"it's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember"

*

"...and that is how you perform the color-changing spell," Eva explained to her third years, holding up a purple orange. The bell rang, and the sound of scraping chairs filled the room. "Don't forget to practice! I'll be randomly picking some of you to demonstrate next time!"

George Weasley walked up to her desk, Fred close behind him. She'd learned how to tell them apart on day one because she had a sneaking suspicion that they frequently switched places. Besides, it was important to her that she knew all of her students by name. Twins had it rough sometimes. She remembered how Fabian and Gideon used to get annoyed when people mixed them up, and didn't desire that for anybody, so she'd figured out the Weasley twins early on.

George was left-handed and his shoelaces were never tied. Fred almost always had ink stains on his fingers and had more freckles on his face. Fred also tended to be the first one to speak.

"Professor, we've got a question for you," Fred said with a quirk of his eyebrows.

"Is that so?" She asked idly. A smile spread across her face as she tidied up her desk and turned various fruits back to their normal colors. "What's that?"

"Everyone's trying to figure out what house you were in!" George exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "You've got no idea how many bets are on in the Common Room! We want to earn some coin!"

Eva laughed and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. For the first time, she fully appreciated how much Professor McGonagall had put up with while she was in school.

"I can't tell you. That would spoil all the fun." She pretended to seal her lips. "However, I will say that I'm sure if you actually try, you can figure it out."

Fred and George exchanged knowing looks, both grinning appreciatively at her. "We'll have to hit the books after Quidditch tonight. Wood's already got us practicing, now that we've got Harry as seeker. He wants to train him up early."

"Harry? As far as I remember, first years aren't allowed on the team."

Eva kept her voice even, but she felt a twinge of excitement in her stomach. She could still remember her godson zooming around on that kiddie broomstick in the backyard, the one they bought for his first birthday, the fluffy cat chasing after him to make sure he wouldn't fall. Her heart ached just thinking about it.

She couldn't wait to actually talk to Harry. First year Gryffindors were paired with the Slytherins for Charms, and she'd finally have their first class that afternoon.

Fred shrugged. "He caught a Rememberall or something, and McGonagall pulled some strings. I haven't seen Wood this excited since Charlie caught the snitch two minutes into the final match of the cup two years ago. He's freaking out about it, says the kid's a natural."

Of course he is. She had to hide a proud smile. "You two better run along to your next class, or Professor Snape will have my head."

"Don't worry, Professor," George said with a flirtatious wink, "if he tries anything, I'll protect you."

"Get going." Eva couldn't stop grinning, although she turned around to hide it.

"Anything for you, darling!"

"Adieu!"

Eva shook her head to herself as she stacked a pile of parchment. Those two were as much Fabian and Gideon as they were James and... him.

Biting her lip, Eva glanced at her watch. I have time. She shut the door to her classroom and hurried down the halls, yearning to see something that she hadn't seen since she graduated.

A trophy case stood tall and gleaming at the end of a corridor, housing Quidditch wins from over the years. Eva's green eyes scanned the names of highest achievement, glazing over the ghosts of her past, never lingering longer than recognition. Mitchell McKinnon, Seeker, 1977. Regulus Black, Seeker, 1979.

And then she found it.

James Potter, Chaser, 1978.

A lump formed in her throat. He would've been so proud.

Eva placed her hand on the glass for a moment, just wanting to be closer to the closest thing she'd ever had to a sibling, but he was gone. He died believing that she would take care of his son.

"I'm sorry," she whispered so quietly that it was barely audible.

She hoped that the Dursleys had treated Harry well. He seemed a little smaller and skinnier than the other boys in his year. While she'd never met Petunia or Vernon, Lily's complaining tended to tell her enough. She took comfort in the thought that Lily was more filled with love than anyone she'd ever met. Without a doubt, she would have taken in the Dursley boy if their positions were switched. Hopefully, Petunia knew that and treated Harry accordingly.

