Harry Potter: 19 Years Later

8: Victoire's POV

  Ginger root, armadillo bile, ground scarab beetles. Victoire repeated the ingredients for the Wit-Sharpening Potion as she walked to Charms. But she couldn't remember them all; her mind kept flitting to thoughts of Teddy.  

  "Are you still thinking about Teddy?" her friend, Clara asked, seeing her worried expression.

  Victoire nodded. "I haven't seen him since yesterday. He wasn't at dinner and I asked James and he also wasn't at Quidditch practice. He never misses Quidditch practice! Plus, Rose told me that she saw him running towards the Forbidden Forest. What if he got hurt or killed by something in there?!"

  Clara put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "C'mon! It's Teddy! He's one of the most logical people I know. He wouldn't go there for no reason. Or without a plan. Plus, you'll find out if he's okay in Charms; you have that class with him."

  As they entered Charms, Victoire spotted Teddy sitting at the back of the classroom and went over to sit next to him, while Clara sat with some other friends.

  "Hey," Teddy said. He seemed a bit jumpy and nervous as he adjusted his collar and ran his fingers through his beautiful turquoise hair.

  "Where were you last night?" Victoire asked casually.

  "Umm...I...uh had to do some detention with Professor McGonagall. I didn't do my homework, so I got a detention," he replied, not meeting her eyes.

  Victoire sighed inwardly. So he's okay. She believed him, but that still didn't explain why he was going to the Forbidden Forest. Whatever. Rose was probably mistaken or something. So, she brushed it off and copied down the directions Flitwick had posted on the board.

  At lunch, Victoire and Teddy sat together, along with Clara, Dominique, and some of the other Quidditch jocks. Teddy was acting normal again, but Victoire noticed he tore into his steak a bit more viscously than normal.

  Later, as she went to watch Teddy practice Quidditch a bit, Victoire suddenly felt sad. Empty. All of her negative memories came flooding to her mind. The day her beloved great-grandmother died. The day she broke her arm on a Muggle playground. The day she almost got kidnapped when she got lost in a store at five years old.

  Victoire whipped her head around; she could swear she felt some cold, unpleasant feeling behind her. But when she looked, there was nothing there.