Teddy Lupin
"Harry! Harry!” Someone was slapping him lightly across the face. Harry opened his eyes, taking in a deep breath and only just realizing how much he needed the oxygen. Without his glasses on, the person kneeling over his prone body was faceless, no more than a blur of pale skin and ginger hair, but Harry knew immediately who it was. A hand came out of nowhere to put his glasses back on his face and Ron’s worried face came into focus.
“You alright, mate?” he asked, his wide blue eyes betraying his worry.
“Yeah – fine,” said Harry, grimacing, but managing to pull himself up into a sitting position. He was still shaky and cold from sweat. The vision had been so real, it was as if he had been physically transported back through time…
He took in his surroundings. He was in another subterranean corridor of the Ministry of Magic, Level Ten, though this one was empty and without the benches they had previously been sitting at. Looking up at the signs carved into the stone archways around him, he could make the words “COURTROOM TEN” on one, and what was surely “COURTROOM NINE” on the next one over. He had passed through the entire chamber and made it to the other side. Memories of what he had just done, before the visions had begun, slowly came back to him. He wondered why none of the Aurors had come out to check on him.
“Er – what happened?” asked Ron, rubbing his neck. “As soon as I finished that test, they brought me out here, and there you were on the ground. Gave me a bit of a shock honestly…”
“They didn’t tell you what happened?” said Harry, frowning.
“Well, no,” said Ron, still looking concerned. “They just told me you had collapsed at the end of your test, but they couldn’t stick around because they had more applicants to take care of.”
Harry didn’t meet Ron’s eyes. He didn’t want to see the worry and care reflected back on him. He didn’t want the reminder of the vision he had dived headfirst into. And, above all, he didn’t want to be pitied. “They got that bit right,” he said, “I did collapse. Because of the dementor.” It had taken all of the effort he could muster to get those last words out. He hated needing help. He hated himself – or at least this latest version of himself that had lost all of his old nerve.
Ron didn’t say anything, but after a second Harry felt a comforting arm on his shoulder. Harry looked up and saw that his expression had softened. “It’s okay, mate,” he said quietly. “You almost died – blimey, you did die – you can’t expect everything to go right back to the way it was before, can you? Honestly,” he added, looking sidelong at Harry sheepishly, “I struggled with the dementor too.”
Harry didn’t find this hard to believe, and somehow felt comforted knowing he hadn’t been the only one to be troubled by the creature’s presence. Ron stood up and helped him to his feet.
“By the way,” said Ron as they walked back up the passageway to the lifts, “did your test have a hippogriff, too? Mine didn’t bow right away, I thought I was a goner.”
“No, mine didn’t – or at least, if it did, I didn’t run into it,” said Harry. They spent the rest of the ride back up to the atrium recounting their experiences in the courtrooms and abusing the test-givers wherever possible, heedless of the fact that there were other witches and wizards joining them in the same lift. By the time they reached the atrium, in fact, Harry was in better spirits than he had been in a while.
They found Hermione sitting alone on the edge of the new fountain in the center of the atrium. She beamed as they came up to her. “There you are, I was just wondering if you’d gone back without me! How were your Auror tests?” She looked from Harry to Ron expectantly.
“Er –” said Harry, unsure what to say.
“Fine,” said Ron quickly. “How were your interviews?” Harry was grateful for the excuse not to relive his experiences again.
“Oh, not too bad,” she said, and immediately dived into a detailed retelling of each one of them. Harry did his best to pay attention, though his mind was attempting to wander away. Apparently, she had felt confident about her first impressions at the Translating Office and the Muggle Relations Office, though she was now worrying about whether she had come across as too excited at the Numerology Committee, or whatever it was called – Harry grinned to himself, remembering how Arithmancy had been a favorite subject of Hermione’s during their Hogwarts years.
By the time she had finished summarizing her answer to yet another question they had asked her at the Translating Office, they had reached the fireplaces for the Floo Network. “Here we are,” she said, pulling some Floo Powder out of her bag and passing some to the others.
“The Burrow,” said Harry as he followed Hermione and Ron into the fireplace, and within a few seconds he was coughing up ashes but back to the Weasley residence.
