Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it, and bright blessings to all!
By now, Tony was getting used to portkeys - which was not to say that he liked them, just that the feeling of being yanked away by his navel was becoming familiar, if still uncomfortable. Maybe there was a way to make the effect more pleasant? He'd have to look at the arithmancy that went into making them.
This portkey deposited him at Godric's Hollow - where Lily and James were living the night they were killed. Not far from where he arrived, in the shadow of a war memorial, Crispian Paddington and Lara Croft were waiting for him, both dressed for spring in the West Country, with light jackets over a sweater and jeans.
"Why is it that you dress more like non-magical people than most?" Tony asked as he crossed the few steps to join them.
"Curse-breakers learned early on that robes can be deadly in the wrong situation," Croft answered wryly. "And often we have to go through mundane areas to get to where we're working."
That made sense, but Bear wasn't a curse-breaker. Tony quirked an eyebrow at him in question.
Bear shrugged. "My family has always straddled both worlds."
"Even though you're pureblood?" Tony grimaced at the final word, and Bear chuckled.
"It all depends on the definition of pureblood you mean," he answered. "There are plenty of first-generation and second-generation magicals in the family tree. At least in recent generations. We learned from the Habsburg jaw."
That surprised a laugh from Tony, and he took the chance to look around the village. Cottages dotted the area, along with a pub, some shops, and toward the edge of town the spire of a church stood watch over the area. It would've been an almost idyllic place to raise a family.
"You still have your bracelet?" Bear asked. In answer, Tony lifted his hand to show him the slim band around his wrist. Bear nodded. "Come closer to the war memorial."
Tony did so, and blinked when the obelisk shifted form into a statue of a man, a woman, and a baby - James, Lily, and Harry, presumably.
He looked at the base of the statue, but saw no inscription. Another raised eyebrow had Bear saying, "Just thought you might like to see it."
"The Potters' cottage is this way," Croft said, and Tony followed as she turned and strode away.
At the very end of the row of houses she led him to, a dark mass loomed - a cottage more like he would expect in the Hamptons than Vanderbilt's "cottage" in Rhode Island. The hedge had been trimmed relatively recently, though not expertly, and Tony wondered if Sirius had done it when he'd brought Harry to visit the Potters' graves, or perhaps on another visit.
Those thoughts weren't enough to distract him from the sight of the right side of the top floor - or rather, where the right side of the top floor should have been. Instead, it appeared to have been blown apart, and Tony could only conclude that was where the final confrontation had happened the night the Potters died.
A lump formed in his throat, and he didn't even try to swallow it down. If things had happened even somewhat differently, Harry might've died with James and Lily, and Tony would never have known.
"Ted Tonks arranged permission for us to enter."
Thankfully, Bear's voice brought Tony out of those dark thoughts before they could spiral into actual depression, and Tony managed a grin. "I bet the Ministry hated that."
"They did," Croft answered cheerfully. "But they'd have hated the international publicity Mr. Tonks threatened to bring down on them more."
Tony grinned. "And that's why I hire the most vicious lawyers I can find." He sobered as he surveyed the house once again. "Is it safe?"
"Somebody put a stasis charm on it," Bear said. "Probably the only thing anyone did right that wretched night."
"What that means," Croft put in, "is that it will be as stable as it was that night. Considering that Sirius Black was able to go in and retrieve Harry from the wreckage, it should be safe enough. I'll still approach it as if it were an ancient site, though - just to be sure."
Tony nodded. "Which means I stay back until you say it's safe?"
He was surprised when Croft exchanged a glance with Bear, hesitating before she said, "That's the safest option. However, given your armor … I have fewer objections to you following than I do to most."
"I appreciate that," Tony said as sincerely as he knew how. "But I also know how I feel when someone who doesn't know what they're doing is in my workshop. I'll wait until you say it's clear."
He didn't miss the look of relief that washed briefly across her face, but she didn't say anything.
Bear, though, stepped forward to tap the gate with his wand. He murmured something Tony didn't catch but thought sounded somewhat like Latin, and the gate swung open.
Bear stood back to allow Croft to go in first. Tony followed, and Bear joined him, closing the gate behind him as he murmured something else.
"What was that?" Tony asked.
