Questions and Answers

The young man looked around the dark street, before ducking inside the Three Broomsticks. 'Ta, Rosmerta,' he said, with a cheeky grin. 'Could you send me a butterbeer?' He flipped a couple of Sickles onto the bar, then sat at a table that faced the door, keeping his back firmly to the wall. He settled back in his chair, taking a magazine out of his jacket pocket. It was more of a prop, as the young man held it open in front of him to keep people from trying to engage him in conversation, than to read about new ways to transfigure live animals. 'Thanks, Rosmerta,' he said when she brought his butterbeer.

'Alone tonight?' Rosmerta asked, setting the drink on the table.

'Yeah.' He took a sip of his drink, eyes flickering imperceptibly toward the door. An older man with grizzled black hair, wearing a traveling cloak, with the hood pulled over his head, limped into the pub, and painfully lowered himself into a chair at a table next to the younger man.

The older man looked up at Rosmerta. 'Firewhisky, and leave the bottle,' he growled, pushing several Galleons toward her. 'The good stuff, not the swill.' Rosmerta left and the man pulled the hood of his cloak further over his head.

The younger man looked down at his magazine. He picked up his butterbeer, and under the cover of taking a sip, murmured, 'Potter talked to Lupin today.'

'So?' The older man's lips barely moved, but his voice carried to the younger man through the hubbub of the busy pub.

'Why would an Auror want to talk to an Obliviator?'

The older man snorted sardonically. 'You're a fool.' He scanned the crowed in the pub. The younger man's shoulders hunched irritably. 'Potter's the mongrel's godfather. Furthermore, the mongrel's dating Potter's niece. It wouldn't be unusual for them to talk.'

The younger man took a long, slow swallow of his drink. 'But it makes the perfect cover, you see. Nobody would suspect anything,' he softly insisted.

'How much would the mongrel know? He's only been doing this for two years.' The older man tossed back the whisky in his glass.

The younger man drained his butterbeer. 'You're the fool if you underestimate Lupin.' He set the bottle down hard, and left a handful of Knuts on the table for Rosmerta's tip and left.

*****

Teddy rubbed his eyes and pillowed his head on his folded arms. He turned his head to the side, grey eyes fixed on the map. It had been fairly quiet for the past several weeks. Just the normal events to Obliviate: dragon sightings in Wales, young Muggle-borns who had lost control of their magic and turned the family dog blue or purple at a play park. There hadn't been any Muggle-baiting since a few days after his talk with Harry.

Teddy hated the overnight shift. Everybody rotated between a week on the early shift, a week on the middle shift, and a week on the overnight shift. Then one week off. Teddy supposed it was only fair. That way, all the new Obliviators didn't get stuck working the overnight shift all the time.

It wasn't the hours that bothered Teddy. He was grateful he wasn't Siobhan, though. She had a two-year old at home, and the overnight weeks were hard on her and her husband. No, what bothered Teddy was the time he had to think. And what he mostly thought about in the twilight glow of the Obliviator office was his parents.

To Teddy, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin were an abstract idea. They weren't even as real as the Hogwarts ghosts. He had photographs of them, and he knew all kinds of stories about them. He even had the journals his father faithfully kept from the time he left school until the night he died. Teddy even had the letters they wrote to him the night they died. His mother's had been folded around a few photographs of Teddy with his parents. His father's had been tucked into the last journal. Andromeda had saved all of them. The photographs and been framed, and the letters saved for when Teddy was "older". The journals had been packed away in the attic, and seemingly forgotten, until Teddy found them one summer afternoon in a fit of ennui.

Teddy had gone through a phase his fourth year where he obsessively asked everyone he knew for information about his mum and dad. He had spent hours when he wasn't in class, sitting in the corridor where the memorial wall was located, sitting across from it, looking at his parents' likenesses.

