Sweet Sixteen
Chapter 4: Sweet Sixteen
Friday, April 10th, 2014:
He wakes up to the sound of wind billowing and pressing up against the walls, forcing them to creak as the wood bends to its will. This isn’t his dorm. This definitely isn’t his bed, he thinks, as he feels the hardwood of the floorboards beneath him sticking to his sweat-soaked skin. Where is he?
He tries to push himself up and is met with a striking pain. It’s everywhere. His bones ache and his skin burns and his tendons scream and it hurts. The stings of what feels like open wounds whisper all over his body, spilling out pain with words he can’t seem to listen hard enough to understand. Every feeling seems to be drowned out by another, then another, never letting him breathe without reminding him.
It feels like it’s holding him captive, shackling him to these splintered floorboards. He can only breathe. Breathe and endure and pass second by second until hopefully something stops, something shuts the fuck up and lets him think.
His vision is blurred and his face is wet. Tears or sweat or blood he can’t decide. He can’t even seem to care which one it is.
In the back of his mind, a voice that he doesn’t recognize tells him that his shoulder may be dislocated. He tries to lean on it and can’t fight back crying out at the daggers that dart up his arm. With the dark spots that stain his vision, he can barely keep himself from blacking out.
It feels like hours before he manages to pull himself off the ground, propping himself up on his good arm.
He starts to catch his breath. Certainly doesn’t hurt as much to breathe, anymore. Maybe pain has found him boring after just lying there for a while. Maybe he’s lost too much blood to feel much of anything. Either way, he’s dizzy. That’s not a good sign.
He stumbles over to the cot at the end of the room, a scratchy-looking blanket haphazardly thrown over it as if in a rush to make it look presentable. He tumbles into it gladly and hears it creak under his dead weight. There’s a spot of blood on one end. Oops. Can’t really do anything about that now. Even if he wanted to, he was starting to get really tired. Maybe resting could help.
With his darkened vision he takes a foggy look around the room. Blood is pooled on the floor where he woke up. That looks like an awful lot. Is that his?
In the corner, on the opposite side of the room, lies a neatly folded pile of clothes. He thinks he catches a wand resting on top of them, but can’t be sure. Sure doesn’t look like his wand. Besides, it was getting hard to focus his eyes so far away.
He knew he should’ve studied some basic healing spells when he had the chance. Now look at him. Bleeding out on a makeshift bed and he can’t even find the strength to try and call for help. Perhaps there’s someone else in this decrepit-looking house. Then again, probably not. This place looks as if it’s been abandoned. Besides, if there was, they likely would already know about a dying boy taking up residence downstairs. Is there even a second floor?
Sleep starts to pull him under, grabbing at his eyelids. As he starts to drift, there’s a light scraping of footsteps right outside the door. Maybe someone came to help. The footsteps don’t sound human, though. Not enough to get his hopes up, at least.
The door skids open with a long scrape, dragging across the floor as it's pushed. In pads an animal, pitch black and shaggy. A dog. The same dog from before. When exactly, he can’t remember, but he knows him, he thinks. If he could even get a word out, he’d probably ask the dog to go get help. Too bad dogs don’t speak English. That would be class right now.
The dog comes over to the cot, pushing away some of the blanket with its nose. As the fabric is dragged away, a bright red gash running down the leg peeks through. That looks rather deep. Can’t really be a good sign, can it?
He doesn’t have the strength or really the presence of mind to keep his head up too much longer, resigning to the pillow laying underneath him.
Something touches his leg and sends a dull sting across his calf. As he forces his eyes to focus, he musters the strength to look back down. At the foot of the bed, he sees the dog sitting there calmly, slowly licking his wounds.
Thanks for the sentiment, he thinks, but it may be a bit too late for that, mate. Nevertheless, he feels a little better about lying here in this dusty old room, now. At the very least he’s not alone.
A little more comfortable, he closes his eyes again, feeling the weight of sleep come back with a vengeance. His last thought he spends hoping the dog gets out alright if things don’t work out. Wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to it for his sake. He feels sort of responsible for the poor thing. Even if their story doesn’t reach past this room.
Wait. It’s probably not a good idea to fall asleep right now. Maybe if he tried getting up again, he could hold out until someone arrived. If someone arrives, that is.
He tries to prop himself on his elbow and feels a searing pain erupt from his shoulder, like jagged claws tearing at every inch of his arm. Fuck. Wrong shoulder. All he can hear over his own screams is the loud, crackling pop in his shoulder.
Teddy jolts awake, still feeling the ghost of the pain rip its way through his arm. As his eyes dart around, he’s met with the familiar goldenrod curtains that frame the darkened expanse of his bed. It takes a moment for him to realise where he is now. He’s back in his dorm. He’s at Hogwarts. He’s safe.
Still, the dream stubbornly carves itself into his thoughts. It seems determined to pull him back to that room with every breath he takes: the blood, the wood, the dog, and every second he spent collecting splinters on that dusty floor.
He rips the blanket off of him in a panic, pulling up the pant leg on his pyjamas. All that remains of the wound from just moments ago is a pale, silvery scar running up his calf. At least it felt like it was moments ago. No, it was a dream. He’s gotten the scars after nightmares before, that doesn’t mean he was ever actually in that godforsaken house. Yet, part of him wasn’t fully convinced. It just all felt so real. He could still smell the iron in that rickety bedroom, like blood was still lining the walls. He shuddered at the sheer memory of it.
He pulls back the velvet curtains and plants his feet firmly on the hardwood of his dorm room. It’s cold, still holding onto the chill of the night air. Teddy finds it quite relaxing. Further proof he’s far away from that house.
“Alright, Ted?” George tiredly slurs from his bed, propping himself up by his elbow as he rubs some of the sleep out of his eyes.
Teddy jumps at the sudden noise, not expecting anyone else to be awake so early in the morning. Seeing George in the dim light of the dorm, he feels his shoulders release some of the tension built up from before.
“Shit. Sorry, mate. Nightmares. What time is it?”
“I dunno. Far too early for me to remember how to read a clock, at least.” He chuckles lightly, letting out a yawn and turning back over in bed, settling back into his pillow.
Teddy looks over to his bedside table, focusing his eyes to make out the hands of the analogue clock in the faded darkness of early morning. He’s never really had a problem seeing in the dark, reading the clock face easily despite the barest peek of light has yet to stretch through the windows. Half past four. That’s not good. At least if it was 6 he could just make it into an early morning. Drink coffee, do yoga, talk to walls, or whatever people who woke up early did before breakfast. Only choices for him at this ungodly hour were to: one, go back to sleep– something he absolutely would rather die than resort to– or two, spend the first few hours of his birthday staring at the ceiling and pretending to read.
Oh shit. It’s his birthday. He’ll most definitely have to find some sort of time after classes to have a lie down before the party. Otherwise, he doesn’t think he’ll even survive the night. Although, his friends will probably have him so drunk by the end of the night that he’ll wish he was dead either way tomorrow morning. They’re wizards, there must be some sort of magical hangover cure they can hoard for emergencies. It can’t be that hard. Then again, he’s quite shit at potions due to a rather severe case of general disinterest, so maybe he’ll check with one of the Slytherins to see if they have any tips. All that time in the dungeons must be good for something, right?
Teddy quietly gets dressed in the dark, hands still shaking slightly from when he woke up. He heads down to the common room, snagging one of the books stacked on Colin’s trunk on the way. In his sleep-addled haze, he didn’t bother to look at the title. If it’s anything like the other books Colin’s been raving about, it should probably be a good enough read to kill an hour or two.
Who knows, maybe it’s one of those muggle fantasy books he always catches Colin reading. Might be worth a try, but it seems like a stretch. He could barely get through that one about those magic rings without either laughing or rolling his eyes every page. Seriously, how do muggles even come up with that stuff? Then again, they were pretty spot-on about the spiders.
