Title: Full Moon Rising

Author: daemonwolf

Rating: PG-13

Distribution: ask, and ye shall receive

Notes: One little announcement before I get to the review replies; for the sake of my own sanity (and pure laziness), I've decided to change the date of Lily and James' death to the night of July thirtieth, thus giving Lily exactly one year as a werewolf and making Harry one year old. Again, this is simply for the sake of my own sanity (having to go back and re-write entire scenes because of a brain fart is not one of my most fun things to do in the world), alright? So, well, deal with it. I claim artistic license, so nyah! XP

Review replies:

Final Spirit: Hmm... Somehow I get the feeling I wasn't as clear as I thought I had been in the previous chapter. All right... here goes: Full Moon Rising is not Marauders-centric. In between this chapter and the previous one, there is (almost) a yearlong gap because I simply think that year is not important in Harry Potter's development. Therefore, my next fanfic to be posted—His Lycan Lily, will deal with the year of Lily's lycanthropy. That fic will be Remus/Lily, and Marauders-centric. In this one, they only provide a bit of background for Harry. Hopefully this explains all the confusion, I'm sorry I wasn't able to make it clear earlier. If anyone has any other questions, feel free to e-mail me or post your question in a review. My e-mail's for those with questions.

Mavahissss: heh, no, Remus won't die. He's important later on! And, as you so wished, here is more.

Satern Mya: Thanks for the compliment! As promised, I hereby present:

Full Moon Rising

Chapter Five: Voldemort

The year passed by quickly for the most part. Every day, Remus, James, Peter, and Sirius went to work at the Aurors' Headquarters. Lily, on maternity leave, took care of baby Harry, except on the nights of her transformations. She was, the others thought, surprisingly upbeat about the whole thing. Remus was simply grateful she didn't blame him for her affliction. Sirius and James on the other hand had gone through all the usual avenues of grief and denial before finally dealing with Lily's lycanthropy in typical Marauder manner—beating the crap out of Remus for a few weeks until Lily finally set them both straight. Peter, it seemed, was the only one who didn't really have an opinion. Granted, he was also never around to give one, but the remaining Marauders simply chalked it up to a new girlfriend, whom he didn't want to frighten away by bringing his friends into the picture.

Three months before Harry's first birthday, Albus Dumbledore arrived at the Marauders' Hideaway with some disturbing news. "My new Divination teacher has prophesized," he proclaimed by way of greeting.

Lily clucked her tongue at her old Headmaster as she shifted Harry's weight in her arms. "Albus, you know none of us take stock in all that divination nonsense," she began.

"Not true, Lils," interrupted Sirius. "You of all people should know how obsessive Peter is about that junk."

Lily offered a wry smile to her friend. "I must admit I had hoped he'd grown out of that habit. Where is he, by the way?"

"Off with his girlfriend, no doubt."

"Bah. That woman's taking up more and more of his time, and he won't even let us know who she is!" Lily exclaimed, nostrils flaring as her eyes took on the reddish hue of her wolf form. "He was such a good friend to me in school, I don't know why he's abandoning us now. It's not fair," she added petulantly, sticking out her bottom lip for emphasis.

Dumbledore had to stop himself from smiling at the young woman's burst of immaturity. "Despite Peter's transgressions, Lily, you still need to listen to the prophesy," he continued, drawing a silver bottle out of his sleeve. "Listen." He popped the cork. The four other adults gathered around the table leaned in to hear what the tiny bottle had to say.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ...And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives ...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

"There are only two people in the whole of the wizarding world who match this description—your young Harry, and Frank Longbottom's son." Dumbledore's tone was grave as he watched the implications of the prophesy set in. "You are no longer safe here, James. We should move—" But James would have none of it.

"No! Harry grows up normally, in this house. Not in some little hole in the wall shack where he lives in fear of his life for the rest of his days. I'll not have it!" He pounded the table, startling Harry into hysterics.

