Louis is the last Weasley grandchild! I can't believe we're almost at the end of this insane project, but here we all stand. Enjoy.

No one had ever come right out and called Louis Weasley an accident, but it was pretty obvious. Of the twelve grandchildren in his family, his parents had both the oldest and the youngest. There were sixteen years between him and Victoire, and fourteen between him and Dom. He could do the math. It didn't take the smartest person alive to figure out that he hadn't exactly been planned.

And it was fine. Really. It just got a little lonely sometimes.

The weird thing was, though, he wasn't lonely until his whole family was together somewhere. When it was just him and Dad and Maman, it really was fine. He felt like an only child, because his sisters had been in school when he was born and off on their own with their own lives by the time he was old enough to have real memories of them. They felt less like sisters, sometimes, and more like close friends of his parents who dropped by occasionally.

That wasn't fair. Victoire and Dom had always made a point of connecting with him. They wrote him letters, and they always made a point of spending time with him, getting to know him, on all of their visits. They were just so much older. Half the time, he forgot he wasn't an only child.

And it wasn't like he'd grown up alone. He had gone to a Muggle school in Tinworth since he was five. But there were lots of wizard kids there, secretly. Ten or twelve magical families lived in and around Tinworth, and lots of them had kids Louis's age. They were all friends at school, pretending to be Muggles, and then they would go play Quidditch and stuff at each other's houses after school.

So Louis didn't live a lonely life by any means. And he fit in well at school. He was outgoing and social always at ease around his teachers and peers. Maman called it his Veela charm. Neither he nor his sisters had enough Veela blood to actively turn the usual abilities on and off, but what they had was apparently enough to make them universally likeable and at ease. It was just when he was around his extended family that it didn't seem to work.

Part of the reason he felt awkward and out of place whenever he was around his family was because all of his cousins came in groups and everyone had someone but him. Victoire and Dom had been best friends as long as he could remember. James, Molly, and Fred were always together, and Al and Rose were practically joined at the hip. Even Lily, Hugo, and Lucy, who had been in three different houses, were following vastly different career paths, and had no discernable overlaps in interests, fell in together as naturally as breathing because of their age.

By all rights, he should have been lumped in with Roxie, but Roxie was still four years older than he was, and when she'd been born, everyone had assumed she was the last grandkid. It made sense. She was four years younger than Lily, Hugo, and Lucy, and she'd been planned. So all the cousins had rallied around her and taken her in as the baby, the youngest cousin who would be carefully included and protected. And Louis supposed they'd used all that up by the time he came along and took everyone by surprise.

And it really, really, really was fine. It was only an issue when the whole extended family was together, which didn't often happen, as his Gran lamented. She would reminisce all the time about the old summers, when all the families would congregate for a month or two at a time, grandkids running wild, the house overflowing with laughter and mischief and energy.

"Overflowing is right," Louis's dad would always contribute to that conversation, often throwing in a conspiratorial wink toward Louis. "We were tripping over each other. The grandkids are all so good at Quidditch because they didn't have anything else to do after we kicked them out of the house so we could breathe!"

Breathing room at the Burrow wasn't much of an issue these days. Louis could remember a little bit of what his dad was talking about, from summers when he was five and six and seven, before James and Molly and Fred had left Hogwarts. But once they were out on their own, and especially once Rose and Al had graduated, the summers were a lot less crowded. Everyone packed in at Christmastime, but even then, a lot of the grandkids had work schedules that weren't flexible, or were of an age where holidays had to be split between the Burrow and the homes of partners or spouses.

The summer Louis turned eleven, he and his parents had spent the usual month at the Burrow, but it had basically been just them and Uncle Charlie. Everyone else had popped in when they could, a week or a few days or just evenings here and there as they were available. Even Roxie, the only other cousin still at Hogwarts, hadn't been around, because she spent her summers working at Ollivander's. Louis's actual birthday in early August had drawn about half the family and apologies from the rest, but the rest of the month had been quiet, and boring. He was happy, at the end of it, to get back to home and his friends. He and a couple other Tinworth boys also starting at Hogwarts were already making plans for the last few days before school. Plans that were ruined by Louis's dad not long before the start of September.

"So," Louis's dad said, poking his head into Louis's room. "I just talked to Gran. She's managed to wrangle the whole family into the same place for one night to throw you a send-off party. You'll need to be packed for Hogwarts before we go. The party is the 31st, and we'll leave for King's Cross from the Burrow."