He alternated between intense longing to be able to see them, talk to them, even hug them and intense guilt because he felt at times Harry and Ginny were his real parents. There were moments, especially early in the morning in the liminal time between night and day, where Teddy felt something brush across his hair. He fancied it was his mother's caress, something he might have remembered from his babyhood, if he could. He also could feel someone, or something, staring at him, right between his shoulder blades. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. But he wasn't afraid. He did spin sharply around each time, thinking there was a person standing there, but the corridor was always empty.

His fifth year, he seemed to feel perpetual rage, just simmering under the surface. Rage directed impotently at his parents for leaving him. At the Christmas holiday that year, Harry had taken him out to the woods behind his house to a small clearing. Harry had expertly cast several nonverbal charms, and sat on a fallen tree.

'Scream,' he had said simply. 'Nobody will hear you.' And scream he did. Teddy screamed until he was hoarse, and his throat felt raw and bruised. He had also kicked several tree trunks for good measure, thanking Merlin that he had worn his heavy boots, and only bruised his toes, and not broken any of them. Eventually, Teddy collapsed on the tree trunk next to Harry, who hadn't said a word, panting for breath. It was only then that Teddy realized he'd been crying when he felt the cold wind stream over his sore cheeks. Harry hadn't said anything other than, 'Let's go back to the house for something warm to drink, eh? I think Molly's sent some biscuits over, too.'

Teddy felt drained, emotionally and physically. Ginny had taken the little ones to Diagon Alley to do some Christmas shopping, so the house was empty. Harry steered him into a chair at the kitchen table, and set a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of him. Harry sat across from him with a cup of his own, and patiently sipped his hot chocolate, waiting for Teddy to talk. Teddy wrapped his hands around the cup, and stared into the cup. 'Drink it. It'll help.' Harry motioned toward the cup. A wistful smile flitted across Harry's face. 'That was almost the first thing your dad said to me. I met him on the train to school my third year.'

Teddy rubbed the sleeve of his jumper under his nose, and mulishly eyed the hot chocolate. He brought the cup under his nose and inhaled the aroma, closing his eyes with pleasure. He took a tentative sip and a blissful smile spread over his face. Something in the back of his mind fell into place. Chocolate was something he had always gravitated toward. He supposed he came by it honestly. Remus talked about chocolate with a reverence he only showed to one other thing.

Dora.

Mum.

Horrified, Teddy felt fat tears roll down his cheeks. Harry still said nothing, but conjured a handkerchief and silently passed it to Teddy. Teddy swiped the handkerchief over his face and sniffed a few times. 'I hate that they're gone,' he croaked. 'And sometimes, I hate that it's you sitting here and not my dad.' Teddy gazed out the window, eyes fixed on the snowman James built the day before. He took a few sips of his hot chocolate, not daring to look at Harry. The idea of putting pain into his godfather's eyes, made Teddy well up with tears again. 'Is it wrong of me to feel like you and Ginny are my mum and dad?' Teddy said helplessly.

Teddy waited for what seemed like an eternity before he heard Harry's shaky, 'No.' Teddy turned his head to look at Harry. Harry was staring into his cup, tracing the rim with a fingertip. 'You're still their son, Ted, but Ginny and I couldn't love you more than if we'd given birth to you.' Harry swallowed heavily a few times. 'I saw him. After he died.' Harry's mouth snapped shut.

'Who?' Teddy's forehead creased in a perplexed frown. 'Dad? How?' he asked hungrily.

'It was a sort of Priori Incantatum.' Harry sighed. 'He was sorry. That he wouldn't be able to watch you grow up. That he hoped one day you would be able to understand why he fought and why he died. He did love you, so much. And having you made him happier than I'd ever seen him.' Harry closed his eyes, against the sting of tears. It still hurt even more than fifteen years later.

Breathing deeply, Harry opened his eyes, and looked at his godson. 'It's all right to be angry. But don't be angry at them. Be angry at the ideas that made that war happen. And make damn sure you don't forget it, so it won't happen again.'

