AN: Hello all! 117 REVIEWS! YAY! THANKS SOOO MUCH TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEWED! And now, on with the story….
000
The cottage was small but cozy, and the simple but elegant furniture seemed to contrast sharply with the lush, green flower garden outside. Harry peeked through one of the cottage's small windows, taking in the sight of the dense, expansive forest outside.
Lupin was curled up in one of the wicker chairs reading a rather intimidating, thick looking book. This was his house then. The cottage was silent except for the soft, jazzy music emanating from a crackling phonograph in the corner and the occasional rustling of the turning pages. Harry leaned over Lupin's shoulder to see what he was reading.
An Ancient Compendium to Wizarding History in Ancient Mesopotamia as Recorded by the…
The title was a bit longer than that, but Harry thought he might fall asleep on the spot if he had to finish reading it. How did a werewolf who spent most of his time fighting the Dark Arts manage to be so boring? The light jazz continued to permeate the room.
Suddenly, the fire flared up. James Potter's disembodied head was floating inside of it, looking distinctly ruffled. Lupin shut his book and looked up with surprise.
"Moony!" said James frantically.
"What is it?" asked Lupin, sounding slightly concerned.
"It's Lily!" he said in the same loud voice.
"Is she alright?" Lupin stood up, suddenly tense. "She hasn't gone into labor has she?"
"No," said James. Lupin immediately looked less rigid. "She's—she's driving me crazy!"
"Really?" An amused grin curled its way onto Lupin's features. "Whatever seems to be the problem?"
"She's gone mad!" stammered James. "The weird food cravings, the mood swings, her emotions are out of control and—Merlin's beard—so is her magic! She lit the kitchen table on fire today without her wand when I told her we were out of milk! And—the hormones! The hormones!" He sounded as if he were recounting some harrowing tale of survival in a dangerous war zone.
"And what precisely shall I do to alleviate your predicament, dearest Prongs?" asked Lupin, smirking. "You need me to knock her off for you then?"
"Yeah, make it look like Death Eaters, no one will catch on!" said James brightly. Then his face fell. "No—that would be wrong…"
Lupin burst out laughing. "Well, I'm glad to see your moral compass is still so assuredly intact."
He was so much more open and relaxed around his friends, Harry noticed. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was younger…or the fact that he still had all of his friends. He hadn't lost them all yet.
"Actually, I do need a favor…" said James's head.
"Name it."
"I'm going away on business for a few days," he explained. "And I don't want her to be alone. She's already seven months along…Ugh—I don't think I can take too much more of this," he added.
"Yes, of course," said Lupin in mock sympathy. "I can see how this whole pregnancy thing is such a burden for you."
"Now, now, no need to get snarky," said James. "So, how about it? I asked Sirius and Peter to drop by as well."
"How much supervision does she need James?" asked Lupin. "She's quite capable of handling herself."
"That's what I'm worried about!" he said. "Strength in numbers. Not for her, for you. You can't go in there alone. It's too dangerous." His eyes widened, a terrified look crossing his features. "She's—she's like a Chinese Fireball when she gets mad."
Lupin continued to laugh at him. "When do you need me?"
"Right now?" asked James pleadingly.
"Sure," said Lupin broadly. "Move your inflated head, mate, I'll be right over."
James complied, Lupin ducked into the fire, and Harry reeled as he shot through the Floo Network for a split second and rematerialized somewhere else.
"Remus!" cried a female voice happily. "How are you?"
"Good as ever," said Lupin, climbing out of the fireplace and dusting off his robes. He strode over to Lily, who was smiling. Her stomach was swollen with—Harry. Harry decided that this was a very odd thing to be looking at. "And how is the loveliest witch in England doing this morning?"
"Stiff, swollen, and achy," she said. "So just right!" She gave Remus a quick, friendly hug. "I'd be better if my husband wasn't abandoning me and our unborn child for a week!" she said to no one in particular, eyes flitting innocently to the ceiling as she spoke.
