(Note from the author: These are not my characters, my world, or my
situations. They all belong to J. K. Rowling, and are protected by
copyrights.)
A knock at the door. It was late in the night. James groaned, turning over in his sleep. The dream came back to haunt him.
Benjy Fenwick, the coast of England . . .
He had died that night.
Benjy was dead. He had been trampled by a giant, and they had only found bits of him. The only way that they had found out it was Benjy was a head count and the process of elimination. James had been only a few feet away from the incident when it happened. There had been so many of them. At least a thousand giants, slowly making their way onto the beaches of England, and there was nothing that any of them could do. Finally they called a retreat and had returned home with as much of Benjy as they could find. And the Order was not the only one that suffered casualties. More on the Ministry side of things were killed.
Now the giants were at large, killing off as many Muggles as they could get their hands on, trying to entertain themselves . . .
It was a horrible world out there.
But it was only a month until Harry was born.
Just a month, and then everything would be all right again. He would be a father, and Lily a mother. And Sirius a bonafide Catholic, and able to be Harry's godfather. Oh, how life would change.
Everything was going to be all right.
Lily stirred from beside him. She was so large now, and he thought that maybe if he looked at her stomach long enough, he would be able to see Harry kicking from inside. He was going to be a father. He was going to be a daddy.
The knock came again from downstairs.
"Mr. Potter!"
It was Dumbledore's voice.
What was Dumbledore doing here?
"James?" Lily sounded from her sleep, and James patted her on the arm, reassuring her. He stood, grabbing his robe and crossing the room.
"It's okay," he said, "Just go back to sleep. I'll be back in a minute."
Lily had been very jumpy ever since he had left for the coast that night, two months ago. She had never told him why, but he had his suspicions. It seemed that she was hiding something from him.
"I'm coming," James said to himself as he tied his robe and ran down the stairs. What time was it? It was easily after midnight. What would he want?
"Mr. Potter?" the raspy, worn voice came from his doorstep.
James reached the doorknob, and opened the door to reveal an out-of- breath and frightened Dumbledore. He had lost all of his composure and the glint in his eye was gone. His hair was tussled, and his glasses were falling down his nose as he slammed the door behind him, and grabbed James's wrist with one of his old brittle hands.
"Come, there isn't much time to explain," he huffed as he led him into the parlor, "Wake Lily, and pour us some tea. There is much to tell you."
"I don't understand . . ." James said, following the old man into the parlor. It wasn't like Dumbledore to make house calls. He usually sent Frank or Moody to do that for him. Had he lost his mind?
"What's wrong?" James asked the old Headmaster as he made himself at home on the couch, "Did something happen? Is everyone all right?"
"Wake your wife, James," Dumbledore said, "It is her responsibility as well as yours. And then I want you to send owls to the Longbottoms. I want them in your parlor in five minutes."
"Five minutes?" James said, coming closer. He had lost it, "Headmaster . . ."
"Do it, James!" Dumbledore said, still trying to catch his breath, "Do it, and do not interrogate me!"
He had never seen this side of Dumbledore before. He had always wondered why in God's name this old man was in charge of the Order, and was so revered and feared by even the strongest members. Now he knew. Dumbledore was not just a washed up legend. He was a general. He was a leader.
James nodded quietly, and ran to the kitchen to fetch some spare parchment and wake Dag up from his slumber. Dag was very old now, but he had to make this run.
Quickly, he jotted down a note:
Frank and Alice:
Come to Potter's house. It is urgent. Headmaster wants to see you.
James
He handed it to Dag, and Dag hooted proudly. It wasn't every day he got to make a delivery. He flew out the window without another sound, and James ran upstairs to get Lily. Hopefully Dag would be fast enough for the Headmaster. Something had happened. Something horrible had happened.
It took a great deal to scare someone like Albus Dumbledore.
It was only ten minutes later that James and Lily were seated next to Alice and Frank, all facing the Headmaster with the upmost respect. Dumbledore took a long drink of his tea, brushed the remaining liquid out of his long beard, and set the cup down. Something was going on, and the tension in the room could have been cut with a knife.
