There'll Be Bluebirds

Teddy idly spooned cereal into his mouth, staring at the head table, watching McGonagall converse with Professor Sinestra. 'How old is she?' he wondered aloud.

'How old is who?' Victoire responded, following Teddy's gaze.

'McG.'

'Don't let her hear you call her that,' Victoire warned. 'She's likely to slap a month's worth of detentions on you.'

'Or she might find it cheekily amusing,' Teddy snorted. 'No, really, how old is she?'

'Dunno,' Victoire said. 'I think she was teaching when Grandmum and Granddad were here.'

Teddy whistled between his teeth. 'Blimey, that's a long time ago...'

Victoire leaned in closer. 'She's got to be at least a hundred...' She waited a beat a let the rising tide of student conversation envelop them. 'Mum calls her a dried-up, bitter, old bat.' She paused. 'In French, of course.'

'Oh, of course,' Teddy echoed. He pulled out a thick book from his bag and flipped through the pages. 'Right, so according to -Hogwarts, A History, she started teaching in nineteen fifty-six...' he murmured. 'And Gran was born in nineteen fifty-three...' Awe lit Teddy's face. 'Bloody hell,' he breathed.

Victoire studied the staff table. 'What about Hagrid?'

'He's spent his whole life here,' Teddy murmured. 'Harry says he became the assistant groundskeeper when he was thirteen. After he was expelled,' he added matter-of-factly. 'That had to have been before McGonagall started teaching...'

'Yeah... Doesn't look very old, does he?'

'I've seen photos of him with Harry when Harry was eleven. Doesn't seem to have changed a bit.'

'Did you know Professor Sinestra is married?' Victoire breathed in awe. 'Have you ever seen her husband?'

'Once or twice, I think. My first year. He was on the Astronomy Tower with us during class with this massive telescope. Sinestra said he was a guest for the evening doing research. He didn't act like a guest. They were snogging after she dismissed us. Looked over my shoulder when we left the tower. And you know that crescent moon pendent she wears? He had one just like it.'

'Correlation does not prove causation,' Victoire said smugly.

'Yeah, but snogging like crazed weasels does,' Teddy retorted.

Victoire clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling the giggles. 'Crazed weasels,' she chortled, gasping for breath. 'Flitwick?' she murmured.

'Immortal,' Teddy said promptly. 'I saw his name on a plaque as a Dueling Champion in nineteen fourteen when he was a student.'

'That's almost a hundred years ago...'

'Who's younger, Neville or Rafa?' Teddy mused.

'That's Professors Longbottom and Moreno to you,' Victoire corrected primly. 'At least while we're in school, anyway.' She bit her lip, watching Rafael Moreno, the Arithmancy professor, leisurely sip his coffee, while he perused the morning paper. 'Neville's the same age as Uncle Harry, just a day apart. Rafa... I think I've heard Aunt Ginny say he's Uncle Percy's age.'

Teddy's brows knit. 'That would make him thirty-eight. Or thirty-nine.'

'Wasn't Neville quite young when he became a teacher?'

'Twenty-four, twenty-five,' Teddy said vaguely. 'I wasn't much more than six or seven when he started working here.'

They remained at the Gryffindor table, their heads together, giggling, the morning sun gleaming off Victoire's pale silvery red strands, not noticing the Great Hall itself had cleared of most of its students. So involved were they in their discussion, they didn't hear the sharp tap of someone's shoes against the stone floor. 'Is there a reason why neither of you have so much as made an effort to get to your first class on time?' McGonagall asked archly.

Victoire went red. 'Erm... No, ma'am...'

Teddy's head had tilted to one side and he examined McGonagall's lined face. Looks could be deceiving, he knew. Andromeda did not look as if she were approaching sixty. 'How old are you?' he blurted.

McGonagall's lips twitched, ever so slightly. 'One does not ask a lady her age, Lupin,' she informed him loftily. 'Even if she does happen to be a dried-up old bat.' Her bony arms crossed over her chest. 'Get to class, the both of you.'

Teddy and Victoire scrambled from the bench and scampered to the entrance, diving into the eddy of students that dawdled on their way to class. Teddy glanced over his shoulder at McGonagall, a silent edifice in the current of chattering students, chivvying seventh years who sauntered as if they had all the time in the world to their first class with a quelling glare. One of the boys, a Ravenclaw, whose tie was hardly knotted, saluted her with a cheeky grin as they walked past. McGonagall shook her head slightly. 'Get on with you, Stevens,' she said dryly. 'Or I shall administer your next practical examination in Transfiguration.' The boy's eyes widened and his step quickened a little.

