Summary:
"Bind him and bring him and all of his possessions by Saturday. I expect you to set up a trust for all expenses covered for him by then, enough to last until his eleventh birthday," Petunia suddenly demanded, rising from her seat with a steadiness that belied her nerves. She stared down at her sister with glacial eyes, but there was an odd sort of smile flickering at the corners of her thin mouth. "Vernon and I will have a place for him here. But not with magic. There will be none of that nonsense here."
"Thank you, Petunia," said Lily sorrowfully, as they rose simultaneously and gifted the horse-like woman with rare halting smiles. Although, you wouldn't call what James gave the woman a smile. "You'll not regret this. I swear it, 'Tuney."
Petunia smiled, a slow growing thing that was certainly unnerving to behold. "I know."
-oOoOoOo-
The Prophecy
Wednesday, 14thMay, 1980.
Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts.
"I find at most times, that a nice Sherbet Lemon helps calm my simmering nerves," said Dumbledore with a meaningful smile, as if he was trying to nudge an unsure customer to one of his best liked products, or was confessing a proud secret. "Would you like one, Lily? Well, perhaps it's best not, you're looking awfully peaky, m'dear. Are you quite well? Shall I summon us both a refreshing cup of tea? I myself find my throat rather dry as of late, and I've found that the House-elves brew a mean peppermint tea that clears that right up. Perhaps it's the weather affecting the both of us, but alas, I shall never know," he mused, peering at her from over his half-mooned spectacles with barely a twinkle in the magnificent blue.
Lily stared unblinkingly at the wizened old man, not thinking for a second that Dumbledore meant only the best for her. Especially with the important news he'd apparently found, as the letter still clutched tightly between her fingers said. She cleared her throat and finally ended her staring, ignoring the way her eyes watered and stung like gritty paper when she blinked. "I'm fine," she said, clearing her throat once again. "But if you'd tell me what you meant in your letter, then perhaps I'd feel a bit more at ease. You've gotten me more than a little worried, Albus. You said that only the direst letters could make it through the wards - and written by your own hand, nonetheless. We've not had any communication between the Longbottoms or the Order in ages, not since we've gone into hiding. It's why I came right away. This news ought to be incredibly serious for me to risk exposure, especially in . . . my condition," she said haltingly, her emerald gaze jumping from the Headmaster's tired face, to the large swell of her stomach hidden not at all convincingly under her robes. She felt her babies move inside her, a tiny fluttering hand pressing against her stomach, as if sensing her gaze was on them.
She ached to hold them in her arms.
Her children were the reason for their withdrawal from fighting in the war between Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters and Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore himself had requested she leave the battles and hide away, and considering that now in hindsight, she should have seen the catch there and then. Dumbledore wouldn't have asked her, one of the most gifted duellers, to sit out of a battle just because she was pregnant. Many other Order members had been pregnant when they fought - and sometimes fell, due to their children growing off of their magical cores.
It was just a small hope that gnawed at her that Dumbledore finally realized that pregnant women couldn't fight in the war.
Dumbledore attempted a smile, but it fell rather flat when his eyes followed her gaze. "I assure you, I would not risk your life and the lives of your children for anything inconsequential," he murmured, an ominous shadow passing over his weathered face. "It pertains to the reason for your going into hiding, actually," he said, voice going a little brittle.
Lily looked up at him at that, eyes hardening into glacial emeralds from the soft maternal gaze it had been. Dumbledore looked sore to see that glow turn into something so hard. "You never did fully explain why we had to leave the fight," she said cautiously. "The last time Alice and I spoke, she told me her reasoning behind her own retreat from the war. It was the same thing you'd told James and I," she pursed her lips. "Why?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat, and reached for his bowl of lemon drops, popping two into his mouth and rolling them thrice over his tongue. It seemed to bolster him for the coming conversation - as rocky as it was going to be. "The reason for you and your friends' withdrawal from the war is a lot more complex than you think, Lily," he answered quietly. "It is for the Greater Good of the world that I asked this of you. I know that it had stung when I had requested you and James take a leave of absence from the Order, but it was of the utmost importance that you had done so."
