DISCLAIMER
This story is in no way associated with, or makes any claim to, Harry Potter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any other fandom/celebrity/anything else you may recognize. It all belongs to their respective owners. No money is being made from this story which is purely written for entertainment.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas
31 October
Peter's heart beat furiously against his ribcage as he stared up at the imposing doors leading to the Dark Lord's throne room. They had always been imposing, he supposed, but tonight they were even more so.
Suddenly, Peter noticed he was shaking and he quickly clenched his trembling fists and took several deep breaths to try and calm himself down. This was the point of no return for him, he realised. Not when he had sworn fealty to the Dark Lord and taken the Dark Mark, not when he'd made his first kill, or when he'd sold out the locations of various Order members, but right here, right now.
Even whilst being a Death Eater, and getting more deeply involved in the Dark Lord's operations, Peter felt he'd still done his best to continue his friendship with at least Remus, Sirius and James, and even tried to keep them somewhat safe. But now...
Peter's stomach clenched. The knowledge he now held spelled certain doom for at least James, Lily and their son, should he choose to divulge it. And how could he not? The Dark Lord would find out eventually, anyway. And then he would die too, for not telling his Master immediately. He had already kept his silence for a whole week, which was risky enough. He had no choice.
He cared about Lily and James, sure – once, he'd even idolised James – but the truth was, this was war, and above all else, Peter was a survivor. Besides, he rationalised, this wasn't even his fault. It hadn't been his choice to become the Secret-Keeper – Sirius had decided for him, even if Peter had, half on purpose, led him to that decision. It wasn't his fault Sirius was stupid enough to not realise that. His mind made up, Peter knocked on the heavy doors – once, twice – before stepping inside, the doors closing behind him with a foreboding sound.
Peter steeled his heart as he walked up to the Dark Lord's throne, his head held high, until it became time to kneel before it. "My Lord... I bring joyous news." He swallowed. "The Potter's have hidden under the Fidelius Charm, and chose me to be their Secret Keeper." He raised his watery eyes to the Dark Lord's. "The location of their home is yours, my Lord...should you want it," he finished hesitantly.
The Dark Lord stared into Peter's eyes for several long moments, as if he was hesitant to believe Peter was telling him the truth. And then, his lips curled upwards and he began to laugh, his voice high and cackling, filled with delight - and victory.
If Peter still held out any hope that his Master was no longer interested in killing the Potters, it disappeared in that moment. He prepared to steel his heart again, but it proved unnecessary. The guilt he'd expected to feel didn't come. And why should it? It wasn't his fault his friends constantly chose to put themselves in harm's way, thereby gaining the Dark Lord's attention. Hadn't James and Lily brought this on themselves, by constantly opposing and defying the Dark Lord? They could have done the smart thing, and bowed out of the fight, he reflected after several moments of listening to his Master's laugh.
They were his friends, but they were also his enemies. War demanded sacrifice, actions had consequences and history was written by the winners. Peter planned to be one of them. Anything else was unthinkable, he thought, as the Dark Lord gestured for him to rise, and stood. Basking in his Master's words of praise, Peter's head rose another fraction. It was over. He had done what was necessary. He felt no regret. Nor happiness, really. Just...cold emptiness.
Sirius parked his motorcycle and approached the Pettigrew house. When he'd gone over to Godric's Hollow yesterday for a brief visit, he'd promised both Lily and James to check on Peter before he went into hiding to trick the Death Eaters and Voldemort into going after him, just to see he was holding up. Lily had once again, just like she had the day they cast the charm, pointed out that Peter didn't do well under pressure and thought it was their responsibility to make sure he was alright.
"Hi, Mrs. Pettigrew!" Sirius said, a bright, charming grin on his face as the door to the Pettigrew house was opened by Peter's mother. Sirius still couldn't believe Peter had decided to move back to live with his mother after Samantha's death, especially since Peter always complained about how overbearing she could be. "Is Peter home?"
"Oh, no, I'm afraid not," Mrs. Pettigrew answered and Sirius' smiled slipped from his face. "He hasn't been by for days. He rarely sleeps in his own bed anymore." She sounded a little rueful.
"Oh." Sirius blinked. "Well, maybe he's over at his girlfriend's house, then."
Mrs. Pettigrew looked astonished. "His girlfriend? I thought she offed herself."
Sirius flinched at that rather callous remark about Samantha, even if it was true. "No, not Samantha. Claire? They've been together for over two years...?" he trailed off, hoping to see recognition in Mrs. Pettigrew's face, but the woman looked completely bewildered. Sirius began to have a horrible feeling in his gut.
"Well, he certainly hasn't told me about this girlfriend!" She huffed, sounding very offended.
Sirius' bad feeling increased ten-fold. "Well, she is a muggle," he said weakly, trying to find a logical excuse. Mrs. Pettigrew was very traditional...perhaps that was the reason Peter hadn't told her. Mrs. Pettigrew huffed again. "H-how often is Peter gone?" Sirius asked, swallowing.
Mrs. Pettigrew let an eyebrow rise. "Most nights," she finally said. "Most days. He lives here, but he doesn't live here. If the reason for that is because he's been living in sin with his secret muggle girlfriend somewhere, he is certainly going to get it when he gets home! I've raised him better than that!"