Teddy wondered if the Headmistress had ever truly been ill. He didn't think even dragon pox would have stood a chance against her formidable will.

*****

'How many?'

'Four...'

'You're joking...'

'I wish I were...'

'Who said...?'

'Witnessed by the O.W.L. examiners. And all the fifth years taking the Astronomy practical exam.'

'How old is she...?'

'Seventy, if she's a day.'

'Four Stunners? Four. And she survived?'

'So far.'

'And she's going to recover?'

'She ought to. Came round this morning. Lucid. Verified what the examiners told them.'

'How did this happen?'

'Umbridge went to fire Hagrid. In the middle of the night like a coward.'

'Merlin's pants, why?'

'To avoid making a fuss.'

'Go on and tell me another. She did it in the middle of an O.W.L. while they were on the highest vantage point of the castle. She sent a message that nowhere is safe there. She'll come for them at any time.'

'She's a bloody moron.'

'And how did you reach that conclusion?'

'You can't Stun Hagrid. He's half-giant. Giants are impervious to Stunning spells. If she knew anything other than how to give Fudge's arse a wet, sloppy kiss, she'd have known that...'

'Bloody hell, d'you have to get so graphic, Sirius?'

'Fine. Lick Fudge's boots... Is that better?'

'She can't be there forever...'

Remus stirred in his chair. 'If the curse holds, Umbridge shall be gone by the end of next week,' he predicted, opening his eyes.

Kingsley rubbed his hand over his bald head. 'Set a guard shift outside her room at St. Mungo's.'

'Won't that look suspicious?'

'I don't think Fudge is going to bring Minerva a bunch of grapes and well-wishes,' Arthur snorted. 'But it couldn't hurt to have an extra eye on her.'

'It'll only be for a few days,' Kingsley murmured. 'Auror Healers say she ought to be back at Hogwarts Sunday or Monday. So it ought not to be a strain to add it to guarding the Department of Mysteries.'

The sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs down to the kitchen made every Order member in attendance draw their wands, and aim them at the doorway. Snape appeared, his robes billowing around him in a midnight swirl. The only signal of his discomfiture was the slight widening of his eyes. 'You're here,' he said to Sirius.

'Where else would I be?' Sirius scoffed. 'Cozying up to Voldemort?'

'Your brat of a godson swore you were in the Department of Mysteries, while the Dark Lord subjected you to every painful hex and curse known to wizardkind,' Snape drawled.

'Where would he get that mad idea?' Mad-Eye growled.

'Potter has a singularly weak mind,' Snape intoned, in a bored voice. 'It was obviously implanted by the Dark Lord so he could ascertain our whereabouts.'

A small, silver tiger shot into the room. 'Come quickly!' it hissed in Dora's terrified voice. 'Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and two others are here! They just went through the door!' It slowly faded, leaving the echoes of what it had said behind it.

'Not you, Arthur,' Kingsley ordered. 'Can't have you distracted by Ron or Ginny.'

Arthur, who had half-risen from his seat, sank back into it slowly. 'What in Merlin's name are they doing there?' he whispered.

'Mad-Eye, Remus, you'll come with me,' Kingsley said, striding toward the door. 'Harry'll listen to you, Remus. He respects you. We might be able to persuade him to go back to the school before anything happens.'

'I'm coming with you,' Sirius stated.

'Absolutely n--'

'Damn you, Kingsley, I'll not sit here and wait to find out if Harry's been killed or not!' Sirius roared. He drew his wand and pointed it at the Auror's head. 'I've spent all bloody year sitting on my hands! I'm not doing it this time! He's my godson and I promised I'd look after him.'

Kingsley hesitated. The only sound in the otherwise silent kitchen was the hissing sound of Sirius, panting through clenched teeth. 'All right,' he said. 'But if Fudge wants to throw you back into Azkaban, it's on your head,' he warned.

'I'll take the chance.'

'Come on, then.' Kingsley darted out of the kitchen, followed closely by Sirius, Remus, and Mad-Eye.

*****

Remus hitched the chair a few inches closer to the bed, and let his eyes drift shut.