"Dad, why?" Louis asked at once, almost a whine. At his dad's raised eyebrow, Louis bit his lip and looked down, contrite. "I just mean, I don't need a send-off. I'm just starting Hogwarts. The whole family doesn't have to be there for it. I was gonna go to Jack's."

His dad frowned. "This is the first I'm hearing of plans with Jack," he said. Louis shrugged with one shoulder.

"I mean, they're not firm yet."

"Well, this is, so you're going to have to tell Jack you can't make it."

"But Dad-"

"You will have the whole train ride to spend with Jack," his dad said evenly. "And I imagine you'll be in a house with at least one of the other boys. But this is the first time your Gran has been able to get everyone in the same place at the same time in almost four years. She wants to throw you a party. She's very excited about it, so humor her for me, would you?"

Louis nodded his agreement without rolling his eyes or sighing, at least, not until his dad was out of the room and out of earshot. A party with his entire family, where he was supposedly the center of attention. Great. He couldn't wait.

They were not the first family to get to the Burrow on August 31st. They were, in fact, the last. The house was already overflowing with aunts, uncles, and cousins. His Gran kissed him hello, disparaged how skinny he was and how tall he was getting, and then had to disappear back into the kitchen to take care of some mess Louis's three-year-old niece Celeste had gotten into. Grandpa took Dad aside as soon as they were through the door, and Victoire and Dom did the same with Mum after a flyby kiss hello to Louis. Thirty seconds after entering the house, Louis found himself standing awkwardly alone in the entryway.

"Hi," he said to no one in particular. Today was off to a great start.

His brother-in-law Jasper saved him, descending the staircase with a broom in hand. "Hey, Lou!" he called. "A bunch of folks are out in the pasture getting a game started up. Care to join?"

"Sure," he said with a shrug and followed Jasper out to the orchard clearing that had long ago been dubbed Weasley Stadium. The usual pool of aunts, uncles, and cousins all stood around clutching brooms while arguing about how to organize teams.

"No more than two professional Quidditch players to a team, is all I'm saying! That seems fair," Uncle Harry was arguing.

"How about we draw for teams?" Molly suggested.

"Yeah, let's draw, but let's draw for positions, too," Lucy chimed in, and was met with groans of disapproval. "It's the fairest way," she yelled over the din. "And this family has too many Chasers and not enough Beaters! And some of us," she gave a pointed look at Uncle Harry, "coast too much on our mastery of a single position." Uncle Harry glared at her.

"I resent that," he said, pointing a finger.

Lucy got her way in the end, but then, she usually did when it came to Quidditch. Molly conjured a bowl with red and blue tokens. "Okay," Molly said, shaking the bowl to mix up the tokens. "So who's in? Me and James and Fred. Lucy, of course, and Harry." Aunts Ginny and Angelina and Audrey chimed in as well, followed by Uncles Ron and George, and Roxie, Teddy, and Jasper. Molly did a quick count. "That's only 13. Uncle Charlie?"

"Sorry, friends. Nursing a minorly clawed shoulder. I'm gonna have to sit this one out." A cacophony of heckling broke out. "Sorry the Swedish Short Snout ruined your plans!" Uncle Charlie said with a laugh over the noise.

"Well, we need a fourteenth," Lucy said at the group of family members gathered in the pasture. "Where's Uncle Bill?"

"Grandpa grabbed him," Rose said. "And before you ask, I'm gonna keep both feet firmly on the ground, thanks." Lily, Al, and Hugo echoed that sentiment. No one even looked Louis's way.

"I suppose I could sit out," Aunt Audrey offered.

"No, no," Lucy said immediately. "I'll just referee. We'll do two teams of six."

"Louis, do you want to play?"

Louis looked up at Teddy in surprise.

"I-yeah, I can," Louis spoke up.

"Great!" Molly said brightly. "Do you have a position you usually play?"

The question irked him for some reason. He didn't like that he was being treated differently than anyone else. Was it because he was young? Or because no one had ever seen him play before? "I'll just draw a token like everyone else," he said. Fred ran and grabbed another broom from the broom shed while the players drew tokens. There was a lot of groaning as positions were drawn. Louis ended up drawing Seeker for the red team, against his Aunt Ginny for the blue team, and he wished for a moment that he'd gone ahead and asked for a Chaser or Keeper spot. He was a good Chaser and a passable Keeper. But he and his friends never played with a Seeker. They didn't have a Snitch, for one thing, and there weren't enough of them. They usually just took turns trying to score on each other with a makeshift Quaffle and a makeshift hoop. But he wasn't about to back down now.