Sirius smiled weakly, his stomach dropping like stone. "Well, if he's not here, I better be on my way."
"When you see him, let him know I expect him to give me an explanation promptly!" Mrs. Pettigrew called after him as Sirius left the porch and climbed onto his bike, taking to the air. "And is that bike registered with the Ministry, young man?" She added with a shout, but Sirius ignored her, already going full speed in the direction of Godric's Hollow.
"Do you want to see a trick, Harry?" James asked, holding up his wand, which made his son try to reach for the wand with his chubby hands. Chuckling, James nodded. "I'll take that as a yes." Waving his wand, he made puffs of smoke in different colours erupt from the tip, and Harry laughed. Bouncing on the sofa, he tried to grab the smoke in his small fists, looking quite put out when it dissolved on contact, which made James laugh.
The door to the sitting room opened, and Lily stepped inside, her dark red hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, framing her face. "I think it's time for bed now, Harry," she said, smiling at her son: he looked too cute for words in his blue pyjama and messy, dark hair, his green eyes bright. Carefully, James scooped him up and placed him in Lily's gentle arms, placing a kiss on her cheek before he ruffled up Harry's hair. "Goodnight, Bambi," he said, winking.
Lily rolled her eyes and, as she began to exit them room, James yawned widely, stretched out his muscles and threw his wand down upon the sofa, while staring appreciatively at Lily's backside.
Suddenly, the outer door exploded inwards in a loud explosion of debris and light. Both James and Lily spun around, eyes wide in shock and terror.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off," James yelled, pushing a protesting Lily out of the sitting room, before sprinting towards the hall to the sound of his wife's footsteps disappearing up the stairs.
Inwardly, James cursed himself for leaving his wand so carelessly, for allowing himself to grow complacent while under the safety of the Fidelius Charm, which, apparently, wasn't so safe. More fool he. He really should have known better, especially after the years he'd spent under Mad-Eye, listening to the paranoid Auror drilling the phrase 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE' into his head. But wandless or not, he would still fight.
"Avada Kedavra!" Coming face to face with Voldemort himself, James eyes widened a fraction before his well-honed reflexes kicked in and he threw himself sideways, the killing curse missing him by a hair's breadth. James knew that the only reason he'd been able to avoid the green light at all was because of Buffy's teachings, which had improved his physical prowess and reaction time considerably. He threw the Slayer a silent 'thanks' in his mind, glad that she had insisted on a physical training regime for the Order.
However, James was unable to duck the silent curse that came a second later, splitting open a large searing gap in his thigh that immediately began to bleed heavily. It seemed as though Voldemort had learnt his lesson of not taking victory against the Potters for granted, since he was clearly not interested in gloatingthis time around.
Barely able to duck another killing curse, James made his way back into the sitting room, throwing himself down behind the sofa, grabbing his wand in the process. A second later, the sofa was blown to pieces, leaving him exposed and James ducked into a forward roll, sending off a silent - borderline dark - curse, which the Dark Lord neatly sidestepped, seemingly bored. "What did you do to Peter you son of a bitch?" James spat as he got to his feet, slowly backing away to increase the distance between him and Voldemort.
Voldemort let an eyebrow rise. "I'm not certain what you mean," he said smoothly. "I didn't do anything to him." James furious look faltered as a feeling of dread rose. "In fact," Voldemort continued, "Peter was quite happy to divulge all the information I needed."
"And how many hours of torture did that take?" James asked through gritted teeth.
"Oh, none at all," Voldemort sounded almost surprised. "I'm not in the habit of torturing my followers." He smirked. "Well, not as much as my enemies, at least."
James heart came to a stop. No. It couldn't be. Peter wouldn't have.
Loyalty was one of the qualities James valued the most in people, in himself: his unconditional belief in his friends was one of the traits he was most proud of. It was that devotion that made him defend Remus when Sirius believed him to be the traitor. It was that trust that made him and Lily choose Sirius, and then Peter, as Secret Keeper, instead of Dumbledore.
To James, if it came down to it, laying down his life for his friends and family was the natural course of things. That he would die rather than betray or abandon them was, to him, obvious. That someone would willingly do that – that Peter would willingly do that - was beyond his understanding. "I don't believe you," James said through gritted teeth, clutching his wand tighter in his hand.
Voldemort laughed, his voice high-pitched and the sound cold and cruel, chilling James to the bones. "The truth hurts, does it not, Prongs?" the Dark Lord mocked. "But I assure you, I am not lying. What would I gain from it? Peter Pettigrew is, I assure you, a Death Eater."
James still didn't want to believe it. It was mindboggling. But it made so much sense. Peter's strange absences, Peter's muggle girlfriend that they never got to meet, Peter beginning to wear long sleeves all the time, Peter always mysteriously missing from major places of attack or getting himself knocked out early on...
And now, the Fidelius: broken when the only way of breaking it was for the Secret Keeper to willingly divulge the secret. Peter was the spy. James inhaled sharply as the realisation finally hit home, like a stinging punch to his chest. Peter was one of his best friends, someone he had trusted his life with – his family's life with – and he had sold them out. James could not deny the truth any longer.