He continues brainstorming possibilities for what the book he grabbed could possibly be about. if not purely out of boredom, it was helping his nerves to have something to think about. At least something that wasn’t to do with sleep, dreams, or anything in between. When he plops down in one of the cushy armchairs, he’s already decided it must be one of those romance novels where every love interest is a piss-poor excuse for a different magical creature. He props his feet up on the coffee table and finally has enough light to take in the title. It flashes a cerulean mural over the front cover, with a pair of eyes looking out that seemed to stare right into Teddy’s soul. The Great Gatsby, it reads. Sounds like some sort of muggle magician: One of those guys that pull rabbits out of hats and are a little too excited to cut someone in half. Can’t hurt to try, though, he thinks.
Five minutes in and two pages down, he decides most muggle books are a crock of shit.
This whole retrospective “I wish I knew the world more when I was younger” is such a cliche. Also unrealistic. Here he is, younger than he’d like to be (certainly makes getting drunk a bit harder), reading the same thing everyone has been telling him all his life. Yes, youth is precious and fun and fleeting and all that bullshit, but what people seem to forget is they are all damned to spend said youth almost entirely in this bloody castle. Don’t get him wrong, he loves Hogwarts and his friends and is self-proclaimed to be very happy with his current situation. It’s just that it’s hard to “live life” and “be young” when he has an essay on the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 due next week.
Oh fuck. He has an essay on the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 due next week. Eh, probably best to save that for the next time he wakes up before breakfast.
He puts the book down on the coffee table, if not purely out of fear of having a full-blown existential crisis should he keep letting his train of thought run wild. If he has to spend the next two hours alone, he might as well have fun with it. Then again, the Hufflepuff common room is not really ground zero for rule-breaking and spontaneous adventures. He could wander the castle, maybe pass himself off as McGonagall. He’d have to go in his school clothes, though. There’s no way he could even attempt to replicate her outfits. No closet in the entire castle could properly emulate that shimmering sapphire cloak of hers. Seriously, how does she even afford all of those, on a teacher’s salary? That’s magic in itself.
Resigned to staying in, he’s back to brainstorming, trying to find some sort of game to keep him occupied. Solitaire? Absolutely not. Far too boring. Maybe chess? He could at least try to get a little better before the next impromptu Hufflepuff tourney he gets dragged into. That way, he can avoid the inevitable shower of passive-aggressive encouragement every time he loses. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, the idea of playing chess alone is far too bleak to even entertain. He could try something with magic, perhaps. Wait.
He looks around, walking across from the couches and chairs to a row of short bookshelves that line the walls. Dragging his finger along the wood of the stacks, he passes board games, extra hats and scarves, and piles of playing cards. Finally, he stops on a few shelves of rather weathered-looking books. Most Hufflepuffs like to leave any old textbooks they don’t need anymore in the common, usually so kids who can’t afford their school books can still do their homework. He gazes along the titles, looking for something that could work for his last resort of pre-breakfast entertainment. Ancient Magical Organisations. Nah, that wouldn’t work. Fatal Curses and Their Mortality Rates. Definitely not. Either way, seems a little like they're already spoiling the ending on that one.
Finally, he picks one that sounds like just what he needs. Advanced Charms and Jinxes. Hopefully, there’s good enough stuff in here to make it interesting. It’s a sixth and seventh-year text, Teddy thinks, so it should work pretty well.
He sits on the floor and starts his makeshift game to kill time. Flip to a random page with his eyes closed, point to a random spell, and try to do it. Sure, there may be some dire consequences if he chooses the wrong one, but he’s not one to back down from a challenge. He also believes that’s what makes it a bit exciting.
He spends the first few minutes just doing a test run. Extinguishing spell. Easy enough. He puts out the hearth on his third try. Strange that they don’t teach this spell alongside incendio, though. Makes him kind of wonder if the teachers want the damn castle to burn down.
Next up, Piertotum Locomotor. Looking at the description, it sounds so cool, if not extremely difficult. He looks around the room, searching for a worthy target, and spots a stuffie left forgotten on one of the bookshelves in front of him. Perfect. He brings it over and places it on the floor in front of him. A small honey badger looks back at him with big, lifeless eyes. A little creepy, but it’ll work.
He reads over the wand movements and pronunciation one more time before trying it out. After a moment, it doesn’t really look like anything happened, but how much do honey badgers really move, anyway?
He spends the next twenty minutes on that spell alone, switching his pronunciation again and again. Eventually, it devolves into saying the incantation with various ridiculous accents. In his defence, that’s probably closer to how they used to say them in the olden times or whatever, so he carries on.
Somewhere between a flipped and rolled “r” on the last syllable, he decides that this time he’ll get it right. He looks right at the stuffie and sets his intention with a somewhat dramatic determination. If he’s going to do this, it has to be all out. You are a badger, he thinks. You are a living badger. Foraging and digging holes or whatever you lot do.
Teddy points his wand right at it, imagining the life of the animal going right from him and into the toy. It is alive, it’s not becoming alive, he thinks. “Piertotum Locomotor!”
He says it in a loud whisper, feeling a slight thrum in his hand and a slight change in pressure in the air around him.
Nothing.
He waits a moment, staring into those dull, lifeless eyes. Still, the badger doesn’t move. Oh well. Guess that’s that. He’s spent long enough on this one for it to run its course in his attention span.
He turns back to the book laid out to his side, flipping through the next few pages with his eyes closed. He points to a new spell. Aguamenti, water-making charm. Oh, brilliant. This should be useful for when he’s too lazy to grab a drink from the tap at night.
He turns back towards the relit hearth and stares across the empty expanse of carpet. Convenient that the badger isn’t in the way anymore.
He freezes. The badger is gone. Oh shit.
His head darts around the room. Where the hell that little git has run off to? He can’t have gone far. At the very least that means the spell worked. Stuffie running around the common room aside, this qualifies as a win in his book. Go Teddy. Now he just has to find the damn thing.
He spends the better part of thirty minutes looking under chairs, checking behind bookshelves, all to no avail. His back is starting to hurt from all the crouching and bending. Maybe he made the badger a little too animate. He thought the book had said there’d be some semblance of control over what he animated, but that didn’t really seem to be the case at the moment. All in all, not bad for learning the spell less than an hour ago. Were there still some kinks to be worked out? Absolutely. Still doesn’t stop him from being impressed with himself.
Another ten minutes. Merlin’s beard, weren’t Hufflepuffs supposed to be particularly good finders or some shit? Or was that something Helga made up to make them feel better?
The sound of a wooden door creaking open immediately interrupts his search party efforts. He looks up from his position behind a desk and sees Colin, freshly showered and looking chipper as ever. Godric, it’s almost annoying how put together he is. Teddy could barely handle waking up early once without setting something loose in the castle, imagine he had to do that every day.
“What in the hell are you up so early for, Ted? Shouldn’t your birthday be the time to skip classes and sleep in or whatnot? You know, more than usual.” Colin asks with a quirk in his eyebrow, obviously surprised to see someone else to be up and about in the common room at this hour.
He finishes checking the shelf and gets up, brushing himself off as he replies. “Reading.” He gestures to the copy of The Great Gatsby left forgotten at the table. Not the best alibi, he admits. “Not to mention, top secret birthday stuff that I am not at will to disclose.”
“Yeah, sure. What’s your ‘top secret birthday stuff’ have to do with the underside of that desk?” Colin smiles at him. They know each other well enough by now. It’s only a matter of time before Colin pries the answer out of Teddy, and with very minimal effort. What can he say, he’s weak-willed when it comes to secrets. At least where Colin is concerned. Who can he tell if not Colin. He sure as hell can’t keep everything to himself. That would be maddening.
“Lots of things. You wouldn’t understand. That’s how secret it is.”