"Something very catastrophic happened tonight," Dumbledore said, "Something that has given us both an advantage and a setback."
"What happened?" Frank asked, his brow furrowed.
"We have found a weapon to kill Voldemort," the old man said, looking the Auror straight in the eye, "A weapon that is the only thing in this world that can stop him. A weapon that is of equal power, and of equal capability as Tom himself."
"What is it?" Lily asked.
Dumbledore took in a deep breath, and then shook his head, "I had a meeting with a certain canidate for the position of Divination teacher at Hogwarts this evening. And during this meeting, as I got up to take my leave, the canidate went into a sort of . . . well, let us just call it a trance, shall we?"
James sat completely still. What was Dumbledore talking about? Had he really lost it? Had the war been too much stress on his old mind?
"Mr. Potter, have you ever heard of a prophecy?"
James snapped to attention, and slowly nodded his head, "Of course."
"They are dangerous things," Dumbledore said, taking another drink of his tea, "The future is not to be seen, my friends. There are reasons that our kind shuns those with the Eye. They are feared, and yet never taken lightly. There is an entire department devoted to the storing of prophecies in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. And yet, that Department is feared. It brings to mind questions of altering our fates, if there is such a thing as a fate."
Frank glanced at James out of the corner of his eye, and James shrugged slightly. None of them knew what this was leading up to.
"Well," Dumbledore said, setting his tea cup back onto the coffee table, "Tonight, my canidate made a rather disturbing prophecy. A prophecy of a weapon that will defeat Lord Voldemort and his reign on this world."
"What is the weapon, though?" Alice asked, and Dumbledore let out a long and tired sigh.
"It was very vague at the time," Dumbledore said, "But we do know this. It will be a child born at the end of July of this year. It will be born to two that have thrice defied Voldemort."
There was a stillness throughout the room, and Lily grew tense.
"Well, that narrows it down," James said, sarcastically, "We've all survived Voldemort, Headmaster. Everyone in the Order has survived him at least three times . . ."
"There is a difference between the word survived and the word defied, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore contradicted him, "Survive means to merely make it out alive. Why, your friend Mr. Pettigrew has survived life, but it does not mean he has come out the better for it. Mr. Lupin has survived his curse, and yet it is not beaten. Defying is the greatest sort of bravery imaginable, Mr. Potter. It is what you did the night of your meeting with Voldemort in the park. It is what you showed when you would not give into Tom in the woods. And finally, it is what you felt at Antonin's house the night that they were going to murder Mr. Lupin. That was defiance, not survival. Do I make myself clear?"
"But . . ." James stopped, and then stared at Lily, and then at where Harry lay. The gears were clicking into place once again, "It possibly can't be Harry, Headmaster."
"You are right," Dumbledore said, looking to Frank and Alice, "Both of you have also defied him three times," he said, "It could easily be your child instead."
Their faces grew solemn, as James and Lily stared at them, and then back to each other. James laughed, and then shook his head.
"But Headmaster, Lily didn't . . ."
"The night in the woods, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said quietly, "And, of course, she also defied him at Antonin's."
"That's only twice," James said, searching for a loop hole out of what he was inferring.
"And the night that you were gone to fight the giants," Frank said quietly, and Alice gave a cautious look to Lily, who was staring at them with the look of a vulture.
James stopped, and turned to stare at Lily, "What?" he started, "I don't . . ."
"There was a man that came," Lily said quietly, "I never . . . I didn't want you to worry . . ."
"There was a man in here?" James started, "No, why . . . And what did he want?"
"She killed him, James," Alice said, "She didn't want you to know. We thought it may be for the best if you didn't . . ."
"You killed who? The man?" James exclaimed, staring at his wife, "Was he going to kill you?"
Lily looked ready to cry, but she didn't. She just turned back to Dumbledore, and bravely said, "And our children are the only two in this whole world that fit that criteria?"