How could they not have seen this? James let out a sharp chuckle of disbelief. Hindsight was all well and good, but it didn't help him now. Like a gullible fool James had trusted him without a second thought, because even the mere idea of a friend's betrayal was laughable. And now that blind trust had led to this. By trusting the wrong person, by trusting Peter Pettigrew, James might as well have hand-delivered his wife and son to Voldemort himself. If Lily and Harry died tonight, it would be his own damn fault. He was an idiot. They were all idiots.
Voldemort sounded quite pleased with himself as he continued: "He has been mine for years now, always so eager to please. Over-eager, one might say. So don't worry your pretty little head about your friend. He will be greatly rewarded."
Still half-lost in his feelings of betrayal, James completely missed Voldemort's next incantation: "CRUCIO!" The curse hit him straight on, James having been too late to duck the Unforgivable and he screamed as it felt like one thousand white-hot knives bore into his skin at once, falling to the floor at once as his legs failed him. As if in a daze, James heard the Dark Lord laughing.
Finally, finally, Voldemort lifted the curse but for several seconds, James could only lie there. Logically, he knew he had to get up, knew that there was nothing that kept Voldemort from killing him, right this second. Thankfully, he still had a grip, albeit a lose one, around his wand, and summoning his last strength he sent off a silent spell at a still laughing Dark Lord. Voldemort, with a look of shock on his face that would have looked comical if the situation hadn't been so dire, flew backwards with a jerk, giving James enough time to get back on his feet, legs trembling beneath him.
Gasping, James ran into the kitchen, knowing he had to buy time, for himself and for Lily and Harry. His entire body was still shaky from the exposure of the torture curse, his muscles spasming alarmingly. He knew his reaction time would be off, and that it was likely his normally perfect aim would be off as well, if the way his eyes occasionally blurred was any indication, not to mention his fingers, which were twitching alarmingly, making it difficult to keep a proper grip around his wand.
The Dark Lord, his facial expression one of utter fury, appeared in the doorway, and rather than shoot of a spell at the Dark Lord, James aimed his wand at the kitchen drawers. Sharp utensils flew out, aimed straight at Voldemort, who, with a flick off his wand made them all crash to the floor. "I tire of you, Potter," Voldemort spat, sending a curse which looked like a large bubble in his direction. Not particularly keen on finding out what it did, James ducked, swearing as his wobbly legs betrayed him and he lost his balance, falling ungracefully on his butt, luckily behind the table, out of the Dark Lord's reach, at least for a moment.
Flicking his wand at the chairs, they immediately transfigured themselves into large dogs, snapping at Voldemort with sharp, glistening teeth as they approached. As the Dark Lord disposed of them, James took a moment to catch his breath, slowly getting back to his feet, just as Voldemort banished the last dog.
"Why don't you just give up, Potter?" He asked silkily. "Why persist in the humiliation?"
James didn't answer. Instead, he stood waiting, body tense as he waited for the duel to commence. Finally, Voldemort shot off another spell, unfortunately one that took James by surprise, as it wasn't aimed at him, but rather at the kitchen table, which reared up, the flat surface smacking James in the face. Shocked, James raised his wand to blast it away from him, but not before it hit him again, his head knocked backwards, his neck cracking with a disquieting sound.
Gasping and dazed, James threw himself out of the other door, ending up on the other side of the living room where they'd begun their duel. This time, when Voldemort followed, he didn't waste time on more chit-chat, and James gritted his teeth in determination as he fought to block the sudden barrage of spells which were coming at him at a merciless speed. Finally, James found an opening.
BANG! James conjured up a long rope, made up entirely of crackling magical energy at Voldemort...BANG! The rope turned into a massive snake, rearing at James... BANG! The snake turned into a flaming whip...BANG! Voldemort dispelled the whip with a flick of his wand, sending a purple curse in his direction... James raised his wand and the curse was absorbed by shimmering protective shield... James dropped the shield and set off a powerful blast of air... Voldemort stumbled backwards, snarled, and sent off three letal curses in succession: James blocked the first, ducked the second, and summoned a piece of debris which got in the way of the third. The battle went on, Voldemort unfortunately advancing as they moved through the house, leaving destruction in their path due to the powerful magic flying around.
James gritted his teeth as he eventually ended up with his back to the stairs. Lily and Harry – unless they had gotten out already, and he unfortunately doubted it – were still on the upper floor. He couldn't let Voldemort get past him. But he also knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with the Dark Lord for much longer. James was more than aware that he was running on empty: only pure, stubborn will, a refusal to give up, was keeping him going. He was quickly losing blood, not to mention energy and ideas.
He and Lily had always faced Voldemort together. One distracting, one attacking: one on defence, one on offense. Two to take the fire, two to divert the attention, two to challenge Voldemort. James was under no illusions either of them would have survived so many encounters with him if they'd stood alone.
Like he was doing now.
"For what it's worth," Voldemort said slowly, "you have my respect for lasting this long. However, we both know how this night will end." Once again, he increased the speed and strength of spell casting. "It is useless to resist."
James clenched his jaw. Well, it wasn't like he was going to make it easy for him. Hopefully, his pure, dumb luck could keep him alive a little longer; buy Lily a few more seconds... He could only hope his actions would give her enough time to escape with Harry. As long as they lived, James knew his inevitable death would be worth it.