"A Repelling Charm, so nobody notices we're here or otherwise bothers us."
Tony nodded. He'd heard of the charm, but he'd never seen one cast. Not that his experience with magic was that significant, but still. It was the principle of the thing.
"There's a memorial," Bear murmured, and Tony turned to see him putting his hand on the gate.
In response, a sign rose up out of the ground, and Tony shifted around so he could read it.
In this house, on the night of 31 October 2001,
in an act of terrorism, Tom Marvolo Riddle,
who styled himself Lord Voldemort,
killed James and Lily Potter.
This house, invisible to Muggles, has been appropriated
by the Ministry and left in its ruined state
as a monument to James and Lily Potter,
rather than being repaired for their surviving son, Harry.
Tony chuckled, but Bear was frowning. "That's not right."
"What's not right?" Tony asked.
"That's not what the sign said," Bear explained. "Somebody's changed it."
Tony's eyebrows rose. "What did it say before? Do you remember?"
Bear gave him a baleful look. "Of course I remember. The family came here every year on Remembrance Sunday, and I read the sign every time."
"I thought that was to honor war dead?"
"As if the Potters weren't casualties of war."
Tony had to acknowledge the point. "What did it say?"
Bear cleared his throat and stood just that little bit straighter as he recited: "On this spot, on the night of 31 October 2001, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family."
Tony frowned. "Seems kind of presumptuous of them, to make it about Harry surviving the Killing Curse. How did they even know? Is there a magical equivalent of crime scene investigation?"
"Of course - ask Tony about it sometime. Not that either one of us have seen the report from that night," Bear added. "The details would've been classed most secret, but rumors always circulate, and it was easier for the Ministry to confirm the Killing Curse had been cast than to allow the rumors to spiral out of control."
"And politicians almost always do what is easier for them, rather than what's right for their country," Croft put in from where she'd returned to the front door. "All clear."
Tony turned away from the sign, which was sinking back into the ground, and found himself suddenly reluctant to go inside, to see the home Lily had made with James and, later, Harry - the home he would never have been part of, if things had gone according to plan.
It shamed him that he was a little glad things hadn't gone to plan, that Harry was a permanent part of his life now.
Then he was inside the cottage, carefully not looking around the gracefully proportioned foyer beyond an initial orienting glance. To one side, a staircase led up to the second floor - only on this side of the Pond, it was the first floor, wasn't it?
Two countries separated by a common language, indeed. Tony smiled at the thought, then started up the stairs after Croft.
Despite his resolve not to look around, not to wonder, not to envy, he was still a genius, and part of being a genius was seeing things around you in a new way. Part of that, of course, was seeing things in the first place.
So things like family portraits, some of which moved and some didn't, the damask wallpaper or whatever the magical equivalent was, and the wall sconces fashioned to look like torches registered in his awareness though he tried not to focus on any of them enough that they'd imprint in his memory.
They passed half a dozen doors - which in itself was heartbreaking, as it spoke to the family Lily and James never got to have - before Croft paused. The door ahead of her wasn't a door so much as it was bits of wood hanging from hinges.
"Whatever the blast was," Tony said automatically, "it was weirdly contained. The door's in pieces, but the hallway's fine."
"The first rule of magic - ritual magic, anyway - is containment," Croft said. "Lily would've built her circle to maximize the space within it, but without risking anything outside the room."
"You know what Lily would've done, how?" Tony asked.
"Besides what her portrait told me?" Croft grinned briefly. "It's what I would've done in her place."
Tony groaned. He'd forgotten about Lily's portrait.
Thankfully, Croft proceeded before Bear could tease him about it. "Do you need a moment before we go inside?"
"No. But I might need hours after we come out."
Croft nodded sharply, and Bear's hand landed on his shoulder in a brief, tight squeeze of support. Then Croft turned and strode through the remains of the doorway.
Tony took a breath, bracing himself for what he might see, and followed her in.
Oddly, the room wasn't much damaged. Anything fragile - knickknacks, lamps, and the like - appeared to have been flung against the nearest wall, where they'd shattered on impact. Tony knew that because the broken bits still littered the floor and furniture tops.