"You're finally going to tell me?" Lily hedged carefully, though her expression told Dumbledore that it wasn't a question.
Dumbledore nodded nonetheless. "Yes, well. You must at least attempt to understand me before you react. This is no light news to be shared with others, only to be shared with those you trust the most," he said, cerulean eyes sharpening as the walls around them flashed with non-verbal security wards, wards he made sure had no holes or vulnerable places in. He wouldn't fail again. He sucked on the lemon drops for another moment, before clearing his throat and looking the red-haired woman in the eye. "It is because of a prophecy that you and Mrs Longbottom have been hidden away. It was foretold that a savior would be born as the seventh month dies, with the power to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. In all of the Order, only you and Alice fell pregnant and fit the criterion as those who would birth our champion, in as much the same time as the seventh month shall end. It is only a matter of when, and whom shall arrive first, that is the problem."
"But we don't have to consider this prophecy as probable," Lily said warily, cupping her rounded belly as if to reassure herself that her children were still with her. "I mean, He doesn't know about it, so it couldn't possibly come true. My children, and Alice's son, are still safe while He doesn't know ... Right, Albus?"
"In essence, you are correct," Dumbledore conceded cautiously, tipping his head in a short nod that made his long, white beard jerk against his stress-shrunken belly. Lily didn't at all relax at hearing that, sensing that there was a very large and important 'but' coming. "That would be the case if none had witnessed or overheard it, ergo, the prophecy itself wouldn't have any weight in the war and would remain an unimportant piece to the puzzle. However, I sincerely regret to inform you that if it were not for our enemy's spy, we would not have to suffer this threat. I fear that the Dark Lord already knows, and is waiting in the wings, anticipating the birth of his prophesied foe. It is why I asked you to withdraw to a safe place, and why I will only allow you my own letter for information on the war and for correspondence. Trust is a commodity that is even harder to come by during this war, especially as we know not whom our enemies and their spies are."
Dumbledore bowed his head in shame then, those all-knowing eyes closing in an age-old weariness that set Lily's teeth on edge. "As witnessed by my blunder in not handling the prophecy carefully enough around my peers, I have caused a ripple effect in the lives of many. Your family's, and Alice's," he said in a bereft voice.
Lily bit her lower lip harshly, her glimmering green eyes unsure and naively hopeful. "But you can't be sure that it only concerns Alice and I," she said tremulously, voice breathy from shock. "It could be someone else. It doesn't have to be someone in the Order - it doesn't have to be someone close to you. You just need to find out where else to look, another country or - or town. It can't be my children, I -I refuse to . . . Oh, sweet merciful Merlin,no."
Dumbledore heaved a world weary sigh, and seemed to shrink in upon himself, his age seeming to triple with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He regarded Lily with compassionate, saddened eyes, but there was no small amount of pity in them. She cringed at the sight.
"I assure you, I have thought of everything there is to think about. Yourself and James, along with Alice and Frank, both fit the criterion of the prophecy;'Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies,'," he said quietly, looking and feeling very, very old. "The entire prophecy itself states that one of the three children between you and Alice will defeat him, through powers the Dark Lord knows not. I have sat here for hours upon hours and pondered what that power may be ever since the prophecy had been unveiled, but it has yet to reveal itself. I fear that much heartache is still yet to come."
Tears of desperation and shock flooded Lily's eyes before she could so much as blink, and her chest constricted with the thought of one of her own children battling the Dark Lord. Horrific memories of Order missions to decimated Muggle villages filled her mind - the orphanage Voldemort had attacked was most present, but instead of the faces of those poor mangled Muggle children, she saw children with hers and James's features, dead and lying on the ground, eyes forever open and seeing their last horrific moments before blessed darkness took them.
A sob escaped her, and she wrapped her arms around her children, praying - hoping that it wasn't true. Hoping that the prophecy would pick someone else in the least, or better yet, that someone would off the megalomaniac Dark Lord before it could come true.