"James! Calm down! You've upset Harry," his wife glared at him reproachfully before turning back to the Headmaster. "There must be some other way. Couldn't we make this land unplottable, or make one of us Secret-Keeper?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "Yes.. I believe a Secret-Keeper would work. We can't make the land unplottable without going through the Ministry—and Voldemort undoubtedly has spies in every department. Very well," he added, coming to a decision. "You will have until the end of the month to designate a Secret-Keeper, and I will transport him somewhere safe."

Lily grinned gratefully, and took her husband's hand. "You see, James! We'll be alright in the end."

They didn't even need until the end of the month. Before the week was out, James had declared that he trusted no one more than his best friend Sirius Black, and so Sirius was granted the highest power of protection available for Secret-Keepers. Unfortunately, unlike his best friend, Sirius had some doubts as to whether he could withstand the pressure of a session of Cruatius torture. So, afraid for the life of his Godson and his best friends, Sirius went to James a month later to plead with him to switch Secret-Keepers. "Please, James. Peter would make a much better Keeper than I ever could. Hell, he's never around anyway, so Voldemort would have to look harder for him than he would for any of us!" James hesitated, undecided. "Just think about it for a while, alright?"

After their encounter, Sirius didn't see his best friend until the week before Harry's first birthday. "Padfoot, old friend, alright. I'll switch to Peter. But it'll be the Marauders' secret, all right? Hey, think about it, if Voldemort still thinks you're the Secret-Keeper, he won't be able to get any information out of you!"

Sirius laughed morbidly. "Yeah. I'll just get tortured to death, knowing the rest of you are safe. Gee, thanks buddy."

James' face fell. "Sirius, if you don't want to..."

"Hey, it's me, alright? You know I'd go down swinging for you any day. It's just I'd rather go down not having any information to share with Lord I'm-a-douchbag that could hurt you, Lils or mini-Prongs."

James chuckled. "Works for me. I'll bring Remus and Pete down to the house tonight."

Sirius nodded, "I'll be there."

James flashed his friend a grin, then left the small flat Sirius was staying at as Secret-Keeper.

That night, after the ceremony was performed and the Secret-Keeping duties switched from Sirius to Peter, Peter walked alone down a side street to his own slightly run-down hideaway. After hanging up his cloak, he threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fire and stuck his head in, muttering, "the Riddle House." His head appeared in the sitting room fireplace, where a lanky man sat, staring at the flames, his red eyes glowing demonically in the firelight. "Milord," Peter said reverently, bowing his head from its place in the fire.

"What is it that you want, Wormtail?" The man's voice cut through the silence of the mansion harshly.

"Milord, the target is within sight."

Lord Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Spare me the muggle space-talk. Do you know where the Potters are, or don't you?"

"I do," Peter Pettigrew replied. There was no hesitation in his voice as he sold out his friends—the only friends he had had since his Hogwarts days.

"Very good, my servant. Very good, indeed."

One week later, Lily was sitting at the kitchen table as she prepared a list of last-minute birthday decorations for Remus to fetch. "Remus, dear, would you do me a huge favor?" She called up the stairs, to where Remus was reading in his room.

As he heard Lily's voice, Remus poked his head out the door. "What is it that you want, Lily?"

"Would you be a dear and buy these supplies? I completely forgot in wake of that Secret-Keeping thing, and both James and Sirius are over at his place, pretending he's still the Keeper."

Remus smiled, a hint of the affection for Lily he had accumulated during their times as werewolves. Good thing Harry's not a 'wolf, he thought wryly. If he was around, half of what Lily and I discovered wouldn't have happened. "Sure, Lils, I'll get right on it," he called back, ducking back into his room to grab his cloak and shoes before heading out to the store.

Before Remus returned, James returned home from his nightly card game with Sirius. "How's my beautiful wife and son?" he asked as he swept Lily into a hug.

"Oof," was her reply.

James looked at her quizzically from her smashed position against his chest. "'Oof?' I get home from the wars, and all you can say is 'oof'?"

