Hey, it's me, Lauren, again. Juneaua's actually going to write the next chapter, so be prepared for something stellar (stellar is my new favorite word). She edited this one, too, so it'll probably have fewer mistakes than the last one. Anywho, sorry for the delay. School, you know… In fact, I really should be doing my math homework or finishing my Spanish packet, but… this, quite frankly, is far more enjoyable. Big surprise, I know.

Chapter 8

The purposes of the Moonstone Potion are twofold: firstly, it serves to reduce the symptoms of a wide variety of irreversible hexes, and secondly, it gives the drinker a temporary—

There was a sharp rap on the window. James blinked distractedly and glanced up from the paper on the correlation between spells and potions that he was supposed to be familiarizing himself with to see a large, regal-looking owl staring imperiously down at him from the sill. With a sigh that very clearly said that he did not want to get up from where he was seated, he crossed to the window, pushed it open with a grumble of dissatisfaction as the cold night air swept across his face, and waited impatiently while the owl stepped inside and offered him its leg. The envelope it bore was small, containing a note whose brevity made it very insistent.

Please come to my office as soon as you receive this message.

Even if James had not recognized the loopy handwriting, the cryptic anonymity of the words screamed Albus Dumbledore. He let out a groan—why tonight of all nights? He had put off reading this paper for a week now, too absorbed with Lily to pay it any heed, and tomorrow he was scheduled for a practical application examination with an honorary St. Mungo's healer. If he did not pass it, he would be moved back nearly a month in his training. He sat down dejectedly, considering simply ignoring the message until tomorrow. The owl, however, seeming to read his mind, shot him a look so reminiscent of his mother that he let out a resigned sigh and went to find his cloak.

Minutes later found him standing outside the gates to the majestic Hogwarts castle. The stars twinkled brightly overhead, and James experienced a strange sense of levity that he only ever felt under two other circumstances: when he was truly at peace or when he was with Lily. Even the solemn faces of the two aurors that stood outside the gate could not quell the lightheartedness that had come upon him. He showed them the note that Dumbledore had sent, which they checked for forgery with some sort of Anti-concealment charm, and then they let him through. He found his way through the familiar hallways—empty this late at night, with all the students in bed—to the stone gargoyle that stood guard at the entrance to the Headmasters' office, where he had been many times for varying degrees of troublemaking. To his utter amazement, he felt tears welling up in his throat; he had not realized until now how much he missed this castle.

"Fizzing Whizbee," he said automatically. Only when it remained unmoving did it occur to him that the password had changed since his seventh year.

"Er… Droobles' Best Blowing Gum. Acid pops. Cockroach clusters… ugh, no, not even Dumbledore would like those… Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans. How 'bout… Chocolate Frogs?"

The stone gargoyle came to life and sprang aside. "Excellent," James breathed, stepping onto the well-worn stone staircase and ascending to the top. He lifted the heavy brass knocker and rapped it three times against the door.

"Please come in," said a deep voice that James recognized very well. The door swung open of its own accord, allowing him to enter the circular office.

To James's surprise, Sirius was seated in one of the chairs across from the desk. His best friend grinned up at him and shrugged at his questioning look.

Dumbledore was seated exactly where he was always seated: behind his desk. His long, slender fingers were steepled beneath his chin, and those piercing blue eyes twinkled at him from beneath the usual half-moon spectacles. He was exactly the same as he had been when James had been in school: they could be here to deal with another prank that he had pulled. They say that the only thing constant is change, he thought with the shadow of a smile, but they're wrong.

James sat in the chair beside Sirius and looked up expectantly at Dumbledore, who was silent for a few moments before speaking. When he did, his voice was grave and his face heavy.

"Half an hour ago," he said slowly, "Lord Voldemort dealt us a very heavy blow."

Sirius and James exchanged a nervous glance.

"He located and acquired something that contains all he could possibly want to know concerning the making of a Sorcerer's Stone—I assume, as one of you is training to be an auror and the other a healer, you both know what that is—killed its owner, and disappeared."

James felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. "The—the Sorcerer's stone?" repeated hoarsely.

"Allow me to start from the beginning," Dumbledore said, nodding solemnly. "I believe you are both acquainted with Caradoc Dearborn?"

James nodded. "Lily's teacher."

"Indeed." He paused, surveying the pair over the tips of his fingers. "He was killed an hour ago in an attack on his house." James sucked in a sharp breath, and Sirius' fists clenched in his lap. "Voldemort and a handful of his supporters slipped past the guard of Order members and attacked him. They tried to force his knowledge from his mind, but he is far too good an Occlumens to allow anyone to penetrate it. I believe they tried torture, which also failed, so in the end, they simply killed him and took his journal."

"Let me guess…" Sirius moaned.

"Which," Dumbledore said, nodding his head gravely, "contains everything that Caradoc knew about the alchemy and magic involved in making a sorcerer's stone.

James groaned, and Sirius closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "So basically… we've just lost any hope of defeating him."

Dumbledore held up a finger. "Not quite, Sirius. You see, Caradoc always used a very complex code for everything he wrote precisely in case of a situation like this. That journal, aside from being magically sealed with every charm he knew—which was a considerably large number—is written in a practically unbreakable cipher invented by him, and thus unknown to anyone else. Voldemort, however, has never been daunted by the impossible, so he will find a way to read it: therefore, the question lies in how long it will take him. You can rest assured that he will begin immediately, and I doubt it will take him longer than a week to crack."

When he did not continue, James prompted, "What did you want to see us for, then?"

"We need to get that journal back."

Sirius sat up straight, a new light suddenly flaring in his eyes. "You want us to find it."