"I'm sorry dear, you know I wouldn't go if it could be avoided," apologized James pleadingly.
Sirius and Peter, who were sitting idly in the living room, snickered. Sirius coughed loudly in a vain attempt to hide his laughter.
"I do have to go now," said James. He lifted up a briefcase from the table, prompting Harry to wonder what exactly his job was. It looked like some kind of Ministry work: an Auror perhaps? Harry could hope, at least.
He strode over to Lily and kissed her gently on the cheek. Then he bent down and kissed her swollen belly. "I'll be back soon, I promise," he said earnestly, more to the lump in Lily's stomach than to her. He gave Lily on last reassuring smile, then disappeared into the fireplace.
Lily stared at the roaring flames. For a few moments, everything was silent.
"So, pretty lady, can we do anything for you?" Sirius stood up and walked towards her grinning broadly. "Three humble male servants, all at your beck and call," he said, spreading his arms wide and indicating the other inhabitants of the room.
Lily didn't respond. Quite suddenly, she burst into tears. Sirius looked flabbergasted.
"What's wrong, Lily?" asked Peter, his face a mixture of worry and confusion.
"Stay away from her, you great cowardly git," Harry snarled.
"I—m—miss—ss J—Ja—James," she sobbed wildly.
"What?" said Sirius in bewilderment. "He's only been gone for three seconds."
Unfortunately for Sirius, this only caused her to cry harder.
"I w—want him h—home," she wailed.
Lupin stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her shaking body. He steered her over to the couch, and they sat down gently. She buried her face in his robes, still crying harder than ever.
"Shh, Lily, it's alright," he said in a soft, soothing voice. Sirius and Peter sat down on either side of them, still confused. "He'll be home before you know it. Don't cry, love." He stroked her back until her sobs dissolved into hiccups.
"Oh, Moony," said Sirius, when Lily had finally quieted down. He shook his head. "Only you could get away with stroking James's wife while he was out of town…"
"I'm hungry," said Lily suddenly. Apparently his father wasn't kidding about the mood swings. His mother, who had been bawling her eyes out moments ago, now had a very bright, cheerful look on her tearstained face.
Sirius looked relieved. Finally, something he could deal with.
"What would you like to eat, m'dear?" he asked.
"Treacle tart," she said.
"I'll run out and get some," said Peter, standing up.
"Good riddance!" called Harry. Hmm…too bad there was no one to appreciate his running commentary on events. He was pretty sure Ron would have found it amusing.
"I—" interrupted Lily. "I want homemade treacle tart."
"You want us to make you a treacle tart?" asked Sirius incredulously. "We have to cook it? In the kitchen?"
"Yes, Padfoot, that is usually where one cooks things. In the kitchen," said Lupin, with playful sarcasm.
Lily's lower lip trembled violently. "My mum always used to make treacle tart," she told them, her eyes wide and over bright.
"I don't know how to cook things!" protested Sirius. "I never cook things."
"There's a first time for everything, isn't there?" said Lupin. He grabbed him and dragged him towards the kitchen.
"Er—I'll just stay here and uh—," said Peter, looking frantically around for an excuse to stay out of the kitchen.
"Oh, no you don't," said Sirius loudly. A single hand darted out from behind the dividing wall and grabbed Peter's collar, yanking him forcibly into the kitchen. Harry followed them. The three men stood in the kitchen, looking around in bewilderment at the shining clean countertops.
"I—er— think we need a cookbook," said Lupin finally.
"Yes!" cried Sirius triumphantly. "A cookbook!"
Peter poked his head out into the living room. "Lily, where are the cookbooks?"
"In the cabinet on the left," she called from the other room. "It's in the big white one."
Lupin opened one of the cupboards and pulled out the cookbook.
"Here," he said, popping it open on the counter. "Olde English Desserts."
"Bloody hell, Moony," said Sirius in horror. "That's a Muggle cookbook."
"Well, yes, Padfoot," said Lupin patiently. "I imagine Lily's mother had a tendency to use Muggle cookbooks, considering the fact that she was a Muggle."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "This is impossible," he said authoritatively.