'Were you ever angry at your parents?'

Harry leaned back, staring at the ceiling. 'No. It was different for me, though. I didn't know anything about them until I was eleven. But I never got angry at the fact they'd died until I was your age. When Sirius died. I almost destroyed Dumbledore's office that morning.' He took a meditative sip of his drink. 'And afterward, it just felt numb.' Harry reached across the table and knowing Teddy was almost too old for this, but needing to do it anyway, he ran his hand over Teddy's hair. 'It was different for me, though. I never knew anything about my parents until I was in school. I didn't get to miss them until much, much later.'

Teddy rolled over onto his back, one eye on the map. A flash of red, caught his attention, and he sat up. There was an incident in Inverness. He noted the weariness on Siobhan's face as she lifted her head to peer at the map. 'I'll go,' he said quietly, anxious to leave his thoughts behind.

'Are ye sure?' she asked, uncertainty marring her normally cheerful features. 'Ye did the last one, too.'

'Yeah, I'm sure.' Teddy got to his feet and went to the map, tapping the flashing red light with his wand. The exact location glowed over the light, and Teddy memorized it, knowing he would need to Apparate.

'Ye're a good man, then, Teddy Lupin,' Siobhan murmured sleepily, as she stretched out on a battered sofa. 'Too good for the likes o' most o' the girls out there.' Her Irish lilt broadened as she drifted off to sleep.

Teddy grabbed his jacket and left the room, grateful when his shift was over, his week off started and he wouldn't have to think about this place for another week.

*****

Al set up his cauldron for Potions, glancing at the board for the ingredients they would need for the day. It was going to be a simple Forgetfulness Potion - something they had mastered last year, but it looked like Professor Williams was going to see how much they had forgotten over the summer. Al had often heard his parents, aunts, and uncles speak of the person who'd been their Potions professor, Severus Snape, and even though it was obvious Professor Snape was a gifted potions-maker, it seemed his teaching methods left something to be desired. And Al was willing to bet his Comet 1250 that Professor Snape would not have let Scorpius get away with his soft whistling.

Al tilted his head to the side, trying to get a good listen to the tune. Scorpius had just started idly whistling when Professor Williams walked into the dungeon. Williams had just started his round about the room, checking to make sure everyone had the proper ingredients out before they began brewing the potion when Al realized what the song was. It happened to be the same moment Professor Williams stopped by the table where he and Scorpius sat. Al tried to choke back a laugh, but started coughing instead. 'All right?' Scorpius stopped whistling, and patted Al on the back.

'Yeah, fine.' Al glanced at Scorpius, who had resumed his serene whistling. Professor Williams was giving instructions in that deep, reverberating voice of his and he also wore his usual school day robes of black - because black hid all kinds of potions ingredient stains. Al swore he saw Professor Williams' eyes flick in their direction, and a corner of his mouth quirk up in a sort of grin.

Scorpius was whistling the Darth Vader theme from the Star Wars movies.

When Williams came by to check the status of their potions, he gave Scorpius a slightly pained look, and asked, 'Am I that bad?' before going to the next table.

Scorpius' mouth dropped open, and he looked at Al in surprise. 'How does he know that?' Scorpius asked, clearly mortified.

'No idea,' replied Al. 'But I wonder if -' Whatever Al was going to say was cut off by a shrivelfig smacking into the side of Scorpius' head with a sticky splat. Al's head swiveled and he turned to see Geoffery Greengrass smirking at them from the table behind theirs. 'Oi! Greengrass!' Al hissed. 'You already had a taste of what Rose can do, and she's a girl. Do that again, and you'll have to answer to Fred, Jacob, James, and me,' he warned. Al was gratified to see Geoffery' insolent smile slip a few notches. Jacob was one of the Gryffindor Beaters and Fred played Keeper and over the summer, they had packed on a few pounds of muscle. And everyone knew that even though publicly, James took great pleasure in teasing him, James and Al would fight side-by-side to the death, or until a teacher pulled them off the poor sod who dared to poke fun at the Weasley-Potter brood. And Rose had pummeled Geoffrey so badly last year that he had had to go to the hospital wing and see Madam Pomfrey. Evidently, the idea of facing four boys, who could do what Rose could and so much more made Geoffery a bit nervous. He swallowed audibly, and looked around to see if anyone else had overheard Al refer to the fact that Geoffery had in fact, been beaten up by a girl.