Voldemort's eyes blazed as James continued to block or avoid almost every curse sent at him, and he finally lost his temper. "Why won't you just die?!" he roared, and finally sent a spell at the floor, beneath James. The floorboards moved, breaking into splinters, and James was taken by surprise. "IMPERIO!"
James, unable to jump out of the way in time, was hit with the second unforgivable that evening. A strange, blissful sensation clouded James' mind and he stood, dazed, as all his worries and fear for his family left him. A strange, commanding voice in the back of his mind was telling him to give up. 'Turn your wand upon yourself…kill yourself…go on…in death, you will be free…'
James lifted his wand and pointed it at his chest and opened his mouth, the killing curse ready on his lips. 'Why should I?' Another voice suddenly appeared in his mind. 'Kill yourself! Now!' the first voice commanded. 'Isn't that a ridiculous thing to do?' the second voice scoffed. 'Think of Lily - think of Harry!' The thoughts on his wife and son brought James out of his stupor. 'DO IT!' the first voice yelled.
Reality hit James with full force and the fog in his brain dissipated, and instead of obeying, he sent off a powerful curse towards Voldemort. His aim was off, however, and the spell missed, hitting the wall behind the Dark Lord instead, and a large hole appeared. As the Dark Lord stared at James, apparently shocked that he'd managed to throw off the curse, James used the opportunity to send of another spell.
"EVERTE STATUM!" The spell hit the Dark Lord hard in the chest and he was sent flying for the second time that night, spinning in the air, and crashed into the already damaged wall behind him. James quickly followed up with an overpowered third spell: "BOMBARDA!" The Dark Lord was once again hit, and he flew back into the hall, going straight through the sitting room wall. Dust, splinters and dirt flew everywhere and clouded James' vision as he hesitantly moved away from the stairs and stepped into the destroyed neighbouring room, wand raised, his heart thumping madly against his chest.
He carefully walked across the broken plaster and furniture, looking around cautiously. He did not see the Dark Lord sneak up behind him, wand raised, a silent spell on his lips. When James finally noticed his presence as the Dark Lord stepped on a shard of glass, and he spun around, it was too late: the curse had already left Voldemort's wand, and James had no chance to block it. A streak of what looked like purple flame passed right across James chest, hitting his ribs, and he yelled in pain as he felt them break. Blood dripped from his abdomen and left a large circled red stain across his torn shirt and he fell to the floor in a pool of his own blood.
The Dark Lord laughed maniacally and easily disarmed him. It was over. He was going to he saw Voldemort enter their house, he'd known it: but he also knew that he'd go out fighting. He knew he'd lived his life to the fullest, and he supposed that now, he'd die as he'd lived – with a blast, and for his friends. For his family. For Lily. For Harry.
It is said that when you die, flashes of your life pass in front of your eyes: this was not true. James saw nothing of the sort. As Voldemort hurried away, moving towards the stairs, all James could think of was that he had to stop him, and he grabbed the hem of the Dark Lord's robes in a desperate last attempt to stop him, even though it would buy Lily seconds, at most. Hopefully, seconds was all she would need.
Infuriated, Voldemort stopped his advancement towards the stairs, and instead turned his wand upon James once again, even though he was already beaten. While the Dark Lord continued to curse and torture him, his body ending up broken, torn and bloodied, James barely felt the pain; he only felt satisfied that, by getting Voldemort to focus all his rage on him, he was hopefully buying Lily enough time...He could feel himself fade in and out of consciousness.
So much of his life had evolved around Lily Evans, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Yes, he had regrets – he wished that he would have shaped up sooner, that he hadn't been such a git to Snape (well, okay, that was stretching it). Maybe, if he had, they would have had more time together. But at the same time he knew that everything in his life, good and bad, had shaped him into who he was today: a best friend. A husband. A father. Someone willing to lay down his life for his wife and son. To him, it wasn't a sacrifice. It wasn't even a choice.
He had lived for Lily Evans. And now, he would die for her. For her, and their son. As it should be. Hopefully, it would be enough. Hopefully, while he was stalling Voldemort, Lily and Harry had gotten away. Hopefully he hadn't let them down. He loved them so much, and all he wanted was to keep them safe.
Voldemort had stopped cursing him now, and stared into his eyes. James gasped, having trouble breathing, and blood bubbled up his throat from deep inside his chest and lungs, and he couched, the red liquid gushing out as it filled his mouth. An overwhelming sense of dread filled him as the Dark Lord smirked darkly and kneeled beside him, his mouth close to his ear: "You have failed," he whispered, his voice melodic, hypnotising, barely a hiss. "You will die here, slowly, knowing your pathetic attempts to stop me have been useless. Your wife and child are not getting out of this house. There is no way out."
Slowly, deliberately, he dipped the long fingers on his left hand into the blood that had escaped James mouth, James eyes following his actions, staring, disgusted as he watched the Dark Lord licking the blood of his hand with his tongue, one finger at the time. "Potter blood...I wonder...will your son taste as good as you do?"
