Author: Toil and Trouble
Note: This story is the third in a foursome of stories revolving around the death and betrayal of Lily and James. All characters, plots, and basically everything belongs to J. K. Rowling - the only thing that's mine is the idea for the ficclet. Please note these stories do not take place in chronological order.
Summary: James's conversation with Dumbledore as he's advised to go into hidding.
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James's eyes had that stubborn look in them again; hazel creased and backed with mullish, headstrong concern. His back was straight, his face was proud -- and yet that boyish aurora still simmered around him. Perhaps it was because he was back in this place; this place, where he had been scolded, rewarded, laughed with, and laughed at. This place brought out the child in James Potter.
But times had changed and the man seated in the Headmaster's office was not a child anymore -- nor had he been for a very long time. The weight of the world -- the wizarding world -- had come to rest on this man's shoulders and he had shouldered the responsibility with heartbreaking acceptance.
In this time of darkness, James Potter shined as a beacon of hope and resistance. In the gloom of Voldemort's anger, James Potter had openly defied and gleamed for all the world to see. For the wizarding world was involved in a great turmoil, a turmoil James was determined to see it through.
But being the public's hero has it's consequences, James thought bitterly. His time with his family -- his gorgeous wife, Lily and new born son Harry -- was cut sadly short. He was used to being recognized -- his days of Qudditch had accustomed him to that. But he hadn't expected that his Auror status would encourage the media to love him even more. Besides Albus Dumbledore, he was the most visible figure of the Light Side and people associated James Potter with good news, hope, and of course, his irrepressible hair.
But now, as he sat in Albus Dumbledore's office, his face cringed with worry, he almost regretted his very public stand against the Dark Lord. If he was but a bachelor, with no one to care for but himself, he wouldn't feel any remorse about the way he had handled things. But he was now a father, a husband, a friend--
James thoughts were cut abruptly short but the door behind him opening softly. Reflexes sharp after many years of training -- Auror and Qudditch -- he spun around, jerking up from his chair immediately
Albus Dumbledore shook his head slowly, a sad smile hidden in his beard. "Expecting someone?"
"Dumbledore!" James exclaimed surprised. "I didn't know it was *you* I was meeting today."
The old wizard sighed, crossing the room to shake James' hand. His robes were a deep, royal purple, with golden suns rising out of the sleeves and folds. His face was creased with deep wrinkles, some gifts from time, others gifts from worry. There was an unspoken power in the frail old man's movements; James had never truly paid attention to Dumbledore's age before, but the droop of the old man's head and the slump of his shoulders hide the powerful impression Dumbledore usually supplied.
"Who did you think you'd be seeing - in my office?" Dumbledore asked with a soft chuckle once he had seated himself across from James. James shook his head, smiling slightly. "Mad-Eye, maybe. McGongall. Never expected the Head Honcho himself."
Dumbledore folded his hands. "Ah, James. I'm glad to see the sparkle in your eyes once more," he sighed heavily, glancing out the window. Night was slowly taking hold of Hogwarts, it's dark tendrils wrapping itself around the noble castle. Lights flickered and took strength in the coming dark, like tiny stars shimmering in the night sky.
The wizard turned his attention back to James. "I take it the new spring in your step is because of Harry?"
James grinned. "I get so little time with him, but when I do.." he trailed off, his eyes picturing the tiny little being that he -- he, James Potter -- had helped create. He raised awe-filled eyes to Dumbledore, who sat regarding him with a wistful sort of worry. "It's amazing," James said quietly. "Totally changed my perspective on -- well, everything." He paused. "Don't tell Sirius that though. I can only imagine what he would say if he thought I was going soft." He shook his head ruefully, a smile touching his lips as he thought of his best friend's mocking tone. Sirius never lost an opportunity to bother James, but James had some ammunition now himself. When he had left Harry in Sirius's arms a few days ago, he hadn't expected it to last long. One year olds tend to squeal and squirm, especially in bear-like Sirius's embrace. But when Lily had walked back in, her arms laden with muffins and treats for both of the babies -- Harry and Sirius -- she had been shocked to see Sirius gently rocking a sleeping Harry back and forth. The child's eyes were closed softly, sucking his thumb gently, his hands wrapped around the great man's neck. Sirius was singing softly, a lullaby from his childhood that most kids had known. Harry always screeched when James tried to sing it, but then, James reasoned, most people tend to screech when James sang. Lily had rushed back in to tell James and since then, Sirius had to endure the taunts that it was *he* who was going soft.
"Ahem," Dumbledore coughed quietly, and James's head snapped up. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," he said. "Got lost in my own thoughts."
Dumbledore nodded. "I know how that can be.
"So," James said, leaning forward. He brought one hand up to ruffle his hair, a habit he still had never learned to break. "What's going on? Why was I called here?"
Dumbledore sighed, and he stood up suddenly, walking to the window. The tapers in his chambers spontaneously lit themselves as Dumbledore thoughtlessly flicked a hand in their direction. In the window, James could just make out his mentor's solemn reflection.
"James," he said heavily. "You know, of course, about the prophecy Sibyll Trelawney predicted -- "
"Yes," James said quietly. "But we still don't know -- the Longbottoms --"
"James," Dumbledore began again. "Voldemort has gotten wind of the prophecy. He has made his choice, I'm afraid." He turned around slowly, his twinkling blue eyes suddenly very solemn. "James, Voldemort is ready to act. You must flee."