Dumbledore sadly nodded, and said, "One of your children . . . either yours, James and Lily, or yours, Frank and Alice . . . are the only hope that we have left. Tom will mark them as his equal, and it will be up to them to rid us of this nightmare that we all have been living for far too long."
"And what if they don't?" James asked, now practically hysterical, "What if they don't kill him?"
Dumbledore sighed again, and rubbed his temples, "Then Tom will kill the child."
Alice gave out a quiet cry, and Frank rubbed her back, "Albus, we all know how prophecies are made. Not all of them come true . . ."
"If there has never been a non-believer of the Eye in this world, it is I, Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore continued on, crossing his legs, "But I was there this evening, and I saw it with my own eyes."
"Is Voldemort going to come after them?" Lily asked, trying to keep her composure, "Is that what you mean by mark them as his equal? Does Voldemort know about this?"
Dumbledore hesitated, and James froze. He had paused. He had faltered. He was frightened. Dumbledore had never acted like this before . . .
"Yes, he does," the old Headmaster said truthfully, "One of his spies was in the room next to us, tailing me as I went to my meeting. Yet we stopped him before he heard the entire prophecy. It is under control. Yet he knows enough to . . . cause damage."
"What sort of damage?" James demanded.
"We need you to go into hiding," Dumbledore started, "All four of you. You will have your children in peace, and be safe from any outside complications. You will stay in hiding until this war is over."
There was a silence throughout the room as James stared the Headmaster down. He wanted him to go into hiding. He wanted him to give up what he had been fighting for. Anger boiled up inside of him.
"It is for your own well-being, James," Dumbledore said, seeing the expression on the man's face.
"No," James said, sternly, "It is NOT for my own good! We are a family! Lily and I are part of the Order . . ."
"And you've fulfilled your duty, James," Frank said, "We all four have. We've done our fair share. Now it's time to . . ."
"NO!" James said, standing up. Lily broke away from him, and folded her hands in her lap. She could feel the baby kicking harshly now, "NO! I WILL NOT RUN! I WON'T DO THAT!"
"Think of your father, James," Dumbledore said, composed, "Think of what happened to him and your mother. Do you want to be found dead next to Lily? Do you want to have the same fate as he did?"
"My father was a brave man," James said, pointing a finger dangerously at Dumbledore, "He had his priorities right. And he taught me well."
"Your father is dead, James," Frank said, standing to face him, "And because of his decisions, your mother and your sister are dead as well."
"DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY FAMILY, LONGBOTTOM!" James shouted, starting in on Frank, "YOU DIDN'T KNOW THEM! YOU DIDN'T CARE ABOUT THEM! THEY WERE JUST ANOTHER SACRIFICE FOR YOU AND THE ORDER! WHAT, DID YOU GIVE THEM A MOMENT OF SILENCE? OR DID YOU JUST PLASTER THEIR NAME UP ON THE WALL LIKE YOU DID MARLENE AND BENJY?"
Frank's brow was straight, and his lips thin as he balled his hands into fists.
"Who have you lost, Frank," James said, coming closer, "WHO HAVE YOU LOST!? NO ONE!"
"James . . ." Alice started.
"Don't you stand there and patronize me, Frank," James shouted in his face, "You haven't lost anyone! You're Frank Longbottom, you're untouchable! Well, maybe you can go running off and still feel good about yourself, but I'm living in the real world! You don't hear their voices at night! You probably didn't even have another thought about them!"
"Mr. Potter, would you kindly sit down?" Dumbledore said.
"YOU DIDN'T KNOW HIM!" James shouted, now to all three of them, "HE DID THE RIGHT THING! HE TAUGHT HIS SON NOT TO GO RUNNING! HE TAUGHT HIM TO STAND FOR WHAT HE BELIEVED IN!"
"And for what cost, James?" Dumbledore said, "The cost of his family's life. The cost of his own life."
"How many times have you remembered Marlene, Frank?" James said, still pursuing the man that stood in front of him, silent. Lily and Alice stared at their husbands in dismay as James jutted his face two inches away from his opponents, "How many times did you see my parents laying there in their room? How many times, Frank? Or do heroes like you consider themselves too good for that?"