She wondered if he enjoyed the cookies she sent anonymously every Christmas.

"Professor?"

She turned around, surprised to come face-to-face with three first years. Harry stood there with the youngest Weasley boy (Ron, she'd learned), and a frizzy-haired brunette with an inquisitive expression.

"Hello," she said. The smile that she plastered on was almost genuine.

"Are you okay?" Harry questioned, his green eyes worried. When he ruffled his hair, Eva's heart nearly stopped.

"Oh. Yes. Yes, I was just looking. I haven't been back here in a long time. It's interesting how some things never change."

Eva didn't know why she couldn't just outright tell Harry the truth. She just wanted to get to know him before she sprung it all on him. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn't Aunt Eve to him. Not anymore. That life had been stolen from her grasp. She was Professor Taylor, and had to act as such.

"Make sure you three aren't late for my class later," she said with a wink. "Have a good day."

Harry watched the professor leave, wondering why there was something so familiar about her curly blonde braid and warm smile.

"What were we here to see again?" Ron asked Hermione, who rolled her eyes and pointed to the glass.

Harry stared at the tarnished golden plaque in awe. James Potter, Chaser, 1978. "Woah," he whispered.

"Harry, you didn't tell me your dad was a Quidditch player!" Ron exclaimed excitedly, nearly dropping his book.

"I... I didn't know," Harry murmured. He couldn't look at anything else. This, this was proof that James Potter once walked these halls. He began to wonder stupid things about his father: what his favorite snack was, who he spent the most time with, what subject he liked best.

Hermione seemed to be the only one not glued to James Potter's plaque. Her brown eyes narrowed, and then she gasped and pointed again. "Look!"

The boys obeyed their friend and turned their attention to whatever she was pointing at, Harry doing so rather regretfully, but that emotion soon faded.

Eva Taylor, Keeper, 1978.

Ron squinted at the name, looking hurt. "She didn't tell us!"

"Have you even spoken to her?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Ron turned as red as his hair. "Erm... no."

"No wonder, then."

"Shut up, you two," Harry said, annoyed at his friends' constant bickering. He tilted his head and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his knuckle. "Do ya reckon that the others know about this?"

"The Quidditch team, you mean? Nah," Ron said dismissively. An animalistic squeaking sound came from his bag, and he unzipped it to snap, "Oi! Stop carrying on, you bloody rodent."

Hermione sniffed judgementally. "I told you that you that he wouldn't like being carried around in your bag all day."

"The Potions textbook only squished him once! Scabbers is a survivor, I'm telling you. He's fine. All the same, do shut up." He said the last into the bag before zipping it up again. "We'd better get to class. I don't want to be late for McGonagall again, that was embarrassing."

"Yeah," Harry muttered, but he lingered, staring a minute longer at his father's name before following his friends to Transfiguration.

*

"Can I ask why we're all in the library after a long practice instead of the relaxing common room?" Katie Bell complained as she braided her long black hair out of her face. "Just curious."

After suffering through an entire evening of badgering by the Weasley twins, the Gryffindor Quidditch team found themselves taking up a table at the library after one of Oliver's infamously grueling practices. They all still wore identical Quidditch robes and exhausted expressions.

"You may indeed ask, Katie," Fred said generously. "You see, George and I have been doing some investigating today that may benefit the team."

"About Professor Taylor," George added.

Oliver looked pained. "You dragged us all here to talk about your teacher crush? I could listen to that in my pajamas, near the fire, with a book, pretending to hear you but really ignoring..."

"Pish posh, Wood, you'll like this." With a grin, George tossed a newspaper across the table. "Read it and weep. Apparently back in the 70s, Dumbledore ran a school paper. You might see someone familiar there."

Alicia Spinnet read over his shoulder. "Gryffindor team of '78?"

"She played Keeper," Oliver muttered in a low voice. "That's her in the picture, right there."

The others crowded around him to get a better look.

