After the War

Chapter 16

The damp grass pressed into the back of Harry's shirt, but he didn't mind. He relished the feeling of relaxation for no real reason, just because he could. Ron and Hermione were still out on their first official date, leaving Harry to wile away his hours in peace. The rush of Ginny's broom was barely audible in the distance and a few bangs broke through the silence from George's window with occasional smoke spewing out into the hazy sky. Harry stared at the dismal clouds, relieved that he didn't have to lay in a bush of flowers to find a mere moment of peace like he used to. Finally learning to control his thoughts (a little late for that, he thought to himself wryly), Harry pushed away the dark images that still haunted his every move and focused instead on the blissful relative quiet.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley's voice shattered his lazy train of thought. "She's here!" Harry forced himself to his elbows and checked the watch that Weasley's gave him for his seventeenth birthday.

"It's not even two yet!" He called back over his shoulder. When he heard no response, he flipped to his stomach to see that Mrs. Weasley was long gone from the doorframe. With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, brushed off the grass, and walked heavily into the Burrow.

"She's waiting for you in the sitting room, dear," Mrs. Weasley informed him. He nodded and walked through the hallway into the small room. He barely had time to open the door before someone had grasped his hand and shook it heartily.

"Mr. Potter! I am honored to meet you! Simply honored," a short witch beamed up at him. She had straight black hair that fell just past her shoulders and matching bangs with dark brown eyes. She wore crisp, pale blue rubes and was currently gazing at Harry both expectantly and in awe.

"Er... hi. Nice to meet you too," he responded politely, fully aware that he didn't even know the witch's name yet.

"I'm Malinda Huang and I'm here to read Mr. Remus Lupin's will," she let go of his hand and took a step back, but her gaze never faltered. It flickered between Harry's eyes and his lightning bolt scar, but it never faltered. "And I know that I'm dreadfully early, but another meeting of mine was cut short and I must admit, I was quite ecstatic to meet you. Hopefully I didn't interrupt anything important."

"That's all right, I'm not busy," Harry conceded and turned towards the couch, mostly to get his scar out of her line of sight. He sank into the forest green cushions and was forcefully reminded of the last time he was read a will on this very couch. Hopefully, this time was far less dramatic.

"Well, then I suppose we can get started!" she said, much too cheerfully for the settling of someone's estate. "I already spoke with a witch named Andromeda Tonks, who a significant portion of his and his wife's belongings were left too since she currently has custody over his son." She cocked her head and looked up from the document she had just pulled out of her briefcase. Harry nodded at her, guessing she wanted a confirmation that he was listening.

"Good, good. Let me just find you here," she ran a finger along the page until it stopped a little more than halfway down. "Here we are! Okay, 'To Harry James Potter,'" she began to read with no pause or preemptive measures. "'I bequeath a vial of memories, marked 'For Harry J. Potter' to be used in a pensieve, which I know he has experience with.'" Harry could practically see Lupin's knowing smirk at Harry's frequent and often forbidden falls into its silvery depths. "'With them, I hope he can see his parents' true and remarkable characters that he has regretfully never known.'" Again, Malinda Huang dug through her briefcase and dumped the single vial onto the table in between them, unaware of its importance. Harry leaned forward slowly and picked it up; it was warm to the touch and filled with a silvery-blue substance that danced under the light. He clasped the glass eagerly, desperately wishing to delve into memories of his parents that weren't from Snape, yet also somehow desperately wanting to save them for later. Seeing them needed a special and private moment for sure, but what if the anticipation exceeded the reality? What if his expectations were already too high? He should wait, he decided quickly, to lower his expectations drastically. But then again, when had Remus let him down? The familiar rock of guilt settled into his stomach as he recalled fond memories with his ex-professor and how he had died, all because of him.