"Nothing is impossible!" said Lupin grandly. "Wormtail, find the flour. I'll get a bowl."
"And what should I do?" asked Sirius impatiently.
"Don't get in the way?" offered Lupin pleasantly. He bent down and started rooting through one of the lower cabinets.
"Hey!" Sirius looked indignant. "What makes you an expert on making treacle tart?"
"Absolutely nothing," replied Lupin, straightening up and setting the bowl on the counter.
"Oh," said Sirius, as if that was a proper argument. "Well, what can I do?"
"Find me some golden syrup," instructed Lupin.
"What the buggering hell is golden syrup?" demanded Sirius.
"You know, I haven't the foggiest idea," said Lupin. Peter set the flour down on the counter.
"When you cook things the wizarding way, you just need to concentrate on the ingredients and the way they blend together, not what they actually are," said Peter. He seemed to be struggling in his attempt to open the flour container.
"You cook?" asked Lupin.
"My mum taught me," said Peter, blushing slightly.
"Well, that won't help us now," whined Sirius.
"I think it has something to do with boiling sugar," said Lupin, staring at the cookbook and frowning.
"Why would you boil sugar?" asked Sirius, folding his arms.
"How should I know?" said Lupin.
"Stupid, ruddy lid," grunted Peter as he continued tugging at it.
"Maybe it's childproofed," offered Lupin.
"They don't have children yet!" retorted Sirius.
"Oh, precaution, what a terrible concept…"
"Fine! I'll get it, move Wormtail."
"I can get it, Padfoot."
"Wait, both of you can't—!"
The lid launched itself off the jar with such force that it lodged itself into the ceiling. Lupin, Sirius, and Peter stood stock still, deep in shock and covered from head to toe in a thick coating of white flour. Flour now coated the entire kitchen. Harry was pretty certain he would have been coated in flour as well, had he not been incorporeal. He laughed hysterically at them. They stared at each other in bewilderment, blinking owlishly.
"Are you boys ok in there?" asked Lily.
"YES!" they all cried in unison, jumping slightly. They were far, far from ok, but obviously deeply terrified as to what would happen if Lily walked in at that moment.
Lupin took a deep breath. "It's fine. We clean up the kitchen and we use the remaining flour to finish the recipe." He was trying to remain as calm as possible.
Ten or so minutes later, the kitchen was spotless and the (now empty) flour container was back on the shelf. Lupin was stirring a bowl full of what might actually prove to be treacle tart. Lily walked into the kitchen, observing their progress with delight.
"Mmm," she said happily. She walked over to the fridge. "You know what would be good with that?" she said. "Venison."
"What?" said Peter.
"Isn't venison made out of…" said Siruis, once again looking horrified.
"This isn't some unconscious, aggressive hatred of James trying to surface, is it?" asked Lupin.
"Moony, you need to stop reading things."
"No," said Lily. "I want some. We don't have any because, well—it would be creepy and disturbing."
"It's still creepy and disturbing!" said Sirius. "Whether or not our dear, deer friend—Prongs!—is here…"
"But I want some," she whined. Her voice grew more agitated. "James, James, James! Everything is always about James! What about me? James isn't the one who's stuck at home with a stomach the size of a house, I can't even go to work! James! I hate James! I want venison!"
She looked extremely angry, which Harry found interesting, considering she had been crying her eyes out when James left, not very long ago. She prepared to continue her rant. A crystal vase on the mantle teetered ominously.
"OK, fine!" said Sirius suddenly, cutting her off. "Wormtail, would you run to the market?"
"Sure, mate!"
He did look a little more eager than necessary to be leaving, but then again, Lily was like a timebomb. A very scary timebomb.
"Great! I'll come with you! To you know—make sure you don't get attacked or anything," said Sirius. He grabbed his cloak and they both raced out the door.
"I'll stay here!" said Lupin loudly as the door slammed shut. "No problem…"
Lily plopped down on the couch with the treacle tart and a large spoon. "Would you like some, Remus?"
