face him, then uttered an exclamation at the sight of the tears that sparkled on her cheeks. She gave an embarrassed sort of shrug and turned away again.

"Why are you crying?" Malcolm asked.

"I thought women were entitled to cry when - when their children suddenly grow up and have children of their own," Bridget answered tearfully.

He said gently, "They don't usually go running off in the middle of the news though. And I think the tears are supposed to be tears of joy. You're upset."

"I dare say I'll get over it."

"It might help if you told me what exactly it is you need to get over."

She turned her head to look up at him, and then leaned against him, pulling his arms around her with a heavy sigh. "It ... it's just ... I've been wondering lately if I was too young when I had James. I was hardly more than a child, only just eighteen, and now ... now he's a father, and I ... I ..."

Malcolm started grinning, and even gave a slight chuckle. "I get it. You don't like the idea of being a grandmother. If it's any comfort to you, my darling, I'm sure no one will ever guess. When you take the baby for a walk, people are more likely to think it's your own."

"But that's just it!" Bridget cried.

She pulled away from him and began to pace up and down rather quickly, wringing her hands as she struggled to express what was on her mind without sounding too foolish.

"I feel I am still young enough to ... have a baby," she finished quietly, coming to a stop a few paces away from him, but keeping her eyes averted. "The fact is that not all that long ago - when you came back, safe and sound, and we got married, and you were getting better - I thought perhaps ... who knows? We were both still young enough, and I-I mean ... I love James. Dearly. Ever since he was born, he's meant the world to me, but ... He's not yours."

She finally raised her eyes to Malcolm's face, which had turned grave. He came to her and took her in his arms. Bridget clung to him tightly.

"When I was with the Death Eaters," Malcolm said quietly, "there were times when I thought about the same thing. I would have liked us to have children, too."

"But it's too late now," Bridget murmured. "I can't have a child younger than my grandchild, it would feel wrong."

Malcolm sighed. "Yes, I suppose it would."

"Do you mind terribly?" Bridget asked, looking up at him searchingly.

Malcolm hesitated only a moment before shaking his head with a tender smile. "As long as I've got you," he said, "I don't mind anything."