"Flee?" James echoed, his face a mask of horror. He had known this day would come -- he knew it every since Dumbledore had informed him of the prophecy but now? Harry was just a year old--
"How can we flee? Where could we possibly hide from him? And what about Sirius, Remus -- Peter -- they'll target them too, our friendship is so widely known -- especially -- How can we possibly flee?"
Dumbledore heaved a sigh, walking back to his desk and sitting down slowly. "There is only one possible solution I can offer you," he began, his voice quiet. "And your friends are planning to go into hiding themselves, James, I've already spoken to them. Your concern now is your family."
The seconds lengthened, James's eyes locked on Dumbledore's. The clock ticked, and still no one spoke. James knew Albus was right. His family was his first concern. But--
Finally, James looked away, his eyes hard. "I'm not a coward," he said harshly. "I don't agree with hiding when I'm targeted."
"James," Dumbledore said loudly, "this isn't about you. This is about Harry. You cannot ride out and meet Voldemort, that's pure foolishness."
"But hiding?" James countered. "Where is the bravery in that?"
"This is not a time for bravery," Dumbledore said sternly. "This is a time for responsibility! You are responsible for protecting your wife and your son's life. You have only one option, James, and that is to hide."
James said nothing. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, let out a low, soothing note from his perch aside Dumbledore's desk and James took a deep breath. "How do you know?" He asked after a moment. Dumbledore looked unfazed. "I have a number of useful spies, James."
"It was Snape, wasn't it?"
"That," Dumbledore said simply, "is a matter between Severus and myself."
James snorted, but Albus ignored him.
Finally, James leaned back, exhaling sharply. "Fine," he agreed, dropping his head into his hands. "We'll have to flee. I'll tell Lily tonight, Dumbledore but -- how?"
"I can only offer you one chance," Dumbledore said gently. "The Fidelius Charm."
James glanced up sharply. "The Secret-Keeper charm?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Once the spell is performed, James, Voldemort could search your house and village for years and never find you."
"Years?" James repeated. "Dumbledore, how long do you think we'll need to be under the spells protection?"
Dumbledore sighed. "As to that James, I simply don't know."
James nodded slowly. "All right," he said softly. "Okay."
"James, it's your choice to choose your Secret-Keeper, but I would gladly--"
James's eyes flickered into the older wizards. He looked surprised that Dumbledore had even asked the question. "You, Albus? You have so much to worry about already -- "
"James, really, I would feel greatly relieved if I was granted the role of Secret-Keeper."
James leaned back, his gaze thoughtfully. Silence stretched between them before he finally said, "No..I'm sorry Albus, and your offer is greatly appreciated, but Sirius--"
"James," Dumbledore interrupted, "I haven't mentioned...you must know.."
James looked up innocently. "What is it?"
Dumbledore sighed. "James, I'm sure someone has been keeping Voldemort informed of your movements. Someone inside the inner circle. Someone in the Order."
James paled, his black hair gleaming in the weak light of the candles. "You think someone's turned traitor?"
Albus nodded slowly, finally, confident in this dismal statement. "I'm sure of it," he whispered.
"But--who?"
Dumbledore hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm not quite sure yet," he said smoothly, "but that's why I would feel much more relieved if you would let me be--"
But James had shook his head already. "Albus, I appreciate it. But Sirius -- I trust Sirius with my life. Literally. He was my best man -- he still is my best man..I have to use Sirius."
Dumbledore hesitated. "James, someone has turned spy in our very midst. I'm not saying it's Sirius, but indeed it is *someone* and I--"
James' eyebrows raised. "Are you calling *Sirius* the spy?" he asked, in a deadly calm voice. "Sirius Black?!"
Dumbledore shook his head. "James, as I said, I'm still unsure but the risk is not worth your life --"
"Sirius would die before he betrayed me," James said quietly, his voice shaking with conviction. "I trust him with my life, Albus. With Harry's life. He's Harry's godfather."
"I'm aware, James but I must insist--"
"No, Dumbledore," James said, rising slowly. "I'm afraid it is I who must insist. I appreciate your offer, but Lily and I would like for Sirius to be our secret-keeper. That's my final decision"
Dumbledore looked drained, old, small for a moment. Then he stood, reaching over his desk to shake James's hand, and James understood why everyone loved Albus Dumbledore. He was simply a good man -- he knew when to accept defeat and he knew when to reject it.
Their eyes met for a long moment. "Good luck, James." Dumbledore said heavily. "I hope your faith in your friend is justified."
James shook his hand tightly. "Good luck, Albus," he said quietly. "Don't worry yourself over me -- " he shot him his classic, carefree smile, "Sirius isn't just a leap of faith -- he's my best friend."
Turning and walking out of the office, James stopped and waved goodbye -- unaware it would be the last time he ever saw Dumbledore - the man he had come to love, the wizard he had always respected. "Farewell, my friend."
Dumbledore watched him shut the door, watched turn and walk away. And as he stood up, walking towards the window, a lone tear dribbled down his cheek. "God's speed, James Potter." He whispered. "And goodbye."