Lily sighed. "Home from the wars? Not likely. Home from your nightly card game, more like. And 'oof' was because I couldn't breathe, much less speak!" She smacked him playfully on the arm. "Now help me out by putting up some of the decorations. I'm going to put Harry down for the night."

James stared appreciatively at his wife's backside as she sashayed over to Harry's crib and took him up the stairs. Halfway up, she turned. "I love you, you idiot."

James grinned. "And I too, Princess Wolf." Lily blushed at her acquired nickname, and walked up the rest of the stairs. "Now," James said to himself, rubbing his hands together, "what to do about the decorations."

He had finished with the kitchen and was about to decorate the living room when the telltale buzz of wards being breached got his attention. "Merlin, no. Not now. Not on Harry's birthday," he muttered, grabbing his wand and taking up a position next to the door. He didn't have to warn Lily, he knew she had heard the buzz of the alarm. With a grim smile, he realized what must've happened. Either Peter caved, or... we've had a spy in our midst all this time. He cut off that chain of thought, realizing such distractions could be deadly. And then he didn't have any time left for thought as the door burst open and a small group of Death Eaters, headed by Voldemort, entered the house.

Hoping to distract the Death Eaters from their intent march up the stairs, he shouted, "Lily! Voldemort's here! Take the baby and run!" Then he himself charged, shouting curses left and right as the Death Eaters turned to face him. He had angled his attack so that he could pass the Death Eaters on the stairs and continue up to his son's room to make his last stand there. He never made it.

"Avada Kedavra," came the whisper, and a bright jet of green light shot out of the wand held by a shadowed figure, striking James in his back. In an instant, the loving father, doting husband, and legend of the Auror Academy was dead.

Upstairs, Lily shook in shock, her hands fumbling for her wand, and the spell for the last hope of the Wizarding world. "Haec mâtris amor," she murmured, smiling at her son as the charm worked its way under his skin, causing the baby to giggle and smile up at his mother. "I love you," she whispered, and set him in his crib before turning to face the man who had killed her husband just moments before. "You bastard," she spat, then dropped into a wounded-bird routine to keep the Dark Lord from suspecting the protection she had placed on her child. "Please, take my life. But spare the child, he's not yet a year old!"

"All the more reason to kill the brat now, Potter," Voldemort spat the name as if it were something disgusting. "He is the product of a filthy Mudblood union. He doesn't deserve to live. Avada Kedavra."

Lily screamed but once before the curse hit her, and the strange thing was, Voldemort could've sworn he saw a smile grace her features as she died. But as he flipped the body of the woman over, he could see her face was frozen in the shocked death mask of the victims of the Killing Curse.

Shaking off his unease, Voldemort approached the crib, his most loyal Death Eaters at his side. "You aren't worth my time, or my pity, Potter. Avada Kedavra." Voldemort smirked as the familiar green jet of light streaked out of his wand and toward the Potter child. He felt safe in the knowledge that the prophecy his spy had given him would come true on this night, and the extinction of the side of Good would come with this child's death. He thought of all the horrendous and terrible things he would bring to the world once the threat of Harry Potter was gone from this world. He was still thinking those thoughts when the jet of light struck the Potter boy in his forehead—then rebounded back onto Voldemort's own forehead. All his thoughts of grandeur, of complete and total annihilation were replaced by a single word. His last thought before blacking out completely was an ignominious "huh?"

Whew... it's amazing what you'll add from your head to paper. Originally, this thing was only a page and a half long. Goddamn. Before I leave you, just a couple of things. First, the Latin spoken by Lily. I know the grammar is probably horrible, since I took it directly from the glossary of words at the back of the Latin book, but it is supposed to be "This Mother's Love." If anyone can give me an exact translation, I would be grateful. Secondly, the prophecy was taken directly from the fifth book, so I don't own that. Umm... if I can think of more, there will be more, but until then... you know, that little blue button down there is looking awfully lonely...