Scorpius was wiping the shrivelfig sap from his face with the edge of his robes. 'You don't have to do that,' he said reproachfully.

'Yes, I do,' Al insisted.

Scorpius hunched his shoulders miserably. He picked at a hangnail on his thumb, making it bleed. 'He's not worth losing House points over,' Scorpius pointed out logically. He knew it was useless to say so. When it came to the Potter boys, sense was often the loser in the face of sensibility.

'No, he's not, the manky git,' Al agreed. 'But you are,' he added.

The rest of the class passed without incident. The students bottled samples of the potions and left them on Professor Williams' desk, and tidied their areas, cleaning up spare ingredients, washing out cauldrons and ladles, and packed their schoolbags. Al, Scorpius, and Rose were about to sling their bags over their shoulders and head up to Charms when they heard Professor Williams' deep voice summon Geoffery. As a single entity, they all found something to dawdle over. Al's shoelaces had inexplicably come untied; Rose seemed to forget if she had spare quills; and Scorpius "accidentally" spilled the bottle of ink on the edge of Professor Williams' desk.

Professor Williams hid a smile at the three of them, and turned his wrath on Geoffery, who lounged impudently on the edge of a table. 'Twenty points from Slytherin, Greengrass,' he stated flatly. Geoffery slid off the table and started to leave the dungeon. 'I'm not finished with you,' Professor Williams continued, still in that deathly quiet voice that held all the lethalness of an Unforgivable. 'Detention. With me for a week. Then a week with Professor Longbottom. Then a week with Hagrid. Then two weeks with the house-elves,' he finished with a malicious gleam in his eye. 'And don't even think about writing to your parents. You've continually broken class and school rules for over a year. And it stops. Now.' To Al, Rose, and Scorpius, it felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. They exchanged way glances and tiptoed from the dungeon, breaking into a run once they hit the corridor.

'Did you see the look on that great prat's face when Williams mentioned Hagrid?' chortled Al.

'Or the house-elves?' added Scorpius. 'Oh, Rosie, your mum will nail Geoffery to the wall if he looks at one of them the wrong way.' He bent over in silent laughter, his shoulders shaking. He stopped to catch his breath, panting.

'Come on, you two. We'll be late for Charms.' Rose tugged at their sleeves.

'It'll be worth it, though,' sighed Al happily.

After dinner that night, Maddie cornered them in the common room. 'Is it true?' she demanded.

'Is what true?' Scorpius retorted.

'That Greengrass got five solid weeks of detention from Williams today.'

'Oh, that,' said Al dismissively.

'Yeah, that.'

'It's true,' piped up Rose. 'Two weeks with the house-elves, too.' A slightly diabolical look came into Rose's eyes. Greengrass felt he was above most people anyway, so some time being ordered about by the school elves justice in Rose's eyes.

'It's all over the school,' Maddie gloated. 'I heard it from Parker at dinner. He heard it from someone in his Care of Magical Creatures class. Izzy said Neville got the note in her Herbology class, and let it "slip", like he was talking to himself, planning the detentions.'

'I hope he gets a Howler,' muttered James darkly.

Rose, Al, and Scorpius shared a satisfied smile.

So far this was turning out to be a very good year.

*****

Scorpius stood on the edge of the Quidditch pitch next to Al. 'Are you sure you want to do this?' he asked.

'Why wouldn't I?' Al held his broom loosely in one hand.