And that's when it happened. Frank brought his steel-like hand to James's jaw, and with full force made contact. James went flying onto the couch, between a screaming Alice and a rigid Lily. James held his jaw as he collected his bearings, and then shot up from the couch to face Frank again. Lily could see blood surfacing from the corner of his mouth.
"I think about them every day," Frank said, in his low and controlled voice as James eyed him cautiously, "And I've lost more than you ever will in your little life."
The two men stood there, dangerously staring the other down. Lily slowly stood, and stepped between them.
"That's enough, James," she said, looking to her husband, "There's enough going on in the world that we don't need you two going at it."
"I will not run," James said, still not taking his eyes off of Frank, "I will never run."
"You have a family now," Dumbledore said.
James stopped, and then massaged his jaw again, "I'm aware of that," he said, "And I'm doing what I'm doing because of my family."
"James is right," Lily said quietly, standing beside him as Frank backed away to sit down next to Alice again, "We belong with the Order. We fight. We've been in this war for two years. We can't quit now."
"Even if it means the life of you and your child," Dumbledore asked.
"That won't happen," James said darkly, "I won't let it happen."
"You are young," Dumbledore said, rising and readjusting his glasses, "Possibly someday you shall become a man, James. I am sad to say that that day is not today. And as for you, Mr. Longbottom," he said, turning on Frank who was now glaring darkly at James and Lily, "I would advise you to watch your temper. We are all on the same side, and I will not tolerate schoolyard behavior in my presence. Now, I must leave for the Ministry. Please think about your children's well being, all of you. We shall continue this conversation at a later date. I bid you all good night."
And then Dumbledore stepped into the fireplace that they had been sitting by, and disappeared in a flash of smoke. The Longbottoms and the Potters stared at each other, the women uncomfortably, and the men murderously.
"James," Alice started, "We all understand where you are coming from . . ."
"Don't pretend to care," James snapped, and then turned to leave the room.
"It's no use, Alice," Frank said, glaring at his back, "We're obviously too good to understand the great James Potter."
James's eyes narrowed, and he turned around to face Frank, his face looking more like Sirius's than his own. Lily shot a warning look to him, but he paid no heed.
"You still are just a little boy," Frank said, "You still haven't grown up."
James's glare grew more intense, and he looked ready to kill Frank. Yet Frank was not afraid. He stood his ground, and stared back, glaring knives back at the nineteen-year-old boy.
"Frank, James . . ." Lily started, trying to break them up again, "Look, I know that we're all worried. But we don't need to start taking it out on each other. We're all on the same side. You two are friends, remember that . . ."
"Frank," Alice whispered, taking his arm, and tugging him back, "Maybe we should go."
"Maybe you should," James snapped, and Alice shot a hurt look to him. James had never acted this way toward them before. Lily wanted to slap him across the face.
"James . . ."
"Come on," Alice said, trying to pull her husband toward the front door, "I don't think we're wanted here."
"Alice," Lily started, but Alice patted her on the back.
"I'll see you tomorrow, dear," she said quietly, avoiding eye contact with James as she crossed the room, dragging her husband behind her. Frank was still staring Lily's husband down, but didn't say anything as he left the house, following his wife and then disappearing behind the door.
James still held his jaw in pain as the door shut behind the two of them, and then he crossed the room to make his way back to the staircase, leading upstairs.
"Where are you going?" Lily asked sternly.
"To bed," James said simply, and started up the stairs.
"We need to talk about this," Lily followed him, her voice urgent.
"No, we don't," he retorted, mussing his hair and disappearing around the corner. She heard the bedroom door slam, and then silence. She sighed, and sat down on the lowest stair. The baby was getting heavier.
Now the pride and joy that she was carrying became a burden. Was her child the one that would change the world? Was she carrying the boy that would end the war? How was that possible? There was no way on earth that one child could be that important . . . a baby . . .
James needed someone to talk to. And it couldn't be her. He would never discuss this with her. It had to be someone that he trusted, over any other human being on earth. Someone that he would tell anything to.