Teddy begins very subtly looking around the room while they chat, checking for any sign of black and white fur while keeping it ever-so-casual.
Colin follows his eyes to the tables, looking back at him with a curious look on his face.
“Are you alright, mate? I’ve got to say, in all my years of knowing you, I’ve never seen you up this early if it wasn’t for the Quidditch World Cup.”
Teddy clears his throat. “Fair, but I’m 16 now. Maybe I’ve turned a new leaf, expanded my horizons to reach past 8 AM.”
“Yeah, hardly bloody likely.” Colin walks over to the table, picking up his book that Teddy was absolutely going to give back eventually and sitting on the couch. “Right. Well, since you’re already up, care to join me at breakfast?”
Teddy looks at the large grandfather clock on the wall to his left. 5 past 6. He couldn’t have spent that long fucking around. Then again, his ability to waste time is truly impressive when he’s at his best.
“Yeah, sure. You go on ahead, I’m right behind you.” One last look and he’ll give up for now. Not an ideal situation, but his search was starting to feel hopeless. It’s not like he’s in any danger, he would just rather not wake up in the middle of the night with that sack of stuffing rummaging through his trunk in the near future.
“Suit yourself,” Colin says, jumping up and heading to the door. “I’ll save you a seat.”
As soon as the door closes behind Colin, Teddy whips back around. Wand still in hand, he whispers out a quick “Accio Badger!”. Not exactly the smartest use of a summoning charm, he thinks, as the pile of extra scarves and hats emblazoned with a honey badger crest come flying at him. Without time to dodge, he just had to stand there and take the hit. It damages his pride more than his face, really, but still stings on a more emotional level.
Yup, that’s it, he’s done looking for the badger now. Let him do what he wants. It’s not like he can even hurt anyone, his claws are made of cotton, for Merlin’s sake.
Picking the scarves and hats off himself and the floor, he puts them back on the far-right shelves and heads for the door. He flicks his wand to send out a quick locomotion charm towards the spellbook left forgotten on the floor. It drifts back to the bookshelf and fits itself neatly into the stacks of other books. Now, he really needs to get going. He’s late to being early for breakfast.
***
Teddy doesn’t think he’s ever seen the Great Hall this empty in his life. He can count on both hands the number of students at each table. He looks around the hall, spotting a group of Slytherins talking and gesturing spiritedly. On the opposite side of the room, a Gryffindor across the hall puts jam into his tea and slathers his morning toast with grains of sugar. Teddy’s early morning was finally starting to catch up to him, so he’s decisively somewhere in the middle of the two extremes.
He looks down the Hufflepuff table and spots Colin, drinking the same black coffee as always and his nose practically glued to his copy of The Great Gatsby. As Teddy walks over, he sees that he’s already halfway through the book. Seems a little unlikely. Not even magic could have you read that fast in fifteen minutes. Ok, well, it probably could, but no spell that a fifth year would know. He’s probably just rereading the highlights again.
Perhaps one of the most ridiculous things Teddy’s noticed about Colin is he has a favourite chapter in every book he owns. When he doesn’t have anything to read, you could almost bet which chapters from which books he’s flipping through to pass the time. He’s even explained his favourite chapter of The Great Gatsby to Teddy before, some sort of convoluted lecture about subtext and an elevator that Teddy kind of just smiled and nodded along to.
When Teddy gets to the table, Colin doesn’t even look up, too engrossed in that chapter about the elevator lever or whatever the fuck.
“OI!” He shouts, making his friend jump about a mile. In turn, the better part of his mug of coffee spills all over the serving plate of toast.
“Watch it, you prick! I nearly burnt myself to death.”
Teddy takes his seat nonchalantly, the table covered in coffee and Colin still catching his breath from a mild stint of cardiac arrest. “And yet, not a drop of it got on your shirt. Must say I’m impressed.” He flicks the top button of Colin’s shirt for added effect. “Besides, you can’t be mad at someone on their birthday. A birthday that you have yet to even acknowledge, by the way.” He teases, elbowing the boy next to him lightly in the ribs.
“Yeah, alright, I’ll wish you a happy birthday as soon as I’m done picturing how you’d look after I hit you with a stinging jinx.”
Colin looks over the table, pulling out his wand with an exasperated sigh. “Scourgify!” He says with a quick wave. Before their eyes, the coffee splattered across the table vanishes into thin air. All except the part of the spill that’s now soaking into the slices of toast. Bummer. But hey, at least there’s some breakfast sausage. Best part of being early? First pickings of everything. Except the toast.
“That’s fair.”
They sit in silence for a few minutes, Colin reading while Teddy shovels sausage and eggs onto his plate. He’s found it rather easy to sit with him like this. They’ve gotten very used to each other's presence in the past few years, constantly being in proximity to each other. Now they’re like an old married couple.
Sometimes, Teddy finds himself about to ask for the salt and Colin already has it in his hand, holding it out for him to take. Or handing over his fork the second Teddy’s hits the ground. They seem to just coexist very well. When they both graduate, he expects they’ll probably find a place in London together. The idea is nice to think about when his mind wanders to graduation. At least, while everything around him changes, he’ll still have his best mate to tell him he needs to take better care of himself. He’ll most likely ignore any and all advice, but it’s nice to have regardless.
As more students start to pile into the Great Hall, Teddy spots V coming in with her friends, all of them laughing together as they walk to the Gryffindor table. Even from across the room, he almost wants to laugh with them. He can see the blush that rests on her cheeks, the same one that always comes when she smiles too much. Hopefully she sees him, too, pretty soon. Not just so he has bragging rights about waking up earlier than her for once, but also as an excuse for her to come over and sit with him.
“Spotted Vic, did you?” Colin pipes in, not looking up from his book.
“Er–yeah. How did you know? You haven’t even looked up in the past twenty minutes.”
“Pink hair.” He says nonchalantly, stealing a sausage from Teddy’s plate with his fingers.
“Oh-mother fucker.” He frantically runs his fingers back and forth through his hair, trying with vigour to get it back to normal. After years of trial and error, he’s found a mix of visualisation and physical stimulus to be the fastest way to switch appearances during these more unfortunate circumstances. He pulls down a strand of hair to check his process. Nope. Still pink. It’s probably hopeless to get back to his original colour, now. So, if he can’t beat it, he might as well make it fun.
Instead of his normal brown, he decides that today deserves a bit of a change, trying to picture the colour in his head. He thinks of clear skies, Ravenclaw robes, Victoire’s eyes. Only a moment or two and he can practically feel his hair take on the new hue, the roots tingling as he brings forward an electric blue. He checks the strand that reaches down to tickle the bridge of his nose. Definitely not pink. He lets out a sigh of relief.
“There. That better?” He asks as he turns to Colin.
The boy next to him looks up, giving a satisfied smirk. “Loads. I actually quite like that one on you. Makes you look like you’re in a muggle band.”
“What kind of band?”
Colin shrugs. “...The 1975, I s’pose.”
“...I’ll take it.”
Just as Teddy goes to turn back to his breakfast, Victoire takes her seat next to him, a confused look on her face as she stares at the two of them. How did she even get over here so fast?
“Well, goodmorning, V. How-”
“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” She interrupts, a stubborn quirk in her eyebrow. Godric, she's pretty.
He scoffs dramatically, feigning offence to her disbelief. He understands he’s fallen into a bit of a pattern with his late mornings, but surely it's not severe enough for this response from his friends. “What? So a man can’t get an early start to his 16th birthday?”
She doesn’t look convinced, tilting her head to the side like he’s speaking to her in riddles. “You do know it’s not even 7 AM, right? The boys didn’t mess with your clocks as a prank or something?”
“Why is everyone so surprised about me waking up this morning?”
His friends both look at him with their eyes narrowed, silently answering his question with a sass that he most certainly did not ask for.