“Careful now, Ron, don’t get soot on the rug!” Mrs Weasley was saying. “Wipe your shoes on the mat, not on the floor! Now, how did the career fair go? Arthur just sent an owl, he says he’s already gotten four new applicants at his office!”
Harry looked around the room. Ginny wasn’t there, meaning she was probably at the Lovegoods’, meaning Mrs Weasley and George were probably the only ones home.
“Not bad,” said Hermione, beaming. “I’m feeling pretty confident about some of mine, actually – I think I might get an offer!”
“Wonderful,” said Mrs Weasley, smiling kindly and serving them all a hearty salad, fresh from the garden and laden with plenty of olive oil, for lunch. “And when will you find out if you’ve gotten the jobs?”
It was only just then that Harry realized he had missed that part. Perhaps they had intended to tell him after the test, but seeing as he hadn’t even been conscious…
“They said they’d send us an owl on Friday,” said Ron through a mouthful of greens. “Wha’ abou’ you, ‘Ermione?”
“The same,” she said. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to wait that long, though, I wish they could’ve just told us right then…”
Ron shook his head and turned to Harry with an amused expression on his face. “As if any of those offices would turn down an application from the one and only Hermione Granger.” The one and only Hermione Granger looked quite pleased after that.
---
The following day, Thursday, passed without much to report. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all so caught up in their worries about their career prospects that they hardly spoke to each other all day. In fact, the first time Harry spoke up all day was in the late afternoon, when he and Hermione were on the way back from the local Muggle farmer’s market, they had been sent to pick out berries and baked goods to bring back.
Arms laden with freshly baked breads and quarts of blackberries, they walked back in silence before Hermione finally said something. “Ron told me what happened at your Auror test, Harry.”
“Did he?” said Harry. He couldn’t tell if he should be annoyed or amused at this betrayal of trust. He knew that Ron had a soft spot for both of them and found it difficult to keep a secret from either. Harry braced himself for Hermione to reprimand him.
She saw this coming, as always. “It’s not your fault,” she said earnestly. Harry looked over and saw her looking at him sidelong. “I know you might think it is, but you’re not losing your nerve. I promise.”
“Oh yeah?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. He felt tired of people telling him everything wasn’t his fault. But all the same, it was impossible for him to stay mad at Hermione, who seemed to know him better than he did himself. “It’s just that – I used to be so good at facing dementors – I don’t know what’s happening to me.” He grimaced at the way his voice cracked at that last bit.
“I know,” said Hermione quietly, “and I do know what’s happening to you. It’s not easy to move on from these things –” and she hesitated before adding, “you know, the war and all that – but it just takes time. I just wish you could see yourself the way the rest of us do. You’re a lot braver than you’d like to admit.”
Harry contemplated this for the rest of the walk back, and he was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice they had even passed through the gate until they had reached the front door of the Burrow. There were loud voices coming from inside – a shouting match. Harry and Hermione made eye contact for a second, concerned, before Hermione pushed the door open.
“… don’t know how you could even consider giving up on your studies, what will your father think when he hears –”
“Mum, I’m not giving up on anything, look at Charlie and Fred and George and Ron, they’re all fine –”
“THEY ARE VERY MUCH NOT ALL FINE, YOUNG LADY! IN CASE YOU HADN’T NOTICED, FRED IS –”
Mrs Weasley and Ginny were standing at opposite ends of the sitting room, both red in the face and shouting at the top of their lungs. For the moment, Harry and Hermione were mercifully ignored. They spotted Ron, standing in the shadows at the foot of the stairs, looking nervous and very much caught in the crossfire.
“Er – let’s go for a quick walk, shall we?” Harry muttered in a low voice so only Ron and Hermione could hear. They both nodded quickly, and Harry and Hermione deposited their farmer’s market haul as fast as they could in the kitchen before disappearing out the front door again.
Once they were clear of the house and safe on their way to the orchard, Harry turned to the others. “What the bloody hell was that all about?”
Hermione shrugged, but Ron looked uncomfortable. “Ginny reckons she’s not going back to Hogwarts next year. Says she doesn’t feel ready to face it all again after what happened last year.”
Harry couldn’t blame her. However, he did remember the downright scrutiny he, Ron, and Hermione had been put under by Mrs Weasley a year ago when they had announced that same decision. On the other hand, with Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron all having dropped out before graduating, he couldn’t exactly blame Mrs Weasley for her disappointment that she had only managed to get two out of seven kids through all seven years.