'I mean it's fun to play with your family, just for kicks and giggles,' Scorpius argued. 'But this...' He gestured to the stands, where several Gryffindors, second year and above waited patiently. Isabella was the team captain this year, taking over for Victoire, and she needed to replace a Beater, a Chaser, and the Seeker, as well as fill out the Reserve positions.

Al snorted. 'It's practically playing with the family anyway. Fred, Jacob, James, and Izzy are already on the team. It's a good bet that Maddie'll be one of the Chasers. Rosie might get on the team. She really wants to be Keeper, and Izzy might try to sweet-talk Fred into playing Beater, 'cause Rosie's a hell of a Keeper. Better than Uncle Ron ever was.'

'What is it about your family and Quidditch?' Scorpius asked amazed. 'Are you all born with Snitches in your hands?'

Al laughed. 'If you hear my mum talk, we were. She said Dad would explain the rules of Quidditch while she was pregnant, and we'd kick so much it would keep her awake.'

'Al!' shouted Isabella. 'You're up!'

'See you in a bit.' Al mounted his broom, and before he could get off the ground, Isabella Banished a Muggle golf ball at him. It headed straight for Scorpius' head. Before Scorpius could blink, Al's hand shot out, and closed around the ball. He hadn't even looked. Isabella kept tossing the golf balls at Al, and he kept catching them. He even caught one while he was hanging from his broom from one ankle and hand. He even executed a textbook sloth roll while he caught one of the golf balls.

Al lazily flew around the pitch. During some of the more quiet moments over the summer, Harry talked about flying, and how it made him feel. How it had been the most natural thing in the world to him. How when he was on a broom, he left everything behind - the stress of classes, Riddle. Al had an idea of what his father meant. It was different up here. Up here it was just him and the Snitch.

'Al!' Isabella's magically amplified voice reached his ears. 'Al, come down!'

Al blinked a few times. He looked around the pitch, startled to see the stands had emptied, and only a handful of people remained. He could make out Scorpius' pale hair glimmering in the shadows and James' dark head, an island in a sea of shimmering reds. Al steered the Comet down to the grass and landed lightly next to Isabella. 'Sorry,' he said sheepishly. 'Was enjoying the ride.'

'It's a good thing you went last,' Isabella informed him. 'After that performance, you would have discouraged everyone else.' She consulted a clipboard in her hands. 'All right, then. James, Maddie, and I will play Chaser, Fred has graciously switched to play Beater with Jacob, and Rosie will take over as Keeper.' Isabella gave Fred an apologetic shrug. 'She did beat you, Fred.'

'Ah, no worries. Not like I'm going to play professionally.' Fred gave Rose a good-natured shove. 'Thank Merlin it won't be that ponce MacLaggan.' He fixed Rose with a stern gaze. 'Now then, Rosie, see to it that you keep up our winning record against Hufflepuff.' Fred grinned at his cousins. 'Friendly bet with Parker, mind you.'

'And that leaves us with Al as the Seeker.'

James frowned. 'Izzy... Won't it look odd? Seeing as we're all family? Won't someone go whinging to Neville it's nepotism?'

Isabella let out an unladylike snort. 'Not bloody likely. He was here for the tryouts to keep an eye out for that. I ran the list by him before the Seeker tryouts. Very conspicuously, I might add.' She shrunk the clipboard and stuffed it into a pocket of her jeans. 'Look, we've all been playing since we were old enough to ride a toy broom just about. We play every Sunday over the summer. With our parents, I might add, who weren't exactly slouches at the game, either. We even played in every kind of weather you can imagine before we came to school on Sundays, too.' She fixed them all with a beady expression. 'We're the best-trained group of school-age players in Britain,' she finished impassionedly.

'Bravo, Izzy,' said Rosie.

'Now, then. I'll keep tabs on you with the teachers about your grades. If I hear you're letting your grades or homework slip, you're on probation. Hear me?'