"She is a Gryffindor," Angelina said in a triumphant voice. "Katie, you owe me two Sickles."

Katie begrudgingly forked over the winnings, mumbling, "I could have sworn that she was a Ravenclaw."

"Lee owes me a Knut," George said gleefully. "He reckoned she was a Puff."

Seven teenagers stood on the Quidditch pitch, all smiling and laughing. A curly-haired blonde with a flower painted on her cheek had her arm slung around an incredibly tall, bespectacled boy. He was whispering something in her ear, which seemed to be the cause of her uncontrollable laughter. No one really paid mind to the boy except Harry. His eyes scanned the bottom of the page, looking for names.

From left to right: Marlene McKinnon, Frank Longbottom, Joey Fortescue, Dane Meadowes, Ricky Vane, Eva Taylor, James Potter.

He'd never seen a picture of his father before.

"She was the captain in her seventh year," Oliver said as he read through the article. "And- bloody hell, she turned down an offer to play for the Holyhead Harpies right out of school!"

"What?!?" The three girls exclaimed in unison, all trying to snatch the newspaper away from Oliver, who jumped up to keep it for himself.

"Anyways, we thought that might be of interest," Fred said breezily, giving a dramatic bow. "We also thought it might be worthwhile to look into some records, see if they have anything else about her Quidditch history. We found some papers and stuff at lunch." He nodded to a stack of papers and books, and the team dove into the files.

Alicia found another article from the final match of that season. There were more photographs, too. One of the seeker, Marlene McKinnon, catching the snitch. Another of the three chasers hugging. Yet another of Professor Taylor, but this one caused Harry to pause.

A boy had his arms wrapped around her waist, one with an incredibly handsome face and long dark hair. She had turned her head to face him, their noses inches away, both of them shrieking with laughter.

He'd never seen her look so happy.

"So basically, she was amazing," Fred said as he set down a book of records. "At least, that's what I'm gathering."

"Yeah, she was an icon," Alicia said in wonder. "First female keeper for Gryffindor, did you see that? And in her second year!"

"Not to mention she succeeded Mitchell McKinnon for Captain," Katie pointed out. "He played for Puddlemere United. He was dreamy."

The boys, save Oliver, groaned in unison. Oliver hadn't spoken since he found out that she was a keeper good enough to play for the Harpies.

"D'ya reckon she's still up?" Harry questioned. She knew my dad. She knew him. "We could go ask her about it."

"It's 7:30 and she's young, so I'd think so," Fred retorted. "What do you lot say? Pay the good Professor a visit?"

Simultaneously, all seven team members stood. Angelina quickly returned the books and papers to Madam Pince, who hadn't stopped glaring at the scarlet-clad students since they entered the library.

*

Eva yawned. Even though it was only 7:30 on a Friday night, the first week had taken a toll on her, as she was still used to summer's schedule. Popping a piece of Pink Coconut Ice in her mouth, she put her pen to parchment and started to write.

Remus,

How was the first week? Did your breakup story convince everyone? I can only hope you amped up the dramatics. You were always good at that.

I'm doing better than expected. It's amazing to be back at Hogwarts, but it's also odd, you know? It's weird working on the staff with people who taught us. I can't shake calling McGonagall "Professor," even though she's asked me to call her Minerva so many times now. I mostly talk with her, Professor Sprout, and Madam Hooch, but for the most part, everyone's been welcoming.

I met Harry today. He's a Gryffindor, just like his mum and dad, and he looks so much like James that it's almost like flipping through one of Lily's old photo albums. He has her eyes, though. He's pretty quiet in class, but he's sweet and polite. I think he's still warming up to the wizarding world (I know what that's like!)

Guess what?!? He's playing seeker for the team! He's destined for great things, I just know it.

I miss you so much. As much as I love this new chapter in my life, I can't wait to see you again, Rem. Don't forget about me.