A knock at the door. It was late in the night. James groaned, turning over in his sleep. The dream came back to haunt him.
Benjy Fenwick, the coast of England . . .
He had died that night.
Benjy was dead. He had been trampled by a giant, and they had only found bits of him. The only way that they had found out it was Benjy was a head count and the process of elimination. James had been only a few feet away from the incident when it happened. There had been so many of them. At least a thousand giants, slowly making their way onto the beaches of England, and there was nothing that any of them could do. Finally they called a retreat and had returned home with as much of Benjy as they could find. And the Order was not the only one that suffered casualties. More on the Ministry side of things were killed.
Now the giants were at large, killing off as many Muggles as they could get their hands on, trying to entertain themselves . . .
It was a horrible world out there.
But it was only a month until Harry was born.
Just a month, and then everything would be all right again. He would be a father, and Lily a mother. And Sirius a bonafide Catholic, and able to be Harry's godfather. Oh, how life would change.
Everything was going to be all right.
Lily stirred from beside him. She was so large now, and he thought that maybe if he looked at her stomach long enough, he would be able to see Harry kicking from inside. He was going to be a father. He was going to be a daddy.
The knock came again from downstairs.
"Mr. Potter!"
It was Dumbledore's voice.
What was Dumbledore doing here?
"James?" Lily sounded from her sleep, and James patted her on the arm, reassuring her. He stood, grabbing his robe and crossing the room.
"It's okay," he said, "Just go back to sleep. I'll be back in a minute."
Lily had been very jumpy ever since he had left for the coast that night, two months ago. She had never told him why, but he had his suspicions. It seemed that she was hiding something from him.
"I'm coming," James said to himself as he tied his robe and ran down the stairs. What time was it? It was easily after midnight. What would he want?
"Mr. Potter?" the raspy, worn voice came from his doorstep.
James reached the doorknob, and opened the door to reveal an out-of- breath and frightened Dumbledore. He had lost all of his composure and the glint in his eye was gone. His hair was tussled, and his glasses were falling down his nose as he slammed the door behind him, and grabbed James's wrist with one of his old brittle hands.
"Come, there isn't much time to explain," he huffed as he led him into the parlor, "Wake Lily, and pour us some tea. There is much to tell you."
"I don't understand . . ." James said, following the old man into the parlor. It wasn't like Dumbledore to make house calls. He usually sent Frank or Moody to do that for him. Had he lost his mind?
"What's wrong?" James asked the old Headmaster as he made himself at home on the couch, "Did something happen? Is everyone all right?"
"Wake your wife, James," Dumbledore said, "It is her responsibility as well as yours. And then I want you to send owls to the Longbottoms. I want them in your parlor in five minutes."
"Five minutes?" James said, coming closer. He had lost it, "Headmaster . . ."
"Do it, James!" Dumbledore said, still trying to catch his breath, "Do it, and do not interrogate me!"
He had never seen this side of Dumbledore before. He had always wondered why in God's name this old man was in charge of the Order, and was so revered and feared by even the strongest members. Now he knew. Dumbledore was not just a washed up legend. He was a general. He was a leader.
James nodded quietly, and ran to the kitchen to fetch some spare parchment and wake Dag up from his slumber. Dag was very old now, but he had to make this run.
Quickly, he jotted down a note:
Frank and Alice:
Come to Potter's house. It is urgent. Headmaster wants to see you.
James
He handed it to Dag, and Dag hooted proudly. It wasn't every day he got to make a delivery. He flew out the window without another sound, and James ran upstairs to get Lily. Hopefully Dag would be fast enough for the Headmaster. Something had happened. Something horrible had happened.
It took a great deal to scare someone like Albus Dumbledore.
It was only ten minutes later that James and Lily were seated next to Alice and Frank, all facing the Headmaster with the upmost respect. Dumbledore took a long drink of his tea, brushed the remaining liquid out of his long beard, and set the cup down. Something was going on, and the tension in the room could have been cut with a knife.