“What does she want to do, then?” said Hermione.
“That’s exactly what she’s trying to figure out, innit?” said Ron. “At first she wanted to join Luna on a trip to track down a Dugglebinx in Iceland – or was it a Buddlejinx? I can’t remember.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I think she’s changed her mind. You should’ve seen Mum’s reaction when she suggested that. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before…”
Harry had seen enough of Mrs Weasley’s occasionally violent temperament before to understand what Ron was getting at. Still, it didn’t answer Hermione’s question. “So what is she going to do, then?” he asked again.
“Now she’s trying to convince Mum to let her go visit Charlie in Romania. Trying to find her path, I guess. Although I reckon she’ll go no matter what Mum says. You know how Ginny is.”
“Well, if it's what she wants to do, then she should do it, shouldn’t she?” said Hermione, frowning back at the Burrow as if Mrs Weasley might hear her and suddenly see reason. “I know it might be surprising for Mrs Weasley to hear, but she didn’t see what it was like with the Carrows teaching. I wouldn’t want to go back, either, if I had been through that.”
“Yeah, well, Mum’s got to have her reaction, doesn’t she?” said Ron in a tired voice. “She’ll come around eventually. She usually does.”
They sat in silence for a while on the exposed roots of an enormous spruce tree, enjoying the cool shade provided by its thick branches, each thinking about something different. Harry leaned back and stretched out on the ground with his hands behind his head, looking up at the sun filtering through the spruce needles and letting it dance across his face.
“Anyone up for some two-on-two Quidditch?” suggested Ron. “We could go see if Ginny’s done arguing with Mum.”
Hermione groaned at the prospect of getting on a broom, something she had never been inclined to do. Even Harry let out a fake yawn. “Not right now, mate, I’m tired,” he said. “I’d like a nap.” And he let himself fall into a deep sleep, only to be woken well after sunset by the grumbling of his stomach calling for dinner.
---
Ginny was nowhere to be seen at dinner, nor at breakfast the next day. Mrs Weasley was stumping up the stairs huffily, carrying two trays to set one outside both her room and George’s room, when Hermione suddenly stood up and pointed out the window, making a strangled yelping noise in her throat.
Harry looked where she was pointing, then jumped out of his chair. Ron, who had done the same, nearly knocked over his bowl of Wizard Rice Krispies as he whispered, “They’re here…”
Three owls were flying in a triangular formation toward the Burrow. Harry ran to the window to let them in. Two of them had a roll of parchment each attached to their legs, and the third had three different rolls. Excitement mounting inside him, Harry tore them off and began passing them to the others. “This one’s for you, Ron, and these three are for Hermione…” But his eyes were fixed on his own. Something was wrong. His roll of parchment wasn’t signed with the same “M.O.M.” seal as Ron’s and Hermione’s. What had happened? Was it simply that they had forgotten to put the same seal on?
“Wicked!” came Ron’s voice, bringing Harry back to reality. “Merlin’s trainers, Harry, look, I got in! They want me to start on Monday. Merlin’s trainers,” he repeated faintly, waving his contract in front of Harry. Sure enough, it was signed and sealed with the official Magical Law Enforcement insignia.
Harry heard muffled shouts from upstairs again. Ginny and Mrs Weasley were fighting again. He turned back to his own roll of parchment. Slipping it out of the package, he unrolled and began to read:
"Dear Harry Potter,
"I hope you are doing well and that you are taking the time you need to heal. I don’t know if you’ll remember me, since we only met once last year, and a very brief visit at that, so I’ll reintroduce
myself. I’m Andromeda Tonks, Dora’s mother.
"I’m writing to you because Dora told me, a few months before she died, that she and Remus had decided to name you as her son Teddy’s godfather. He’s been living with me ever since the battle, and the both of us would be ever so pleased if you could come to visit. Have tea with us this Sunday afternoon?
"Please send an owl if you can join us. I’ll understand if you’re not ready.
"Cordially,
"Andromeda Tonks."
Harry dropped the letter on the table and let himself sink into one of the chairs. He had not been expecting that. He had not been expecting a letter like that at all. It felt as if something was gnawing at the inside of him; it wasn’t just shock and confusion, no… Was it guilt? Guilt for not having visited earlier? Guilt for forgetting, like a selfish idiot, that he had ever been a godfather?