Even against Aunt Ginny Seeking for the other team, Louis felt like they had a decent chance. They had Fred playing Keeper, which was his position, and Uncle George playing Beater. They also had Lucy and Aunt Angelina as their team professionals, and the Blues had Harry as Keeper, which was going to be abysmal. "Okay, House Rules," Lucy announced when the teams were chosen. "The Snitch is only worth 50 points a catch, and you have to catch it three times to win. Game is over when the Snitch is caught three times or when Gran calls us all in."

Aunt Ginny ended the game with three Snitch captures, but Louis's team took the day, Lucy and Aunt Angelina scoring on Uncle Harry enough that no amount of Seeking points could make up the difference. It was a fun game, and Louis enjoyed himself. He even caught the Snitch once for his team. But there was something alienating about playing Seeker. He wasn't really part of the action, even though he was contributing. But sitting on his broom, above the main game, just watching his teammates . . . it just echoed how he always seemed to feel around his family a little too much for his comfort. It didn't help that the conversation on the way back up to the Burrow was focused on impressive moves that the players had made, and Louis had mostly lucked into his one catch, nothing spectacular about it. He was caught up in the onslaught of energy and enthusiasm, but he wasn't exactly included in it. As always.

The lead up to dinner was a little better. His family seemed to remember why they were congregating at the Burrow, and a seemingly endless stream of people asked him if he was excited for Hogwarts and what house he thought he'd be in. Yes, he was, and he wasn't really sure, were the answers, and he gave them more times than he could count.

But it didn't take long for the family to break off in its usual patterns. The aunts and uncles helping in the kitchen or setting up the tables and chairs out in the backyard. Teddy, Victoire, Dom, and Jasper playing with and entertaining the little ones in the sitting room. Molly, Fred, and James were in a corner discussing James's heated rivalry with Team Chaser, Sylvia Watford. Rose and Al were up in a bedroom on a mirror call with Rose's fiance, Scorpius. Lily and Lucy were deep in conversation while Hugo twiddled away on the piano in the back room while Roxie stood next to him with a notepad, clearly doing research into sound magic, as she nearly always was.

And Louis sat alone. Feeling awkward and out of place until the next aunt or uncle would come up to him and ask him if he was excited for Hogwarts and what house he thought he'd be in.

The focus swiveled back to him at dinner. Gran made him sit at the head of the long table outside and gave a little speech about her last grandchild growing up and heading off to school. Everyone raised glasses to him, and he realized with a start that they were expecting him to say something, so he stumbled his way through saying that he was excited and he was sure it would be lots of fun. And then conversation turned toward tales of their time spent at Hogwarts, stories that Louis had mostly heard before.

He didn't mind, really. He liked hearing about the shenanigans and hijinks his family had gotten up to in the decades they'd spent in the school. And in the beginning, the stories were aimed at him. They were sharing these stories to give him a clear picture of what school life could be like.

But soon, the shift happened. The shift always happened. The Weasleys were a loud, enthusiastic, close-knitted bunch of storytellers, and one story inevitably led to another, and then another, and so on and so on until school stories had been left behind and Louis had stopped being the focus. Now they were talking about work or missions from the good old days, and the cousins were talking about summer adventures and past Quidditch feats. And it was still fine. It really was. Louis didn't mind hearing those stories, either, even when they weren't directed at him. But he knew what was coming next.

Someone would tell some story, and they would suddenly remember he was there, and they would turn to him with Remember when on their lips, and then they would realize that no, he didn't remember when. And they would freeze, and stumble over the story, and it would get quiet, and awkward, and then they would try to connect it to something he had been a part of, which was impossible because he'd been a part of very few things with his cousins. It would happen next because it always happened next. He'd been through it countless times, and he just didn't want to deal with it tonight.

Luckily, by the time that point was approaching, Gran and Grandpa and some of the aunts and uncles had started clearing the tables, and Teddy and Jasper had taken the little ones up to get them settled for bed, and there was enough movement and bustle that Louis could excuse himself quietly from the table and slip away upstairs. No one stopped him. Hardly anyone even noticed. Which was - that was fine, too. Really. He'd known it wasn't really his party when his dad had told him about it. So it was fine. Really.

He slipped into what had been his uncle Ron's old room, that he now shared with Al and Hugo whenever everyone was here, thinking he'd read or something until someone came looking for him, however long that might take. But instead, he was met with a soft, "'Lo, Louis."