Dread and horror rose in James chest, and with a last burst of strength, he tried to move, his legs convulsing uselessly. "Hit a nerve, did I?" Voldemort asked, looking amused at his efforts. James eyes flashed with panic and anger, and he weakly managed to stretch out his right arm, fingers reaching desperately for his wand, several feet away, trying to silently summon it. Amusement fading, Voldemort glanced towards the wand, his thin lips curling as he noticed the wand twitching, slowly moving towards James. "Now, now," he admonished mockingly, "none of that." And then, he stood, putting all his weight on James' hand.
A cry of pain escaped James' mouth as he felt his fingers break, along with his control of the magic stretching outwards towards his wand. His eyes rolled back into his head as the weight on his hand increased, the tendons and fragile bones snapping. "No time in the world will be enough to save them," Voldemort sneered, his voice barely a whisper.
As James' vision finally blacked out, the last thing he could make out was Voldemort's back as he moved towards the stairs - towards Lily and Harry. Voldemort was right – he was a failure. The time he'd given them...he knew, it hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough. A single tear escaped his eyes as his lids closed, against his will, his life-blood slowly escaping his body from numerous wound, along with the pain, leaving only lethargy and emptiness in its wake. He was drifting...flying...floating. "I'm going to enjoy killing your son," the Dark Lord hissed.
Oblivion.
Darkness.
Lily trembled as she ran up the stairs and entered the nursery, Harry held tightly in her arms. Quickly, she closed the door behind her and carefully put Harry down in his cot. She gave him what she hoped was a comforting smile before she spun around, looking around the room, trying to figure out what to do. Below, she could already hear the sounds of battle, of James fighting for his – and their – life.
There was no floo upstairs. Apparating did not work. There was no way to escape. Lily ran over to the window and tried to force it open, but it was magically shut, just like all the other windows and doors. And she had left her wand downstairs. Somehow, Voldemort had sealed them inside, keeping them prisoner in their own home. Swallowing heavily, Lily grabbed a chair and threw it at the window with all her might, but the glass refused to break, while the chair splintered apart when it impacted – whatever wards Voldemort had put up, it was preventing her from breaking the glass.
"Oh, God." Lily let out a scream of angry denial and fear, terror filling her as she realised she and Harry were truly trapped. From below, she could hear the Dark Lord laughing. Had James been defeated? No, she could still hear the sounds of fighting, and the noise gave Lily comfort. James was still alive. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Lily somehow managed to pull herself together. There was no time for panic. Harry's life depended on her being able to keep him safe if Voldemort got past James.
She began to move another chair, and then some boxes, to barricade the door with, even though she knew it was useless – but she had to do something. Lily let out a sharp sob as she glanced at the cot. Harry was staring up at her with large green eyes from his position on his back. He was chewing on a corner of his blue blanket, some drool dribbling down the corner of his mouth.
"It's going to be alright, Harry," Lily whispered, though she knew she was lying. Carefully, she picked him up again, placing a trembling hand on the back of his head as she clutched him against her chest: his hair was already mirroring the mess of his father's, and his heartbeat, soft and calm against hers, was a comforting sound. "Mama loves you. So very much."
Her eyes closed in regret.
They'd been fools to trust unconditionally, fools to have no back-up plan, fools to have grown lax in their home even under the supposed safety of the Fidelius Charm, which had clearly broken, even though they'd whole-heartedly believed in their safety ensured by a friend.
Some friend he'd turned out to be.
More time passed. She could still hear the sounds of duelling, and she wished she could help. But all she could do was wait – the only way out seemed to be through the front door, which was currently unreachable. There was no escape from this. The floor shook beneath her feet as the spells exchanged between Voldemort and her husband thundered below. James...
Never had she thought she'd come to care about anyone – least of all him – as much as she loved James - and Harry, of course. Some would say she and James were too dissimilar to work as a couple, and perhaps they were right. In many ways, they were opposites. But though they were different, they were also the same: they completed each other, balanced each other out. James understood her, in a way no one did, in a way no one ever had, not even Severus, for all their years of friendship.
As a little girl, and new to the magical world, Severus had been her anchor. He'd been her best friend, but that had been when they were naive, innocent and unbroken, and not yet corrupted by the complications of real life, which had eventually led them down completely opposite roads. Slowly, the friendship had shattered as the boy she'd known slowly turned into a stranger before her eyes – as the darkness and bitterness inside him took over until there was almost nothing left of her best friend.
Finally turning her back on him was among the hardest things she'd ever done, but Severus made his choice, and it was one Lily could never understand, let alone support. But she had never given up on their friendship: she still believed that the boy she'd known was still in there and hoped Severus would realise it too - realise it was never too late to change.
The sounds from below stopped, and for a moment, Lily felt her heart stop. Then, she heard someone cry out – James – before everything fell ominously silent once more. Lily's heart started beating again, second after second going by as the stillness continued. Why was it so silent? Were they both dead? But no. She could hear footsteps now, slowly walking up the stairs. For a second, she dared to hope, that perhaps, against all odds, James had made it. After all, they had beaten the odds before, hadn't they? The small sense of hope was crushed as soon as it had come: the steps were too hard, too heavy, too foreboding. They weren't James'.