Sirius falling through the archway... Barely grabbing Harry at the last possible moment, as his trainer hit the edge of the dais... Harry's frantic struggles to free himself, stubborn disbelief that Sirius was gone...

Remus' eyes flew open, and he stared at the circle of light on the ceiling from the small lamp next to the bed. Hospitals were noisy places, he reasoned. They were supposed to be quiet so people could rest and recover. People moved to and fro outside the room. He could hear someone in the tiny waiting area down the corridor screaming about something. Healers spoke in clipped, hurried tones as they passed. There was an almost constant murmur from whatever spell they'd put on Dora to track her heartbeat. It whispered continually just under his conscious hearing, doling out time in slow, steady beats.

His chin trembled, and Remus ran a hand over his face. Not now, he thought. Later.

Bellatrix darting away from the scene of the battle, laughing madly. Harry snapping out of his stupor, enraged, his bellows echoing off the stone walls, vowing revenge, unheeded tears streaking through the dirty smudges on his face as he gave her chase.

Remus sat upright, his hands clenched into fists on his knees.

Dora's body falling limply down several rows of benches. Bellatrix's spell... Bellatrix, who didn't forget the perceived slight of Andromeda's marriage to Ted... Pushing Mad-Eye aside, ignoring the older man's grunt of protest. Scooping Dora into arms that quivered from the strain of battle, of holding Harry away from the archway. Hearing the soft moan as he rose to his feet, shifting Dora's body to arrange it in a better position. Apparating to St. Mungo's, sweat pouring down his face. A Healer eyeing him beadily until Kingsley arrived and vouched for him.

Bile rose in the back of his throat at the strong scent of antiseptic and Mrs. Scower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. Remus gagged and turned to the small dustbin in the corner and spat repeatedly. He caught sight of his reflection in the dingy window. Blood streaked down his face, caked and dried in the lines around his eyes. He looked as if he were wearing some sort of hideous mask. No wonder that poor Healer looked at me as she did, he mused. Or at least I hope that's why and not because she thought I attacked Dora... He hauled himself to his feet, his joints aching painfully, and shuffled into the tiny bathroom.

In the bathroom, with the overhead light throwing his face into sharp relief, the effect of the dried blood was even worse. He turned on the taps and let the warm water flow over his hands. He cupped his palms, gathering water and splashing it over his face, over and over again, until the water ran clear. Remus leaned toward the mirror, tilting his head to the side, examining the gash over his eyebrow. He grimaced at the scar it would leave and then immediately shrugged. It wasn't as if he'd win any sort of beauty contest before the battle. After drying his dripping face on a towel, Remus resumed his solitary vigil at Dora's bedside.

Dumbledore strode into the room, as if he was the Healer in charge of Dora. 'I hoped you might be here,' he said casually to Remus.

'Considering I would be in one of two places, it's hardly a miracle of deductive reasoning,' Remus retorted wearily.

One of Dumbledore's silver brows swept upward at Remus' biting tone, but mercifully refrained from comment. 'You're needed elsewhere and soon,' he continued.

'Oh?'

'Now that Voldemort is operating openly, I'll need you to make contact with the werewolves.' Dumbledore paused delicately. 'With Fenrir Greyback's pack.'

Remus surged to his feet, his wand slashing in a vicious circle. A jet of pale-blue light shot from it, and arced around himself and the Hogwarts Headmaster. 'I won't do it!' he snarled into the silence that enveloped them. 'How could you even consider asking that of me?'

'My dear boy, you are the only one in the Order who can convince other werewolves Voldemort does not have their best interests in mind.' Dumbledore examined his fingernails. 'I am hardly asking you to spy for us.'

'Yet,' Remus spat bitterly.

'The Order needs this, Remus. We must act quickly, if we're to counteract what Greyback has done.'

'You mean convince them that the very Ministry that makes it difficult for others like myself to live ought to stand?' Remus snorted. 'You might as well as ask me to run for the Muggle Prime Minister.'

'I can order you,' Dumbledore intoned quietly. 'I prefer it much more if you do this voluntarily.'

Remus sighed, signaling defeat. 'When?'

'Soon. I cannot tell you more than that just now.' Dumbledore swept his wand around his head, releasing Remus' charm. 'I shall send word, of course.' He took a few steps to the door and stopped. 'My condolences... Kingsley informed me Sirius fought bravely. I am truly sorry for the loss of such a friend.'