Her little boys, part of a prophecy that affects the entire fate of the world. It was too much for her poor heart to bear.
"I'm dreadfully sorry, my dear girl," Dumbledore whispered, face grave and bleak, and looking so utterly wretched that Lily had to consciously remind herself that it was her own children, and not his that were in danger of fighting off a Dark Lord. Unlike at other times when condolences were necessary but not truly meant, he seemed to be truly regretful. But it still stung her to hear it, nonetheless. "If I could have prevented this from happening, I surely would have. This sort of pain should never be inflicted upon such good people, James and yourself least of all. But believe me when I say that I shall do my best to protect you and Mrs Longbottom, and the children you both carry, with my life. They will not suffer needlessly," he vowed passionately, his voice gaining the luster he was known world wide for.
A voice only an experienced champion could have.
Forcefully composing herself as much as she could, Lily stood a little shakily from her seat, her shoulders still shuddering with repressed sobs even as they straightened from the hunch she'd had them in, and her arms were still wrapped tightly around her belly - around her children. "I have to go," she said unsteadily, voice high and trembling and in no way convincing her old mentor that she was in any way, shape or form, fine. The tears pouring down her face was evidence enough. "James is probably worried - I – Thank you for the letter, Albus. It was good to - to get out of the house, once again."
"It was good to see you again, my dear. Even with such grave news of the probable future," Dumbledore said softly, watching her stumble her way to the fireplace with a deep sadness etched into his face. "Give my love to James and the boys. I will no doubt be seeing them again soon, at another Order meeting. Take great care of yourself, Lily. You cannot survive the battle, only to fall apart in the war. Be strong, and have faith that all will be right in the end. Dark times only go on for so long before they succumb to the light."
"Will do, Headmaster," Lily said in that heart-breaking trembling voice, sounding much too close to falling apart then and there, but before Dumbledore could say anything else or offer a sliver of comfort, she took up a pinch of Floo powder, and tossed it into the flames of the glowing hearth, hardly waiting a beat for the flames to turn green before calling out, "The Doghouse!" and stepping through. She was no sooner swept up in the green flames and gone from the Headmaster's office, than one could blink. A heavy sadness was left in her wake, one that stank up the large rooms as if a poisonous fog hung in the air.
Dumbledore didn't remove himself from his office for hours after their meeting, the vision of lovely Lily Potter looking so distraught and upset still haunting his weary old mind. His regrets only seemed to be piling up with his old age, and while it wasn't uncommon for someone of the older generations to have many regrets, his cluttered his mind like shades of darkness; one mistake after another varying from bad to worse. He wasn't one to dwell on his mistakes constantly, but it was a surety that he visited those memories frequently - if nothing else, then to learn from them. If he'd taken the time to properly ward Trelawney's room, throwing away the haze of arrogance his misguided mind had taken to cloaking him in, then young Severus Snape wouldn't have overheard the prophecy and reported it back to his Master. The Potters and Longbottoms wouldn't be afraid of every shadow - hiding from the war because of a prophecy that shouldn't have been predicted.
If he hadn't been so arrogant in thinking none would dare to challenge him - go against him so recklessly and forthrightly, then poor Lily Potter and Alice Longbottom would not have to bear the horrible weight of their children becoming potential fighters in the battle with Lord Voldemort. The only warrior of the Light to destroy the Prince of Darkness once and for all.
Dumbledore heaved an unsteady sigh that moved his thin body, and waited for the clock on his hearth to chime seven o'clock - the time he'd asked Alice Longbottom to arrive at. He had yet another task in informing another mother of their child's possible future - or lack thereof. And if strong, brave Lily Potter had begun falling apart just as she left his presence, there was no saying how valiant, sweet little Alice might fare.
It is going to be harder to break Alice's heart than Lily's, he thought despondently, watching somberly as the clock chimed seven o'clock and the Floo activated, and Alice's pregnant form began to spin through the flames. At least Lily has had experience with emotional turmoil, as her time with Severus has well enough prepared her for. Poor Alice has yet to have her rose tinted glasses shattered by the heartache of losing someone nearest and dearest to her heart. She is but a young woman deeply entrenched in her love for her husband and growing child, even in the midst of such an atrocious war, it is not enough to cause her heartache. Well, after tonight, I will have remedied that.
