Lily

Evangeline- to our eternal surprise- began visiting us regularly, both in the hospital and then our house. She said it was to help us out, and, although I was grateful for the help she did provide in giving both James and I a moment's peace, I suspected that really she just came around to see Harry. There was this quiet joy and wonder in her eyes when we let her hold him, as if she'd never seen a baby before. Harry, for his part, seemed to like her, content to let her cradle and sing to him.

It was a change from the Evangeline we'd known up to that point. She'd always been withdrawn, mysterious. We never saw her outside of Order meetings. She never divulged any personal information. No one even knew when her birthday was. And yet now she became a consistent feature in our lives, volunteering to babysit almost as much as Sirius, buying Harry a stuffed owl, helping around the house. Neither James nor I quite knew what to make of it.

One evening when she showed up, her face was grave, her eyes serious. We knew instantly that something was wrong, but she refused to talk until both James and I were sat down in the living room.

"I'm so sorry to have to tell you this," she began solemnly, "but unfortunately there has been a threat against you. Albus and I have discussed it, and we both feel that it would be best if you went into hiding as soon as possible."

James and I glanced at each other. "We both knew the risks when we signed up with the Order," I said, frowning. "I don't see why we need to go into hiding now."

Evangeline shook her head. "You don't understand," she replied, a note of sadness in her voice. "The threat isn't against you two." She paused, wringing her hands together. "Harry is the one that Voldemort's after."

"What?" James exclaimed. I was inclined to agree with his reaction. Harry was just a child, barely a month old. Why on earth would Voldemort want him dead?

Evangeline looked down at her hands. "There was a prophecy," she began quietly, as if she'd known exactly what was going through my head. "About a child who would have the power to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Anyway, it turns out that one of the Death Eaters heard the prophecy and recited it to Voldemort, who now believes that the child in question is your son."

I glanced unconsciously towards the nursery upstairs, where Harry was currently sleeping. Could it be true? Could my tiny son be the key to ending this war?

There was a moment of silence before Evangeline spoke again, this time with hesitation in her voice. "Lily," she said awkwardly, "I think you should know that… Severus Snape was the one who gave information on the prophecy to Voldemort."

I flinched and James swore. Severus and I had parted ways a long time ago and I'd known he was a Death Eater, but this… this hurt. It felt personal. It felt like a betrayal.

Evangeline gazed at me sadly. "I know something of what its like to find yourself fighting against your friends in this war. Many of the Death Eaters were people I went to school with, people in the same house as me, people I liked. I'm sorry for what you must be going through."

I regarded her in shock. She'd never before outright said that she'd known any of the Death Eaters, much less been friends with them. It explained why she always talked so familiarly about them, how she could predict their movements, their actions so well.

"I recommend that you move house as soon as possible and put yourselves under the Fidelius Charm," she continued. "It's powerful protection magic, it should serve to keep you safe. The Order will take care of additional protection, and help with anything you need."

James reached for my hand and I took it, squeezing gently. There was something very real, very frightening about this threat. Perhaps it was because Evangeline was taking it so seriously, or because it was not our lives in danger- but Harry's. "How long do you think it'll be for?" I asked, my brow creasing with worry.

Evangeline shrugged helplessly. "We have no way of knowing," she said simply, her eyes full of regret.

She left soon after that, having gone through the best way to protect ourselves first, ensuring we understood the importance of every detail. There was something oddly guilty about her manner, as if she was the one to blame for all of this- which was, of course, ridiculous.

And so we went into hiding. We moved to Godric's Hollow, because Dumbledore knew the place well- apparently, he'd grown up there. Bought a house, warded it with every possible enchantment. Cast the Fidelius Charm, with Peter as our secret keeper. Peter, because we knew that Sirius would be the obvious choice, the one Voldemort would go after. We said our goodbyes, withdrew from the outside world.

Evangeline came to visit us, just before we went into hiding. There was an air of infinite sadness surrounding her, and I felt a surge of pity, remembering her comment about having friends in the Death Eaters. I understood the torment, the conflict that that could cause.

She held Harry for a while, rocking him gently and whispering something unintelligible to him. Then she sat down with us over a cup of tea, her expression grave.

"Have you made a will?" she asked. "If the worst should happen."

James and I both nodded.

"If I may ask…" she began, hesitating, "What would happen to Harry?"

"We decided he should be brought up by the Longbottoms, alongside Neville," I said, trying to keep my voice level, as if I wasn't not talking about a scenario in which both James and I were both dead. "If they can't take him, then he would go to Sirius, as his godfather."

Evangeline nodded, unspeakable sobriety guttering in her eyes. "Good," she said quietly. She paused for a moment, wringing her hands absentmindedly before speaking again. "I just want to promise you," she resumed, "that I will do everything in my power to protect Harry. Always. I will keep him safe. I swear it on my life."

"Thank you," James said, sounding as surprised as I felt at Evangeline's words.

That was the last time we saw her.

Salazar

"I don't trust Peter Pettigrew," I said to Dumbledore, propping my feet up on his desk in a feeble attempt to imitate the swagger and bravado I'd once exuded.

He glanced at me over the top of the book he was reading. A Sicilian Romance, it said on the cover in looped, magenta text, over a watercolour of an idyllic coastline. "Why?" he asked absentmindedly, flicking over a page.

I shrugged. "He's afraid."

"We're all afraid," Dumbledore replied nonchalantly.

I shook my head. "No, this is different. We're afraid, yes, but we're not cowards. I've glimpsed into his mind, and all I see is fear. He wants to run away from this fight. And people who want to run often run right into the other side's arms."

Albus put his book down slowly. "We're not cowards?" he repeated pointedly, his eyebrows raised.

I looked at the floor in order to avoid his gaze. "Well, perhaps you and I are," I conceded quietly, "but we are also powerful enough to get away with it. Peter is not."

Dumbledore picked his book back up and resumed reading. "I wouldn't worry about it," he said. "Peter may be a coward, but he also knows that he's infinitely safer staying with us. But keep an eye on him if it makes you feel better."

I stood up. "You're probably right," I said wearily, grabbing my coat off the chair and preparing to disapparate. "I'll see you tomorrow."