"Something very catastrophic happened tonight," Dumbledore said, "Something that has given us both an advantage and a setback."
"What happened?" Frank asked, his brow furrowed.
"We have found a weapon to kill Voldemort," the old man said, looking the Auror straight in the eye, "A weapon that is the only thing in this world that can stop him. A weapon that is of equal power, and of equal capability as Tom himself."
"What is it?" Lily asked.
Dumbledore took in a deep breath, and then shook his head, "I had a meeting with a certain canidate for the position of Divination teacher at Hogwarts this evening. And during this meeting, as I got up to take my leave, the canidate went into a sort of . . . well, let us just call it a trance, shall we?"
James sat completely still. What was Dumbledore talking about? Had he really lost it? Had the war been too much stress on his old mind?
"Mr. Potter, have you ever heard of a prophecy?"
James snapped to attention, and slowly nodded his head, "Of course."
"They are dangerous things," Dumbledore said, taking another drink of his tea, "The future is not to be seen, my friends. There are reasons that our kind shuns those with the Eye. They are feared, and yet never taken lightly. There is an entire department devoted to the storing of prophecies in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. And yet, that Department is feared. It brings to mind questions of altering our fates, if there is such a thing as a fate."
Frank glanced at James out of the corner of his eye, and James shrugged slightly. None of them knew what this was leading up to.
"Well," Dumbledore said, setting his tea cup back onto the coffee table, "Tonight, my canidate made a rather disturbing prophecy. A prophecy of a weapon that will defeat Lord Voldemort and his reign on this world."
"What is the weapon, though?" Alice asked, and Dumbledore let out a long and tired sigh.
"It was very vague at the time," Dumbledore said, "But we do know this. It will be a child born at the end of July of this year. It will be born to two that have thrice defied Voldemort."
There was a stillness throughout the room, and Lily grew tense.
"Well, that narrows it down," James said, sarcastically, "We've all survived Voldemort, Headmaster. Everyone in the Order has survived him at least three times . . ."
"There is a difference between the word survived and the word defied, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore contradicted him, "Survive means to merely make it out alive. Why, your friend Mr. Pettigrew has survived life, but it does not mean he has come out the better for it. Mr. Lupin has survived his curse, and yet it is not beaten. Defying is the greatest sort of bravery imaginable, Mr. Potter. It is what you did the night of your meeting with Voldemort in the park. It is what you showed when you would not give into Tom in the woods. And finally, it is what you felt at Antonin's house the night that they were going to murder Mr. Lupin. That was defiance, not survival. Do I make myself clear?"
"But . . ." James stopped, and then stared at Lily, and then at where Harry lay. The gears were clicking into place once again, "It possibly can't be Harry, Headmaster."
"You are right," Dumbledore said, looking to Frank and Alice, "Both of you have also defied him three times," he said, "It could easily be your child instead."
Their faces grew solemn, as James and Lily stared at them, and then back to each other. James laughed, and then shook his head.
"But Headmaster, Lily didn't . . ."
"The night in the woods, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said quietly, "And, of course, she also defied him at Antonin's."
"That's only twice," James said, searching for a loop hole out of what he was inferring.
"And the night that you were gone to fight the giants," Frank said quietly, and Alice gave a cautious look to Lily, who was staring at them with the look of a vulture.
James stopped, and turned to stare at Lily, "What?" he started, "I don't . . ."
"There was a man that came," Lily said quietly, "I never . . . I didn't want you to worry . . ."
"There was a man in here?" James started, "No, why . . . And what did he want?"
"She killed him, James," Alice said, "She didn't want you to know. We thought it may be for the best if you didn't . . ."
"You killed who? The man?" James exclaimed, staring at his wife, "Was he going to kill you?"
Lily looked ready to cry, but she didn't. She just turned back to Dumbledore, and bravely said, "And our children are the only two in this whole world that fit that criteria?"
Dumbledore sadly nodded, and said, "One of your children . . . either yours, James and Lily, or yours, Frank and Alice . . . are the only hope that we have left. Tom will mark them as his equal, and it will be up to them to rid us of this nightmare that we all have been living for far too long."
