Andromeda Tonks sat back in her favourite armchair and sighed contentedly. It wasn’t often she had the house to herself, and she was relishing the peace. Lazily, she waved her wand at a decanter and poured herself a glass of wine. Raising the glass, she toasted to a photograph on her mantelpiece. The fair-haired man grinned at her and she smiled back. Then she raised her glass again to the couple in the picture next to Ted. Andromeda remembered the day she’d taken that photograph. She’d wanted a picture of her daughter and her son-in-law. A formal picture for her silver photo frame, and she’d ordered them both to wear their best clothes. Nymphadora, being Nymphadora, had complained that nothing fitted now that she was five months pregnant, but Remus had talked her round. He hadn’t got anything ‘for best’ but he’d appeared in clean robes and a respectable shirt, whilst Nymphadora had skulked down the stairs wearing a barely worn dress that strained across her stomach.
Andromeda laughed as she remembered her daughter’s sulky face. She’d tried to organise the pair of them into suitable positions, and Remus had been compliant “ he always was “ but Nymphadora...
The photograph on the mantelpiece told the story. For just as Andromeda had pressed the shutter, Nymphadora wound her arm around Remus’ waist -- and grabbed. Andromeda had been furious at the time, but now it was her favourite photograph and the one she always had on display. Her daughter and her son-in-law were alive in that photograph. A laughing, very much in love, couple who could not be separated by death.
“Your son is out with his friends, Nymphadora.” She laughed as she pictured her daughter’s outrage at the use of her proper name and smiled at the photograph. For a second Nymphadora looked as if she were scowling at her. “Muggle friends, would you believe it?”
She felt a lump in her throat. She loved these pictures and often talked to them. Sometimes, she was even able to believe that they could hear her, but today she knew they would not answer. Her thoughts turned to Teddy. It was true he was out with some new friends from the village, and they were Muggles. He’d complained recently that he was sick of only seeing that awful Victoire Weasley and all her babyish cousins. He wanted his own friends. Andromeda had been anxious at first because his mother had never been able to control her emotions long enough to keep her hair one colour, but Teddy had promised her he’d keep to the medium brown hair they’d decided he should sport outside.
She’d smiled to herself as he’d run up the path, barely able to contain his glee at going on a Muggle adventure. “It’s football, Nan. We’re going to play football in the park. Danny Simpson said he’d lend me some gloves, and I can start off in goal,” he declared excitedly.
Andromeda had some vague notion of football. Growing up above a pub in North London, Ted had often gone along to watch his local team. He’d never quite lost the enthusiasm for this Muggle sport, and had even cajoled Andromeda into attending a match. She’d been totally bored by the game, but did enjoy watching the Muggles as they railed against their team, who’d lost rather badly that day. Ted had declared Andromeda was a bad luck charm and it was one of the few times she’d seen him sulk. “Your granddad supported Tottenham Hotspur, Teddy. Did I ever tell you that?”
“Tell me later, Gran,” he’d said as he’d disappeared round the corner. “I’ll be back for tea.”
Andromeda took another sip of wine. It was just gone six o’clock; he’d be back at seven. “Just putting my feet up, darling,” she murmured to Ted. “He’s a growing boy and will be demanding food as soon as he gets in.”
Suddenly, there was a crash as the back door blasted open. Andromeda leapt to her feet and running to the kitchen, she saw a blur of a boy, with angry red hair, flash past her.
“Teddy,” she called as the boy ran up the stairs. “What’s wrong?”
“NOTHING!” he shouted as he slammed his bedroom door.
Andromeda walked up the stairs, a worried frown on her face. Teddy was never rude. Sometimes it concerned her that he was this placid (and so unlike Nymphadora) but she then counted her blessings that he’d inherited his namesake’s nature. “Obviously your grandson gets as upset about that game as you, Ted,” she said, sighing as she reached Teddy’s door. She stopped outside and listened. From his room she could hear sounds like a muffled sob. This isn’t about a stupid match, she thought and rapped determinedly on the door.
The sobbing stopped and she heard his footsteps as he approached the door. As he opened it, she saw his hair was still a defiant shade of red. He looked up at her belligerently, but Andromeda saw how puffy his eyes were and her heart plummeted.
“Before you say anything,” he said sulkily, “no one saw my hair change. I was well away from those horrible Muggles.”
“May I come in?” she asked. Teddy looked at her, still angry at something, but then something in his eyes crumpled and he opened the door wide so she could enter.
Teddy lay on his bed and curled himself up into a ball. Andromeda, watching, caught her breath, because it was the same position Nymphadora had assumed whenever she was angry with the world. She sat on the edge of the bed and reached out her hand to touch his hair. As she stroked his red spikes, they faded to brown. “Do you want to talk to me, Teddy?”
He shrugged his shoulders, or at least it looked as if he’d shrugged them, for it was quite hard to tell when he was hunched like that.
“Shall I go then?” she asked and removed her hand. “I could make a start on tea, perhaps. You must be very hungry for you’ve been out all afternoon.”
She got up and walked to the door, but just as she was about to leave she heard a sound from his bed and saw he was crying again. “Oh, Teddy, darling, please tell me what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” he muttered. A tear ran down his cheek and angrily he brushed it away. His hair began to turn back to red; Andromeda ran back to his side.
