the_debt_of_time

"Quite a group of children we've got here," Charlus said to the other parents. "I say
their achievements deserve a toast."
A house-elf popped up behind him with a tray of various drinks.
When Sirius and Mia each reached for a goblet of elf wine, James hurriedly jumped
between the pair and the wine, shouting, "Absolutely not!" and handed out bottles of
butterbeer to everyone instead.
"To our children, the future of the Wizarding world, and to those who should be
here, but are not," Charlus said as he raised his bottle, a sad smile on his face.
Remus nodded with a grateful glance to Charlus. "To Hope Lupin."
"To Aaron Macdonald." Mary cast a smile at her mother, who sniffled loudly and
dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
"To Edgar Longbottom," Frank said proudly, raising his glass and meeting his
mother's approving stare.
"To Harold and Aster Evans," Lily said with a watery smile, leaning her head against
James's shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her.
James raised his glass, meeting Charlus's teary stare. "To Dorea Potter."
"To Dorea Potter," Mia echoed her brother.
"To Dorea Potter," Sirius added quietly.
Finally, they all drank.
There was little time for nostalgia, for memories, or for celebrations. No sooner
than the Gryffindors toasted their late parents, flashes of light shot across the grounds.
Blurs of black smoke flew into the crowd, and Mia gasped at the sight of Death Eaters in
full regalia.
In a moment of panic, she flashed back to the final Battle of Hogwarts that ended
the Second Wizarding War. Though there was only a handful of Death Eaters now, they
were no less threatening than before. Instinctively, she stepped in front of Remus and
Sirius, but neither wizard was content to stand idly by and be protected by her.
The Gryffindors separated immediately, forming smaller groups, standing back-to-
back to protect one another as they drew their wands on the attacking masked menaces,
stunning as quickly as possible.
The staff jumped right into the middle of the fray, protecting members of the crowd
who were too young or old to fight. Professor McGonagall stood in front of at least ten