A rocking chair had been overturned, but the dresser that probably also served as a changing table still stood against the wall to his right. A crib took pride of place in the center of the room.
The other two walls were … gone. Just gone. Afternoon sunlight and bright sky took their place.
"So much for containment," he murmured, and Croft glared at him.
"You assume that Lily's protection failed," she said. "It's entirely possible that someone else caused the destruction. We won't know until I examine it."
"Volde-whosit?" Tony asked.
"Possibly," Bear answered. "Or possibly someone else did it, to make it look more dramatic."
Tony started to object, but then he remembered something Aunt Peggy had made him copy about … Bonny Dundee, right, who'd been shot in the armpit, but somebody had thought that wasn't dignified enough and shot a hole clean through the center of the man's breastplate. Bear's suggestion was that same attitude writ large.
While he'd been considering that issue, Croft had produced a pair of sunglasses with circular gray lenses and slipped them on.
"Magic detectors?" Tony asked quietly, hoping not to disturb her concentration.
"More or less," Bear answered equally quietly as Croft started to pace the room, slowly, examining everything - walls, floor, ceiling, furniture - as she did. "I'm no curse-breaker, so I don't know the details."
Tony nodded, thankful that Bear and his father had convinced the Ministry to allow him to look at the house. He bit back a grin at the thought of the press release that Bear said had been the deciding factor - not only did it blatantly accuse the Ministry of stealing from an infant Harry Potter, but Bear's father had sworn that it would be released to news outlets around the world, not just in Britain. From what Bear said, once the release was revealed, the Ministry changed its tune on a dime.
Croft had paused near the center of the remains of the room, her head moving slowly from side to side.
"She built two circles," Croft said, then frowned. "Well. There are two circles. I assume Lily built them both, or at least directed their construction."
"Would anyone else have a reason to build one?" Tony asked.
"I wouldn't think so, but can't rule out the possibility." Croft knelt and traced a … letter? Maybe a runic symbol? Tony couldn't recognize it from where he stood in the doorway … over the rug. "She concealed everything - either covering it up with a rug, as here, or-" she stood and crossed to the wall to Tony's right "-or painting it the same color as the walls."
"She was laying a trap," Tony murmured.
"I think so," Croft confirmed. "In all my years, I've only encountered multiple protective circles maybe five times. Most wizards rely on the strength of the circle, often to buy them time to escape."
"But Lily didn't escape," Tony said.
"She couldn't," Bear put in. "Voldie and his Death Eater minions always erected anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards when they attacked."
"And nobody thought of ways to counter that?" Tony demanded, then waved a hand. "Never mind that. Over and done. Back to why we're here." He focused on Croft. "What else did you find?"
She'd produced a spiral notebook and pen from somewhere and was busily making notes of some kind. "I think I found enough to recreate the ritual she used - at least the interior circle. The outside circle…" she glanced around the remains of the room with a frown. "Maybe. But with the information the portrait gave me - which was more intent and the direction of her research than anything else, since it was made before she created the ritual - I'm fairly confident."
"If you don't mind my asking," Bear began, then shrugged. "Well, honestly, even if you do - what's the point of this besides satisfying curiosity?"
"It's certainly that," Tony said. "But it's also one more weapon in our arsenal - Harry's not so much the Boy Who Lived-" he grimaced as he always did when that nickname was used "-as Lily is the Mother Who Sacrificed. Explaining how she did will help break down the unreasonable mythos Harry's been saddled with."
"It's also one more weapon to use against dark forces, wherever they arise," Croft finished, but she looked uncomfortable.
"What?" Tony asked.
Croft blew out a breath. "Assuming I can recreate what she did…well. The implications and ramifications will be astounding, for her and-" she hesitated, but met Tony's gaze squarely. "For me. When - if - I publish this…think about Einstein publishing his theory of relativity."
Tony frowned. "So? What's the problem?"
Croft hesitated a moment before saying, "I don't like the idea of making money from someone else's work."
"Then don't," Bear said simply. "Set up a foundation or something."
"And if you really want to stick it to them," Tony added, "make Lily Potter Foundation support first-generation magicals somehow. Lily was one, after all."
"That would stick it to them, wouldn't it?" Croft smiled. "Excellent idea."