There'll Be Bluebirds

Teddy eagerly tore the wrappings from one of the parcels that had arrived that morning at breakfast. 'A book?' he said in disbelief. 'Gran sent me some manky old book for my birthday?'

'Dad sent me books for my birthday last year,' Victoire informed him tartly.

'Well, yeah, but I'm not as smart as you are,' Teddy retorted.

'You are,' Victoire said archly.

'Have you seen my Potions marks?'

'Don't even use that as an excuse... You've been doing much better.' Victoire plucked the book from Teddy's lax fingers.

'Yeah, I've moved up from Troll to Poor,' Teddy scoffed, balling up the wrapping paper and tossing it toward the common room fire, where it caught quickly and burned more brightly than the surrounding flames before dying out in as little time as it took to burn.

'It's still improvement.' Victoire tossed her head haughtily.

'Says the girl who gets an Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding all the bloody time.'

'You could, too, you know.' Victoire opened the book and began to peruse the pages. 'Teddy...' The sound of her voice gave Teddy pause.

He looked up from the homemade card James, Al, and Lily had included in his package from Harry and Ginny. 'Yeah?'

'I think you need to look at this...' Victoire held out the book, open to its flyleaf. Remus J. Lupin, 11 July 1977.

'This was Dad's...?'

'Obviously.'

Teddy flipped the book over. -'Magical Memory: Methodology for Memory Retrieval and Storage.' He glanced up at Victoire with a raised brow. 'That's a little advanced for the average fifteen year-old, isn't it?'

'I wonder why she sent it... It's not like you've decided on a career yet.'

Teddy rooted through the paper on the table. 'There's a card...' he muttered, ripping the envelope open. '"Dear Teddy",' he read aloud. '"This was among your father's things when he died. He'd been reading it in the days after you were born. He seemed to refer to it often while he was writing in his journals. I thought perhaps it might help to have it when you reach those portions. Love, Gran..."' Teddy's frown grew deeper as he flipped it open to a random page. 'Pensieves... What's a Pensieve?'

'I don't know,' Victoire said, peering over his shoulder. She scanned the page, her eyes moving rapidly across the text. '"Pensieves are enchanted devices that are primarily used to examine and study specific extracted memories. They appear to be filled with a silvery substance, resembling the extracted memory itself. The contents of the Pensieve are neutral, and do not retain the essence of any memories at all." Hmmmm. Interesting...' she mused. 'How do you extract a memory...?'

Teddy bit his lip and quickly closed the book. 'What's your earliest memory?' he asked in a rush.

'I... I'm not sure,' Victoire said uncertainly. 'I guess it was... I think I was three... And Mum and Dad were in the front garden, working in the flowerbeds... And I looked up and they were both gone... I remember screeching in absolute terror, starting to cry...' Her expression cleared and she grinned in a somewhat abashed way. 'I remember the dress I was wearing. It was blue. With flowers just here...' She indicated the collar of her shirt. 'Yellow flowers...' She stared into the fire, the light creating sparks of deep red in her hair. 'Dad came tearing around the side of the house... They were both on the side...' She inhaled slowly and glanced at Teddy. 'That's it...' Victoire busied herself with straightening the parcels on the table. 'Why?'

'Do you think it's possible to remember something earlier...?'

*****

'Are you spell-damaged? Or perhaps you've merely lost your mind?' Mad-Eye asked casually.

'Perhaps I have,' Remus said mildly. 'But someone needs to have a word with Harry's relations. Just so they know he's not entirely alone and that we're looking out for him.'

'What does Dumbledore say?' the former Auror growled.

'It's fine. We can't afford for Harry to be as cut off from our world as he was last summer,' Remus sighed.

'All right, so the two of us will meet the train...'

'Three. I've asked Dora to accompany us. Well, if she's released from the hospital tomorrow before the train arrives.'

'Nymphadora?' Mad-Eye blurted incredulously.

'Yes. She blends into Muggle society far better than you and I would. And Dumbledore has plans for Kingsley. She's really the only one in the Order other than Kingsley that could disappear into a Muggle crowd that easily.'

'Are you sure you're thinking with your head, boy?' Mad-Eye scoffed.

Remus' brow rose as he stared the older man down. 'Yes. I am,' he replied evenly, inwardly shocked that Mad-Eye would read so much into his choice of Dora for his scheme.

Mad-Eye's magical eye whizzed around inside his eye socket for a moment. 'What about the twins?' he asked finally. 'And Harry knows them.'

'Too young and immature, still,' Remus said ruthlessly. 'They might see the whole thing as a lark, or an excuse to test some of their sweets on his cousin out of revenge. Besides, that aunt and uncle of Harry's would never take either of the twins seriously.'

'And you think they would Nymphadora?'

'She's a gifted Auror, Alastor,' Remus reminded him. 'You trained her.' He folded his hands on top of the table. 'She knows not to cross the line.'

'So, tomorrow...' Mad-Eye said in resignation.

'Tomorrow.'

*****

Remus checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time since he walked into King's Cross that afternoon. The train was due at any moment, and Mad-Eye had yet to make an appearance.