"No, thank you," Lupin said emphatically. He brushed the corner of his robe, banishing the last telltale traces of flour. He sat down on the couch next to Lily. She took a bite of her pudding and sighed thoughtfully. "What's the matter?"
"I'm just—I don't know. Are we doing the right thing?" she idly twirled the empty spoon the air.
"What do you mean?"
"Bringing a child into this world," she said sorrowfully. "I mean—do you know why James left?" Lupin obviously didn't, so he remained silent. "He has to go survey a village outside of Dorchester. A clan of giants came down from the mountains a few days ago, and they—they destroyed everything. And everyone." She dropped the spoon back into the bowl. "How can I bring a child into that kind of world? What kind of life can I give him? What if—"
"Lily, the only thing a child of yours and James can do to this world is make it profusely better," said Lupin firmly. "You are doing the right thing. You and James will make wonderful parents." He placed a hand on her stomach and smiled. Lily smiled back, and clasped his hand, her eyes over-bright.
"Thank you, Remus," she said softly.
"Your baby is going to be very special Lily," said Lupin. "Very special."
Harry stared at the ground.
000
Lupin was in a meadow, on the outskirts of a small town, under a vast starry sky. The sky, Lupin noticed with much displeasure, also contained a bright, full moon. Fortunately, in his current state he could just do his best to ignore it and its bloody stupid, creepy light. Two figures were crouching on top of one of the lush, deep green hilltops. They grew larger as he approached. There appeared to be no one else around.
Was he still in Snape's memories? He certainly wouldn't mind if he wasn't. After all, he was deriving absolutely no pleasure whatsoever from spying on Snape. Of course not. None at all. And he certainly wouldn't be making any extra effort to get back into Snape's memories when he should be concentrating on finding Harry and getting out of the Pensieve. Definitely not. That would be childish. Letting his curiosity get the better of him like that! OK. Maybe he would.
He thought he heard something rustling next to him. His imagination? Or perhaps someone in an invisibility cloak. He did not think this memory belonged to either of the people on the hilltop—he did not recognize them from the Order, past or present.
The figure were now clearly discernable—a man and a woman. The man was dressed smartly in Muggle clothes—he looked to be fairly well off. However, in his current situation, his disheveled dark hair was falling across his face and he had a rather anxious expression on his face. The woman's already fair white face was pale and exhausted. She had a sheet of raven hair which probably would have fallen past her waist if she had been standing up, and striking green eyes. A long black traveling cloak fluttered across her swollen stomach, and she was panting heavily. She was in labor, Lupin realized. She suddenly doubled up and moaned as another contraction hit.
"Please, Melantha, we have to get to a hospital," said man pleadingly.
"No, no, I can't. I can't have this baby at the Muggle hospital…" she panted breathlessly. "I can't…you don't understand…"
Apparently he did not, for Tom looked rather bewildered. "Then we need to get back to the house, then—"
"No!" she cried frantically. "It's not safe there. He'll find us. We—we have to keep moving." She attempted to struggle to her feet, but fell backwards again, groaning in pain.
"Who will find us?" said Tom, his brow furrowing. "Mel, you're not making sense. You're sick right now. We have to get to the hospital—"
"No hospital!"
"Bloody hell!" Tom looked frustrated. "What is wrong with you? Do you really want to endanger yourself and the baby like this? We need some help—" He stood up and looked desolately around at the barren landscape.
"Tom, Tom, I have to tell you something," she said breathlessly, clutching his wrist in a clammy hand. She was staring at the ground and rocking back and forth. "It's very important—it's something—I should have told you—aahhhhh…!"
Tom looked at her as though she was quite insane. He was looking more and more desperate as time ticked by. He turned and looked at the vast darkness. Lupin followed his gaze to a nearby hillock. A cluster of dark figures had materialized, as if out of nowhere, and they were rapidly closing in on the stranded couple. Tom squinted his eyes and stared at them, not sure if he should be threatened or relieved.