"Albus? What is all this about?" Alice queried uncertainly, brushing herself of the soot in his fireplace, even as she toddled her way towards his great desk. His dreadfully vague letter was hanging from her loosely curled fingertips. "I just got your letter, and it said you needed to speak with me urgently. Is everything alright? Did - did you need me for a mission for the Order?" She asked timidly, showing a great reluctance in risking herself, now that she'd finally resigned herself to being pregnant with her first child.
It was a surprise when thoughtful, passionate Alice had acted so brashly in the face of action with Death Eaters - fighting them head on despite her pregnant state. It hadn't sunk in that she'd be carrying another life within her, that she held a serious responsibility to her child until he himself had moved her to the safe wing of the war.
At face value, she believed him to be protecting her and her growing family. But as soon as he peels back the surface, it'll be clear to her wearied eyes that all wasn't good and pure of heart in war.
Dumbledore sighed wearily, and, realizing his lemon drops had already dissolved, popped another two into his mouth and sucked soothingly on them. Alice watched him fuss about with nothing and everything on his desk with questioning eyes, an eyebrow raised uncertainly. "Please, sit down, Alice. We have much to discuss," he said quietly, waving at the seat Lily had sat in well over two hours ago.
A seat I will never stop seeing them in, even well into the future when the war is done and Voldemort defeated. Their tears will be enough to cement the melancholy into the fabric and wood, and will provide me no escape from my horrific mistakes.
"The portraits have been charmed," Alice observed, as if talking about the weather, looking around at the frozen portraits lining the walls as she carefully lowered herself into the squashy chair. Sir Phineas Nigellus did not look the slightest bit happy, having seemed to have spotted what Dumbledore had been doing at the very start, and had his mouth open in an angry snarl that made even Dumbledore want to cringe. Although, rarely did he have a smile on his painted face anyway. The Blacks rarely ever did, even when alive.
"For your protection, I assure you," Dumbledore murmured, and steeled himself not to quail under Alice's suddenly sharp stare.
"There are spies in Hogwarts?" Alice asked tersely, eyes hardening into that warrior glaze that Dumbledore always praised her for. It was the eyes of a soldier, a strategist in the field and one not unused to the sight of atrocities. It was the eyes of a mother bear gearing up to protect her cub.
Dumbledore regarded her sagely, straightening his spine as he rolled the lemon drops over his tongue. A burst of the sour flavor warmed him immeasurably, and soothed his humming magic like the soft caress of a lover. Sweets often did that for the old wizard. "It is a possibility, although not one I find very likely. Given that the Dark Lord has called all of his servants to his side, even the Marked students here. He has grown in arrogance, enough to believe that he no longer needs spies in order to peak into our ranks," he said, not at all bitterly. It was an advantage, after all.
And it made him feel better at over estimating his own reputation and presence.
Alice shut her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, which seemed to actually have an effect in calming her temper. She opened her eyes after a moment and looked at him, a steel wall within her gaze. "What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?" She asked.
Dumbledore took his own little breath, a little curious to see if breathing as deeply actually calmed one, or not. He wasn't surprised when it did; Alice was known for such quick fixes - her home-made herbal tea was one of the best teas he'd ever had the pleasure of tasting, especially when he'd have long, heated discussions with Minister Bagnold concerning the Dark Lord's recent massacres and plans. He sighed - and then sighed again when he realized he was sighing far too much in one day.
And it had yet to end.
The troubles of every leader when they are needed. No rest for days and reluctant of any privacy, a hand always knocking at his door for an ear to dribble into.
"Albus?" Alice implored, eyebrows furrowing with heavy concern.
"Would you like a lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked her, and then smiled wryly. "I find that Sherbet lemon helps to keep my fraying nerves calm in the midst of such troubling times . . ."
It was going to be a long night, indeed.