Number 12 Grimmauld place grew every day, more and more people coming to stay, more and more rooms getting added. Without one teen who powered most of the heavy lifting spells on his own, the same teen who never seemed to go to the Hospital wing, never seemed injured, but never got himself healed before rushing out to save more lives.

No one in that house got there without something happening though. They stopped feeling safe. Men, women, children, they all came because no place was safer then the house that held the green eyed teen- the teen that would jump in front of a killing curse if it meant you'd see the next sunrise.

Nightmares were a common occurrence. While most stayed in their rooms to try and calm down, some came to the Kitchen, where a cup of tea prepared to perfection, laced with calming drought, waited for them. A listening ear would wait if you wanted to tell, or a cheerful grin that would tell you stories about when he was younger- and times were happy. Whichever would make you feel happy—safe.

Many of the older adults thought it was bad to follow this teen into war, but those that had faced a battle with him knew- his power was unmatched, his reflexes were trained to protect everyone, and his name would strike fear into the hearts of the enemy, or rally the allies. He would cry for every fallen, apologizing again and again for something he couldn't have predicted, and he would calmly work through every insult and complaint, as the leader in this war.

Every night, you could find him in that kitchen, with your tea, and there was no wait to get it. He just knew. No one asked why he was still awake, because they knew anyway. He had his own nightmares to work through. No listening ear for him though, because you were terrified by your nightmares, and his are so much worse.

New people questioned how he had so much time, when did he sleep? The answer was never given. Some thought he would use a time turner just to sleep, but he would merely offer a smile.

The past months have introduced a baby to the hip of this teen, this leader, and few were ever trusted to hold the child while he did other things. He protected this child more ferociously then a whole squad of mother bears.

The war ended- suddenly. And many went to the kitchen at night to talk to this green eyed teen, before they remembered his sacrifice. To save another life, he jumped in front of the killing curse, just like everyone was so sure he would. The nightmares continued, but no one could take the place of the unassuming teen in the kitchen.

No more tea in the kitchen for those who never left the house.

But they took joy in that the teen had finally found peace.