Here's to hoping Ringo makes it to Dorset before Christmastime.

Love,

Eve

She heard a knock as soon as she signed her name. Her head snapped up and she glanced down at her outfit, a light blue wool cardigan and jeans. It wasn't exactly the most professional outfit to be caught in, but there were worse ones. She pulled her sleeves down, carefully hiding the scar on her arm from sight. Running a hand through her hair and slipping on a pair of shoes, she poked her head out the door to find the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team staring at her.

"Oh, what a surprise. Is... is everything alright?"

"'Course it is. We just wanted to talk to you," Fred said, grinning.

Harry looked up at her, his expression apologetic once he saw how flustered she appeared. "But if you're busy, we can come back."

She smiled down at him. "Not at all. Come on in. It might be a little cramped, my office isn't all that big."

They all shuffled in, George snagging the singular chair on their side of the desk before anyone else could.

"I like your decorations, Professor," Angelina said appreciatively, nodding to the pieces of art on the walls. Two stood out to her. One was a sketch of the castle, and another was a painting of the ocean. "Did you make these yourself?"

"Yes," Eva replied, smiling. With quick hands, she rolled up her letter to Remus and tied it to Ringo's foot. The old mini-owl hooted at her with affection, then turned to look at all of her guests. Almost immediately, he flew at them. Eva hadn't seen him move that fast in years. "Ringo, no!"

But the owl only landed on Harry's shoulder. Everyone laughed as he tried to nip the boy's ear.

He remembers him. Ten years passed and the crazy little owl still remembered him.

"Sorry about him," she laughed. "He's friendly."

"That's okay," Harry said with a shy smile as he pet Ringo. "I like owls."

"That's Ringo. I've had him since my fifth year at Hogwarts. He's a little old, but I love him." Eva picked up Ringo, giggling as the little owl struggled in vain, and set him on the open windowsill. "Get going. You've got a letter to deliver, you little bugger."

Ringo straightened up, almost like he was saluting, and promptly crashed into a closed window pane. Eva cringed as he got back up and staggered around the windowsill for a few seconds, then took off into the night sky.

George frowned. "What are the odds that he makes it back?"

"Oh, he'll make it back. In what shape, I don't know."

"He reminds me of Errol," Fred commented. "Our owl. Only he's smaller and... well, stupider."

Eva burst out laughing, then dropped into her chair. Pulling her hair up into a ponytail, she asked, "what can I do for you all?"

They all looked around at each other, then at Oliver. He cleared his throat, looking rather sheepish. "We wanted to know about your time playing Quidditch."

Eva hid her surprise well. She knew that it was only a matter of time before her students began to discover bits and pieces about her past. Coming back to London and to Hogwarts made that inevitable. At least they were asking about Quidditch, something that she could discuss without wanting to rip her heart out.

"I tried out for the team when I was a second year. A few of my friends taught me how to play first year, and I fell in love with it. I made the team as a keeper, and I played for six years. I was the captain in my seventh year, and I haven't really played since."

"You... you played a keeper as a second year?" Oliver asked breathlessly. His eyes were wide as he stared at her with something close to admiration in his eyes. "And you kept that position for that long? That's incredible."

"Thank you, Mr. Wood. I had good friends who taught me everything I know." She smiled, thinking of all of the early mornings that James, Fabian, and Gideon helped her learn to play. "We won the cup when I was captain. I'll never forget that day."

"Do you... do you think you could come watch us practice sometime next week?" Katie asked timidly. "Maybe give us some pointers? We've got our first match coming up soon."

Eva looked at the seven hopeful faces and smiled. "I don't know. I'm supposed to be impartial..."

"Because Snape and McGonagall are so impartial," George pointed out. "Come on, you're not even a Head of House!"

Harry looked at her with hope in his eyes and pleaded, "Please, Professor."

It was his quiet voice, so soft and timid, that made her nod.

Chapter 4! What do you think? Is there anything you want to see in this book?