'I don't need your condolences,' Remus said softly. 'But you owe Harry an explanation. About why you felt the need to keep his godfather a virtual prisoner in that house.'

'As do you, I presume?'

Remus shook his head, brushing his hair from his eyes. 'I don't need one, Albus. As a grown man, I'm certain you had your reasons. But trying to brush off Harry with that line of reasoning is going to fail - and fail horribly, if it hasn't done so already. He's not a man, Albus. He's a boy. A boy forced into a role over which he's had no say. And if you expect him to fulfill that role, to grow up and mature faster than he ought, then you're going to have to tell him whatever it is you've not seen fit to tell the rest of us. It's his life, isn't it? You have to give him some semblance of a choice. You have to give him what you've refused to give the rest of us. Even if all you give is the illusion.' He dropped into the chair, and reached to touch the back of Dora's hand that rested in still repose on top of the nubby blanket. 'Don't send me to the werewolves until after the term begins in September,' he said suddenly.

'I will do my best to accommodate you.'

Remus' eyes shut. 'I thank you,' he murmured formally. 'Someone needs to look after Harry, now that Sirius...' His throat closed. 'He can't remember Lily and James by himself. He needs to remember...'

Dumbledore said nothing, but left the room in a swirl of robes.

*****

The past two nights hadn't rendered the hard wooden chair next to Dora's bed any more comfortable, but Remus felt as if it had somehow defied the laws of physics and molded itself to his body's contours. Or perhaps it's just my arse has grown numb from sitting in it? He snorted softly in dark mirth, and hitched the chair closer to the bed.

Her mother had been there earlier. No one in the Order would have left a small vase of pansies on the table.

The ugly bruise that had darkened the side of her face had nearly faded.

The Healer overseeing her case had mentioned in passing the curse Bellatrix used was a rather nasty one, and it was fortunate Dora had managed to dodge the worst of it. Aside from the prolonged unconsciousness, she'd escaped with relatively little physical damage from the curse itself. Most of it had come from her tumble down the stone stairs and was limited to cuts, scrapes, and more than a few horrid-looking bruises.

He had found himself wishing she would wake up during the early hours of the morning. Once Dumbledore had ordered him to infiltrate the werewolves, Remus knew he could no longer maintain any semblance of a relationship with Dora, no matter how platonic he strove to keep it. He had to end it, once and for all. There could be no weaknesses when he faced Greyback. None. And she was his weakness. At least he could keep his memories. That, even Greyback couldn't...

'Remus?' The hoarse, scratchy whisper was as loud as a klaxon in the silent room. 'Where...?'

'St. Mungo's,' he replied softly, bending so his head nearly rested on the pillow. 'Bellatrix hexed you in the battle,' he added.

'Figures,' Dora huffed weakly. 'I'll bet it was the icing on her fairy cake, too.'

Remus conjured a glass of water, then delicately waved his wand over it and a straw appeared. He offered the straw to her, wincing in sympathetic pain as her parched lips wrapped around the end of the straw. 'She wasn't unhappy,' he said.

Dora released the straw with a soft gasp. 'Are the children all right?'

Remus' hand cupped over her head and he began to stroke her hair from her face. Long, gentle strokes that made her eyes drift shut in pleasure. 'They're fine. Physically, at least. Neville and Ginny only had to spend the one day in the hospital wing after Madam Pomfrey fixed them up. Luna's all right. No harm from the Stunner they sent at her. Although with Luna, I'm not sure how'd you tell if something was off... Perhaps she'd make sense...?' he mused. 'Ron and Hermione are still in the hospital wing. Whatever it was that Dolohov cursed her with is going to take a long time to heal properly. She's fortunate he was unable to say the incantation. And Ron... He's speaking normally again and doesn't quite sound like he's been in the psychotropic potions. I still don't understand what those brains did to him. But Poppy says he'll likely have scars for the rest of his life.'

Dora's eyes narrowed. 'Harry?' She hadn't missed the fact he'd left off Harry in his litany. 'What about Harry?'

