For me, Teddy Lupin has always been more than a godson to Harry. Through him, Harry can see his own life being repeated, his dreadful years at the Dursleys. However, unlike him, Teddy has a loving wizard grandmother to look after him and a wonderful...
Today was officially hairdressing day. Even Gran was humming to herself in the safe confines of the kitchen, thinking I couldn’t hear her. Although there was still some time before The Daily Prophet arrived and the cake finished baking, I was feeling restless. For reasons much less trivial as a half-baked cake, or owl poop on the newspaper.
I stood in front of the mirror, excited and nervous, while my hair kept changing into whichever colour of the rainbow I wished. Now, it was a brilliant electric blue, running as far down as my shoulders. Before Gran could scold me about it, I willed it to become a sober shade of brown, neatly trimmed at the edges. Downstairs, I heard a familiar hoot outside the window.
In a jiffy, I was running down the stairs towards the hall.
“Slow, Teddy. You’ll break your neck one of these days!” Gran cried from the kitchen, where the occasional grunt of the toaster spewing sandwiches and utensils cleaning themselves with Moffet’s Special Dish Washer could be heard. On the contrary, she was running towards the door herself.
“You know the healing tricks better than Hogwarts Madam Pomphrey, don’t you, Gran?”
“Just eleven and outsmarting me!” She murmured to herself.
We reached the door at the same time. On opening the door, we found Pip (our household owl), hovering, with The Daily Prophet tied to its claw.
We sighed.
Not yet.
Having dropped a couple of galleons into its newt skin pouch, Gran let it go and we went inside. As a part of her daily routine, she sat on the couch, doing some Muggle knitting while I waited.
“Why don’t you read it, Teddy?”
I stared at the moving pictures on The Daily Prophet. The front column was occupied by a picture of the new Ministry Digimagical Memo, all thanks to its discoverer, Mrs. Luna Scamander, daughter of Lt. Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood, former editor at Quibbler Magazine. In a smaller but more sought out section, winked the all too familiar face of Rita Skeeter, with her own share of gossip.
Gran had weak eyesight now, so I usually read the headlines aloud. I did the same today.
“…And so good indeed are these memos, that, other than the absence of infrequent bird poop, we can now rely on a perfect system of flyers that transmit your vocal message to the receiver, so you don’t have to write it out every time. It has several other advantages, such as spewing water (by a wand-less Aquamenti charm!!) on those lazy ones enjoying a good nap in their office. Mr. Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, informs us about the increased efficiency of the Ministry.
“The idea came to me from wrackspurts. They keep a watch on us”, says a dreamy-eyed Mrs. Scamander. “I admit I had some help from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; my friend Hermione Weasley explained to me the network of Muggle telephones. Very fascinating, really!”
I could see that Gran was least focused in her wool. She was looking at the door, only half listening.
I kept reading.
“…Quidditch correspondent, Mrs. Ginny Potter, informs us that this has been a most wonderful year for Bulgaria. The newest broomstick, Lightsweep400 was launched only yesterday. It has an excellent built in system of auto reversal and anti-jinx. Speed is remarkable, too!
The Dobby Fund for house elves celebrated its fifth Anniversary yesterday. New developments include abundant clothes and bobble hats to keep their ears warm. And, of course, regular payments…”
Gran was still not listening.
“…Yesterday, one of the inmates in Azkaban, Mrs. Dolores Umbridge tried to escape. Fortunately, her high security prison is guarded by an abundance of lobbing mandrakes and snargallufs.
“More effective than any of those turn coat stink hoodies”, Mr. Longbottom, the Hogwarts Herbology Professor comments of the Dementors, who have long since been driven away. Auror, Mr. Potter has arranged for devil snares outside her cell.
Gran told suddenly, “Teddy, let’s talk to Harry about this. You still haven’t received your Hogwarts letter. Most kids do before their eleventh, and it’s already the big day! Tonks got it a week before. I got it three days earlier. What about yours?”
“We could inform him tomorrow, Gran”, I told her. “Let’s wait today.”
She nodded.
A few minutes later, the oven beeped, announcing the cake. Gran took her wand and made the cake swoop towards our table with a swift ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ spell.
“Happy eleventh birthday, Teddy. Make your wish."
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