'Wotcher!' said a bright voice next to his ear. Remus jumped slightly and looked down at a welter of bright bubble-gum pink hair, silently sighing in relief. 'They just let me out of St. Mungo's at lunchtime. High time, too. I was about to starve on the slop they insist on calling food there.'

'Remus! What are you doing here?' Arthur strode toward the barrier, followed by Molly and the twins.

'I came to meet Harry, have a word with his relations.'

'Ah, perfect,' Arthur said. 'I'd like to join you, if I may?'

'I don't know...' Remus demurred.

'Harry's part of our family, Remus,' Molly said firmly. 'I wish we could just take him straight home with us, but Dumbledore won't allow it. At the very least, we can try to see to it that he's not being mistreated -'

'Or at least not locked up in his room,' George said cynically.

'What?' growled Mad-Eye, stumping up to the group behind Dora. 'Who's locked up someone?'

Fred and George exchanged a look with each other, then Fred cleared his throat. 'Before Harry and Ron's second year, his relatives had Harry locked in his bedroom. They'd been starving him.'

'Thought we might break his arm when we pulled him out of the window,' George added. 'Nothing but skin and bones,' he muttered, unaware of how very much like his mother he sounded just then.

Remus studied the faces of the Weasleys in front of him. They were are all sober and determined - even the twins. 'They have a point, Remus,' Mad-Eye told him in a gravelly murmur. 'Strength in numbers, eh?' Remus hesitated, weighing his options, then nodded assent, and the others closed around him a little more.

The first students began to trickle through the barrier. Remus glanced uneasily around the platform, but he'd never met Vernon and Petunia, just heard about them from James and Lily. 'That's them, right there,' Arthur muttered, jerking his head toward his left. Remus craned his head around Mad-Eye, and nearly had to bite the inside of his cheek to refrain from snorting aloud. Vernon was so rotund, it was astounding he could wedge himself in and out of a car and Petunia was nothing like her name. James was right! Remus chortled to himself. She does look like a horse!

'There they are,' Dora whispered, indicating the barrier with a flick of her dark eyes. Molly rushed forward, relief evident in every line of her body. 'Ron, Ginny!' She tightly embraced them each in turn, and reached for Harry. 'Oh, and Harry dear - how are you?'

'Fine,' Harry said quietly, but it was evident to Remus from the strain on the boy's face that he was most certainly not fine. It lent all the more importance to what they were about to do.

*****

Remus watched Harry stride from the station with a small smile. You'd be proud of him, Prongsie, he thought with a quick glance upward.

'Fancy a quick cuppa?' Dora asked at his shoulder.

'Pardon?' Remus started a little.

'You just look as done in as I feel,' Dora continued. 'Mum's stocked my kitchen and she's left some lovely scones. And I've got the marmalade you like...'

'I...'

'And I've gotten quite behind on my Animagus research,' Dora added hopefully. 'You could help me catch up, so it won't be totally wasted time.'

Remus' eyes closed briefly. It was the opening he needed. 'A cup of tea would be nice, thank you.'

*****

The tea leaves swirled in a wave of milky amber liquid. The mesmerizing patterns they made fascinated Remus. Just do it, already... There's no use in prolonging the inevitable. You have to do it. If you don't do it now, you're going to end up stringing her along until it's too late to do anything about it... He set the cup in its mismatched saucer with a soft click. What did Lily used to say...? It's like pulling off a plaster... The faster you do it, the less it hurts... 'We need to talk...'

'Yeah, there's something I don't understand about this passage,' Dora told him, Summoning a small book, bound with cracked burgundy leather. 'It claims there's no incantation... But in this one...' A flick of her wand brought a thick book, roughly the size of a brick to the sofa. 'This one says the incantation is necessary for focus...'

'Nymphadora...' Remus said quietly, firmly. He gently tugged the book from her hands and laid it aside, amongst their cups.

'You're calling me Nymphadora,' she whispered. 'You never call me that...'

Remus inhaled slowly. 'Dora, we need to talk.'

'That never sounds good,' Dora commented lightly, but a line appeared between her brows. He resisted the urge to smooth it away.

Remus took one of Dora's hands between his and joined her on the sofa. He hated what he was about to do to her, because she still looked so pale after her stay in the hospital. 'We... I...' He gently chafed her hand between his. 'I don't... I can't see you anymore,' he choked.

'Why?' Dora's wide dark eyes filled with tears. She blinked and they spilled down the planes of her cheeks.

Remus cupped her face with one of his hands, thumbing tears away from her face. 'Dora... Please don't cry, darling...' His other hand rose and threaded through her hair. 'I can't do this if you're going to cry...'

Dora shook her head. 'I don't understand...'

Remus pulled a worn handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed gently at her face, unable to stop touching her. 'While you were unconscious, Dumbledore told me he needed me to try and persuade the other werewolves to join the fight against Voldemort,' he explained. 'I can't be with you and do that at the same time.'

'I see,' Dora said dully, her head bowed.