"Hullo?" he called experimentally. The shadowy figures did not respond. "Are you from the village? My wife, she needs—"
Melantha looked up suddenly and saw the figures, a look of abject terror appearing on her face.
"NOOOO!" she screamed wildly. "Stay away from us!" She plunged her hand into her cloak and pulled out her wand with a trembling hand. "Get away!" She did not look capable of casting any sort of functional defensive spell in her current state. The wand slipped in her hands.
"What are you doing with that stick?" asked Tom, obviously irritated that his wife had completely gone off her rocker and was now threatening the only people who could possible help them with a pointy wooden stick.
One of the figures raised his wand, pointing it directly at a bewildered looking Tom. A deep, scratchy voice spoke. "Avada K—"
Melantha screamed.
At that moment, there was a flurry of movement next to Lupin. Someone threw off an invisibility cloak and lept forward.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" a hoarse voice shouted. The wand flew out of the attacker's hand. The crowd of black robed figures—there must have been at least a dozen of them—turned towards their assailant.
It took Lupin a few seconds to recognize who he was looking at. The man was dressed in a traditional Auror's robe—very traditional, the uniform was probably standard decades ago. He had course, dark hair that was slicked back against the base of his neck and his skin was somewhat dark, but smooth. He was staring at the crowd, with narrowed, beady black eyes.
"What are you people?" shouted Tom furiously. "What the bleeding hell is going on?"
"Stand aside, Auror," said one of the figures in black. "You have no business here."
The Auror stepped in front of the couple and smiled grimly, jutting out his jaw as if he were enjoying himself immensely. "No," he said in an unfittingly cheery tone. "But thanks anyway, old chap."
"Stand aside or die," countered the figure, raising his wand.
"Now that's not a very nice thing to say," he said, still grinning cheekily.
"Very well." The figure pointed his wand towards the Auror. "Av—"
Another figure materialized suddenly on the scene in a swirl of violet fabric and auburn hair. "Expelliarmus!" The wand soared away. "Bindus!" A shimmering golden rope encircled the figures and jerked them closer together.
"Albus," said the Auror. "It took you long enough."
"I had business to attend to, Alastor," he apologized. "Forgive me."
Alastor? Alastor Moody? Lupin gawked at the young Auror. He looked like he was barely in his mid-twenties. There wasn't a single wrinkle on his face. Even his personality seemed different. Then again—that could be reconciled with the fact that this version of Alastor Moody still possessed all of his appendages, including both legs.
The robed figures were struggling against whatever binding spell Dumbledore had placed on them. They would not be held for long. Moody eyed them warily. Dumbledore swooped down over to the spot that the Riddles were lying in the grass.
"Are you alright, my dear?" Dumbledore asked, gently.
"Who—who are you?" she demanded, growing more and more hysterical. "Stay away! Stay away from my baby!" She jabbed her wand into his face and suddenly dropped in, her face screwed up in pain. "Ah…!"
"I am here to help you," he reassured her. "No one will harm your baby."
She stared at him, clearly not believing him in the least. Looking around at the assembled crowd, Lupin couldn't say he blamed her.
"How long?" asked Dumbledore.
"It's been hours," she said. "I think it's only minutes, now…minutes…." She moaned again.
At this point, Tom looked as though he had had quite enough. He pointed an accusatory finger at his wife. "What are you?" he demanded, looking at her as though she were something strange and hideous he had never seen until this moment.
On the ground and panting heavily, Melantha did not look like she possessed the energy necessary to explain herself.
"I'm…I'm a witch, Tom," she said in a small, exhausted voice. "I'm different. I'm…"
Tom looked wildly around, his eyes resting on Dumbledore. "What are you? Are you a witch?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "No, I am a wizard," he clarified.
Tom looked at his wife again. "Are you—like them?" He indicated the wizards around him in disgust.
"Yes," she said, her voice now barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I couldn't. I knew…you wouldn't like it…but now I have to because…" Her hand clutched her stomach.
Tom's eyes widened in horror. "You infected our baby with it?"