"And what if they don't?" James asked, now practically hysterical, "What if they don't kill him?"
Dumbledore sighed again, and rubbed his temples, "Then Tom will kill the child."
Alice gave out a quiet cry, and Frank rubbed her back, "Albus, we all know how prophecies are made. Not all of them come true . . ."
"If there has never been a non-believer of the Eye in this world, it is I, Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore continued on, crossing his legs, "But I was there this evening, and I saw it with my own eyes."
"Is Voldemort going to come after them?" Lily asked, trying to keep her composure, "Is that what you mean by mark them as his equal? Does Voldemort know about this?"
Dumbledore hesitated, and James froze. He had paused. He had faltered. He was frightened. Dumbledore had never acted like this before . . .
"Yes, he does," the old Headmaster said truthfully, "One of his spies was in the room next to us, tailing me as I went to my meeting. Yet we stopped him before he heard the entire prophecy. It is under control. Yet he knows enough to . . . cause damage."
"What sort of damage?" James demanded.
"We need you to go into hiding," Dumbledore started, "All four of you. You will have your children in peace, and be safe from any outside complications. You will stay in hiding until this war is over."
There was a silence throughout the room as James stared the Headmaster down. He wanted him to go into hiding. He wanted him to give up what he had been fighting for. Anger boiled up inside of him.
"It is for your own well-being, James," Dumbledore said, seeing the expression on the man's face.
"No," James said, sternly, "It is NOT for my own good! We are a family! Lily and I are part of the Order . . ."
"And you've fulfilled your duty, James," Frank said, "We all four have. We've done our fair share. Now it's time to . . ."
"NO!" James said, standing up. Lily broke away from him, and folded her hands in her lap. She could feel the baby kicking harshly now, "NO! I WILL NOT RUN! I WON'T DO THAT!"
"Think of your father, James," Dumbledore said, composed, "Think of what happened to him and your mother. Do you want to be found dead next to Lily? Do you want to have the same fate as he did?"
"My father was a brave man," James said, pointing a finger dangerously at Dumbledore, "He had his priorities right. And he taught me well."
"Your father is dead, James," Frank said, standing to face him, "And because of his decisions, your mother and your sister are dead as well."
"DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY FAMILY, LONGBOTTOM!" James shouted, starting in on Frank, "YOU DIDN'T KNOW THEM! YOU DIDN'T CARE ABOUT THEM! THEY WERE JUST ANOTHER SACRIFICE FOR YOU AND THE ORDER! WHAT, DID YOU GIVE THEM A MOMENT OF SILENCE? OR DID YOU JUST PLASTER THEIR NAME UP ON THE WALL LIKE YOU DID MARLENE AND BENJY?"
Frank's brow was straight, and his lips thin as he balled his hands into fists.
"Who have you lost, Frank," James said, coming closer, "WHO HAVE YOU LOST!? NO ONE!"
"James . . ." Alice started.
"Don't you stand there and patronize me, Frank," James shouted in his face, "You haven't lost anyone! You're Frank Longbottom, you're untouchable! Well, maybe you can go running off and still feel good about yourself, but I'm living in the real world! You don't hear their voices at night! You probably didn't even have another thought about them!"
"Mr. Potter, would you kindly sit down?" Dumbledore said.
"YOU DIDN'T KNOW HIM!" James shouted, now to all three of them, "HE DID THE RIGHT THING! HE TAUGHT HIS SON NOT TO GO RUNNING! HE TAUGHT HIM TO STAND FOR WHAT HE BELIEVED IN!"
"And for what cost, James?" Dumbledore said, "The cost of his family's life. The cost of his own life."
"How many times have you remembered Marlene, Frank?" James said, still pursuing the man that stood in front of him, silent. Lily and Alice stared at their husbands in dismay as James jutted his face two inches away from his opponents, "How many times did you see my parents laying there in their room? How many times, Frank? Or do heroes like you consider themselves too good for that?"
