Prophecy Baby
A few weeks before Harry James Potter's first birthday, Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore rather pensively consumed a Muggle sweet known as a lemon drop. Two visitors—brave, athletic Frank Longbottom and his sweet young wife, Alice—had just left; and he was expecting more visitors, to whom he must give even more unwelcome news.
Albus Dumbledore had known James Potter and Lily Evans since they first arrived at Hogwarts—where both were immediately Sorted into Gryffindor. He had witnessed Lily's friendship with Slytherin Severus Snape, in spite of all odds; he had disciplined Snape and Black after a certain incident involving the Whomping Willow tree in their fifth year; he had deliberately made Miss Evans Head Girl (for which position she was more than qualified) and Mr. Potter Head Boy (for which position he met most minimum requirements). There followed the inevitable sequel: they were married shortly after being inducted into his own Order of the Phoenix. Consequently, he was rather proud, and certainly proprietary, of the Potters. The news he must give them pained him deeply, and he could only trust they would take every precaution.
"Sometimes, Fawkes," he murmured to the phoenix perched on the door to his office, "I hate this war."
A knock sounded upon the door, and James and Lily Potter entered. James was looking serious, and far less carefree than during his school days. His black hair continued to stick up in the back, but it seemed less defiant and more wilted than usual. Lily, though no less beautiful, looked older. There were large circles under her eyes, and her rich red hair seemed too heavy for her face. It was clear that the war was having its inevitable effect on these brave young people.
"James, Lily," Albus welcomed them, his heart heavy with the information he must give them. "Sit down."
"What's this all about, Professor?" James asked politely.
"I've called the two of you here because it has…come to my attention…that Voldemort believes a certain prophecy made to me a year and a half ago, approximately, refers to your son."
"Our son?"
"What prophecy?"
"Allow me to start from the beginning," Albus sighed. "Upon Professor Zelenko's retirement from the post of Divination teacher, I was disinclined to allow the subject to continue, as true Seeing is rare, and chancy at best. However, I received an application from the great-granddaughter of a very famous Seer, and I felt common civility obliged me to meet her. I was just about to depart our meeting and inform her that, regretfully, I would not be adding a Divination teacher to my staff at this time, when she went into a trance, and uttered a rather stunning prophecy. Before she was entirely finished, there was a commotion outside, and a young man was revealed to have been listening to our conversation. Precisely how much he heard I am uncertain, but that he relayed it to his master, Lord Voldemort, there can be no doubt. At first, I was uncertain as to whom the prophecy referred, but gradually my inquiries and educated guesswork have narrowed the possible candidates down: the individual in question is either young Neville Longbottom, or your son, Harry."
"What does Harry have to do with some ridiculous prophecy?" James demanded. "Professor, they're all bunk; you know that!"
"What does the prophecy say?" Lily asked quietly. Albus, glancing at her, ascertained that she was making a praiseworthy effort to keep her none-too-amiable temper in check, and thought it wisest to capitulate.
"Allow me to show you," he said, pulling out his Pensieve and giving the silvery thoughts inside a twirl. A figure, cloaked in multiple shawls and wearing glasses that seemed to magnify her eyes, appeared and began to speak:
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
She finished, and vanished once more into the Pensieve. Albus placed it out of the way on a shelf behind him, and leaned back in his chair to observe his guests' reactions.
"And that means—Harry?" asked Lily, white-faced.
"It doesn't make any sense!" objected James. "'Power the Dark Lord knows not'—like what? That would be incredibly useful, if we had it! Have we thrice defied him? One loses track—this can't be happening! Are you positive it's talking about my son? What can we do?"
"I strongly suggest that you go into deeper hiding—" began Albus.
"Wait!" Lily interrupted. "You knew this—for a year and a half? And we're only just hearing about it now? Who are you?! My son is in terrible danger! How do you know it's him this prophecy's referring to, anyway? You said yourself it might be Alice's son. Well? Explain more, Professor." She glared.
Albus took up the thread of his tale once again. "Naturally, I didn't wish to worry you or the Longbottoms unduly—"
Lily snorted. James nudged her gently, and she subsided into sullen silence.
