Epilogue
A Bend in the Road
Harry closed the notebook cover as the shy spring sunshine caressed the backs of his hands. He shaded his eyes to gaze across the scintillating pond where dragonflies danced among the scattered cattails. It was the sleepy part of the afternoon, the portion after the splendid luncheon Molly had served on the back veranda and before afternoon tea.
On the far bank, Teddy relaxed with his arms crossed behind his turquoise hair and a faraway gaze trained upon the fluffy clouds above. There was still a bit of childish exuberance about him as if life had yet to tarnish his boyish optimism. Such was the bounty of having grown to manhood in a time of peace.
It was hardly surprising that Teddy had woven so easily in and out of his father’s point of view. There was little doubt that he had inherited Remus’ love for all types of literature, Harry considered as the words of the story were still fresh in his mind. If asked about Orwell’s Animal Farm, Teddy would likely say that it made a strong case for stringent inspection of the rural water supply and the hormones being added to our food.
Harry smiled to note that his godson had inherited his mother’s irreverent sense of humor. Andromeda once confessed that her daughter and son-in-law had often laughed long into the night. One more reason why the house had seemed so deathly quiet when they were gone.
Noticing that Harry had finished reading, Teddy bounded over and folded his long limbs to sit on the grassy bank at his godfather’s side.
“So? What’d you think?” he urged with a wide grin.
Unsure where to begin, Harry settled for, “So you always wanted a little sister?”
Teddy shrugged noncommittally. “It seemed an innocent enough wish.”
“You put a lot of effort into this. Research even.”
Teddy’s modesty rose to the forefront. “Not as much as you’d think. Gran was my food and fashion consultant.”
“What about the addendum to Sirius’ will?”
Teddy smiled self-consciously. “That was the real thing. Gran found the parchment among Dad’s things when she repacked them for storage. The tingle of magic made her set it aside “ for years it seems. It was only after James and Albus demonstrated how to unlock the Marauder’s Map that she found the key.”
“Remus warded it with the same spell,” Harry marveled as he imagined the words rising from the depths of the parchment. “Do you have the original?”
“Gran does; it’s her present to you. But she allowed me to introduce it within my manuscript. Said it would be less of a shock that way.”
Harry was speechless as he hugged his godson tightly.
Teddy’s light-hearted laugh issued from beneath Harry’s ear before they disentangled themselves. “Sorry it’s a bit overdue.” Making a quick calculation on his fingers, he supplied, “Your birthday was nine months ago.”
What did it matter? Harry considered inwardly. Such generosity of spirit was priceless. Aloud, he didn’t trust himself to mutter more than, “Thank you.”
Clearly embarrassed, Teddy made aimless circles in the spent flower petals littering the ground. It was not so long ago that he had been forbidden to use magic outside of school and had settled for scooping them up by hand. With mischief dancing in his eyes, his wand performed the familiar movement and a smoky Patronus shot forth.
The large silvery wolf leveled a very humanlike gaze at Harry. Its perfectly defined tongue slinked out to lick its lips, revealing a menacing row of teeth. Harry returned a small smile as the wolf caught sight of a wispy, gamboling butterfly and playfully took chase.
“It’s not always the same, you know,” Teddy remarked as he indicated the gaily fluttering wings. “Sometimes it’s a leaf dancing in the wind, or a faerie, or a small bird. But the emotion is always the same.”
“I think it would’ve thrown both your parents into gales of laughter,” Harry noted, entranced by his godson’s unique double Patronus. With a note of sadness, he added, “And for a man who so enjoyed a good belly laugh, Remus didn’t get much opportunity to enjoy life “ at least not until he met your mother.”
“They were truly amazing people, weren’t they?”
“Absolutely, and I have no doubt great things would’ve come from their combined talents,” Harry assured him. “Just look at you.”
“Imaging their further adventures really did make me feel closer to them “ especially when you consider that I never knew them firsthand.”
“You did, Teddy. You may not recall, but I think your subconscious always knows. It remembers being loved. It was the same for me; that’s why I was so certain I was being short-changed all those years I lived with my aunt and uncle.”
Harry did his best to keep his face neutral as a slip of movement through the trees indicated that the afternoon’s special guest had arrived. He knew it was all Molly and Arthur could do to keep the exuberant hordes of children from pouring forth to spoil the surprise he had in store for his godson. In the distance, he spied Ginny pointing in the direction of the derelict pond before the screen door closed behind her.
Unable to contain himself any longer, Harry confided, “I have a special treat for you, too, Spook. A true surprise, not just one of George’s pranks this time.”
With a tilt of his head, Harry indicated the figure mincing his way towards them, his face concealed beneath the shadows of a wide straw hat.