“Alright, fine, I get it. Let’s just accept it as a birthday miracle and make the best of it. Preferably with well wishes and a showering of gifts.”
Victoire elbows him at this, smile returning to her face as she rolls her eyes. “Sure, we’ll get right on that after planning your entire birthday party, sending out the invites, and making sure you don’t spoil the surprise in the meantime. You’re welcome for all that, by the way.”
“Why thank you. I’ll be waiting here patiently for when you’re ready.”
Her smile grows as she lets out an exasperated breath somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. She narrows her eyes at him, leaning in slightly. “You’re so annoying. I don’t know how Colin even deals with you.”
“Just lucky, I guess.” Colin sighs from over his book, turning the page with a wave of his hand.
Teddy can barely even hear his response. He’s too busy looking at her. Whenever Victoire gets close to him, he kind of short-circuits. The hundreds of trains of thought that always seem to rush through his head all jerk to a stop as soon as she leans in. Would McGonagall send him to detention if he kisses her right now? Probably.
He decides that’s perfectly fine with him as he closes the distance between them. Kissing her always feels like the edge of static electricity, like the buzzing of magic in a room full of wizards. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it.
“-Are you lot getting an early start or something? I haven’t even sat down and I’m already reminded of how desperately single I am cursed to be.” George’s voice appears somewhere on his right, his usual mocking tone cutting right through the bubble Teddy was perfectly fine being caught in.
They break apart, sharing the goofy smile they always do after moments like this. Teddy can’t even reply at the moment, his mind feeling like it was made of stuffing from the way Victoire is looking at him. Apparently, she had far better bearings than he did. Smile turning to a wry grin, she whips her head to face George.
“Single? That’s not what I heard from Tilly Grayn yesterday. Have something to share with the class, do you, George?” She smirks, returning his tone threefold as her hand drops to Teddy’s. Her hands are so cold. He grabs the other one with his right hand and rests them on his knee. You know, just to make sure she stays warm.
George instantly goes red in the face, expression twisting slightly in shock. “I-. Wha-? How do you even know Tilly?!” He sputters out, slipping into his seat across from Teddy.
Victoire raises her chin at him proudly. Clearly, she’s loving having the upper hand on the first battle of wits between them this morning. It’s like this every day. They throw jokes and insults faster than Teddy can process and fight like siblings every chance they get, something Teddy finds very entertaining to witness. Of course, as long as it’s not aimed at him. That quickly becomes terrifying, he’s found.
“I help her with her potions revision.”
“You help a fifth-year with their potions homework?” George responds incredulously.
“Well with you as a partner, she needs all the help she can get!”
He gasps, hand drawn over his heart in a disingenuous state of shock. “You take that back Weasley, or I swear I’ll uninvite you to Ted’s party!” He points a finger at her, the breakfast in front of him left forgotten.
She squints at him, face turned down into a scowl. She slips her hands out from Teddy’s to grab the side of the table as she bows towards him intimidatingly. “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”
George brings his pointer fingers to both temples, closing his eyes with raised eyebrows. “Oh, I would. Burning the verbal invitation in my mind as we speak.”
“Well, put it out!”
“Never!”
“-Um, as the one who is the reason for the season, I veto burning your brain invite.” Teddy cuts in with a slight raise of his hand. He should probably end this, before it gets too severe to subdue and the entire Hufflepuff table becomes collateral damage.
“I second that.” Colin agrees.
George quickly deflates as he looks over at his friends, hands dropping to either side of the plate in front of him. His jaw is dropped practically to the table with a look of utter betrayal. “Why is it no one takes my side? What happened to seniority?”
“I’m sure Tilly will take your side, mate.” Colin offers.
A beat of silence goes over the table. As soon as Colin’s mouth cracks into a smile they all erupt into a fit of uproarious laughter. It goes on for so long that eventually even George starts to chuckle in response, the noise growing so obnoxious they were starting to get stares from other tables. Paying them no mind, they all sit there for a moment, laughing with each other and forgetting how early in the morning it is.
As it finally starts to die down, Teddy looks around and sees that most of the students have already filed into the Great Hall. All with Eric nowhere to be seen. Strange. He usually comes down with George or someone. Then again, his passion projects seem to leave no time for breakfast on occasion. He lived off water and stale biscuits for the entire week that he decided he was going to learn how to cast the perfect invisibility charm. He fully disappeared for a week straight, and they never found out if he was camping out in the library or if he had actually succeeded and had been coming to breakfast the whole time. Either way, the sheer fact that he refused to talk about it after he reappeared wasn’t exactly a good sign.
“Where’s Eric, by the way? Stuck on another one of his projects?” Teddy segues.
“Worse,” George replies, “he’s been obsessed with finishing all of the decorations and ‘final touches’, as he put it, for your party tonight. I haven’t even seen him since curfew last night.”
Oh shit. Did he even sleep last night? Maybe it would be best for Teddy to bunk off his first class of the day to check on him, at least to make sure he’s still alive. “You guys are taking this whole thing far too seriously, if you ask me. You’re acting like it’s the Royal-fucking-Wedding. Besides, what is so special about sixteen?”
Colin opens his mouth to reply, probably something incredibly snarky, and is promptly cut off by the far-off screeches of owls overhead.
They all look up, silently waiting for the morning ritual of mail delivery to be done and over with. When you first get to Hogwarts, you quickly realise that trying to have a conversation during mail time is like trying to talk to someone as a train hurtles by. For one thing, you can barely hear anything over the flaps of wings, the telltale screeches, and the deafening sound of the occasional howler. And if that’s not enough, if you aren’t paying attention, it’s more likely than not that you won’t be aware enough to duck out of the way should the very heavy package addressed to you not be delivered with the required grace by a flock of birds. Teddy feels the spot above his right temple, remembering one of his birthday presents from Harry last year he wasn’t able to catch in time. It was a book with rather sharp corners, so needless to say they all remained extremely attentive during mail delivery from then on.
After a bit of looking up long enough for Teddy’s neck to hurt, he spots Alvie, gallant as ever, swirling around the air of the Great Hall with a clump of envelopes in his talons. He’s obviously taking his time, soaring from corner to corner like he has nowhere else to be. The sight instantly brings a smile to Teddy’s face. It’s silly, but getting presents from Harry and the Potters always makes him so jittery, ever since he was a kid.
The Potters always treated Teddy’s birthday as the event of the season. Every year, without fail, they’d set up sheets and spindles of any decorations in whatever colours he wanted. The tables were piled with gifts and overflowing with his favourite sweets to celebrate. Celebrate him. Sure Harry and Ginny did it for all of their kids as well, but that didn’t make him feel any less special or excited when April finally came around again. Each birthday is vividly imprinted in his mind. Though he’s at school for his parties now, one thing’s remained true: it’s never truly his birthday unless the Potters are involved.
Alvie swoops around in one final circle and finally begins to glide towards the Hufflepuff table, making a bee-line for Teddy and his friends. He feels like a child again, about to blow out the candles on the cake Granny Molly made.
The letters drop down in front of him with a rather anticlimactic flop, all tied together with a tightly wound thread. Completely ignoring the expectant look in Alvie’s eyes, Teddy starts pulling at the knot in the thread as soon as the letters hit the table. His friends are all looking at him surprisingly silent, knowing full well how important this part of his birthday is to him.
Three letters splay out in front of him, all labelled with Teddy’s name in different scripts. He spots the top one and recognizes Harry’s handwriting almost immediately. With nothing but a butter knife at his disposal, he cuts a jagged tear into the lip of the envelope. He tries to take out the parchment enclosed inside, but it’s stuffed with so many pages that it’s difficult to manage.
After some shimmying and tad-too-aggressive pulling, the pieces of parchment give way. Teddy is met with a letter and what looks like a blank pile of pages. His smile melts to a confused frown. He furrows his eyebrows, reading over the note that lay in front.