"—before we had fully ascertained to whom the prophecy referred. Voldemort has similarly been looking for the answer to this riddle. Recently, I received the information that Voldemort has decided the prophecy refers to your son. Neville Longbottom is also a potential candidate for the terms of the prophecy, but Voldemort's preference is clearly the clinching factor. Therefore, I urge you to go into hiding. I myself offer my services as Secret-Keeper."
"Thanks, Professor," said James abstractedly. "But I've already got someone in mind. Sirius would never betray us. Let's go, Lily: the longer it takes to set up the enchantment, the longer Harry remains more or less unprotected. Excuse us, Professor." He got up, and Lily rose also, uncertainly.
"Thanks for everything, Professor," said James, pulling Lily's arm. "Oh, before I forget!" he paused. "You said at the last Order meeting, that Voldemort might be looking for unusual objects. Well, I've got one—sort of a family heirloom! Next meeting I remember, I'll bring the Cloak, and you can take a look at it! Well, stay safe!" James headed for the door, bringing Lily with him, but she stopped at the threshold.
"You go on, sweetheart—I'll just be a minute," she assured him. He gave her a puzzled look, but left, shutting the door behind him.
Albus was left confronting Lily. Much to his chagrin, a slight embarrassment entered his manner. It would have profoundly shocked his many admirers (and still more his no less numerous detractors) to know that he of the x-raying blue gaze cringed before the piercing green eyes of young Lily Sunshine Evans Potter. She fixed those magnificent eyes on his, and drew a steadying breath.
"Professor, I need you to tell me the truth: who told you that Voldemort reckons that prophecy is about my son?"
"I really can't…I mean, that's confidential information, I'm afraid, Mrs. Potter," said Albus rather uncomfortably.
"I don't care!" cried Lily. "If you'll forgive my plain speaking, Professor, your mistakes have put my son in danger! If you had told James and me about this a year and a half ago—and everyone in the Order, for that matter!—we might have known better than to defy Voldemort that last time! I knew that was a mistake! There's bravery, and then there's just plain stupidity, as I'm sure you know! And, I should hope that next time, you will know better than to attempt to conceal from another concerned mother the dangerous state in which her child may be lying! I don't care about confidentiality—I just need to know! Tell me the truth!" Her last words were uttered with a ringing force rather familiar to Albus Dumbledore—though in quite a different context.
"Why do you wish to know?" he inquired softly. He had his suspicions, of course, though what to do if they were confirmed—! Well! He hoped he was as tolerant as the next man—or rather more so—but to have all his beautiful match-making plans overset might be too much! At such a time, too! He waited, curious. Would she divulge her true reason for seeking this confidential information?
Lily looked down at her hands. They were long, beautifully shaped, and encased in elegant gloves of a pale green. "Because," she began, looking up again. "Because…someone very dear to me is in a position which…lends itself to knowledge of Voldemort's movements. I believe…I may owe him a debt, which—not that I—but that doesn't signify. Please understand, Professor, I would do anything to protect my son. Is it too much to ask for the name of one who may have…saved his life?"
Reflecting that this assertion could well be premature, Albus studied Lily curiously. Her eyes had lost some of the dullness of the beginning of the interview. Clearly this meant a great deal to her.
At that moment, the door banged open, breaking the contemplative silence. James seemed to fill the doorway—a handsome young man with a good deal of vitality, Albus reflected. Surely Lily could not prefer a certain sullen, depressed young man to this vision—!
"Lily, we have to go! Come on!" said James impatiently, before retreating to the staircase. Lily pulled the door shut, leaning against it.
"Well?"
"Severus Snape."
Lily took a deep breath; her eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Professor," she whispered reverently. "Oh, Sev—!" she breathed, and happiness seemed to radiate from her. Then some thought occurred to her, and her entire face seemed to shut down to a customary masklike expression. "I should go," she said mechanically, and opened the door.
"Finally!" Albus heard James mutter as they left. "What was that all about, anyway?"
If Lily replied, her excuse was lost as the spiral staircase took the young couple downward. Albus marveled at what he'd witnessed, but thought it wisest not to share Lily's extraordinary reaction with his informant. After all, it could still be some sort of trick, Severus's reformation (though Albus didn't believe that for a second) and he had no desire to serve James Potter such a backhanded turn.
"Well," he murmured to Fawkes, "Let us hope for harmony and safety in the Potter household."
Fawkes tilted his head, and gave Albus a speculative look.
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Note: quote is from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix chapter 37.