"Dada?" Harry asked, his green eyes wide as he grabbed onto her sweater. It was as if he somehow knew... Lily forced herself to smile bravely at him as she began to silently cry at the realisation her husband was gone.
"Daddy loves you too Harry," Lily whispered brokenly as she looked down at Harry, trying to memorise his every feature. He was a beautiful baby. The moment she'd set eyes on him, she'd fallen in love. She only wished she could have gotten the chance to see him grow up.
Looking back, Lily could see that before Buffy, before the marauders, before James, Lily's life had, in many ways, been rather empty. In her friends, in James, in Harry, she'd found her reason – her destiny – she'd found her family. And now, her little safe haven that she'd built with them was all but destroyed, her family ripped apart – and it was so unfair.
They'd had so little time.
She wasn't afraid to die. But she wasn't ready either. She had barely lived: she had so many things she still wanted to do, to experience. She wished she and James and Harry would have had more moments, as a family, together. She wanted to show Harry Hogwarts and Diagon Alley and all the other amazing places in the Wizarding World. And it was amazing, despite the war, despite the terror it was currently under. She wanted to hold James again, to kiss him again, to tell him how much she loved him.
The door flew open, and with a lazy wave of his wand, the chair and the boxes were cast aside. Steeling herself, Lily put Harry back into the cot, standing in front of it protectively, arms outstretched, shielding him from view. "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"
Voldemort sneered at her. "Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside, now..."
"Not, Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead – " She knew it was unlikely, more than unlikely, that he'd listen, but she had to try: Lily felt no shame in begging Voldemort, not if it meant even the slightest chance he'd leave Harry alone. Logically, she knew that there was no stopping Voldemort from killing Harry once he'd killed her, but it didn't matter. She had to try, had to do everything in her power, including beseeching Voldemort himself, including praying for a miracle.
"This is my last warning – " Voldemort said, his voice nothing but a terrifying hiss, but Lily barely heard him. All she could think of was Harry, his safety, his life.
She kept pleading: Harry had to live. "Not Harry! Please...have mercy...have mercy... Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything – "
"Stand aside – stand aside, girl –"
Absently, Lily wondered why Voldemort was giving her so many chances to stand aside in the first place, but she didn't care. She was not moving from this spot. Harry had to live.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
A familiar green light was streaming in her direction, filling the room, and yet, Lily didn't move. She closed her eyes.
If Harry lived, it would all be worth it. If Harry lived, it would –
Lily's body had barely hit the floor before Voldemort advanced, stepping over her carelessly. "Pathetic," he sneered down at the empty green eyes, before he turned to the cot, looking down at the child within.
Harry Potter, at long last.
The baby was utterly silent, standing up in his cot, clutching the bars and his eyes – identical to his mother's – staring straight at Voldemort. There was no fear there, only curiosity, a kind of bright interest. For a second, the Dark Lord felt a flicker of...something. Shrugging it off, he pointed the wand very carefully into the boy's face, nothing but coldness in his red eyes.
The baby – his supposed downfall (and wasn't that laughable?) - began to cry, at last, as if he could sense something was wrong.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" The green light of the curse left his wand and struck the crying baby straight in the forehead.
The child screamed in pain – but then – Voldemort's eyes widened in shock as the curse rebounded off the baby's forehead and back towards him, hitting him straight in the chest with full force, and he broke. An inhuman scream left the Dark Lord as his body disintegrated into nothing, his spirit fleeing in a shriek of agony and fear.
The Fidelius Charm, broken with the death of Lily Potter, was gone, the house and the bodies inside, living and dead, flickering into existence. Everyone within viewing distance could see the magical backlash from the rebounding killing curse spread outwards, through walls, through windows, through the roof. The building became surrounded by a circle of green light before the right side of the top floor exploded with a loud sonic boom, leaving nothing but a large hole.
Everything grew still and silent, the green light dissipating away into nothingness. On top of a hill Peter Pettigrew stood in shock, having observed the scene. His first reaction was to transform, to flee – but then fear hit him. He didn't know what had happened. What if the Dark Lord was still alive? If that was the case, and he ran, You-Know-Who would kill him for leaving. But if he was alive, then Peter could help him – he would be rewarded beyond his wildest dreams, perhaps even become the right hand of the Dark Lord himself. He would finally be appreciated and worshipped.
The decision made for him, Peter hurried down the hill as fast as his legs could take him, across the street and into the house – he didn't even glance at James' still body – up the stairs and into the nursery. There was no sign of the Dark Lord, except for his wand and a pile of smoking robes that looked to have been burned into the floor, close to Lily's body. Averting his eyes, Peter quickly pocketed the wand and then left, without looking back, not noticing the very-much alive baby in the cot. Once outside, he promptly transformed into a rat, tucked his tail between his legs, and ran.
Amelia Bones yawned deeply as she finalised another piece of paperwork. Glancing at the clock, she noted with a little surprise, she realised it was nearly midnight. A little ruefully, she shook her head. Ever since her parents, brother, sister in law, and her two little nieces had been killed, she had worked even harder at the Ministry. She had always been a little bit of a workaholic, something that became even more apparent once the war started, but the death of most of her family had taken her commitment to new heights.