And that's when it happened. Frank brought his steel-like hand to James's jaw, and with full force made contact. James went flying onto the couch, between a screaming Alice and a rigid Lily. James held his jaw as he collected his bearings, and then shot up from the couch to face Frank again. Lily could see blood surfacing from the corner of his mouth.
"I think about them every day," Frank said, in his low and controlled voice as James eyed him cautiously, "And I've lost more than you ever will in your little life."
The two men stood there, dangerously staring the other down. Lily slowly stood, and stepped between them.
"That's enough, James," she said, looking to her husband, "There's enough going on in the world that we don't need you two going at it."
"I will not run," James said, still not taking his eyes off of Frank, "I will never run."
"You have a family now," Dumbledore said.
James stopped, and then massaged his jaw again, "I'm aware of that," he said, "And I'm doing what I'm doing because of my family."
"James is right," Lily said quietly, standing beside him as Frank backed away to sit down next to Alice again, "We belong with the Order. We fight. We've been in this war for two years. We can't quit now."
"Even if it means the life of you and your child," Dumbledore asked.
"That won't happen," James said darkly, "I won't let it happen."
"You are young," Dumbledore said, rising and readjusting his glasses, "Possibly someday you shall become a man, James. I am sad to say that that day is not today. And as for you, Mr. Longbottom," he said, turning on Frank who was now glaring darkly at James and Lily, "I would advise you to watch your temper. We are all on the same side, and I will not tolerate schoolyard behavior in my presence. Now, I must leave for the Ministry. Please think about your children's well being, all of you. We shall continue this conversation at a later date. I bid you all good night."
And then Dumbledore stepped into the fireplace that they had been sitting by, and disappeared in a flash of smoke. The Longbottoms and the Potters stared at each other, the women uncomfortably, and the men murderously.
"James," Alice started, "We all understand where you are coming from . . ."
"Don't pretend to care," James snapped, and then turned to leave the room.
"It's no use, Alice," Frank said, glaring at his back, "We're obviously too good to understand the great James Potter."
James's eyes narrowed, and he turned around to face Frank, his face looking more like Sirius's than his own. Lily shot a warning look to him, but he paid no heed.
"You still are just a little boy," Frank said, "You still haven't grown up."
James's glare grew more intense, and he looked ready to kill Frank. Yet Frank was not afraid. He stood his ground, and stared back, glaring knives back at the nineteen-year-old boy.
"Frank, James . . ." Lily started, trying to break them up again, "Look, I know that we're all worried. But we don't need to start taking it out on each other. We're all on the same side. You two are friends, remember that . . ."
"Frank," Alice whispered, taking his arm, and tugging him back, "Maybe we should go."
"Maybe you should," James snapped, and Alice shot a hurt look to him. James had never acted this way toward them before. Lily wanted to slap him across the face.
"James . . ."
"Come on," Alice said, trying to pull her husband toward the front door, "I don't think we're wanted here."
"Alice," Lily started, but Alice patted her on the back.
"I'll see you tomorrow, dear," she said quietly, avoiding eye contact with James as she crossed the room, dragging her husband behind her. Frank was still staring Lily's husband down, but didn't say anything as he left the house, following his wife and then disappearing behind the door.
James still held his jaw in pain as the door shut behind the two of them, and then he crossed the room to make his way back to the staircase, leading upstairs.
"Where are you going?" Lily asked sternly.
"To bed," James said simply, and started up the stairs.
"We need to talk about this," Lily followed him, her voice urgent.
"No, we don't," he retorted, mussing his hair and disappearing around the corner. She heard the bedroom door slam, and then silence. She sighed, and sat down on the lowest stair. The baby was getting heavier.
Now the pride and joy that she was carrying became a burden. Was her child the one that would change the world? Was she carrying the boy that would end the war? How was that possible? There was no way on earth that one child could be that important . . . a baby . . .
James needed someone to talk to. And it couldn't be her. He would never discuss this with her. It had to be someone that he trusted, over any other human being on earth. Someone that he would tell anything to.