“Who is it?” Teddy pondered aloud as he squinted his eyes to see better.
“An old friend,” was the most Harry would say.
“Blimey! Those overgrown tree roots are a right menace,” a deep voice grumbled as it approached.
Finally succumbing to his excitement, Harry urged Teddy to his feet and, together, they walked up to meet their guest. The straw boater slipped off the man’s head as Harry caught him up in an exuberant hug.
“It’s such a joy to see your ugly face, old man!” Harry cried in delight.
“Don’t crush the merchandise,” the other man growled.
Teddy hung back in confusion. The bronzed and balding head did not belong to anyone he recognized.
“You have to admit the native tan enhances my innate good looks,” the stranger announced as he foppishly turned this way and that. Spying Teddy, he hobbled forward eagerly, his mismatched eyes devouring every detail.
“He gets his hair from Nymphadora,” Harry volunteered. “Teddy, I’d like to introduce --”
“Mad-Eye Moody!” Teddy breathed reverently. It was as if the pages of his story had come to life. “But Harry always said --”
“Harry got it dead wrong, lad!” Moody chortled in amusement. “Forgot to follow his own advice about not coming to any conclusions without a dead body.”
“The first rule of detective fiction,” Harry admitted with a sheepish grin. “Why does it not surprise me you’d be the one to beat the odds?”
“So where have you been all these years?” Teddy pressed with unabashed delight.
“Overseas,” Moody admitted. “But that’s all I’m going to tell you up front. No fair peeking at the ending without hearing the rest of the story.”
“Can I ask what made you decide to return?” Harry inquired cautiously.
Gripping his walking stick more firmly, Moody threw his other arm companionably around Harry’s shoulders. “You did, lad.” At Harry’s bewildered expression, he elaborated, “Padma Patil loaned me a copy of your alternate history which had been passed through countless hands before her. You wove a compelling tale, son.”
Catching on, Harry stammered, “But that was a private printing of sorts, written primarily for Teddy’s benefit. We only gave a few volumes out to close friends.”
“Which explains why it took years to filter into my hands,” Moody allowed. “In the meanwhile, I’ve been busy myself.” With an awkward twist, he withdrew a tiny parcel from his breast pocket and commanded, “Engorgio!”
Within moments, they were staring at a book cover which read: Chocolate Frog: The Improbable Life and Times of Alastor Moody. Before a dark background, a silvery foil packet unwrapped, the brown frog barely hesitating before taking a mighty leap off the page. In its wake, a rakish photo of Moody himself winked a disproportionately large blue eye.
“So you finally made good your threat to write your memoirs,” Harry chuckled. “Say, how did you keep the Chocolate Frog people from suing you?”
“That’s the most ingenious part,” Moody confided lowly as the other two drew closer. “My publisher’s cousin owns the confectionary which produces Chocolate Frogs. Sold him on something called a ‘product tie-in.’”
Teddy nodded knowingly. “Your book will boost their sales as well.”
“Everyone will want to get their hands on the corrected card,” Moody specified. “Seems they were a bit premature in showing my date of death as July 1997.”
“Those vintage cards just became highly prized for that very reason,” Harry observed dryly. “My sons will be thrilled with the news.”
“Molly, too,” Moody added.
Could Mad-Eye be referring to the Fallen Heroes of Hogwarts cards that paid homage to Fred along with Remus and Tonks? Harry wondered inwardly. He had accompanied Teddy and Andromeda to a brief unveiling ceremony while George had gracefully sent his regrets along with the rest of the Weasley family.
Sensing Harry’s confusion, Moody extolled with a wry twinkle, “I negotiated them to finally immortalize Fabian and Gideon Prewett with a card of their own. One card between them, but at least they’ll finally be recognized for their singular bravery.”
Harry smiled, recalling Molly’s recurring rant about the egregious oversight her side of the family had suffered at the hands of the Chocolate Frog company. Not that it had dissuaded her children or grandchildren from buying the product, mind you.
“I left the Prewett card up at the house, but the corrected version of mine is inside the flyleaf,” Moody urged. “I brought one for each of you.”
With undisguised eagerness, Teddy opened the front cover and pulled out one of the pristine cards.
Reported as lost during the Battle of the Seven Harrys, Alastor Moody recently announced that reports of his death had been grossly exaggerated. His return to British soil heralded the publication of a book of memoirs that would finally set the record straight. The central victim in a scandalous case of identity theft, Moody’s groundbreaking research with little-known properties of the Polyjuice Potion is still classified as highly secret by the Ministry of Magic. Throughout his long life, Moody has enjoyed such diverse activities as spelunking, avant-garde theatre, and spicy foods of all types.