Teddy,
First of all, happy birthday! Sixteen is a pretty big age, so enjoy every minute while you can. We wish we could be there to celebrate with you, but I’m sure you’d much rather be with your friends today of all days.
Don’t forget about all of us in Godric’s Hollow just because you’re all grown up now, yeah? I know for a fact that your Aunt Ginny won’t let you get away without a proper party when you get home from school.
Your present this year is a little different than others, so please don’t go wreak havoc all over the castle with it. I would say don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, but that wouldn’t leave a whole lot off the table, now, would it?
James and Lily insisted on writing birthday letters, too, so make sure you write back before too long. I think Albus wrote you something in there, too.
Sorry it took so long for me to give this to you, but it was ironically very hard to find amongst everything in the attic. It was made by our fathers when they were in school, so make sure to take care of it. It helped me in more ways than one when I was at Hogwarts and I hope it does the same for you. I can’t imagine a better man to leave it to.
Use it well.
Love,
Harry
P.S. Try using your wand. It’s got a sort of password to make sure it’s not used by the wrong sort. Another reason to keep it extra safe.
Teddy stares blankly at the parchment in his hands. Ok. So the bundle of pages is his gift. Somehow, that explains things while still leaving him with more questions. What could be so special about a bit of spare parchment that it warranted a password? Also, the wrong sort? He can’t even begin to imagine what that could mean in Harry’s eyes, but it seems a tad unnecessary. He thinks he can tell the wrong sort for himself, thanks.
He looks over at Alvie, only just remembering the damn bird was still there. He sits at his left, staring him down. If Teddy didn’t know any better, he would swear the damned thing was giving him a dirty look. He definitely is waiting for payment, preferably in the form of food. Teddy throws a spare bit of his breakfast toward the bird.
“Have at it, you greedy bastard.”
Alvie pecks at the offering hungrily, swallowing it all down as quick as it took to hit the table. Now satisfied, he gives a small coo (Teddy assumes as some sort of thank you) and promptly takes off, rising through the air above the tables and joining the chaotic cloud of the other owls yet to drop off their technicolour parcels and letters.
Now, back to his birthday gift, he thinks as he looks back at the pages in front of him.
He folds the letter back up and goes to put it back in its envelope, but his eye catches on a bit of writing he hadn’t spotted originally. There’s something on the back. A phrase framed in quotations in Harry’s rushed scripts that he uses outside of Ministry reports.
“I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good”
Alright. Kind of on the nose, but that’s probably the password he was talking about.
“Well? What is it?” Victoire pries, likely speaking for the whole table in their curiosity to know what Harry had to say.
“Um… I’ll get back to you on that.” He replies warily, not really having any idea about it himself.
Teddy picks up the folded ream of parchment, taking his wand out from the inside pocket of his robes. Here goes nothing.
He points his wand out so it’s just barely touching the top of its pages. He takes in a breath.
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
The effects are slow, almost unnoticeable at first. A spot, then a stain, then a pool. Ink seems to bleed onto the parchment, branching and reaching out across its pages. Fading into a dark crimson in the centre, the ink seems to take shape. It lays out foundations, building up towers and walls and windows.
Teddy sees his friends out of the corners of his eyes, all stretched over the table and peering over his shoulders with equal curiosity. He could act proud or impressed if he knew what was happening in the first place, but he’s just as clueless as they are. It’s only when words finally take form that he can read it out for his friends to hear.
“Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present…The Marauder’s Map.” He reads aloud, not really sure of the words in front of him. It comes out as more of a question, begging for any extra insight from his friends surrounding him. He looks around, but they all look just as clueless as he is.
“...The fuck is a Marauder?” Eric asks eloquently.
“Er…Good question,” Teddy responds, his eyes fixed to the parchment.
If some big epiphany or realisation was supposed to come forward in his mind, he’s sorry to disappoint. As Eric has pointed out, he doesn’t even firmly have a grasp on what a marauder is. Is it like a thief, but worse? Either way, he’s not really sure why a map needed a password.
“Well? Open it up!” George urges impatiently. Teddy can practically see the fire burning behind his eyes in excitement.
He pulls open the flaps of parchment, the map expanding to three times its original size. Inside, it's filled with that same graceful linework of drawings and script that seem to dance across its pages. It outlines familiar grounds and spiralling stairs. From the looks of it, it’s a map of Hogwarts. Teddy traces his eyes over the sprawled labels of rooms and corridors, landing on The Great Hall. There were specklings of tens of sets of tiny footprints scattered around the room, all identified by a name incased in sketched-out ribbon.
“Um. Ted.” Colin says, eyes focused on the same spot he is. “Why are our names there?”
“What? Where?” He searches through the cluster of names, recognizing various classmates and professors, until landing on a group of footprints towards the centre of the room. Colin Pristley. Victoire Weasley. George Dumas. Eric Jiang. Edward Lupin.
“Clearly the map doesn’t realise no one has called you Edward since you were born.” George says. From the nervous look he’s giving his friends, he’s obviously trying to lighten the mood. It wasn’t working. His expression betrays him, seeming just as weirded out as the rest of them.
“But how does it know my name in the first place, let alone my full name?”
Colin shrugs. “If it really was made by your dad, I wouldn’t imagine it to have any malicious intent or anything like that. At least, I would hope it wouldn’t.” He moves the map closer to his end of the table, looking over the adjacent rooms and corridors to the Great Hall. “It looks like it's just enchanted to track and identify people in the castle.”
He moves it back over to the centre of the table, flattening it out and pointing towards a pair of steps making their way towards the greenhouse. Neville Longbottom.
“See? It’s not just us. It’s everyone.” Colin explains.
“It’s everyone. Everywhere. All the time…” Victoire adds in.
The table goes silent as all of the other students chatter around them. The sounds of clinking silverware and voices that bleed together all seem to dull as realisation settles over Teddy and his friends.
“Do you lot understand what we could do with this?” George lets out a chuckle tinged with disbelief. “We could be GODS.”
“Alright, no need to be dramatic,” Teddy interjects. “Is the map useful? Yes. Does the concept of knowing everyone’s business at all times sound cool? Double yes. I’m just lost on how a bunch of Gryffindors pulled this together and didn’t automatically get it framed in The Ministry of Magic.”
“I didn’t appreciate your tone for that last part, but you have a point. This is some pretty advanced magic. Well beyond a student, I imagine.” Victoire looks over the map with an intense look in her eyes. Teddy can practically see her picking apart the complex weaving and layering of enchantments that must be on it, looking beyond all of the names and labels and pages.
“Your old man must have been bloody brilliant, Ted!” Eric cuts in.
Though it’s a compliment, it forms a pit in Teddy’s stomach. Yeah, he probably was. The Marauder’s Map is an evidently glorious thing, but all it serves as right now in his eyes is physical evidence of how little Teddy knew about his father. He had no idea this map even existed, let alone how his dad managed to make it while he was still in school.
His friends begin to quickly chatter amongst themselves, topics spanning from possible spell modulations to Eric beginning to hatch yet another scheme to get out of charms class. Yet, Teddy can’t bring himself to join in the excitement. All he can do is sit there, staring at the frayed edges of the map, thoughts empty save a flicker of something he can’t describe. It makes him nauseous, twisted and unyielding.
A part of that unusual swirling in his stomach slowly heats into anger, simmering under his skin. Why did it take Harry so long to tell him about this? Teddy spent the better part of his childhood wondering about his parents: what they were like, what they did during their free time, if they were smart, kind, funny, fucking anything to form some sort of picture of them in his head. He’d seen photos, even kept one in his bedroom at home, but to him they were just faces. Just people that were supposed to belong to him. He spent years and years asking questions, asking anyone who would answer, trying to pull any bit of information he could from Harry and the rest of his family. After far too many of the same replies, he finally stopped asking.
