Cornish Pasties

I never expected to speak at Harry’s funeral, yet here I am, waiting my turn as the Minister speaks and Harry’s grandchildren hold back tears beside me. Harry always felt larger than life. Part of me never expected to outlive him. Gran said that Albus Dumbledore was the same, as much image as man, but it’s precious few who still remember him and fewer still outside of Britain.

I’m still not sure what to say. I’m numb but I won’t show that. Harry would have my head. One of the first things he taught me, picking me up from Gran’s for a visit, was that you had to show people what you wanted them to see if they insisted on watching you. A form of power he said, handling your image.

Then he dropped his hand on my head and next thing I knew we were having Cornish pasties in Land’s End, looking nothing like ourselves.

My memories of that day are some of my best. All the wonder of an eight year old seeing Belerion for the first time coupled with Harry going on about how much he loved Cornish pasties, and how it was a pity they never served them at Hogwarts. The thrill of being incognito with Harry Potter, the Master of Death, imagining all the adventures they could have with Teddy as his sidekick. The warm glow nestled in his chest when he rode double on his godfather’s broom above the battered cliffs.

I could open with a story about the day I got my Hogwarts letter, asking Harry for tips on how to be just like him. He waffled for a bit, rambling about choices and doing what’s right versus what’s easy, but after a minute he huffed and closed his eyes.

“Look, Teddy,” he said. I corrected him that it was ‘Ted’ now, as I was too old for nicknames now that I had my letter, and he grinned. “Ted, then. I think you should strive to be yourself, not to be me, but…” He paused. “I never wanted to be famous, you know.”

I objected, citing his international fame as a curse breaker, his public appearances closing the Veils that kept popping up all over the world, his position with the ICW as an advisor to all countries as the undisputed Master of Death and the only wizard alive who could go toe to toe with the worst horrors of the other side.

He ruffled my hair. “I was seventeen when the Veil tore and I became the Master of Death. I wanted to do my part and then fade into the background, but, well, things happened and I realized that it’s people like Albus who make real change, because people looked to them to do so.” Harry’s demeanor changed then, and he stared into the distance at a point over my shoulder. To me it seemed as if he aged fifty years in an instant. “And Ted, people look to me. I can ignore it or I can take the reins and guide it, because if I didn’t someone else would.”

Luna interrupted us then, beaming, and swooped down to envelop me in a hug before launching herself at Harry. He caught her in a kiss and laughed, the years falling off his frame, and she told us she was pregnant with twins. His grin lit up the room as he pulled me into the hug.

Harry wasn’t around much while I was a kid. Too busy flitting around the world fighting eldritch monsters in tombs or traveling through veils seeking ways to stop them opening. Once the twins – Marigold and Lorcan – were born, he was around more. Every holiday we’d go for a pasty at Belerion and he’d teach me spells and strategy and anything else I ever asked him. I wanted to be an Auror, because that’s how he started out.

I didn’t know why he winced when I said that until years later, when I left my badge on my desk and walked out to join Harry as his apprentice. I was twenty-two years old and he’d just seen the twins off to Hogwarts.

I could talk about any number of stories from the last fifty years, about the drunk undead Auguries or the invisible streakers. Granted most of those stories are both embellished for comedic effect and well known. They do nothing to encapsulate Harry’s legacy.

I could talk about last week, when Harry emerged from a veil sporting a gigantic grin and cradling his arm. The bone stuck out of the skin and it was grey instead of white, but Harry waved off my concerns and healed it once I’d finished off the handful of demons that made it past him. The town we saved interviewed us afterwards, and we listened to ourselves on the wireless as we ate curry in a muggle hotel that night. Veils always messed with magical transport, and after closing one we usually waited a day before travel.

He got his album out that night and spent a few hours staring at pictures, every so often chuckling to himself and telling me stories about his childhood friends, Ron and Hermione. He shared with me once what happened to them, as a cautionary measure once I began helping with the Veils, and I promised never to share it further.

In hindsight I wonder if he met them in that final Veil.

The next morning his arm was mottled in purples and greys. I called him on it, demanding he schedule a visit to St. Mungo’s or the Wizard’s Clinic in Cleveland. He agreed but wanted to prove to me that his arm was fine, and insisted on a friendly duel first. It was out of character for him, but I humored him. Dueling was a favorite past time of ours, after all.

I disarmed him with a simple expelliarmus and stared at him in shock. He met my eyes, smiled, and accepted his wand back. “Guess I’m worse off than I thought,” he said. Then he apparated to the clinic and floo called Luna.