Melantha's eyes filled with tears. "Tom…" she reached out her hand, but he jerked it away, repulsed.
"You—you stay away from me! I don't know you!" He stumbled backwards.
"Your son—" began Dumbledore softly.
"That thing is not my son!" he screamed. "I have no son! I have no wife!" He turned and ran away into the night as if something indescribably horrible were chasing him. Melantha began to cry softly.
Suddenly, Moody was blasted backwards onto the ground. He stood up, cursing wildly, and began firing curses back at the black robed crowd. They had freed themselves of whatever binding spell was upon them and were now spreading out, encasing Moody, Dumbledore, and the shaking Melantha in a wide circle.
"Alastor, have you ever delivered a baby?" asked Dumbledore in an inappropriately casual voice.
"No, Albus I have never delivered a baby," snapped Moody. "I'm an Auror, not a bloody midwife." He ducked a stream of blue light. "Malegro!" he roared, leaping back onto his feet. Curses were flying everywhere with alarming frequency and no particular indication of direction.
"Help her," said Dumbledore. "I will take care of this."
Moody knelt down next to the woman and stared at her uncertainly. Her eyes were shut tight, and she was shaking. Moody tentatively lifted up her robes and peered underneath her skirt, looking extremely uncomfortable. Apparently he did not like what he saw, because he immediately dropped the skirt.
"Bloody hell," he grumbled. "Magic of new life, my arse." Grudgingly, he reached his hands under her skirt. "Alright—your going to need to—push the—" He looked down. "rest of the kid out." Moody did not look very pleased with his current situation. Lupin couldn't help but snicker. The look on his face was rather priceless.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore had managed to subdue most of the black robed figures.
"Dammit, Albus—" said Moody gruffly. "You'd better get over her and do—this."
Dumbledore crouched beside them. Several moments later, Moody was holding a baby. He pulled off his cloak and wrapped the tiny infant in it. Lupin decided the miracle of birth was not so much precious as it was slightly nauseating. Then again, he knew it was probably different if it was your child. He had not been in the room when Harry was born—but James had later insisted it was the most exhilarating thing he had even been a part of…
Melantha held out her trembling arms. Moody handed her the baby and she clutched it tightly to her chest, rocking back and forth. Tears poured silently down her face.
"What's his name?" asked Moody, with all the kindness his gruff voice could manage.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," she said, her voice hoarse and cracking. "After his father. And Marvolo after his grandfather."
Moody looked at her incredulously. "After his father?" he said in disguist. "That coward who just aband—"
"Alastor," said Dumbledore in a warning voice. Moody fell reluctantly silent, but he clearly had a few more opinions about Tom Riddle that he was dying to vocalize.
Dumbledore looked around, frowning. Suddenly, the air was filled with crackling sounds as at least twenty more black-robes Apperated into the meadow. They immediately began firing curses at Moody, who gave a yelp of surprise before he was blown back by numerous jets of light. He landed hard several dozen feet away, his leg bent at an odd angle. They swarmed down upon Melantha as she screamed. Despite her current state, she struggled wildly in their grasp, clutching her baby.
Dumbledore continued to fight. Though he was outnumbered at least thirty to one, he did not seem to be having any problems handling himself. Lupin shook his head in disbelief.
Several minutes passed without a clear victor. At some point, Melantha stopped screaming. One figure seemed to have emerged as the leader. He evaded each of the restrictive spells Dumbledore had used on the rest of the crowd.
"Enough!" he said suddenly. The fighting stopped. The man was dressed in the same robes as the rest, but he held himself differently—more purposefully. His eyes, though small and cold, seemed normal—except when they flashed with an unearthly, reddish light as his gaze flitted around the chaotic scene.
The crowd of black robes around Melantha parted, revealing her still cold, body. She was staring blankly at the starry sky, her face frozen in a twisted mask of fear and pain. One of the figures was holding something. A small bundle of robes. The baby.
The leader saw this and smiled. "I have what I came for."