“Harry?” Ron and Hermione were both looking at him with deep concern. “What’s wrong?”
Harry passed the note over for them to read together. By the time they had finished, they both looked as apprehensive as he did.
“Well?” said Hermione cautiously.
“Well, what?” said Harry, turning away from the two of them and spotting his own reflection in the window. He was painfully conscious of how pronounced his eyebags were. His nightmares had been worse than ever since Wednesday. This morning he had woken up, panting and drenched in sweat, four times. He was sure Ron and Hermione were suffering because of him, too, and the guilt had only made it ten times worse.
“Well… Are you gonna go?” Hermione elaborated. “Of course, she says she’ll be understanding if you’re not ready, I’m sure she won’t take it per –”
“Of course I have to go,” he said. “For Lupin and Tonks.”
He turned and saw that they were both still staring at him, and realized he wanted that to stop immediately. “And you?” he said, raising his eyebrows at Hermione. “What about your letters?”
“Oh… right,” she said distractedly. Harry wondered what had taken her so long to open them. All three were still sitting on the table, untouched. With shaking hands, she reached out for one to untie it. To speed along the process, Ron took another letter, and Harry took the last one.
“Cheers, Hermione,” said Ron, “you’ve got an offer from the Magical Number Theory Committee!” He frowned at the letter. “It’s not a great offer though,” he added. “Don’t they realize who they interviewed?”
Ron’s indignation on her behalf had gone unnoticed by Hermione, however, who was still untying the letter in her shaking hands with some difficulty. Harry looked down at the one in his own hands.
“Wizard-Muggle Relations Office gave you a contract offer, too,” he said. “Looks a bit better than the Number Committee…”
“Oh,” said Hermione, finally having opened her letter. “And I’ve got the job at the Ancient Rune Translation Office as well, if I want it.” She set it back down on the table without reading more.
“Cheers, Hermione, you got all three! You’ve got your pick of the lot!” Ron slapped her on the back and picked up the letter from the Ancient Rune Translation Office. “Merlin’s soft, kissable lips,” he whispered in an awestruck tone. “That’s a lot of money, Hermione…”
He passed the note gingerly to Harry as if the contract was offering more money than he ever deserved to see. Harry felt his eyebrows raise involuntarily. Ron was right. The Ancient Rune Translation Office must have really wanted her on their team.
Hermione, however, had yet to express any fraction of Ron’s elation. She was still sitting with her eyes cast down, a most unreadable expression on her face. But before Harry could open his mouth to ask what was wrong, Mrs Weasley came back downstairs, looking disagreeable.
Harry thought it would be unwise to interact with her for the time being, given her mood; he would have been quicker to attempt stealing a dragon’s egg before telling her he remained unemployed for the time being. Ron, however, threw caution to the wind and said, “Mum, look – I got the job, see?”
“What?” she snapped, scanning Ron’s letter and reading it for herself. To Harry’s pleasant surprise, her expression had mollified a little by the time she finished. “Oh… That’s good, Ronnie… Now go rinse your plates and leave them in the sink.” Without another word, she grabbed the bucket of gardening supplies and went out the front door.
---
Harry sat glumly in the sitting room as Ron set himself to washing the dishes, humming to himself. This was not the first time he had come second to Ron: He remembered all too well the concerning amount of jealousy he had felt when Ron had been chosen as Prefect, and not Harry. But all the same, it was an uncommon occurrence for his best mate to get things he didn’t. And now Ron would be going off to become an Auror, while he, Harry, the Boy Who Lived, would be stuck rotting at home alone…
It was only when Ron finished with the dishes that they realized Hermione was no longer with them. Harry thought she must have gone upstairs, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand how she could be upset at a time like this… After all, it would be her starting her first day at work tomorrow, not Harry…
They were about halfway between the first landing, where Ginny’s door was shut tight, and the second, where George’s door was shut tight, when Ron turned around so abruptly that Harry almost walked straight into him.
