From an inner pocket of his robes, Moody pulled a very tattered old Wizarding photograph. “Original Order of the Phoenix,” growled Moody. “Found it last night …”
Harry took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back up at him.
“That’s Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family.”
“That’s Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally …”
“Sirius, when he still had short hair …”
“and … there you go, thought that would interest you!”
His mother and father were sitting on either side of a small, watery-eyed man Harry recognised at once as Wormtail.
He watched his parents beaming up at him…
…unaware that their lives, like so many of those around them, were drawing to a close.
Molly: I remember one night, something caught his attention, and he would not stop giggling! Hours and hours, straight through till dawn, and us not getting a wink for all the noise.
Molly: As the sun started rising, I started singing him a song, this little muggle lullaby that I’d heard once on one of Arthur’s devices.
Molly: He dropped right off, slept straight through to tea time.
Molly: I’d give anything to hear that sound again.
askwhathasthiscometo 