Louis whirled to find his brother-in-law Teddy lounging on the bed in the corner. Louis stood, startled, watching Teddy for a long moment. "What are you doing here?" he finally asked.

"Waiting for you," was Teddy's easy reply. "Thought you might retreat up here. They started reminiscing, right? And getting closer and closer to that moment when they realize you weren't around for whatever story they're telling?"

Louis stared at his brother-in-law, shocked. "How do you -"

"Happens to me all the time," he said simply.

"You?" Louis asked, somewhat skeptical. "You're the same age as Victoire. You went to school with over half of them. You were around for all their stories." Teddy laughed.

"I may have overlapped with most of them at school, but what you don't remember, and what I doubt anyone has really told you, is that I spent most of my time at school being a self-absorbed idiot, and I didn't snap out of it until my second try at a seventh year. They were off having all these adventures, and I was holed up in the library, seething at the world and pushing everyone away. So when one of them turns to me and says, 'Do you remember the time we spent the summer imagining a grand love story for Uncle Charlie,' my answer is no, because I wasn't around. Shocks them every time."

It felt like someone was lifting off a huge weight that Louis hadn't realized he was carrying. He had never imagined, not for a second, that someone else might recognize and empathize with the way he felt around his family. "Me too," he said. "Only with me, they forget that I wasn't old enough either to remember or to be part of whatever they're talking about."

Teddy nodded. "I thought you might have a similar experience. I noticed it last summer when we were around, and again at Christmas. That moment when they start trying to find a shared memory is painful, isn't it?"

"Yeah!" Louis said with great enthusiasm. "Like, it's fine that I wasn't around. It doesn't bother me, and I don't mind hearing the stories. I just wish that they-" He stopped himself, because he didn't want to sound ungrateful or say something about his family that he'd regret.

"What do you wish, Lou?" Teddy prompted gently. "It's okay," he added when Louis hesitated. "You can say it."

Louis hesitated for another second or two, then said softly, "I wish they'd stop trying to pretend like I'm a part of their group when I'm really not." Teddy smiled, sadly, and Louis felt the need to explain. "And I can't tell them that, because they'll feel awful and fall all over themselves to try and prove that it's not true, but it is true. I'm not trying to make them feel bad about it, it's just that . . . it's the truth. You're part of a group when you have the same experiences, and I don't. I'm too young. I'm closer in age to Celeste than most of you guys. The only cousin I'm going to overlap with at Hogwarts is Roxie. You and Victoire have been out of school so long that Lily and Hugo and Lucy didn't overlap with you at all, and they won't with me either. So it's not me trying to make a fuss when I say that I'm not really part of your generation. It's just . . . it's the truth. And I'm fine with it being the truth. I just wish that they were, too."

Teddy nodded, still looking a little sad. "I understand that, I think," he said. Can I ask how long you've been feeling this way, Louis?"

Louis shrugged, staring at the carpet. "Forever, kind of," he admitted. "But it's not something I can really tell them about. They wouldn't understand. And . . . I don't want to ask to be included, or noticed. I shouldn't have to."

"I think," was Teddy's soft reply, "that they might understand more than you think, if you give them the chance. Would you be willing to?"

Louis's head snapped up. "You aren't going to tell them about this conversation, are you?" he asked, dread pooling in his stomach.

"No," Teddy assured him. "I don't have to. Victoire and Dom and I have been talking to the cousins about it since Christmas."

"What?" Louis asked, shocked. "But how- I've never told anyone this!"

"I thought you might be feeling this way," Teddy said simply. "Not in exactly the way that you described it just now, but I told you - I noticed last summer, and I watched for it at Christmas. I shared my own experiences with your sisters, and my suspicions that you might feel the same way, and we've been mentioning it to the others. And so," he said, taking a moment to glance out the window, then nodding at someone Louis couldn't see, "I'd like you to come with me."

Bemused, Louis followed Teddy without a word, at least until they got to the bottom landing. The yard outside, where they'd been eating not that long before, was deserted. He could hear conversation coming from the kitchen and back room, but it wasn't nearly enough for 25 or so people.

"Where is everyone?" he asked Teddy, who smiled his secretive little smile again.

"The aunts and uncles are mostly in through there," he said with a gesture toward the kitchen and back room before leading Louis out into the rapidly falling twilight of the back yard.

"Where's everyone else, though? Where are we going?"

Another secret-filled smile. "You'll see. Come on."

