Death stands above me, whispering low
I know not what into my ear:
Of his strange language all I know
Is, there is not a word of fear.
-Walter Savage Landor
Albus Dumbledore slowly lowered his head, forcing me to meet his steel blue gaze, then turning to look at Lily.
"You know the risks."
Lily and I nodded. Her best friend from Hogwarts had already been killed by Voldemort, as had my father.
"Then there is no further need for us to linger. When the time comes, you will be called on to act, quickly and decisively. Your lives will be in danger at any and every moment. You must always be ready. You could lose anything you love. Are you able to risk it?"
"Professor," began Lily – we still referred to him as such, even though we had graduated a few years back – "Professor, anything that I love, anything that I have to be prepared to lose, I must also be prepared to do anything to save."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair.
"Are you afraid of death?"
Without looking at each other, Lily and I spoke in a single voice.
"No."
I wasn't afraid of dying, as I explained later, I was afraid of not living. In constant fear, not able to trust, not able to stand up to evil – that was no way to live. On that day that we joined the Order, life was what was on my mind, the life Lily and I would have after Voldemort was gone. Death was there, certainly, but always lingering around the corners, slipping just out of sight, not daring to come into the open. We would never fully confront this mystery called death until that dim, ominous Halloween.
All of my best friends from Hogwarts had also joined the Order. After a particularly nasty skirmish with Death Eaters, I could see Sirius had suddenly grown up more than he ever had at Hogwarts. Remus looked even more tired all the time, and I hardly ever saw Peter. He, too, was always hanging around the edges. We all realized this, of course, far too late.
In October, Lily and I were sent on assignment. We were to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic and see how much we could learn. This, of course, was all to tell us how much Voldemort's supporters could manage to find out. For months we kept a Disguising Charm on whenever we were out in public. Lily and James, everyone was told, were in Albania. For months we slipped around, absorbing as much as we could. Lily worked mostly in the Department of Mysteries, whereas I worked in the eating areas and listened to conversation. We learned from this test (which was never revealed to the Minister) that even the most innocuous conversation could have deadly consequences if heard by the wrong people.
And of course, it was in October that Lily met me in the kitchen, slipped her arm around me, and said, simply, "I'm pregnant."
On 31 July, sitting next to my wife in St. Mungo's, I held my son for the first time.
"Look, James," said Lily, laughing, "he has your hair."
"And your eyes," I responded, staring at this tiny creature who was somehow both of us, and yet himself.
"You're beautiful," I murmured.
"Who? Me or the baby?"
"Both," I responded, and kissed her.
The baby in my arms began to make little whimpering noises, and we drew apart.
"What should we name him?" asked Lily.
"I think you should decide, as you're the one who did all the work."
"Harry," she said, and smiled.
"Harry. I like it."
"Harry James Potter," she amended, her fingers intertwined with mine.
She leaned closer to Harry, exhaustion clearly showing on her face, and yet joy radiating through.
"Welcome to the world."
"Your best chance is the Fidelius Charm," Dumbledore told us solemnly. "He is looking for you, and he always finds what he is looking for."
"Sirius," I said firmly. Dumbledore hesitated.
"I think perhaps it would be better if I were your Secret-Keeper."
"We couldn't ask you to do that," Lily interrupted, "you're doing too much already. We trust Sirius. He'll be our Secret-Keeper." Dumbledore sighed.
"As you wish."
And now, as I am yelling in a voice I hardly recognize as my own –
"Take Harry and run! I'll hold him off!" – I know that what I told Dumbledore is true. We are not afraid.
Beams breaking, high, cold laughter, light flashing through the room – Harry's cries – it cannot be, I told myself. This isn't happening.
"Lily, RUN!" I screamed.
A colorless face, lidless eyes, a wand being raised –
A female voice –
"JAMES!"
Green light erupts.
In the midst of the chaos erupting, I am slowly sinking, sinking, sinking –
There is only black. Whispers are streaming through my ears, memories I don't recognize –
Death is standing above me –
There is not a word of fear.