"Yes indeed. The two of you fulfill several very vital requirements: you have been to Lord Voldemort's headquarters before, as I'm sure you remember better than I. You are both young enough to be in peak physical condition. And your chosen professions—one an auror, the other a healer—can only help you. So, I have a question for the two of you: will you do this?"

Sirius was nodding before the question was out of Dumbledore's mouth, but James hesitated. When the headmaster turned to him for a confirmation, he could only stammer, "I—I need… I…"

Two weeks ago, he would have jumped at the chance. But now he knew Lily's real feelings. She was terrified that one of them would die before their wedding day, still two weeks away, and James was determined not to put himself in harm's way if only for that reason. He could not bring himself to hurt the woman he loved.

"I—I don't think I can," he muttered finally.

Sirius gazed at him in bewildered amazement, but Dumbledore didn't even blink, as though he had been expecting it (which, James thought, knowing Dumbledore, he probably had).

"James Potter," he said softly, gazing at him over his spectacles, "I've thought long and hard—as long, at least, as an hour's time will permit—about whom I should send to retrieve the journal. I know why you hesitate, and were it not so imperative that we get it, I would not ask you to risk your life. But think about this: no one in the Order can work together as flawlessly as you and Sirius because you know each other so well. You are two of the only ones that I believe have a chance of retrieving Caradoc's journal. If we fail to get it back, you will live until your marriage, but there will not be much of a world to live in. I would never try to force you to do anything, James, and even if I tried, I do not believe I could. I simply ask that you to think about it before you reject it."

James glanced at Sirius, who was still looking utterly bemused, and then back at Dumbledore. He let out a long breath. "I'll do it."


"Lily?"

James stood outside the door of her apartment. There were sounds of someone moving around inside, and then her voice came, muffled through the door. "James?"

James was shocked: it was obvious despite the barrier between them that she was crying. He debated asking her what was wrong, but he had promised Sirius he would be gone no more than five minutes. He swallowed hard. "Lily, I have something to tell you."

There was a sob from inside. "It's bad news, isn't it?"

"Will you open the door?" he asked gently.

"Tell me first."

He tried the knob; it was locked. "Lily," he pleaded, "I want to talk to you."

"Tell me what it is you came to tell me, then I'll decide whether I'm going to let you in."

James glanced around as though desperate for someone to help him reason with her. When no one appeared, he let out a long breath and leaned his back against the door. "I love you," he whispered, and then, so she could hear, he said it louder: "I love you, Lily." He heard her let out a heart-wrenching sob, and it suddenly hit him; she was crying because Caradoc Dearborn—her teacher, her mentor, and her friend—had been murdered. There was no other explanation. "Oh, Lily," he said, shaking his head miserably, "I'm—I'm so, so sorry. I didn't realize that Caradoc—I mean...I—I've been insensitive… what can I say?"

"You can say that you're not going to do what you came here to tell me you're going to do."

"How do you—"

"How do I know?" Her derisive laugh bordered on hysteria. "It's obvious, isn't it? Caradoc dies; it must have been for his alchemy secrets. You-Know-Who got his alchemy secrets, and someone has to go get them from him. Then you show up at my door and say that you have to 'tell me something.' I'm not an idiot, James. I can put two and two together."

James sank to the ground, leaning his head back in despair. "Lily, look, I promised Dumbledore—"

"You promised me!" she sobbed. "You promised that you loved me!"

"I do, of course I do—"

"Then don't," she choked, letting out a strangled sob, "don't hurt me. Please, James, don't hurt me."

"That's the last thing I want to do, Lily. I don't want to hurt you."

"What if you were injured? What if you died?"

"I'm not going to die, Lily, I promise, open the door—"

"You can't promise that!" she screamed. "Don't you dare try to promise me that!"

Utterly bewildered, James said weakly, "Don't promise you that?"

"There's no way to guarantee you won't be killed, James," she spat, "so don't try to pretend there is. The best you can do is to stay out of harm's way, and here you go, gallivanting right across You-Know-Who's path."

"Lily, someone has to—"

"Then let it be someone else!" she sobbed, and James, feeling his heart throb painfully, could picture her on the other side of the door, knees pulled up to her chest, red curls plastered to her face, beautiful green eyes shining with tears.

"Lily," he said, and his voice broke. "Lily, please believe me, I don't want to hurt you. I promise, I swear with every fiber of my being, we will both live until our wedding day."

Her words were barely audible. "Then don't do this. Please, James. Don't do this."

There was a cracking sound, and Sirius appeared out of thin air. Displaying an unusual amount of shrewdness in his assessment of the situation, he swallowed. "Not taking it well, is she?" he said softly.

"Who's out there?" Lily demanded.

"Unlock the door and you'll see," Sirius said loudly.

"Go away, Sirius," she snapped.

Sirius made a noise in imitation of an angry cat and turned his back on the door. "We've gotta go, James."

"Just… just give me another minute." He stood up and pressed his forehead against the door, as though trying to reach through it with his mind—with his heart. "Lily, love, please understand me—I love you. I love you to the ends of the universe and beyond. I am not fighting for the world, Lily; I am fighting for you. I am fighting so that we can be live without terrorizing fear hanging over us every second of our lives, so that we can bring children into a world that will be safe for them to live in, so that we can raise a family in peace. If I don't go, how will I ever be able to face my own children when they have nothing but a bleak future to look forward to because I didn't fight to win a better one for them?"

"James…" she sobbed.

Sirius was tugging on his sleeve. "We need to go, mate," he said urgently.

"Lily, I'm sorry for the pain I'm causing you, but I have—I have to go. I—I love you, Lily. I love you—"

Sirius was pulling him away, getting ready to Apparate.

"I love you."

Inside her dark apartment, crying silently into her hands, Lily heard the telltale crack and let out a strangled sob. It was too late for him to hear, but it didn't matter. "I love you, James," she whispered.