“Look, Teddy,” Harry breathed, staring open mouthed at the book dedication.
Teddy beamed into Moody’s swirling magical eye. “You dedicated it to my parents as well.”
“Absolutely,” Moody concurred. “True heroes, they were. Both of ‘em.”
From the back porch, Molly waved her kitchen towel to signal that teatime was drawing near.
As they wound their way back towards the Burrow, Teddy implored, “So you knew my parents in their heyday?”
“Aye, you could say I was the one who made an Auror out of Dora. Gave her some strict training to temper her abundant enthusiasm.”
“Did you know my dad?”
“Him, too,” Moody attested. “Never lacked for brain power and initiative. Dora gave him a much needed shot of confidence as I recall.”
The words tumbled out of Teddy’s mouth of their own volition, “Will you read my words and see if they ring true?” With uncertain hands, he offered up the notebook full of densely written parchment pages, the very one which Harry had just finished reading.
Moody’s chuckle rumbled like a barely banked volcano. “A trade of sorts. So the writing bug got to you as well?”
“He added to my earlier attempts,” Harry clarified as Moody’s non-magical eye grew wide in wonder.
“So the saga continues?” the veteran Auror breathed. “Oh, I so look forward to reading this. It’s a rare honor, my boy!” he attested solemnly.
“My friends call me ‘Spook,’” Teddy pronounced as he stood up taller.
“Then I’d be honored if you’d call me ‘Mad-Eye,’” Moody returned as he proffered his weathered hand with great ceremony. “Although I suspect you’ve already done so in your tale, haven’t you?”
Teddy nodded with a wide grin. “At least, I didn’t leave you out!”
Moody threw back his head and laughed unabashedly.
“Teddy has this idea about turning the townhouse at Grimmauld Place into a war museum of sorts,” Harry ventured. He held back his proposition that Teddy himself would make the ideal curator; that could wait until the project was funded.
“It’s been lying vacant, I take it?” Moody posed.
It was as if a dark sheet of rain temporarily occluded the light in Harry’s eyes. “Too many ghosts. And it’s badly in need of refurbishment.”
Moody tilted his head in thought as his magical eye swirled in lazy circles. “Might be just the thing to give a boost to Kingsley’s administration,” he agreed.
“You know the Minister for Magic, too?” Teddy interjected in awe.
“Aye,” Moody confirmed. “Only he wasn’t much older than you when I started training him as an Auror. Seemed a hopeless task at times. Your mother was the true star in that department, even if those blighters were too narrow-minded to truly appreciate her.”
The sharp report of the screen door slamming directed their attention to the top of the rise. An unrestrained herd of children poured forth, scrambling down the incline like mismatched beach balls once they caught site of the three men. Bringing up the rear, Molly cradled George’s latest, Roxanne, in her arms.
“We’ll have to table any serious discussions until later,” Harry advised lowly as he was practically bowled over by his daughter, Lily.
Ginny ran up in her wake, apologizing, “Sorry, sweetheart. We did our best to give you a bit of space, but the excitement was just too much.”
“Actually took the three of us to cast a strong enough Imperturbable Charm,” Arthur admitted with a self-effacing grin.
“Rather like a dam bursting, isn’t it?” Molly commented. “They all insisted on playing hide-and-seek with a true virtuoso.”
“Seems your reputation precedes you, old man,” Harry chortled.
“They just want to take advantage of the fact that I haven’t yet mastered this new magical eye,” Moody conceded. “But don’t expect me to tell you where the blind-spot is! If you want to play with an unbeatable foe, then you’d better be ready to bear the consequences.”
The children tittered as they danced out of reach. In the background, Louis broke away from his sister, Dominque, who was clearly torn between playing with the younger children or hanging back in a lady-like fashion.
“Looks like our delivery from Shell Cottage has arrived,” Teddy observed as he excused himself. “They’ll be needing my help with the shucking.”
Idly, Harry wondered whether Bill had gathered oysters, mussels or clams for their Easter supper. Then chuckled at the thought that Teddy’s excitement had nothing to do with the culinary treat, but rather with seeing Victoire.
In the background, Moody’s amicable growls were interspersed with the carefree laughter of children as they scattered to stay ahead of his magical eye.
“Molly will call them all back in soon enough,” Ginny noted as she wrapped her arm around Harry’s waist.
Harry was filled with contentment as his eyes drifted over the joyous gathering. If Teddy’s ideas about the future and the past held true, then dreams were the glue that held everyone together. And every once in a while, if Fate smiled in your direction, she’d throw you a lucky curve ball.