Teddy Lupin by Moonlight (Harry Potter Fan-fiction)

Chapter One

I could hardly wait. We were embarking on another trip to my godfathers - Harry Potter if you didn't know - and we were going to have the most wonderful of times, as always.

Another one of those 'Asteio' trucks rolled past us. I smiled to myself as it sprayed a sheet of murky rainwater and small pebbles onto the front windscreen, which caused the taxi driver to curse and frantically engage the wipers.

Beside me, Andromeda glared at my sudden change of expression and ruffled her tiny face, but I paid no notice of her. She scowled softly, as she usually did, and continued to lecture the driver on how to drive more safely.

"It's not like you're an expert on muggle practices," I had said, attempting to calm her down.

"Eddy, this man is going to drive us into an early grave, do you want us to reach uncle Harry's place in...SLOW DOWN!" She roared, viciously attacking the drivers seat with her formidably militaristic walking cane.

The large white truck pulled in front of us and I couldn't help but smiling again.

"What on earth is the matter, child?" My grandmother demanded.

"Oh, it's nothing, really Gran."

Andromeda shook her head, poising her walking stick for another strike. However for the time being, the driving was to her satisfaction.

"When we get to the Potter's, they'll tell me everything about Hogwarts, right?" I looked at Andromeda, but she was busy staring out the window. "I don't have any brothers or sisters, so there's no guarantee that I'll get into Gryffindor, is there?"

The old witch shuddered, her shoulders spasming for a moment and then she was still.

"Is there, Gran?"

"We'll...we'll just have to..." She trailed off, muttering.

"What? We'll just have to what?"

"Ah curse this bad weather!" Andromeda spat.

Softly, I went to put an hand onto my grandmother's arm but the taxi swerved suddenly and my arm jerked away. The driver grimaced and hunched further over the wheel to get a better view of the road. There was no scolding from my Grandmother though, she was silent.

As we overtook the Asteio lorry, I spat out the water I was drinking all over the front seat and burst into a intense fit of loud guffaws. For the driver of the truck had the most ridiculous, outlandish ginger hair I had ever set my eyes on.

My hair colour even changed somewhat in the merriment - from a pale strawberry blond, to dark brown - a phenomenon that would usually provoke anger in my grandmother, but she hadn't even noticed. She was staring forward with bleary, dead eyes into the distance in front of us, an endless wilderness of cars for miles around.

I sniggered once more and continued to follow the trails of rainwater that meandered in small paths across the car window.

I had mentioned to my grandmother on more than one occasion that the 'Asteio' lorries that we so frequently encountered, were actually supply trucks for the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes joke shop, owned by Ronald and George Weasley, who I had visited four times a week ever since I could rightly remember.

A law once imposed by Frederic Weasley (who died before I had the chance to meet him) necessitated that all drivers of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes joke shop, had to have bright orange hair, or at least an exceptionally realistic wig.

--------------

The rain lessened. Clouds began to disperse across the stark, crystalline sky, revealing intricate blue streaks, unmolested by greyness. I smiled at the prospect of another sunny afternoon at the Potter's. And with Victoire

"We could have walked to the Potter's place," I said, more to myself than anything, but Andromeda nevertheless heard me. "They only live a few blocks away."

"The rain, Eddy, we would've got absolutely..." She doubled over and was interrupted by a spluttering, vicious cough that left her shaken and trembling. Gently, she raised a white, cotton handkerchief and wiped her decrepit lips. "Soaked."

A pang of guilt stung my stomach. Not only was her illness worsening, she still refused to use any other handkerchief than that dirty old rag she always carried around. It had belonged to my grandfather (who I had also never met) and still had his initials, TT, scrawled in one corner.

She stays up most nights crying about him, mourning and wailing, until eventually she drops off into uneasy, fragile slumber, plagued by evil dreams of her lost love. Every time she had come into my little room to check in on me, I had pretended to be asleep. God knows what would happen to her if she discovers that I am not ignorant to her anxieties. Her weak constitution will collapse as if under some heavy weight.

I had once tried to piece together her intermittent sleep-talking, like a jig-saw puzzle Mr. Arthur Weasley would bring me from his extensive collection of muggle artefacts, but I couldn't make sense out of any of it. '"Oh, Teddy, Teddy...Why'd you let him in? God!...You must have known, surely you must have known!...Walder, out of all the people! Why'd you let him kill you? Why?"'

All I know is that my grandfather, Teddy, must have been killed by 'Walder' whoever that was, and that Andromeda had cut her heart out crying over him. I had wanted to ask her about it, but it would only serve to make her more upset. Thus, I decided to leave the matter as it was.

The sudden swerve and jolt of the BMW taxi rocked me back into reality. We were passing through a junction, onto the wide, suburban streets of Crassford Road, heading out of London. Out of London.

"We've passed the turning onto the Potter's cul-de-sac!" I shouted, shaking

my grandmother's shoulder. She said nothing. "We're going in completely the wrong direction!"

My grandmother emitted a single pathetic, high-pitched sound from her cracked lips, sat up straight and tapped her walking stick against the car door. I waved both hands in the air to attract the drivers attention. "Turn the car around, we need to get back onto Leckhamton Crescent."

The grey-haired muggle - who I had known in my head as Blondie because of the constant Blondie songs he played - glanced behind and shrugged quizzically. "Ma'am?" He said, briefly looking at Andromeda.

"I don't know where that is." I said, wondering if all taxi drivers were as incompetent as this. "Leckhamton Crescent. That's we're going."

"Shush a moment, Edward dear." My grandmother smiled at me, for the first time today. "Yes, driver. Continue with the original course."

Blondie nodded. "Yes ma'am."

My mouth opened. The hairs on my head flushed, transforming into a light black. "Where are we going?"

My grandmother smiled and ruffled my hair. "Not to the Potter's dear, nor Shell Cottage, nor the Weasley's."

I slumped back into my chair, crossing my arms tightly across my chest. My hair slowly turned blacker and blacker.

"Think of it as a little excursion, a holiday, if you will." She patted my shoulder affectionately.

"But we are so close to the start of school!"

"Ah," My grandmother began, but then thought better of it. She twisted the dilapidated handkerchief round in her hand. "I'm sure...I'm sure there'll be adequate time for preparation."

I straightened up slightly. "Good. But we have to be back before we leave to the Hogwarts express, to catch up with the others." I couldn't help but think of Victoire.

Andromeda sighed, "We'll see, Eddy."

"And then we'll need to go to Diagon Alley to get a wand and some books and some robes and an animal and ice cream and a trunk and and and A BROOMSTICK!" I fairly screamed the last word. "Yes, we need to get a broomstick, don't we Gran?"

Andromeda just nodded and smiled. I regarded her suspiciously, my hair turning to an inquisitive blue. She was in a brown study, her eyes wide and her lips trembling, the complex maze of wrinkles that made up her face started to ooze with fresh perspiration. She was most certainly thinking about her poor Teddy.