At least his Gran would tell him about his mother. She’d tell him stories and stories about her, sometimes repeating the same ones at Teddy’s request. She at least felt real to Teddy, like she left an imprint during her life. His father was just radio static in comparison. No matter how many people told him how much of a great man he was, with all of their vague fucking musings, it wasn’t anything you couldn’t say about anyone else. There weren’t any defining details, anything that made him his own person. It’s like he was just a background character to most of them. It didn’t even seem like any of them really knew him at all.
Now he finds out there’s this whole piece of him that Teddy has never seen, never even knew about. He feels betrayed. Lied to, even.
“Teddy, are you alright?” Victoire grabs his wrist with a concerned look, pulling his attention back to the table. He looks down at his hands and realises his hands are gripped into fists, white-knuckled and pressed hard into the table. He quickly releases his grip, flipping over his hands to see the crescent indents of his fingernails in his palms.
“Yeah, mate. You looked like you were about to put a hole in the table.” Colin adds, following Teddy’s eye line back down to his hands.
Teddy clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, just surprised, I guess. I just never knew about any of this. Why didn’t Harry tell me about any of this?”
Victoire softens her gaze and scoots a tad closer to him, their legs touching as she begins to rub small circles into his shoulder blade. He hadn’t noticed how tense he was until now, her hand on his back feeling like its unlocking his vertebrae one by one from the rigid posture he was trapped in. Thank Godric she was here or else he might’ve actually put a hole in the table after all.
“Maybe he was just waiting until the right time. He probably just didn’t want to upset you.”
“Yes but a simple mention of this would have been nice. Makes me wonder what else he’s not telling me…”
He lets out a long breath, rubbing his eyes before looking back at the map. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t think he can look at it much longer today without putting himself in a proper foul mood. It’s his birthday. He’s turning sixteen for Merlin’s sake. Daddy issues can wait.
“Well, the miracle of modern magic this is, we have bigger things to worry about.” Teddy folds up the map, the pages still scattered with scribbles and outlines of the castle, and places it in his bag. His friends’ eyes all seem to follow his hands, wordlessly chasing after the map like a new toy. They can fuck around with it all they like later on. Now that it’s officially a problem for future Teddy, he feels even more at ease than before.
Teddy looks over at George, who looks a bit put out, as he watches his friend stow away the map. He blatantly ignores him, not ready to deal with any of that at the moment. For now, it’s his birthday and he’d rather spend it doing things that have the least likelihood of sending him into another crisis.
“Bigger things like what?” Victoire acts innocently. He knows this look. This is the look she uses when she’s trying to hide something. You can tell in the way her smile is a bit broader than usual, her eyebrows raised just a tad too high. Interesting.
Teddy turns the tide of the mood that washes over the room with one, suspicious glance. Everyone seems to still be set in their conspicuous silence, even though they know exactly what he’s referring to.
“...Bigger things such as what else you guys are planning for tonight that you’ve conveniently forgotten to tell me. You know…A surprise, a special guest star, a colosseum tournament…anything of that nature.” He prompts.
“See, I told you guys we should have done a tournament!” Eric interrupts pointedly.
As soon as he finishes his sentence, he’s cut off by the telltale plop of a square package in front of Teddy, so close to his forgotten plate it almost crushes his breakfast. Not that Teddy has that much of an appetite anymore, with the nerves of Harry’s gift still obscuring any hunger he had previously.
He looks above him and sees his Gran’s owl, Theseus. Not one to stick around, she doesn’t even touch the table before she’s returning to the last few owls still roaming the air. Her black and silvery-white feathers soar by the ceiling so quickly she resembles an apparition more than a post courier.
“Nevermind that, Ted, you’ve got a present! The other letters from the Potters too! We can talk later.” George sputters out a tad too quickly. If he’s going to keep deflecting, he could at least take a few pointers from Teddy on how to do it right.
Teddy looks down in front of him and sees what’s left of the wreckage of what has so far been a quite uncomfortably disruptive birthday. Hopefully, this will be the last of any surprises. Not likely, though, if the dubious expressions of his friends before were anything to base it off of. Not much to do about that before the party, though, so it might just be better to ignore it altogether. Someone will spill soon enough. Hopefully, soon enough to give him ample time to brace himself.
He starts with the letters from the Potters, for no particular reason other than it feels rude to ignore James, Lily, and Albus just because there’s a gift in front of him.
He looks at the messy handwriting of the top letter and recognizes it as James’s handiwork. He feels a smile perk up to his lips as he uses his butter knife as a letter opener once again, this time smearing the lip with a bit of leftover jam. He’s sure James will forgive him.
He takes the folded bit of parchment out of the envelope.
Hi Teddy!
Happy Birthday! Sixteen seems pretty old but that just means I’m closer to coming to Hogwarts! I hope I get Gryffindor but I think it wouldn’t be bad to be a Hufflepuff with you and your friends. That way you can help me on my homework if it gets too hard.
I hope you like the present dad got you. He wouldn’t tell me too much about it but secret things are usually the best things so it’s probably wicked.
Dad told me he gave you the sickles I owe you in his letter for you. At first I was kind of upset because I had just saved up enough and I was gonna send it to you for your birthday. I felt better when I renember remembered I could spend it on sweets though. I’ll send you a chocolate frog if I have enough after the fizzing whizbees.
Hope you have a good birthday. Write a letter back! I want to see what the owls from Hogwarts look like. Maybe it can meet Alvie and they can be friends.
Love,
James
If Teddy’s honest, that letter did make him feel a bit guilty about not writing back to James before. He’ll make sure to do it this time, tell him all about what Hogwarts is like (and hopefully add in some Hufflepuff propaganda at the same time. It would be glorious to see the look on Harry’s face when he tells him his firstborn is a bloody ‘Puff.). The weeks before one’s first day at Hogwarts are some of the most terrifying Teddy’s experienced, so it wouldn’t hurt to try to ease James’s nerves when the time comes.
He gives a content sigh as he puts the letter back into its envelope, placing it carefully into his bag. Now, onto Lily’s.
He’s almost surprised to see that it’s not a howler after not replying to the last one. Soon as Lily finds out how to use one of those, he’ll have to watch his steps around her, for sure. Opening the final envelope, he sees three folded pieces of parchment inside, all stacked on top of each other.
He unfolds them all and lays them out on the table in front of him, scanning over them (albeit rather quickly, as his eyes keep darting back and forth between the letters and the present resting in front of him).
Aunt Ginny had helped Lily with writing her letter, seeing as how she’s not the best speller yet. It was the usual for Lily. A happy birthday wish, a vague threat, and her asking if Teddy could send back some jelly slugs from Honeyduke’s with his next letter. For a six-year-old, she’s quite transactional.
Then followed a letter from Albus, quite short-winded as usual. He’s not really a boy of many words, but it was sweet to send a letter all the same.
Lastly was the letter from Aunt Ginny herself. A poorly disguised attempt to get him to at least try out for quidditch wrapped up in a birthday letter. He knows she only means well, but if Teddy finds himself anywhere near a broom he automatically gets nauseous. All the shaking and wobbling and whipping around proved to be way too much for him during first-year flying lessons. Besides, who decided to let children fly around tens of metres in the air battling over a set of balls and hoops? And don’t even get him started on the whole bludger thing. Like, is its goal to legitimately kill someone or just brutally maim? It’s all bloody terrifying.
The end of Aunt Ginny’s letter had a small blurb from Harry again, strangely enough.
Teddy,
Almost forgot. You need to use a specific password to make sure no one else can read the map. It’s the same idea, but instead you say “Mischief Managed”. Wouldn’t want Headmistress McGonagall finding it unlocked, after all.
Take care and happy birthday.
-H
Teddy looks into his bag and finds that the map is in fact still showing on the pages of the parchment. Whoops. That could’ve been bad.