They trekked through the yard, past the gardens and chicken coops until they came to the shed where Grandpa did all of his tinkering. Bewildered, Louis stared at his brother-in-law. "Teddy, what-?"

"See for yourself," Teddy said, and pushed the door open.

All eleven of Louis's cousins and siblings were crowded into the workspace, perched on counters amidst batteries and loose wires, or leaning on worktables covered in spare parts, wherever there was room. They were all grinning at him for all they were worth. They'd decorated, too, each of Hogwarts's four house colors and crests proudly displayed in various corners, and a banner hung across the beams of the ceiling, bearing his name.

"What's all this, then?" Louis asked Teddy, trying to mask his own smile, but he was strangely warmed by the sight.

"Your proper send-off, of course!" Molly said. "Now, get in here!"

Still a bit bewildered, and definitely overwhelmed, Louis let himself be led over the threshold. Teddy shut the door behind them, and crossed to stand next to Victoire. "I left the table ten minutes ago," Louis said to them all, for lack of anything better to say.

"Yeah, we set all this up this morning," Lucy explained. "We got here early."

Louis shook his head, still not quite processing everything. "Why did you do all this?" he asked, directing the question at Teddy, since he seemed like the mastermind. But it was Dom who answered.

"Because we haven't paid you enough attention the past eleven years, Louis, and we're sorry about that," she said quietly. "You slipped through the cracks, and that's not fair. So we're making it up to you."

Louis shook his head, embarrassed. "You don't have to do that," he mumbled to the floor.

"Yeah, but we did," Fred chimed in. "And we decorated, and there's a cake, so you're not getting out of this now."

Louis looked up at the mention of cake, which won some grins from his cousins. "Okay, but what exactly is this?" he asked again.

"We told you," said Rose with a kind smile. "A proper send-off. With gifts, and some advice."

"Louis," Teddy said. "You told me upstairs that you don't feel like you're properly part of our generation, and I think there's truth in that, much as some of us might hate to admit it. We were the post-war generation. We went to school during a time of rebuilding foundations, both literal and metaphorical. Vicious House rivalries were still alive and well, though starting to temper since the end of the war. We went to a Hogwarts where we were helping to figure out what the world would look like after that huge, massive conflict."

"But there have been two complete cycles of students through Hogwarts since Teddy and Dom and I were there," Victoire continued. "The war feels like ancient history now. You are going to a very different Hogwarts than the one we attended. So, Teddy's right. And you're right. You're not the end of our generation. You're the beginning of a brand new one."

"Which means that you are going to be paving the way for those who come after you," Dom added, a hand resting protectively on the bump of her stomach, just barely beginning to show. "So, we wanted to make sure we send you to Hogwarts with absolutely everything you're going to need to have the best year you can."

"But be warned," James broke in, with a wagging finger. "These are sacred Weasley family tips and tricks. Well, Weasley-Potter," he said indicating himself and his siblings. "Well, Weasley-Potter-Lupin," he said, to include Teddy and Victoire. Then he caught sight of Dom. "Well, Weasley-Potter-Lupin-Ald-"

"James, just . . . stop," Al said with a hand on his brother's shoulder and a pained expression.

"Is that why Jasper's not here?" Louis asked Dom with a grin.

"No, he'll be along," she assured him. "He's putting the little ones to bed for Teddy."

"But he'll be passing that off to Maman any time now," Victoire said. "Since Olly's in this horrid stage where he won't fall asleep unless someone is singing French lullabies."

"My attempts are insufficient," Teddy shared, to the amusement of the cousins.

"But yes," Al said, "Jasper has been declared an honorary Weasley, just like Teddy, for the purposes of this evening. See, Lou, we talked it over, and we decided that you ought to have something none of us really got as you head off to school - the benefit of collective knowledge. You're going off to Hogwarts tomorrow with everything we know, every tip, trick, lifehack, if you will, at your fingertips."

"Starting," Lily said, stepping forward, "with this." With a flourish, she pulled a tattered and much-folded piece of old parchment from her pocket and laid it on the worktable in front of Louis. His eyes went wide.

"No way!" he exclaimed, looking from one Potter sibling to the others. "Are you serious? This is . . . really?" They beamed at him.

"Really really," Lily said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "The Map. To use it, tap it with your wand and say I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. And to wipe it clean, say Mischief Managed. It's really important you wipe it clean, or anyone can read it."

"Now," James said, stepping forward, "a word to the wise. Almost every professor at Hogwarts right now was in the DA with our dad. Which means, they all know about the map and what it can do, and they know we have it. But they don't know exactly who has it at any given moment, which was the beauty of having so many cousins around at a time.