'Look at me...' Remus tilted her chin up with a finger. 'It's too much of a risk. For you,' he insisted. 'I cannot go to Greyback with any emotional attachments at all. I have to go and you must be nothing to me while I'm there.' Dora's eyes hardened, and her mouth opened to protest, but Remus covered it with his fingers. 'Think about it!' he said harshly. 'Do you think he'd allow you to escape unscathed if I managed to anger him?' Understanding slowly replaced the ire on her face. 'That's right,' he said. 'Why do you think Greyback likes to go after children?'

'To punish their parents,' Dora replied stiffly.

'Exactly. And since I haven't any children, he'd attack the next best thing...' Remus murmured hoarsely.

Dora's face crumpled and tears slipped down her face faster than Remus could blot them. Knowing it would probably be the last time he could do it, Remus gathered her in his arms. He pressed tiny kisses along her hairline, murmuring soothing nonsense. After several long moments, punctuated by the occasional sniffle, she pulled away. 'I suppose you'd better go,' she told him tightly.

'Dora, I...' The words stuck in Remus' throat.

'Go...' she whispered.

Remus wound a lock of her hair around his finger and leaned forward, brushing the lightest of kisses over her mouth before he lurched from sofa and propelled himself out of the flat and Dora's life.

*****

22 June 1996

Remus sat for several interminable moments, quill suspended over the page, ink dripping from its point. Tap-tap-tap. The droplets of ink slowed until there was only silence in the flat.

He slowly dipped the quill into the jar of ink at his elbow and began to write, the soft scratching sound of the quill traveling over the paper filling in the empty spaces.

Since she must go, and I must mourn, come night,
Environ me with darkness, whilst I write ;
Shadow that hell unto me, which alone
I am to suffer when my love is gone.
Alas ! the darkest magic cannot do it,
Thou and great hell, to boot, are shadows to it.

I haven't anyone to blame but myself. I should never have let it go as far as it did. It was indescribable to feel almost... normal... Foolishness on my part. I knew better and yet, I still...

I wish I could say I regret any of it. But the fact is - I do not.

*****

'Excuse me... Professor?' Teddy peered around the partially-open door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Gareth Shacklebolt stood in front of the blackboard, directing various colored chalks in a dance that sketched Grindylows and Pogrebins on its surface.

Gareth glanced over his shoulder, never once dropping the beat with his wand as the colored chalks danced over the blackboard. 'Trouble with last night's homework?'

Teddy emphatically shook his head. Defense seemed to come to him as naturally as breathing. 'No, sir...' He sidled into the room, with Remus' old book clutched in his sweating hands. 'I was wondering, sir...' Teddy's eyes dropped to the book. 'Have you ever seen a Pensieve?'

'Just once of twice, in San Francisco,' Gareth told him. 'They're really rare.'

'How rare is that?' Teddy mumbled, feeling his hopes fade slightly.

Gareth set his wand down on his cluttered desk, and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, perching on the edge of the desk. 'Oh, perhaps one wizard in a million owns one. Even most Auror departments worldwide don't have access to one.'

'Oh...' Teddy felt himself deflate like the balloons at Lily's birthday party last summer.

'Why do you ask?'

Teddy traced the flaking lettering in the spine of the book. 'Just read about it somewhere,' he muttered noncommittally. He started to trudge from the room and head down to the greenhouses for his Herbology lesson, when he stopped, one hand on the door. 'Could I ask one more thing?'

'Of course...'

'Obliviators... they remove memories, right?'

'Quite. Good ones can almost remove mere seconds and make it look seamless to the person whose memory's been modified.'

Teddy nodded slowly. 'So... If they can remove a memory, can they retrieve one...?'

'I don't know for certain,' Gareth admitted. 'There hasn't been much research or study into the matter...'

'Right. Well, thank you, anyway, professor,' Teddy said dully. He pulled the door open and trudged from the classroom.

The entire day, the question niggled at the back of his mind... Certainly if someone could force you to forget something, they could possibly find something you had forgotten, or didn't know you had. He would never have admitted it to anyone - not even Harry, who would have understood - that he would have given anything to hear his mother's voice, or feel his father's touch against his cheek. There were days where he longed to talk to his father or mother. To discuss the random bits of literature that glided across the pages of the journals and how to keep his hair from changing with every sharp turn of emotion. Usually, Teddy didn't miss either of his parents terribly. After all, how could you miss what you never knew? He realized that to most people it might sound terribly harsh, but Teddy only knew his parents from photographs and what other people told him. His earliest memories were of Andromeda's husky lullabies, Ginny's bright hair, and the light winking from the lenses of Harry's glasses - the people who picked him up when he fell, and dabbed potions and ointments on his skinned knees and elbows, and patiently told him endless stories about Remus and Nymphadora Lupin. Occasionally, he burned with shame at the memory of his petulant behavior the morning they dedicated the battle memorial, and how he had shouted he'd all but hated them for dying. As grateful as he was to both of his parents for his very life, neither of them were featured in his memories.

Teddy's fingers skimmed across the spines of a seemingly endless row of books in the library. The air made his nose itch with dust. He was going to find a way to unearth a memory of his parents, even if it took years to accomplish the task.

*****

A/N: Remus quotes John Donne's "Elegy XIII" in his journal entry.

The lines of dialogue between Harry and Molly are from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Scholastic paperback edition, pg. 867