“Look, mate,” he said, fixing Harry with a rather intense stare that reminded him of Ginny, “I’m really sorry about the… well… the job stuff… You deserved it more than me, you’ve been through more than I have, I’m sure I’ll be rubbish –”
“Shut up, Ron,” said Harry fiercely. “Don’t say that. You deserved it more than me. It wasn’t you who fainted because of the dementor. And you’ll do great, really.” He had tried his best to sound convincingly supportive with that last bit, but it hadn’t come out right. Why was it so hard to just bury his jealousy and be happy for his best mate?
“Harry, I –”
“I’m happy for you,” said Harry, more genuinely this time. After all, he would have more opportunities in the future. And Ron deserved it, he was sure. “I really am, Ron.”
Ron grinned weakly and turned back up the stairs. They both stopped short outside of the door to the topmost room, however. There was a strange sniffing noise coming from behind the closed door. Harry pushed it open cautiously.
“Oh, hi,” said Hermione in an unnaturally high voice. She was sitting on the bed, facing the window, and it sounded as if she had a particularly bad cold. When she turned toward him, he saw her eyes were red and puffy.
“Hermione?” said Harry with uncertainty, going to sit next to her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” she sniffled as Ron took a seat on her other side. After a few moments’ pause, she continued. “It’s just that – well – I’ve been thinking about this day for so many years now. You know, the first time I got a job offer. Except – whenever I pictured it –” she was holding back sobs now – “my mum and dad were always there with me. I just… miss them.”
She buried her head in her arms. The only sound in the room for a few minutes was the sound of her sobbing, growing stronger now, growing quieter now. It was as if someone had hit Harry over the head with a troll’s club. He had completely forgotten about Hermione’s parents. She had modified their memories to keep them safe during the war: They were now living in Australia, utterly unaware that they had ever had a daughter. And to think that a few minutes ago, Harry had been worrying about not getting an offer from the Auror office…
“I just – tried so hard to be the perfect daughter and… and now it’s all for nothing,” said Hermione from between her arms. “They won’t even see me now.”
Harry rubbed her back as she continued to sob, thankful it was dying down now. He never knew what to say in this kind of scenario – that was why he had dated Ginny and not Cho. “I’m sure they’d be proud if they could see you, Hermione,” he offered, hoping it helped. “I can’t imagine a better daughter.”
Hermione re-emerged from her arms to give Harry a weak smile. “Thanks, Harry,” she said thickly.
Ron produced a box of tissues from out of nowhere and offered her one. “D’you reckon there’s any way you could… you know… restore their memories? Get them to come back to England?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Hermione, still sniffing a little. “It’s supposed to be really complicated magic, but in the end, I think it’s best if I try. I don’t think I’d ever rest if I lived the rest of my life knowing I hadn’t at least tried.” She paused for a moment, looking less upset and more determined as she began formulating the plans in her head. “Of course, it’ll be more difficult to get away now that I have a job, but I don’t suppose they’d miss me that much… It’ll only be a few days, anyway…”
So sudden and profound was Hermione’s change in mood now that she was planning a trip to Australia that it almost seemed as if her newfound positive energy had somehow diffused throughout the rest of the Burrow. By dinnertime, Harry found himself discussing animatedly with Ron about what it would be like to become an Auror with a surprising lack of jealousy. On Ron’s other side, Hermione was happily chatting away with Mr Weasley, describing in detail each of the three contracts she had been offered and rationalizing which one she was most tempted by. Further down the table, Ginny and Mrs Weasley were engaging in polite, formal conversation about a topic Harry couldn’t quite overhear. At the end of the table, George had even made his first appearance in nearly a week, silently listening to the others and playing with his stir-fry.
After dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered in the sitting room to write up responses to their letters. With Mr Weasley’s advice, Hermione had finally decided to accept the offer from the Ancient Rune Translation Office, for though it was not the office she was most interested in, it would certainly help pay for her upcoming trip. Harry couldn’t help but feel somewhat silly, writing a short letter to Andromeda Tonks to accept her invitation to teatime, next to his best friends’ major career moves.
A few minutes later, Harry went upstairs to send the letters off. On the way back downstairs, he could overhear the tired voice of Mr Weasley, doing his best to moderate a discussion between his wife and daughter in the kitchen. Back in the sitting room, Hermione was sitting on the rug, rifling through an informational leaflet on the International Floo Network while absentmindedly scratching Crookshanks behind the ears; a few feet away, Ron had managed to get George involved in a game of Wizard’s Chess, which he seemed to be enjoying. Just outside, a summer thunderstorm was rolling in the distance and rain was pattering steadily around the house. An uncharacteristic feeling of content swept over Harry as he sprawled out on the sofa.
