All the Wrong Choices

“It’s useless, really. Fruitless. Say that by some odd chance we find the remaining horcruxes. It’s not like we’ve got any Basilisk venom laying around. How are we supposed to destroy them if we do find them?”

“It isn’t fruitless, Ron,” Hermione and Harry spoke in sync before she continued, “Right now we need to focus on the task at hand – and that’s trying to figure out where these horcruxes may be. For now, I think we all deserve a break.”

All was silent inside of the tent before I exhaled and spoke up.

“I’ve got a bottle of red currant rum stashed away in my trunk if any of you are interested,” I suggested, glancing around at the three kids. In any other situation I wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking with my students but, well, this wasn’t your average situation.

“Ron and I are underage–” I cut Hermione off.

“That is the least of my concerns right now. I think after the last few days we’ve had we all deserve a few drinks,” I said, standing up from the chair I had been sitting in, “If anyone has any qualms, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“If Mum could see me now. Doing shots with my Astronomy professor,” Ron exclaimed drunkenly, shaking his head almost in disbelief, “She’d have my head, you know. Fred and George would probably high five me. Err – my brothers.”

“I remember Fred and George,” I nodded, filling up my glass once more before handing the bottle to Harry who was also in need of a refill, “A couple of jokesters, they are. I had them in my class three or four years ago. I remember thinking I wouldn’t live to seventy.”

“How old are you, Professor?” Harry asked.

“That isn’t a question you ask a woman, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, red in the face on his behalf. Or perhaps it was because of the heavy alcohol. I couldn’t have been too sure. “I’m sorry, Professor. They’re both idiots.”

I smiled at Hermione, “It’s alright. I’m seventy-one.”

Ron and Harry both whistled as Hermione buried her head.

“You’re only as old as you feel, boys. Remember that,” I said, kicking my feet up on the crate before me and sipping my drink once more, “Besides, I may not look like much now, but back in my day I was a firecracker.” The boys exchanged a quick glance and I raised my eyebrows. “You don’t believe me, then?” I put my glass down and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked.

“To get my yearbook,” I explained to him over my shoulder, ducking into my bedroom and kneeling before my trunk. I moved some things around until I arrived at the bottom, pulling out the brown leather book. It had been awhile since I’d opened this bad boy up but I made sure to always keep it with me no matter where I went.

I opened the book and flipped through the pages, laughing at some of the pictures. Merlin, everyone was so ridiculous looking back then. Even the uniforms were terrible. These kids didn’t realize how lucky they had it.

I hesitated on one particular page for a bit, expertly picking out my face in the crowd. Granted, it was a small crowd – the Slug Club – but a crowd nonetheless. Beside me stood Tom and would you believe it, he’d had a smile on his face. This was one of the only two pictures he had ever smiled in; the other had been our wedding picture. In this picture he’d had more of an annoyed smile on his face. I’d told a really terrible joke only moments before the picture was taken and this was the result. A dumb story behind it, really, but I was fond of it.

I ran my thumb over his face and let a small smile wash over my lips before quickly pulling myself out of it and turning to the proper page. I walked out of my bedroom holding the yearbook open, dropping it on the table that the three kids were sitting around and saying, “Second row, third one in.”

Harry and Ron were the first to lean forward. Harry’s eyebrows raised as Ron’s eyes bulged out of his head, his mouth bobbing open. Harry stuttered for a moment before saying, “Professor, I – you were hot! Wow!”

“I told you.” I said, my hands on my hips.

“Kind of looks like you, Hermione,” Ron said. Hermione leaned forward and squinted at the picture, a bit of confusion flashing in her eyes before she looked up at me. I let out a light laugh before shaking my head.

“Don’t worry. You’re not my child,” I said, “You’re a little too young.”

“Did you ever have any children?” Hermione asked curiously.

My chest grew heavy at her question and I nodded. “I had one child. A girl. I gave her up for adoption after she was born. It was the best thing to do. I couldn’t have her growing up knowing who her father was. What he was capable of.”

“You don’t know what she’s doing? Where she is?” Ron asked.

“Oh, I know all about her. I kept in contact with the family who adopted her. The Abrams family. I know that they kept the name I gave her – Elizabeth Rose – but that she goes by Ellie. I know that she married a man named Ulric Orr.”

“Orr?” Ron asked. “As in Wesley and Haley Orr?”

“They are my grandchildren, yes.”

“Do they know about you?” Hermione asked.

“No,” I shook my head, “Neither does Ellie.”

“I’m sorry, Professor. If it’s any consolation.” Harry said.

“I think it was the right choice in the long run.”