"No," said Dumbledore. He whirled around, trapping the remaining crowd in an Anti-Apperation jinx. "I cannot let you take him."
"He is mine, old man," hissed the leader, his narrowed eyes flashing red. "The prophecy—"
"The prophecy does not give you, nor anyone else, jurisdiction over his soul," countered Dumbledore. "You have no right to corrupt in that way. He is just a child."
"Just a child?" he sputtered. "You old fool! That child will be more powerful than either of us can imagine. I will show him his true destiny. He will be strong by my side. I—"
"Oh, stuff it, you old wind bag," snapped Moody, who was still on the ground. Blood was dribbling out of his nose, staining his robes. The leader whipped his wand towards Moody, who immediately started gasping as if he was choking.
"Leave him out of this, Grindewald," Dumbledore waved his hand, and Moody collapsed, coughing.
"You old hypocrite," said the leader, furiously. "What would you do? Raise him in your own image? Take him for yourself? All of his power?"
"No. He will make his own choice."
"The child is mine."
"You will not take him," said Dumbledore simply, as if he were stating a fact.
With a roar of rage, Grindewald attacked him. Dumbledore defended himself almost effortlessly. Curses flew through the air. They dueled for what seemed like an eternity. Lupin had never seen Dumbledore fight this way. In was almost frightening to see the old man's eyes blazing in that way.
The earth beneath Dumbledore began to tremble. It opened suddenly, revealing an endless chasm. Dumbledore stepped backwards and flicked his wand, burying Grindewald beneath a shower of earth and uprooted grass. Dumbledore reached out and caught Grindewald's wand in an outstretched hand.
Grindewald lay on the ground, panting and covered in dirt. He glared at Dumbledore hatefully. "Go on," he spat. "Finish it."
"I do not wish to kill you," said Dumbledore quietly. "But I have spared your life. In my debt, you shall never come near Tom Riddle again."
Grindewald glared at him, his eyes blazing furiously. "So it shall be, and may my debt of blood be repaid, bound by eternity," he growled. An old wizarding pact. Very old. Lupin had read about it, but he had never heard anyone use those actual words. Such traditions had faded long ago.
Dumbledore handed him back his wand. Humiliated, filthy, and livid with rage, he Dissaperated. Dumbledore took the baby into his arms and flicked his wand. The crowd of black robed figures disappeared, leaving Dumbledore and Moody alone on the hilltop.
"What will you do with him, Albus?" asked Moody, staring at the child uncertainly. "You've heard the prophecy. It might be best if that child never learns his true destiny."
What prophecy, wondered Lupin. He didn't know there was a prophecy about Voldemort's birth as well. All this foretelling was starting to become a problem…
"He is free to make up his own mind," repeated Dumbledore, gazing into the child's tiny eyes.
"Where will he go?"
"A Muggle orpahange. He will be safe there, in neutral territory."
"Muggle orphanage?" said Moody skeptically. "Are you mad, Albus? That child. He's going to be one of the most powerful—"
"He will choose his own destiny," Dumbledore looked into the night sky, his expression one of sadness. "It is not our place to influence him in such a way." Tom had fallen asleep, cradled in Dumbledore's arms. Moody looked at the tiny bundle, almost fearfully.
He slowly uttered the question that hung heavily in the air, though both men seemed to be been afraid to speak it aloud. "What if…he makes the wrong choice?"
Dumbledore did not respond. He stared silently into the sky.
000
AN: Wow! That was probably the looongest chapter ever. I know, I know, the whole Voldemort birth thing probably isn't the way you pictured it, but it technically follows with canon. Hey, these are my interpretations, I'm doing the best I can! Oh, and the name Melantha means "dark flower." I dunno, I thought it was cool. And the whole Dumbledore throwing Tom in a Muggle orphanage to let him experience life and choose his own fate—doesn't that seem like something he would do? Let me know what you think.
Oh, and I'm sorry I didn't have Snape in this one. (Unless you hate him, of course.) He'll be back next time! Really he will!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed!