Lily.

Harry.

Were they okay?

What did that murderous-

Those were the thoughts that ran through James Potter's mind on a running loop as he slowly came to around the destruction of a home that had once shielded them from the powers of the most dangerous dark wizard in the known universe, in their universe. Voldemort had been after them for years, always managing to keep one step ahead of them in his endless campaign of either recruiting them to join his despicable cause, or murder them for their blatant disrespect. As a member of a prominent Gryffindor family, and a man who believed in better and higher things than the eradication of a blood race, James had clearly sided against him, along with his wife, Lily.

Times had been tough after that—loyalties had been thoroughly tested after word got leaked in the Order, (a group of witches and wizards devoted to the same cause he was), that a spy was suspected as the reason Voldemort was quickly gaining more power while the people around them, floundered completely. If it wasn't one witch being found murdered, it was an entire family of good people who dared stand up to Voldemort and his ruthless gang of followers.

There used to be a time when James would be out on the front lines with the others when they would conduct raids on behalf of the Ministry, but that dangerous urge to prove himself worthy and capable of defending his wife, disappeared the instant he found out she was pregnant with their son, their only child, who had come by accident, but was nonetheless a much needed stress buster in times where they were scared to even open up their curtains.

Baby Harry was the light of his life. The chance to do differently what his parents did for him. Even though he had been raised in a home full of warmth and love that had never changed, even as he aged, there was always that emphasis on using their gold as power and a means of buying his affections when he was angry about something, and that was not the kind of relationship he wanted to have with his son, not at all, but did he even have a son and family to enjoy life with?

Unsticking his bloody cheek from the piece of wood it had been plastered to, he wobbled unsteadily on his feet for several seconds as he struggled to adjust to the unusual sensation of being upright again after being knocked out cold for at least several minutes, if not more. The furniture that Dumbledore had gifted them with, was all but ruined. Harry's baby carriage, his baby book, and several more items of import were all but destroyed with the force and ferocity of the battle.

"Li-" he coughed, bringing up some nasty green mucus that he knew meant trouble if he didn't speed himself over to St. Mungos or Hogwarts for Madam Pomfrey to look at. "Lily!" He yelled, his voice strangled with the amount of his panic as he grasped the shaky stair railing with one hand, and the dust covered wall with the other, as he took the stairs two at a time, nearly sending himself toppling back several times. "Lily!"

James considered himself a laid-back person who reveled in telling jokes and making light out of even the darkest situation. Along with his friends, they had become the stuff of legend around Hogwarts for their pranks and their mysterious disappearing acts through one of several passageways in and out of the school, but in this moment and in this kind of situation, he was feeling anything but warm and funny as he nearly tripped over his own feet as he staggered into the one door that was hanging off its hinges, the door into baby Harry's room. It was the only room in the house besides the living room, that housed a fireplace capable of carting them to a safe location. It was there that Lily would have gone to go to one of the locations they had long ago agreed on if something like this should happen.

Peering in nervously, as though honestly dreading what he might see, his eyes immediately fell upon the sight of Lily lying lifeless on the ground underneath a pile of clutter. Her flaming red hair was sprawled out all around her, and her normally beautiful and vibrant eyes were wide and unseeing, the vestiges of her last battle etched across her face.

It took James a moment to process what he was seeing as his body propelled him foreword of its own accord. It could not be true that she—NO! His mind refused to accept that grim, devastating reality as he clambered down to his knees beside his wife, picking her limp body up with inhuman strength as his fingers ran over every conceivable inch of her, trying to detect some amount of life in a woman that was absolutely still in his arms.

Her eyes were open, her beautiful eyes that he had first fallen in love with back in first year. Her body was still warm, signaling the little amount of time that had passed since Voldemort had first sprung his attack on them. Not able to control the sob that came out of his throat when he realized, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was gone, he bowed his head in devastation as he tried to contemplate the unspeakable truth that his family was gone, his wife was dead, murdered by a wizard that had made it his life's mission to find and destroy anyone or anything that came in between he and his deranged propaganda.

And Harry. His son was nowhere to be found. Either Voldemort had succeeded in killing him, or he had been killed beneath the rubble of the room that was now a shell of its former self. Shaking from head to foot in shock and grief, James tried to contemplate what his next move would be, and how he was to alert the members of the Order, and more importantly Dumbledore, as to what had happened, when he heard the first signs of hope he had encountered since entering the room.

A cry.

A faint one, but it was a cry nonetheless. Gently setting his wife down on the ground, James scrambled for the small pile of broken down wood planks as he pushed them aside as though they weighed nothing. Underneath it, laid a frightened and very agitated Harry. His little body was covered in dust, and a few minor scrapes and bruises, but it was the scar on his forehead that James instantly took notice of, as he took the small boy into his arms, holding him close against his body as though to remind himself that he was real, that he had not perished in the attack like he had believed only seconds ago.