I pat the mokeskin pouch under my robes. Harry said it had been his as a child, and a few days after he died an owl dropped it onto my lap. It only held two things – his wand and a note. Veils wouldn’t open around the world anymore. He’d done it, somehow, and the Master of Death was no longer needed.

I couldn’t tell that story either though, it was too personal. Gave too much away, given the nature of things. Or perhaps I should tell the world that he finished his job, knowing it meant his own end?

Should I talk about my first heartbreak, and how he advised me that even if one girl didn’t love me someone would? How he guided me through my own divorce by sharing details of his disastrous relationship with Ginny Weasley? I don’t think I should; that would do nothing but tarnish his image.

Maybe I could talk about the hundreds of duels and hours of advice, of guidance, of pushing me to my limits and forcing me to become who I had always wanted to be. The story of a child’s admiration that grew through a mentorship into a brotherly love of mutual respect.

I clenched my fist as the Minister wound down his speech. Should I admit that I can never fill Harry’s shoes? That no one can? That I am doomed to forever be in his shadow, a reflection of his image without the substance?

The podium is smooth beneath my calloused hands. I look out at a sea of wizards and muggles as the minister introduces me as the Homeland Hero, former Apprentice to the Master of Death. I’m used to public speaking. I haven’t had stage fright in decades. But here I freeze up momentarily, and desperately seek out Luna in the audience.

My eyes meet hers and suddenly I’m somewhere else, sitting at her kitchen table with the grands playing at her feet while she listens to the Wireless.

The world blazes with the war against the undead, a maelstrom of panic and confusion. Around the world wizards and witches like yourself are listening as the horrors unfold. We all know that the violence has escalated, that more magicals disappear with every passing day, that the statue of secrecy is all but dead.

But it is still hard to accept that today a Veil opened in the heart of the ICW despite all the protections that the magical world can offer. An attack against the center of society, our last true stronghold. How could this happen?

If they can attack there, is anywhere safe?

Dignitaries huddled en masse with their young children, brought to the ICW for protection, but it is the children who end up comforting their parents and grandparents.

Don’t worry, they say. Harry and Ted will be here soon.

I snap back to myself, still at the podium and struggling to breathe. The minister is still heading towards the stairs, so I haven’t been out of it for more than a second. I look for Luna again and she gives me a brief, sad smile. I never put much stock into the hero worship, to the way that children would sometimes say our names as if we could do anything and save anyone. I knew too well that we couldn’t.

But as I stand here and look out at the sea of faces, I start to see kids with hair dyed turquoise to match mine. I see adults wearing wand holsters like the one strapped to my arm, an accessory that Harry never wore.

I see them all looking to me.

Take the reins, Harry whispers in my ear.

So I do.

The wind ruffles my hair and for a second I can feel the sun of Belerion and the taste of a pasty burning my tongue.

 

1672 words

 

Hrmm, Harry is dead, eh?

Spoiler

I’m not sure whose POV we’re in and I find that frustrating. I know you hint at it a few paragraphs in with the comment about Harry being his godfather (implying this is Teddy Lupin’s POV) but it takes too long to get there and still isn’t perfectly clear.

Also you seem to be switching back and forth between present tense and past tense. I get what you’re going for – present tense in the actual present at the funeral and past tense for these memories/flashbacks – but it doesn’t flow in places.

I love the imagery of flying around the cliff’s of Land’s End though – guessing Belerion is the Wizarding area there? Google implies that it’s an old name for Land’s End.

Also I fucking adore cornish pasties, so there’s that. Fucking delicious.

Clearly this isn’t canon, given that Veils appear to be opening around the world and spewing demons out? But it feels a bit … shoehorned in, like you’re just ‘telling us’ all of this for no purpose except to make Harry more badass than he was in canon. Feels a bit too much or out of place.

Marigold b/c it’s a flower name and Lorcan b/c it was one of Luna’s canon kids? At least it’s not Albus Severus.

So Harry set Teddy up to be the next master of the Elder Wand? And didn’t tell him that but sent it to him with the mokeskin pouch and a note? If so you need to make that a bit more clear. I know you emphasized that this Harry is the Master of Death so it’s implied but I think it’s too subtle and I’m still not sure you were going for ‘passing the Elder Wand on’ here, nor is it clear whether or not Teddy realizes the significance.

Did Luna do Legilimency or ? Bit unclear what happened with that particular flashback, but hey, it’s Luna.

Decent callback for the ending.

Decent little story that – I think – tries to bite off a bit more than it can chew. This apocalyptic world that’s hinted at is both too much and not enough at the same time and it really feels like you're reaching. Try it out in WbA after making edits from the comp!