They all nodded, murmuring assent. It was the same system Victoire had employed. They were expected to earn at least five O.W.L.s when the time came. Rose, James, and Al exchanged looks. It was especially important to their parents, seeing as Harry and Ron had never taken their N.E.W.T.s.

They meandered back to the castle, reveling in the last of the sun's warmth, as it set. Scorpius nudged Al. 'You were brilliant, mate.'

Al shrugged, blushing. 'Just practice.'

'Hey, who's that?' Jacob shaded his eyes, and squinted at the steps leading to the doors of the castle.

'It's Dad.' James looked at Al. 'Did you get some sort of nasty detention?'

'No. Did you?'

James shook his head. 'Wonder why he's here?' He froze. 'Y'don't think something's happened to Mum or Lily, do you? Or Teddy?'

'Nah,' scoffed Al. 'He'd have come down to the pitch.'

'And if it was Granddad or Grandmum, they'd all be here,' added Rose.

Al broke into a loping run. 'Hiya, Dad!' he called. 'Miss the food here?' he asked jokingly.

'Yep. I haven't had a good Hogwarts' dinner in ages.' Harry reached out to ruffle Al's hair. 'Actually, I'm here to see Gareth - uh, Professor Shacklebolt.' Harry made a slight face. Formalities weren't his strong suit. 'Your mum's at a Harpies team reunion or something or other.'

'Guess what, Dad?' Al realized he could share his news in person. 'I'm the Gryffindor Seeker!'

'That's fantastic, Al. Still Chasing, James?'

'Yeah,' James said, grinning. 'Rosie here is going to Keep.'

'Is there anybody on the team who isn't a Potter or Weasley?' Harry asked ruefully.

'Not this year, Uncle Harry,' Isabella said cheekily. 'We've got a stranglehold on the team for a while.'

'Minerva's going to be glad when you lot finally get out of her hair.' Harry shook his head. 'I'm going to go talk to Gareth and Rafa for a bit. I'll sit with you at dinner. Is that okay, or should I join the other adults at the staff table?'

They exchanged glances and shrugs. 'I suppose,' James said slowly. 'As long as you don't try to do any of that mushy stuff.'

'I promise,' Harry vowed solemnly. He watched the brood troop up the stairs to clean up for dinner, then turned down a corridor and stood in front of the staffroom door. He tapped his wand on the doorknob and it opened for him. 'Thanks, Minerva,' he said, walking into the room, and sinking down on a sofa. 'I didn't feel comfortable having this conversation at the Ministry.'

'Surely it's not as bad as all that?' McGonagall asked with a worried frown.

'Oh, no.' Harry waved off her concern. 'I just need to ask a few questions away from prying eyes.' Harry looked at Gareth and Rafa. 'I need to perform Legilimency on a skilled Occlumens. And I need someone to help me.'

'When?' Rafa's dark, liquid eyes creased.

'January. And if that doesn't work, I'll need someone to Stun him, so we can use a Pensieve to read his memory.'

'That's rather extreme, isn't it, Harry?' asked Gareth, concern plainly written on his face.

'Yes, but this is a former Death Eater.' Harry explained. 'And someone's using Muggle-baiting as a recreational activity. I need to find out who the ringleader is.'

'Why us?' Rafa asked. 'The Ministry's full of people who could help with that.'

'True. But they don't have your kind of training. This particular wizard is going to look for traditional Legilimency. Or at least the kind he was taught.' Harry shoved his glasses up his nose and rubbed his gritty eyes. 'Your school in San Francisco does something different. Even I can't block you out completely.' Harry saw Rafa and Gareth exchange worried glances, before Rafa gave Gareth a half-shrug, and Gareth nodded in seeming agreement. Harry bit his lip to cover a wry grin. It was a nonverbal conversation he and Ginny had often had in front of the children.

'We'll do it.' Gareth spoke with a resigned finality.

Harry slumped in relief. 'Thanks.'