Damn, this wasn't all proved wrong. 'S a matter of fact, maybe this is one
of the three times fit into the prophecy.
A Stag Alone
Harold and Allison Potter
There were no words to describe what Allison and I were feeling.
Frantic. Terrified. Most likely we were in shock, as well.
Sirius and Dumbledore were both as reassuring as they could be. I think it helped Allison, at least, to know that the most famous wizard of our time, the most adept headmaster Hogwarts had seen in centuries, was looking for our son.
We had offers for help from every direction. Several students came to the House, whether older ones by Apparition, or younger ones by Floo Powder and brooms, or even Lily Evans, whose parents drove her almost three hundred miles to get to the House to help.
Lily's reaction rather startled us, as we'd heard from James (among sighs and daydreams of her) that she hated him quite strongly. Still, we were very grateful for the help. Dumbledore directed them, setting Lily Evans to work on the note that Remus Lupin had gotten, taking others with him to search, having still more searching through his stupendously messy room to look for any signs, and leaving the rest to ask Allison and I questions.
In between the interrogation James' schoolmates were giving me, I tried to help Lily with the note. She was much more skilled with Charms than anyone I'd ever seen, however, so except for looking up spell definitions for her I don't think I was much help. Even the strongest Locator we could muster between six of us only gave us a line of Xs, which weren't much help.
The questions were hard, and made both Allison and I miserable. It made us realize how little we knew of our son.
"What was he wearing?"
We glanced at each other, uncertain. "I'm not sure if -" I began, and Allison let out a sob, "if he had changed out of his day clothes yet. We don't know what time he."
"I'm not even sure what he was wearing today," Allison wailed. "He's in and out so much, and I just."
Sirius Black, when he came back between whatever he was doing, looked sick with worry, and kept shooting looks at people. Remus, despite miserable and furious protests, was strictly forbidden to go out. He had just been ill, Dumbledore had confided, and was in no shape for searching. We said of course we understood, that was fine.
Remus gave Dumbledore a look that told us we did not wholly understand. Still, however, we trusted Dumbledore's judgment.
The morning came. There was still no sign.
A Stag Alone
Harold and Allison Potter
There were no words to describe what Allison and I were feeling.
Frantic. Terrified. Most likely we were in shock, as well.
Sirius and Dumbledore were both as reassuring as they could be. I think it helped Allison, at least, to know that the most famous wizard of our time, the most adept headmaster Hogwarts had seen in centuries, was looking for our son.
We had offers for help from every direction. Several students came to the House, whether older ones by Apparition, or younger ones by Floo Powder and brooms, or even Lily Evans, whose parents drove her almost three hundred miles to get to the House to help.
Lily's reaction rather startled us, as we'd heard from James (among sighs and daydreams of her) that she hated him quite strongly. Still, we were very grateful for the help. Dumbledore directed them, setting Lily Evans to work on the note that Remus Lupin had gotten, taking others with him to search, having still more searching through his stupendously messy room to look for any signs, and leaving the rest to ask Allison and I questions.
In between the interrogation James' schoolmates were giving me, I tried to help Lily with the note. She was much more skilled with Charms than anyone I'd ever seen, however, so except for looking up spell definitions for her I don't think I was much help. Even the strongest Locator we could muster between six of us only gave us a line of Xs, which weren't much help.
The questions were hard, and made both Allison and I miserable. It made us realize how little we knew of our son.
"What was he wearing?"
We glanced at each other, uncertain. "I'm not sure if -" I began, and Allison let out a sob, "if he had changed out of his day clothes yet. We don't know what time he."
"I'm not even sure what he was wearing today," Allison wailed. "He's in and out so much, and I just."
Sirius Black, when he came back between whatever he was doing, looked sick with worry, and kept shooting looks at people. Remus, despite miserable and furious protests, was strictly forbidden to go out. He had just been ill, Dumbledore had confided, and was in no shape for searching. We said of course we understood, that was fine.
Remus gave Dumbledore a look that told us we did not wholly understand. Still, however, we trusted Dumbledore's judgment.
The morning came. There was still no sign.