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. He hadn't said it out loud since it happened. 'Sirius is dead...' he said in a low voice. 'Bellatrix... Bellatrix...' He waved his hand in the air. Unashamedly, he lowered his head to the edge of the mattress and his shoulders began to shake. 'Killing curse,' he choked. He wept into the blanket, his hands fisted into it. Presently, he felt Dora's hand creep to the back of his head, her fingers rubbing the back of his neck gently. Remus gave in to the grief he'd been resolutely ignoring for the past few days. He knew it was the one chance he had.

*****

15 June 1996

I won't try to justify Sirius' death with a number of empty platitudes that repeat, 'He's free from his pain.'

To add insult to injury, there is no body. I cannot blame Harry for his disbelief in those first moments. It's one of his strengths that he doesn't always believe what his eyes tell him. To tell the truth, I halfway expected the mangy mutt to lope around the edge of the damned archway, laughing at how he managed to thwart Bellatrix. But to not even have something. And to not even be able to properly mourn and memorialize him. That is just too cruel.

I wasn't very surprised when Sirius' Animagus form was a dog. Not just any dog - a large, menacing one. Sirius was nothing if not loyal to those he loved. And like he proved the other night, he was willing to give everything he had in order to protect his friends and family. Even if it meant his certain death. He was flawed, of course, we all are. If Sirius had a fatal flaw, it was that he did everything full-tilt. Life itself was his windmill, and he did everything by throwing caution to the wind as his first step of the process.

I am the last of the Marauders... If not in fact, in spirit. The Peter we knew at school died the day he betrayed us and turned to Voldemort. I always believed I'd be the first to go.

*****

Teddy sat in the corridor, directly across from the portraits of his parents, the journal dangling from his fingers. His head turned at the sound of footfalls approaching. McGonagall swept around the corner and strode the few steps it took to stand next to him. She waved her wand and a hard-backed wooden chair dropped to the floor next to him. 'Hm. I wanted something soft and squishy,' she muttered. 'Have to keep working on that,' she said idly. 'Professor Dumbledore could conjure armchairs you could drown in. I'm good, but even I have off-days,' she added, gracefully lowering herself into the seat.

Teddy frowned and glanced at his watch. It was well after curfew. He gulped and paled slightly. He already had three detentions because of breaking curfew by sitting in this corridor on previous nights. He stuffed the journal into his bag and began to scramble to his feet, but stilled at McGonagall's gesture to remain seated. 'One of the first times I saw your father, he had just left Professor Slughorn's first Potions class with the new Gryffindors, covered in soot. Like you, he had a terrible time with Potions. Managed an Acceptable on his O.W.L. because one of his friends spent ages drilling him when they had a spare moment. Your mother tripped over her shoelaces as she came into the Great Hall to be Sorted. Went sailing into the air and tumbled into the Ravenclaw table. She jumped up, acting as if she had planned to do that all along as part of some sort of acrobatic exhibition. Your grandfather...' Her eyes closed. 'Ted Tonks walked through three ghosts before he realized what he'd done during his Sorting. Fred Weasley managed to charm Severus Snape's shoelaces to tie themselves together his second year. He might have gotten away with it, too, had the foolish child not been cackling with glee when Severus landed face-first in a student's botched potion. The stench he emanated was unbearable for days. And it wasn't for lack of washing,' she said pointedly.

'I've been teaching here for nearly fifty-seven years,' McGonagall continued. 'And I've never forgotten a single student.' She leaned forward a little. 'Hogwarts' staff is nearly as constant as the stars, lad. Well, with the exception of those years the Defense position was cursed... Although it was mildly entertaining to speculate how the new one would leave. And even when it seemed as if Hogwarts would have to close, we remained open. It's not the building or the ghosts. It's the people inside of it. And their memories. A person cannot remember things if they haven't anyone with which to share them. Books are perfectly adequate if you desire the facts and an analysis. But nothing takes the place of actual memory. It's why I stay on.'

With a sigh, she rose to her feet. 'Off to your dormitory with you, Lupin, and do try to avoid another night of detention.'

Teddy pushed himself off the floor and began to exit the corridor.

'Oh, Lupin?'

'Yes, professor?'

'If you even so much as think about calling me McG, I shall personally see to it that the school elves starch your trousers so much you won't be able to sit.'

Teddy's face drained of all color. 'Y-y-y-you heard that?' he asked weakly.

McGonagall's face creased in a wide, rare smile. 'I might be old, but bats have excellent hearing, my boy.' She patted his face and walked away, leaving Teddy gaping after her.