---
Two days later, Harry found himself wiping his shoes of ash on a mat inside a house he had been in only once before: the Tonks residence. It was exactly as he remembered. The soft, expansive sofa on which Ted Tonks had once fixed several of his broken bones. The moving pictures lining the mantle, a young girl with short, bubble-gum pink hair and a stylish leather jacket waving out of each one. The flickering lamps, the worn wool rug, everything was the same.
Andromeda Tonks opened a door from another room at the sound of Harry’s arrival. Harry was again reminded of her similar appearance to her sister Bellatrix Lestrange, but the similarities seemed to have diminished in the last year since they had met. For one thing, Andromeda seemed to have aged several years at once; the lines around her eyes were heavier and there were thick streaks of gray that he didn’t remember from last summer.
“Harry Potter,” she said quietly, rushing forward and enveloping him in a warm, comforting embrace that smelled of lavender. “I’m so glad you could make it.” Releasing him, she gestured him toward a soft-looking armchair, which he sank into. “Have some tea,” she added, passing a tray over to him.
He felt her watching him intently as he poured himself a cup. “How have you been, er – Mrs Tonks?”
“Andromeda, dear,” she said warmly, and then sighed heavily. “I can’t say it’s been easy, my lad… What with Ted and Dora and Remus and all… Although I’m sure no one has had it harder than you…” She was still looking at him expectantly. Harry was reminded strongly of his date with Cho Chang just over two years ago, during which she had been insistent on talking about one of the last subjects he had wanted to discuss.
He was determined to do better than last time. For Cho. “You must miss them,” he said. “I do, too. I wish I could have spent more time with them –” the words were becoming more and more difficult by the second – “Tonks was so young – I just wish I could’ve been there for them…” He could feel, once again, that sensation of self-hatred rising up within him. He just wanted it to end.
“You mustn’t blame yourself, dear,” said Andromeda. “They made their choices. They knew the risks.”
Harry suddenly wondered why he was there. He wanted to get up and run, run as far away as possible, and then hide from the world, never to be seen again… But there was no escape. He was trapped to this armchair, trapped in this world. There was no going back. No path but forward. And if it meant uncomfortable visits with Andromeda Tonks every week, then he’d just have to forge his way through those too.
“I suppose you’ll want to see him, then?” said Andromeda. “He’ll be wanting to meet his godfather for the first time.
“What – ?” said Harry, snapping back to reality. He had nearly forgotten Teddy. “Oh, yeah, of course.”
She got up and led him to the next room over, which was decorated for a small child. And sure enough, there he was, Teddy Lupin, lying in the crib, a tuft of pink hair atop his head, just like his mother.
“Could I – ?” said Harry, stepping forward. Andromeda nodded.
He leaned forward and picked up his godson. He was sleeping, his eyes closed so delicately, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly; his nose, Harry saw with a pang, was the same shape as his father’s. His heartbeat was fast, and Harry could feel his own begin to accelerate to match his pace.
A strange sensation was rising within Harry that he couldn’t quite place. Was it pride? Worry? Guilt? Care? No, it was something stronger. Something like he had never felt before. It was as if he had had a revelation. Quite suddenly, he realized, things made more sense to him than ever. His mother, standing between him and Lord Voldemort. His father, racing to the door to hold him off and let the others escape. Mrs Weasley, stepping in front of her daughter, her wand pointed at Bellatrix Lestrange’s chest. Even Narcissa Malfoy, turning to face the Dark Lord, lying to the most powerful Legilimens in history. And Lupin and Tonks, facing an army of Death Eaters in the hopes of making a better world for their son…
He understood each of these actions and more; he would do anything, anything, for the boy sleeping in his arms.
He looked up at Andromeda and there were tears running down his face, so many things he wanted to say to her, to explain to her, to make her understand… He felt smaller and weaker than ever before. He had to be enough for Teddy Lupin. He had to be there for him. He had to protect him.
Finally, he found his voice. Just two words. “I’m sorry.”