“Teddy Lupin,” she began. “Big boys like you don’t cry over nothing. They may get angry. They may throw pots at the wall when their football team loses ... but they don’t cry. So, either tell me what’s wrong, or .... or ...” She frowned as she tried to think of a way to distract him. “... or I will make you clean out the cauldrons without using magic!”
He smiled wanly at her most dire threat. “It’s silly, Gran,” he said. He hesitated and then looked her in the eyes. “The other boys were talking about a party they’re going to, that’s all.” He sniffed. “A Halloween party.”
“Oh!” Andromeda sat up, surprised at Teddy’s tears. “Are you upset because they didn’t invite you?”
“No, that’s not it. They did invite me and I said it would be great, but that I’d have to check with you first.” He stopped and Andromeda nodded encouragingly. “But then they started talking about costumes and disguises ““
Andromeda laughed. “Teddy, I hardly think you’ll have a problem disguising yourself. For once, you’ll be able to go out with your friends and have whatever colour hair you want.”
“NO!” he exclaimed loudly. “That’s not the problem. I mean that was funny, listening to them talk about witches and wizards “ they have such funny ideas. Honest to gods, Gran, they made it sound as if you should be really ugly, with a huge wart on your nose. And, according to Danny, wizards are really old and all have long, grey, straggly hair.”
“Perhaps they met Aberforth Dumbledore on a dark night,” Andromeda said, laughing. “Did they mention a smell of goats at all?” She paused and watched as the fleeting grin left Teddy’s face. He lay back on his pillow so she took his hand. “You know what Muggles are like, my love. Most of them don’t even know we exist. They think of Halloween as a chance to eat lots of sweets and play tricks on their neighbours.”
“Why?” asked Teddy.
Andromeda shrugged. “I don’t know, Teddy. I don’t even think they know either. Your granddad told me that Halloween, for Muggles, was all about pretending for one night to be a ghost or a witch. According to Muggles, it’s the night of the year when evil spirits wander the world.”
“Charlie Johnson said they’d be taking a load of eggs with them and throwing them at people who didn’t give them sweets,” Teddy said nervously.
Andromeda pursed her lips. “Charlie Johnson sounds like a nasty boy!”
Teddy smiled. “He’s all right, Gran. I think this egg-throwing thing is expected. Danny told me that last year they ended up in the park throwing eggs at each other,” he said, almost wistfully.
“You can still go, Teddy,” she replied. “I don’t mind if you want to dress up as a warty old witch or a ghost with a sheet over your head. You go and have fun with them all.”
She stood up, preparing to leave, glad that Teddy had got over his tears. “I going to make a start on your tea; I expect you’re hungry.”
“Tom Meadows says he’s dressing up as a werewolf,” he blurted out as she reached the door.
Andromeda froze. Turning her head towards her grandson, she saw Teddy looking across at her, staring at her, willing her to answer. He knew what his father had been, but they’d always skirted around the issue. Andromeda, Harry and the Weasleys had always talked of Remus with great love -- emphasizing his goodness “ unwilling to talk about the torture he went through without his friends by his side or any Wolfsbane to drink.
“What else did he say?” she asked gently.
Teddy looked at the wall, not wishing to answer. Andromeda waited by the door and at last he took a deep breath and began to speak.
“He said that they rip open people’s throats and eat their hearts or else change them to be like them.” Teddy looked at his grandmother. “He was going to get a wolf costume and howl at the full moon and we’d all be scared because he was going to become a real werewolf.”
“What did you say?” she asked him gently.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “I wanted to punch him and tell him that they weren’t like that ... but I couldn’t.” He bit his lip. “Are werewolves like that, Gran? Please ... I need to know. Did my dad bite people?”
Andromeda gazed at him. She could not hide behind half-truths any longer. Sitting on the bed, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Most werewolves don’t want to be that way, Teddy. There were some a few years ago who were bloodthirsty savages, but not your dad. He was a wonderful man. He was brave, true and loved your mum very much. But he was a werewolf, and people didn’t treat him kindly.” She paused, and when she spoke again her voice broke slightly. “I didn’t treat him well at first. I looked at him and all I could see was this beast within, but ...” She smiled at Teddy who was looking up at her fearfully. “... I was wrong, sweetheart. He was only a werewolf for one night a month. The rest of the time, he was as normal as you or me ... except ... that he was far better because, despite the temptation he faced, he never gave in.” She ruffled Teddy’s hair. “You’re very like him, you know.”
“Am I?” he asked in surprise. “I thought I was like my mum. I mean, she was a Metamorphmagus like me.”
“In looks, my love, you will always be your mother’s son, but temperament ... Oh, Teddy, do you honestly think I could let you out with Muggle boys if I didn’t trust you completely? Even today, when you were angry, you were careful not to change in front of them.” She reached over and hugged him tight. “Now, tomorrow, I think you should go and find them and tell them you’d love to go to the party, and we’ll make sure you have the best disguise there! As the son of a werewolf, I’m sure you can be the scariest one there.”
Teddy smiled and then he pulled back, a puzzled look on his face.
“Gran, why do we celebrate Halloween? I mean, we know we’re not evil spirits. We don’t need a special day.”
Andromeda tipped her head to one side. “That, Teddy, is a very good question. Magic for us is ordinary. Perhaps we just need to celebrate that one day when Muggles believe we exist.”
He grinned at her, and she was reminded powerfully of her daughter and son-in-law -- alive in their son “ the perfect combination.