"It's okay. It's okay, Harry," James soothed softly, trying to hold in his tears so that he could comfort his son in the midst of his life being changed forever. "It's going to be okay."

How could it have been only an hour previously that he had been showing Harry colorful bubbles that came from his wand? How could it be that an hour ago, he had his wife and son fully intact and now it was just the two of them?

"Dada?" Harry spoke softly.

"It's me, kiddo."

Harry had been trying to talk for months now, but had only recently mastered the words of "Mumma" and "Dada." It had been a joy for he and Lily to share in, but now it was only reminding him of the milestones both big and small that Lily would now miss out on.

Standing up carefully with his son still in his arms, James moved toward the only sturdy structure in the room, the fireplace, and carefully stepped inside. The ash he had collected with one hand, dripped down into the hearth like running water, as he took a deep breath, before shouting: "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Dumbledore's office!"

The usual sensation that accompanied the gut-wrenching form of travel was immediate, and in reality, the nausea only joined the earlier sickness that James had been experiencing since first discovering his wife dead on the floor. Even so, it had been the first time he had ever traveled by Floo with a passenger in tow, and even though Harry clung tightly to him, he could feel his son's stomach clench in response to the nausea he was feeling.

When the sickening spinning finally stopped and they landed somewhat ungracefully on the expensive rugs of Dumbledore's office, James breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he adjusted himself into a standing position along with Harry, who was a thin shade of green as he looked around the office with wide, curious eyes at all the abnormal (to him) sights that greeted his new eyes.

Looking up to the staircase that led to the upper part of Dumbledore's office that was reserved for guests, James saw the aged wizard descend the staircase, his normally calm eyes troubled as he took in the sight of James, and of little Harry and that scar on his forehead.

"James. Harry," Dumbledore said. "What is wrong?" In times like they were experiencing with the war, it was not common anymore to drop in to visit an old friend.

James shook his head, attempting to verbalize the absolute impossible, especially when his mind was still trying to wrap itself around the reality of Lily being gone, and himself being plucked into the role of both father and mother in one single night.

"Voldemort...he...he found us tonight." Numbly dropping into the offered chair Dumbledore conjured up, he wiped his brow as he tried to think of what to explain next. "He attacked us. I was knocked out, and he—he...Lily's gone."

Very rarely had James seen such an astonished look on the elder wizards face. It was rare to catch him off guard, but it was clear that he had as Dumbledore sat down, unceremoniously on the edge of his desk as he stared intently at the grief-stricken man, as though he was trying to deduce whether or not James was actually serious or not.

"What happened?"

"It was a surprise attack—an ambush."

"What about Sirius?" For the first time, a hint of anger flashed through the wizard's sharp eyes.

"What about-" realization dawned on Jame's face, and what Dumbledore was implying. "No. We switched to Peter at the last minute. We thought it was the perfect cover-up. We were stupid. I was stupid, and look where it got me!"

His wife was dead.

His son was without his mother.

One of his oldest and most trusted friends had betrayed him and had been the indirect cause of Lily's death and the agony that James was currently going through.

"James, you put your faith in one of your dearest friends who was working as a spy for Voldemort. That is something you could have never known."

"What do I do now?" James asked, as a single tear slid down his face. "How am I supposed to protect my son and make sure he has a happy life?"

"You do that by carrying on the memory of Lily. You provide the kind of home for Harry that she would have if the circumstances had been anywhere near normal, and more importantly, you keep him safe."

"What—of course I will!" James exclaimed, outraged at the mere mention of him doing anything but.

"What I mean, James, is that one day, Voldemort will return, and when he does, Harry will be in terrible danger. He will return to his body sooner or later."

"What stopped him tonight? What stopped him from killing Harry?" It made him ill at the thought of how close he had come to losing his entire family.

"A very ancient and very powerful cloaking spell that shielded Harry from the full impact of the curse intended for his death. The act of love that Lily placed on him by standing in between them, ensured that he would be protected by the bonds of love."

"So Lily saved him?" It didn't surprise him. She had always been a fiercely protective mother in the short year that she had been allowed to be one.

"I think so, yes."

"What now?" For the first time in his life, he was speechless at the enormity of what he was facing.

"Harry needs to be someplace safe. Just because Voldemort is gone, it does not mean that followers of his will not attempt to find and harm him as a form of retribution."

James nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I have a house. In the country. My family left it to me."

"Does it have the proper wards up?"

"We can do that."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Then I think Harry will be just fine."

"You underestimate me."