Unlike a lot of other people she knew, Amelia wasn't in it in the hopes of getting a promotion, though it would be nice if she got to take Crouch's spot eventually. She severely disliked her boss and his methods, not to mention the underhanded dealings he did that he didn't think she knew about. The Law Enforcement Office, more than any other department, needed to be free from corruption.
Deciding she might as well finish the rest of her paperwork, she stood up to grab a pepper-up potion (she was really abusing them, she thought musingly) to keep herself awake. Just as she took a sip, the fire flared up and Dumbledore's head appeared.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Amelia greeted respectfully. "What can I do for you?"
"The monitoring charm I keep on the Potter's home in Godric's Hollow has gone haywire. I fear Voldemort has attacked them."
Amelia paled. The Potters. She knew just as well as anyone about the way Lily and James Potter had stood against Voldemort. When she had heard from Moody that James had resigned from the Auror academy so he could go into hiding with his family, she had been baffled, and worried for his sake. And now, if Voldemort had attacked them, it seemed she had a reason to be.
"I see. I will send over Moody and Scrimgeour immediately to check it out with a team. What do you think they should expect?"
Dumbledore didn't answer and only gave her a sad look, and then vacated the fire.
Sirius' heart thumped wildly in his chest as he neared Godric's Hollow on his bike, hoping it was only paranoia that was causing his panic – that Peter had only gone for a walk, or was visiting Lily and James, or Remus and Buffy, or Claire… But inwardly, he knew the bad feeling in his chest was more than that. Peter was the spy in the Order. There was no Claire. There had never been a Claire. The muggle girlfriend no one got to see because she hadn't been told Peter was a wizard was just a convenient excuse that allowed him to be elsewhere without causing suspicion. All the pieces of the puzzle were falling together.
Sirius felt sick as he realised more instances, instances that had added to Sirius' suspicion of Remus – Remus, who was their friend, Remus who would feel more loyalty than anyone to his friends for all they'd done for him, for not abandoning him when they learnt of his lycanthropy (how could Sirius ever have suspected him?) - also somehow involved Peter.
All the times Peter had been knocked out early in a battle – Merlin, he'd been right next to Mandy when she was taken by Death Eaters, and yet, Sirius had blamed Remus, because everyone knew Peter wasn't a very good fighter so he couldn't help being taken out… All the times Peter had been plain absent from battle, like during the Quintapeds attack, or the time he'd excused himself from the Quidditch match when Michaela had met her death – had he known it would be attacked? Of course he'd known! He may have even been one of the people behind a mask!
Peter, who had always been the weakest of them, who had always been the ultimate follower, who even had a rat as an Animagus form. Peter, who couldn't hold Harry without him crying - had a baby realised what they hadn't? That Peter was a Death Eater? Merlin, they'd even left Harry alone with him!
Peter, whose girlfriend killed herself – oh Merlin, had Samantha known? Realised? Was that why she had committed suicide? Had it even been a suicide, or had Peter…? Sirius nearly threw up at the mere thought of Peter killing her. No. He couldn't possibly be that evil. But he obviously had no problem with leading Order members to their deaths. He must have been passing along information to Voldemort for months. Maybe years.
And now, Lily and James… The Fidelius charm… Peter's voice rang in Sirius' head: "It's rather obvious, isn't it? ... You're the most obvious choice." Had Peter realised the opportunity the Fidelius offered him, if he was made the Secet-Keeper? That he could hand Lily, James and Harry to Voldemort served on a silver platter? Had he planned it? Had he deliberately planted the seed of doubt in Sirius that made him come to the conclusion that they had to switch? Sirius didn't want to believe it. Peter had known them since first year; James had always been his friend, always stood up for him. And yet... If Peter hadn't planned it, if that sort of betrayal was too much, even for someone who had already betrayed everything and almost everyone else, why hadn't Peter said no?
Sirius was still a few kilometers away, when a flash of green light lit up the dark sky, coming from the direction of Godric's Hollow. For a second, he tried to tell himself that he was imagining it, that it was just his paranoia playing tricks on him…but then, a thunderous sonic boom reached his ears, deafening, despite the distance to the village, and he realised it was everything but. "No…nonononono…" Sirius increased the speed of his flying motorbike, willing it to go faster.
Finally, he reached the village and Sirius could do nothing but stare at the destruction he saw, horrified. The house Lily and James had lived in was nearly completely demolished, and several people from the village had gathered in front of it. No one even noticed Sirius landing, they were so busy whispering:
"…The house just showed up out of nowhere…"
"…I know! I saw the light and then the house appeared…"
"The Potters live there – I just remembered…but no one could have survived that…"
"I had forgotten the house even existed…"
The Fidelius charm was broken.
Sinking to his knees, for a whole minute, Sirius could only stare at the building, his entire body shaking as he wished for a miracle: wished that James and Lily would come out, unharmed… His eyes widened in shock and hope when he heard a baby's cry and a large shadow appeared in the doorway.
Sirius stumbled to his feet, pushing past the gossiping villagers. "Harry!" He abruptly came to a stop right in front of the house when he saw the shadow hadn't been Lily or James, like he thought, but Hagrid. "Hagrid…what are you doing here? Is that Harry?! Harry's alive!"
