A teenager with brown combat boots, torn jeans, and blue hair was sitting in front of a pair of graves. He wasn't saying anything. He used to talk to them, but it had been many years since they passed and he no longer felt the need to speak to the headstones. Now he wrote them letters, which he left in an old military ammo box he found in a muggle army surplus store. The box was almost full now, as he had been writing letters for a long time. He liked feeling as if there was a way to share his life with the parents who had missed it. It wasn't their faults they had missed it. They were war heroes and had died so he could grow up in a better world than they had. He appreciated it, he really did, but that didn't stop him from wishing that they had been able to be there for him. He placed the newest letter in the ammo box.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I'm seventeen now, isn't that crazy? I would have come on my birthday, but I was studying for my exams, which I did brilliantly on. Uncle Harry said he's been bringing you my letters I've been writing from school. I hope you enjoyed them. We had a birthday party at Grimmauld Place, which I've been told is one of the places you used to live, dad. Harry says I seem a little bit like Sirius and Peter and You and his father. He says I have the same rebellious nature of Sirius, with the loyalty of James Sr, the resourcefulness of Peter (though decisively more loyal), and your brains. I've also been told while I look like you, dad, I've got your talent for shapeshifting, mum, and the collective sense of humour of the five of you. 

You'll never guess what Harry found for me for my 17th birthday. Your old watch, dad. It's the best present I could have asked for. Harry also gave me a photo album, but I'm not supposed to open it until I visit you. I'm also still seeing Victoire, not that her dad is too pleased about it. But that's ok. Fleur seems to adore me. I love you guys. I promise I will visit soon, but I don't know when. I start training as a healer tomorrow. 

Love,

Teddy

The teen finally began to move, removing a leather bound photo album from his bag. Tears escaped his eyes as he saw wizarding photos of his parents; it was the first time in his life he had a collection of his parents smiling at him. There were pictures in here he had never seen before, and some familiar ones. As he turned the pages, his hair began to shift. By the time he had left, his hair was the same shade of sandy blond as the man in the photographs hair had been. Edward Teddy Lupin would never change his hair again, and even on his death bed, his hair reminded everyone of Remus John Lupin, the bravest werewolf and man Teddy could think of.