"Now, you don't have that advantage, sadly," Lily said. "It's just you and Roxie, which narrows the choices considerably."

"Shouldn't Roxie have this then?" Louis asked, though he hated to give up such a valuable prize. But Roxie grinned at him.

"Naw," she said. "They'll be expecting me to have it. But I don't really need it. I have the castle memorized and I have other ways of knowing if people are coming." She tapped her ears significantly, and Louis guessed her other ways had something to do with her magical hearing spells and some way that she'd modified them.

"But the understanding of possessing the map," Fred said, "is that you'll help a cousin in need out if asked."

"Just be careful with it," Al warned. "Our dad is starting a teaching rotation this year. He's teaching Defense classes, and he dearly wants to get the Map back. He'll be on the lookout and just waiting to confiscate it."

"And Al knows all about losing helpful sneaky things to Dad's confiscations."

Al turned to his brother. "I have apologized to you for losing the Cloak so many times, James." James just glared at his brother while Al rolled his eyes.

"The point is," Teddy broke in with a laugh, "that as the granddaughter and eldest grandchild of Mr. Moony, Celeste is rightfully in line for that Map, and I am counting on you being able to pass it on when she starts at Hogwarts. So keep it safe. Got it?"

Louis grinned. "Got it," he said. This would have been enough, really, this Map and the fact that he'd been entrusted with it. But then, true to their word, his cousins all crowded around, sharing their secrets and tidbits and things they wished they'd known when they started school. They rallied around him, like he was the best of them and not just an afterthought.

He revelled in it. Teddy and Victoire and Dom told him that it was never too late to figure out who he was and who he wanted to be, and that it was never too late to change his mind and go a different direction, either. James and Molly and Fred shared with him the importance of being able to laugh and make others laugh and create a sense of camaraderie wherever he went. Rose and Al told him to find his people, whoever they might be, and to stand by them no matter what anyone else might think. Lily and Hugo and Lucy made sure he knew the importance of celebrating differences, both his and other people's, and to never let Sorting determine who his friends were. Lucy also told him to go out for the House Quidditch team, whichever House he ended up in, because he had way too much potential to waste.

And then there was Roxie. "You're gonna find me on the train tomorrow, okay?" she said. "We're gonna get a compartment with my friend Lorcan, and he and I are going to teach you sign language, yeah? Because I didn't realize until Christmas, but you don't know it, do you?"

Louis shook his head, looking at the ground. It was the one thing that had always really separated him from his cousins. Roxie was deaf, special spells on her ears allowing her to hear when she felt like turning them on. Fred had taught her to sign when she was a toddler, and then Molly and James had demanded to learn, and then all the cousins had picked it up, and could carry on silent conversations across crowded rooms - all of them except Louis, who hadn't been born yet, and hadn't had anyone take him aside to teach him.

"I've picked up a little, here and there," he said.

"Well, tomorrow, you're gonna pick up the rest of it," Roxie promised fervently. "And I'm sorry it didn't happen before now. Really, Lou. You and I should have fallen in together, the two youngest, but I was always so busy looking up to the rest of them that I forgot there was someone to look up to me. I'm sorry."

Louis shook his head. "It's okay," he told her.

"Well, it's not," she said with a smile. "But I'm gonna try and make it okay. If you want. If you'll let me."

"Yeah, of course," he said at once.

They stayed in the shed until almost one in the morning, eating cake and telling secrets, until Louis's dad knocked on the door and sent them all to bed. "Big day tomorrow for a couple of you," he reminded them.

As they moved back up the hill to the Burrow, Louis found himself right in the middle of the throng, and he finally, after eleven years, felt like he belonged there.

One of the very first decisions I made with Pieces, when I was figuring out ages and orders and groupings, is that I wanted Bill and Fleur to have the oldest and youngest grandchildren. Which necessitated a rather large age gap between Victoire and Louis. But in the end, that helped determine his character.

I really enjoyed drawing the parallel between him and Teddy. Both feel out of place, like they don't quite fit in, but both handle that feeling very differently as eleven-year-olds. Teddy was angry. Louis was more resigned. But Teddy wanted to make sure that no one else went through what he did, so he steps in to make this happen.

And for those of you wanting to know how angry Teddy Lupin from chapter one got to this point 17 years later, well . . . the final piece of Pieces is an epilogue of sorts that should answer all those lingering questions.