He takes his wand out again and flicks it towards his bag.
“Mischief Managed.”
Automatically, every trace of ink evaporates from the map, sinking back into the hidden depths of the parchment like it was never there in the first place. Kind of cool, Teddy has to admit. At least now there’s some assurance they won’t get caught red-handed should they actually put it to use.
“Jesus Christ Teddy, are you going to open the present or not? Even I’m getting anxious just watching you stall for time.” George bursts out, not able to idly sit by anymore, apparently. One would think it was his birthday with how involved he is.
“I’m not stalling, just trying to make sure I get to everything.”
“Well hurry up! I’m sure Gran got you something really wicked.” George breaks into a smile at the last word.
“Yeah, I’m sure bu–... wait. How did you know it was from my Gran? Theseus almost never comes to Hogwarts.” Teddy retorts, growing more and more sceptical every second. Even if George had seen the owl before, Teddy’s found he’s not really observant enough to pay attention to things outside his constant state of tunnel vision.
George goes slightly pale, the hint of a smile on his lips dropping. His eyes dart between their friends at the table, all of them looking at him with a similar expression that barely disguises their nerves.
He throws his hands up in surrender. “No reason! Just assumed. You know me. Good old George. Always assuming things…” He tries for a soft chuckle, but all that comes out is a slight whimper.
“Good Godric, George, you couldn’t keep a secret for ten minutes?” Victoire cuts in, staring daggers at George.
“Hey, I haven’t told him anything about tonight!”
“So there is a surprise for tonight!”
“George, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!” Colin clips out, fists clenched on both sides of his breakfast plate. Looking mere seconds away from pulling his own hair out, he interrupts Teddy’s realisation, likely to stop George’s babbling in his tracks.
“-Anyways! Teddy, for the love of Merlin, open the gift from your Gran.” Victoire settles the atmosphere almost effortlessly in so many words, nudging the small wrapped package that still remains ignored on the table towards Teddy.
Teddy squints his eyes, looking around at his friends. Traitors, the lot of them.
He accepts defeat to the rather dodgy atmosphere in the room in favour of finally turning his attention to his next birthday gift. Though the surprise about who it’s from has most certainly been ruined, he wonders what his Gran has come up with this year.
She has always gotten him (and he wishes there was a better choice of words for it) bizarrely stellar gifts. No matter the holiday or how old he gets, Teddy always finds himself properly dumbfounded by his Gran’s inexhaustible originality. His eighth birthday, it was a sweater enchanted to match his hair colour whenever it changed. For Christmas last year, it was a magical portrait of David Byrne that would play any Talking Heads song you asked him to. The older he gets, the bigger and stranger the present seems to be. Teddy wouldn’t have it any other way.
He wastes no time untying the ribbon and tearing through the brown paper of the wrapping. He tosses it to the side and is met with a note atop a white box, no labels or inclinations of what it might be.
He unfolds the note, reading as quickly as he can possibly muster. The suspense was practically killing him. It also served as a perfect distraction from the map and its many complications.
My Darling Boy,
Happy sixteenth birthday. You’re growing far too old for my liking, so try to slow down a bit before I next see you.
Though I know you’d much prefer being back home celebrating with your Gran, I’m sure your friends will do the day justice just fine without me. Put on a song from Diamond Dogs for me, will you?
How are your friends at Hogwarts? From what I’ve heard, you’re all quite the group. Hang on to them, if you can. They’re wonderful kids and all care for you very much (I have letters by the tens from them as proof). Good friends, in my opinion, are the rarest and most valuable thing in this world.
I hope you like your gift this year. It gets harder and harder to come up with new ideas for such a wonderfully peculiar boy like yourself, but this year I think might be some of my best work. I needed quite a bit of outside help for this one, but it was all worth it and more.
That George boy was especially a good help during all of this, sending names of records you would like. He’s got quite the taste in music. I had no idea there were so many muggle American musicians that I was missing.
There’s another part of your birthday present I have yet to give you, but I thought it would be better to give this particular gift in person. I’ll be in Hogsmeade tomorrow to give it to you, if you aren’t too old now to sit down and have a butterbeer with your grandmother.
See you soon, darling.
All my love,
Gran
As Teddy reads through the letter, he feels the tips of his ears begin to heat up. He misses his Gran when he’s at school more than he would ever care to admit to his friends, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fighting back a tear or two by the time he was done reading.
Although, that last bit did seem a bit unusual. His Gran never comes to Hogsmeade, let alone just to “stop by” for Teddy’s birthday. In fact, she makes it a point to avoid Hogwarts altogether if she can, the only exception being the Hogwarts Express platform when dropping Teddy off at school.
If Teddy’s honest, he thinks it’s because of all the bad memories for her. From the stories she’s told him about her time at the castle, their times at school couldn’t be more different. While he was meeting friends like Colin and eating his weight in pumpkin pasties, she got howlers from home every week. Her family had this specific affliction, as she used to tell him, of being so set in their cruelty that they assumed it was a better way of life. Teddy can’t even imagine the nightmare of it all. No wonder she married his grandfather and ran for the hills.
If she’s coming all this way tomorrow just to give him a birthday present, it must be something serious. At least, something important.
He takes a deep breath, looking up from the letter at his friends. They all meet his gaze, smiling widely as they wait for him to open the box in front of him. Looking around at them, he decidedly agrees with his Gran. Teddy’s lucky he has these people in his life, people who care about him enough to put his birthday on par with Christmas morning and still have the nerve to keep a surprise or two in store. He’ll hold on to this lot as long as time will let him, then hold on a good while longer. There’s noth-
-“I'm not sure what kind of moment you’re having in that muddled-up head of yours, but please for God’s sake open your fucking gift.” George slices through Teddy’s inner monologue with almost ruthless precision, looking exhausted from the suspense of it all. He’s right, though, Teddy almost forgot about the gift altogether after that letter. Best he opens it soon before George’s head explodes.
The top of the box slides off easily, making a soft popping sound as it breaks free from its bottom half. Inside, resting on a tuft of white tissue paper, was a small rectangle, fit with a black screen and a large circular button on its face.
“...What is that?” Victoire asks, curiosity unquestionably peaked as she resumes peering over Teddy’s shoulder.
“Looks like some kind of muggle technology, I’d guess.” Teddy replies, looking up to Colin for answers.
His friend meets his eyes with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. After a beat, he shrugs helplessly with wide eyes.
“Don't look at me! I’m just as confused as you lot are.”
“...Are you guys actually serious?” George cuts in, eyes narrowed. He looks around at them, seemingly confused about whether or not they were being genuine.
“None of you know what this is? Not even an inkling? An idea? It’s twenty-fucking-fourteen for fuck’s sake.”
George is only met with blank stares from the other end of the table. They all grew up in towns full of wizards, not really getting much exposure to the more muggle side of things. If it weren’t for his Gran, Teddy isn’t even too sure he would be listening to much muggle music at all. A bit of a sad fact to admit, but a fact all the same.
George lets out a quick scoff in disbelief. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s an iPod, you twats.”
The blank stare continues.
George rakes his hands through his hair with a look of utter duress.
“Oh my GOD! Ok. It’s what muggles use to listen to music. It has songs that you put on it beforehand so you can listen to them at any time. There should be headphones somewhere in there that you plug into it so you can listen. Your Gran and I have been trading letters for weeks deciding what songs to put on it.”
None of them seem all too eager to pick it up. They all continue to stare at it, like the first person to discover fire.
He pauses in his explanation, letting out a sigh. “You know what, let me see the damn thing.”
He grabs the box and removes the tissue paper, taking out a white-coloured set of electrical cord with a silver point at one end. Weirdest looking set of headphones Teddy’s ever seen, in his opinion. Then again, muggles love to make things look strange and call it “modern”, so who is he to be surprised?
