Teddy

Dear future Me,

I'm sixteen years old today. You'll be like...fifty or sixty when you get this.

Aunt Hermione is making something called a 'Time Capsule'. Stupid idea if you ask me, but I learned a long time ago that it's better not to argue with her...she always wins.

I'm supposed to write about my life, so I can look back on it in twenty years or something to see how much I've changed. Who knows, maybe I'll be dead by then and this will be read by one of our ancestors or something.

My mother and father died in The War when I was a baby, I never got a chance got the chance to get to know them.

I suppose they died bravely. That's what everyone tells me at least, but how do really know? People lie about death all the time, especially to the kids and orphans that had been left behind. They don't want those kids to feel bad or ashamed of the ones who loved them.

How do I know my mom wasn't really a crack-addict? Or a hooker?

How do I know my dad wasn't a drunk? How can I be sure he is my dad? I certainly don't take after him...not in ways people can see.

Not in ways I can see.

I probably sound bitter to you. I suppose I am bitter, but how can I not be? Every person on this earth takes having parents for granted, at least, until they lose one or both of them by some freak accident.

But my parents didn't die in an accident, they died knowing that they willingly rushed into battle and they died knowing that they left their only son to be cared for by others.

Not that I'm not grateful for the people who took time to raise me. I love my Grandmother and my Uncle Harry more than anything but it just isn't the same as having a parent to love.

Uncle Harry understands how I feel so he doesn't get offended as often as Grandmother does when I say something bad about my parents. His own parents died in the first War when he was a baby, just like me. When I need somewhere to stay after arguing with my grandmother about my mother he always welcomes me with open arms and he always has a willing ear. I guess I can thank my parents for making him my Godfather.

It scares me sometimes when I realize that I don't love my parents as much as I should...to me, they are the strangers that live in the picture frames and photo albums that Grandmother keeps scattered around the house so I won't 'forget' them. But how can you forget someone you never knew.

I hate them sometimes. Especially when people start to compare me to them.

Those people say I take after my mother.

"You have your mothers gift" they tell me. Sometimes it makes me feel proud and happy that I can relate to her. But most times it just makes me hate her even more.

Those same people tell me I look like my father.

"I can see Remus in you," they say.

How can they see him when I can look like anyone I want too thanks to my "mother's gift"?

It's times like that that I wish that instead of my mother's gift, I had my father's curse. A curse that wasn't as flimsy as personality or looks.

Because in truth...I look nothing like my father, as a little boy I would study his picture for hours, forcing my face to match his because, just like every little boy on earth, I wanted to be just like my dad.

I look just like my mother though, and I hate both my parents for it.

If I were cursed then maybe people would stop telling me those pitiful lies. They would have to tell the truth. I really am sick of lies...they get more pathetic with every birthday I have.

So, future me...Did we change?

R&R please!