Hagrid nodded, sobbing large tears, nearly as loud as Harry. "Jus' got him outta the ruins…" Hagrid managed to get out. "Poor little thing…an orphan now… Dumbledore somehow knew when it happened…great man, Dumbledore…told me to come here…"
"Lily and James are dead?" Sirius asked, his face white. He had known they were…as soon as he saw the house…but to hear it.
Hagrid nodded, sniffing loudly. "I know James was yer best friend, Sirius. I am so sorry…so sorry…" he burst out into new loud tears: it was hard to tell who was loudest, him or Harry. Hagrid pulled Sirius close, patting him on the head with one of his large hands in what was meant to be a consoling gesture. "I'm so sorry…Lily an' James…good people…good people…" Sirius barely noticed Hagrid's attempts at comfort, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Peter had to pay…but he had to make sure Harry was alright first.
"Let me see Harry, Hagrid," Sirius got out, pulling away from the half-giant. "I need to make sure he's alright…"
Hagrid finally managed to pull himself together. "In a bit of shock, I think," he said as he kneeled down, letting Sirius catch a glimpse of his godson between the folds of a dusty blue blanket. "Got a great cut on the head, see? Looks just like a lightning bolt, it does…"
"Give Harry to me, Hagrid," Sirius said, sounding a lot calmer than he felt. "I'm his Godfather, I'll look after him – "
Hagrid abruptly shook his head, getting to his feet. "Can't do that, Sirius. I'm under orders from Dumbledore ter take Harry."
Sirius swallowed. "I'm not letting you take him anywhere, Hagrid. Harry is my Godson – "
"I have me orders, Sirius," Hagrid said regretfully.
"I don't care! Harry is my family now!" Sirius hissed, his grey eyes wild and crazed. He couldn't let Hagrid take Harry away…he was all he had left…
"I'm sorry," Hagrid repeated, stubbornly. "But Dumbledore made it very clear what ter do."
Sirius wanted to scream that he didn't give a damn about what Dumbledore said but knew that wouldn't do any good, especially not against Hagrid, whose loyalty to the man was legendary. Instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath. "Alright," he said. If he couldn't have Harry, then he would make damn sure he got Peter instead. "You take him then… In fact, you should take my motorcycle. I won't need it anymore."
Sirens were beginning to sound – the muggle authorities must have been notified by one of the village's inhabitants. Hagrid gawked at Sirius. Still, there was no hiding the slight longing in his eyes as he caught sight of the bike. "Are yer sure?"
"I'm sure."
Hagrid nodded slowly and made his way over to Sirius bike, Harry clutched in his arms. Sirius watched until Hagrid had taken off, and was only a small speck in the dark sky. Taking a deep breath, Sirius grabbed his wand tightly in his hand, his grey eyes hardening. He had a rat to find.
Published: 31/10 -12
Trivia
- Do Not Go Gentle is a poem by Dylan Thomas and the small part of the poem at the beginning of this chapter consists of the last two lines of the poems sixth and final stanza, which, incidentally, are also the poems most famous two refrains. In summary, it means that you should fight against the oncoming of death with everything you have and not just give up. For this chapter – mostly for, and in honour of, Lily and James, but even for Voldemort – I thought it was particularly fitting.
- In POA, we learn Sirius went to check on Peter in his hiding place and immediately realised something was wrong, when he wasn't there and there was no sign of struggle. Here, Peter has not gone into hiding and is still living with his mother, and therefore is clued in to his possible betrayal by her instead.
- In POA, Sirius muses to Peter that "it must have been the finest moment of his life, telling Voldemort he could hand him the Potters." To me, Peter is someone I imagine have been put down a lot. So for him to tell Voldemort this, which will clearly get him the praise he thinks he deserves, must have at least been a moment of accomplishment for him. But I don't believe he felt any satisfaction, pride, or joy either, like Sirius believes. After all, he is selling out people who have been his friends for years, effectively sentencing them to death. This fits with what Lily's letter from DH (Kreacher's Tale) mentions, when Lily writes Peter seemed 'down' during his last visit (which I did not include in this story). It can't have been a completely easy decision to make. But I also have it difficult to believe he feels much regret – Peter is someone who is a master of deluding people - including himself, I believe – therefore, in an attempt to justify this decision, he manages to talk himself into thinking he is not really doing anything wrong, only what is necessary for his own survival, and it's not really his fault, so why should he feel guilt? So without joy, or guilt, only emptiness can remain.
- In DH (Bathilda's Secret), we learn that when Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow, he spotted the Potters through the window, James making puffs of coloured smoke with his wand to amuse Harry, Lily entering, etc. which is where the peaceful family moment before Voldemort's entrance comes from.
- In DH, we learn that James never got the chance to really defend his family against Voldemort and was killed the moment the Dark Lord arrived, because he did not have his wand. Here, with Buffy's teachings having increased his reaction time, he managed to avoid the first killing curse and grab his wand, and as such, things go quite differently.
- As explained in ROS 23, the Fidelius charm breaks when the spell caster dies: therefore, as Lily cast the spell in ch 24, the spell broke immediately after, which is why the inhabitants in GH can see it, and of course, also why Dumbledore can utter the name Godric's Hollow to Amelia Bones: when the charm broke, he remembered its existence and that the Potters lived there.