He plugs the headphones into the bottom end of the device and tosses the other end of the cord to Teddy.
“Just put these in your ears.” George says still clutching the iPod, moving his thumb along the buttons to presumably pick a song to play.
Teddy does what he’s told, putting the headphones into each ear and looking back at George. They feel rather uncomfortable, if he’s honest. He much rathers the headphones fit for the record player, the ones that go over like earmuffs. Yet, he supposes, it won’t be too bad after he gets used to-
His ears fill with a passing hiss of a cymbal, moving from one side of his head to another. The swell of guitars crash into focus, bursting what feels like all around him. It crescendos, timed by the soft beat of a drum, doo-dun-doo-dun-dun, like a rhythmic splash of stones skipping through water. It all sounds so close, making the air around him feel dense with the weight of it all.
It settles into a continuous beat, pulsing on either side of his head, the charged space of sound resolving into a solitary guitar, ghosting over the baseline like the dripping of honey.
A soft, breathy voice starts to sing, whispering out words like she was speaking to Teddy himself.
Oh, my life is changing every day
In every possible way…
And oh, my dreams
It’s never quite as it seems
Never quite as it seems…
Teddy looks up at George, feeling himself practically beaming. This is glorious. He regrets every jab he has ever made at muggle inventions. This trumps all of the feats of wizards easily. And, yes, he is in fact including witches’ brew in that mix.
George returns his smile threefold, looking so pleased with himself it could hurt. He takes the headphones out of Teddy’s ears, the soft musings of the song fading far too quickly.
“So?” George says expectantly. “Do you like it?”
Teddy takes a second to catch his breath. He didn’t even recall holding it in the first place until the music stopped.
“Like it? George, this is incredible. I’m just confused about how you guys managed this. I thought muggle technology didn’t work in Hogwarts.”
“Technically, it doesn’t. Your Gran commissioned some muggleborn bloke who specialises in the magical integration of muggle technology or something along those lines and he put this brilliant ward around it that stops magic from interfering with the wires and battery and whatnot. I don’t really know the whole technical side of things, but it’s absolutely wicked, isn’t it?”
“-what’s wicked?” Eric lets out with a yawn as he stumbles within earshot of the table. He looks over the table in front of him with heavy-lidded eyes and a slumped posture, the tell-tale markings of dark circles marking his complexion. Honestly, he looks like shit, but Teddy would never say that to his face in fear of shattering his healthy ego.
Still, it’s not as though he looks all that terrible. He still adopts a lazy smile as he takes his seat next to George at the table, his mood clearly not soured by a lack of sleep. There’s also a faint blush still resting on his cheeks, like he only woke up moments ago. Then again, his robes are disheveled enough to look as if he’d slept in them, so that’s likely not far off from the truth.
Leave it to Eric to be the only teenager alive immune to exhaustion’s ability to conjure up a proper foul mood.
“Alright, Eric?” Teddy asks, likely already knowing the answer.
“Brilliant, actually. Nothing like a terrible night’s sleep to make you feel ‘complished.” Eric replies with a mild slur, lucid yet foggy. Settling into his seat, he calmly slides George’s breakfast plate out in front of him, immediately picking at bit of egg left over.
George doesn’t really seem to mind, his attention fully preoccupied with the iPod cupped in both hands. Every so often, his eyes light up with excitement, silently flipping through songs as his friends talk around him.
“Been at it all night getting the party ready. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to transfigure a pillow into a songbird.”
“Why do you need songbirds for a birthday party?” Teddy asks. Considering Eric’s past schemes, he probably doesn’t even want to know the answer.
“Guess you’ll just have to find out tonight, won’t you?” Eric retorts, a wry smile hinting at his lips. “Anyways, what was so wicked that you lot’ve yet to mention it?”
George perks up at the mention of the previous conversation, looking up from the iPod for the first time since he got his hands on it.
“Here, Eric, listen to this!” He tosses the earbuds left ignored on the table to his right, landing them dangerously close to the remainder of his breakfast.
“Er–the fuck are these?” Eric picks one up cautiously, studying it warily.
“Just put it in your ear. You’ll find out soon enough.”
He does as he’s told, fitting the earbud into his left ear clunkily. He looks around at everyone at the table, the mild confusion on his face silently asking his friends what was about to happen.
George searches through the device for a moment before setting it down on the table and pushing in the centre button, turning to Eric in quiet anticipation.
You can see the exact moment the music starts without hearing a sound. Without warning, Eric’s eyes widen as his face drops. his jaw slowly hangs open in amazement, too shocked for words. Raising his eyebrows, he lefts out an elated laugh, pushing the earbud further into his ear.
“Holy shit, George! Is this one of those muggle music devices? The sound is insane! It’s like we’re right there at the concert!” Eric exclaims as he starts to sway in his seat.
Teddy looks over to the lit up screen of the IPod. On its face shows a browning photograph of a woman in a long, frilled skirt, posing with a dramatic pride in a decrepit room decorated in crosses and letters.
Right next to it reads a title in typed lettering. Gigantic – Pixies. It’s been one of Eric’s favourite songs ever since George first played Surfer Rosa for them last year. He spent the rest of the night just singing the chorus over and over. Humming, singing, tapping out the rhythm until George was almost going mad with irritation. Eventually, they just let him keep replaying the song. At least it shut him up, George had argued, but Teddy had quite enjoyed Eric’s excitement. He actually had quite the voice, only making that known is absent-minded humming or drunken belting every now and then. In Teddy’s opinion, it was sad they didn’t get to hear it more often.
“This was Ted’s present from his Gran. An absolute genius, she is!” George says, his voice rising slightly in enthusiasm as he quickly stumbled through his words.
“Genius? I could kiss her for this.”
“Talk about snogging my Gran one more time, Eric, and I swear I’ll tell Harry about the time I found a photo of him in your sock drawer.” Teddy bites out, not at all loving where this conversation had gone.
Eric’s smile vanishes, his face growing bright red in a matter of seconds. He rips the earbud out of his ear and looks at Teddy with wisps of betrayal and exasperation showing through the bags under his eyes. “For the love of Merlin, Ted. I don’t go around airing your dirty laundry every chance I get to blackmail, now, do I?”
Teddy fixes him with a warning look, trying his absolute best to string as many nonverbal threats as possible into a few seconds of eye contact.
Eric quickly yields, huffing out a breath. “Alright, fine! Sorry, Gran.” He turns his chin up at the last part to speak to the ceiling, as if Gran was listening in from the rafters.
“Much better.”
“Right.” George says with a hint of finality. “I’ll take the iPod for a bit, if that’s alright with you, Ted. I think if I mess around with an amplifying charm for a bit, I can get the music to play for the party tonight.”
Teddy can already see the gears whirring behind his eyes, picking at ideas like fruit on a tree. If George is one thing, it’s resourceful to a point. Leave it to him to revolutionise the Hufflepuff party scene all in one day.
“Yeah, cheers. For now, the rest of the birthday excitement can wait. Defense Against the Dark Arts stops for no man.”
His friends let out a collective groan in response, likely forgetting all about class amidst all the excitement of the morning. Considering it was all a bit too much excitement for Teddy’s taste, he could quite do with a lecture to lull him into a proper sleep. Godric knows he could use it.
They all begin to stand from their seats begrudgingly, far from ready to start the dullest part of the day. All except Teddy, who is quickly being tugged back into his seat with a gentle pull on his sleeve.
He barely has time to look over before Victoire is leaning into his side, close enough to his ear to whisper. All he can see is the soft drape of her hair on her shoulder, falling like water from its place tucked behind her ear.
“Meet me by the kitchens after class, yeah? I still have to give you your present, after all.” She says softly. Teddy can practically hear the smile on her lips as she leaves the rest decidedly unsaid.
He’d meet her under the Whomping Willow if she asked him to.