A/N: So, here we go again. A little more… just a fun fact, in this chapter, I make a small reference to something JKR once said about Lily and James. I personally think it's easy to find, but see if you can :). Most importantly, tell me if you like where this is going. The next chapter is where you'll meet some Marauders and other friends.
Chapter 3:
Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort when he was a year old. Albus Dumbledore had long-suspected that Voldemort's quest for immortality would lead him down one of the most forbidding roads that a wizard could possibly take. And though Harry's story was one with a lot of holes in it, it was also one that Dumbledore believed confirmed his suspicions.
Young Harry had to return to his own time, as quickly and as quietly as possible. The very balance of the Wizarding World depended on it.
And then there was the mirror…a very, very distinct complication.
Dumbledore knew of the Mirror of Erised. And he knew where it currently resided. However, if his predictions were correct, they would have to depend upon Harry to make this work.
The child had…a very pure heart. The headmaster could sense the strength of it just from the mere hour he had spent in the boy's presence. Had the mirror rewarded the boy? Dumbledore was inclined to think so.
Harry had now met the parents that he had never known. According to Harry, parents who had died protecting him. Why Voldemort ever went after them was not for Dumbledore to know at this point in time, as Harry himself had no idea. But the old wizard knew that the timeline could not be disrupted. And to do that, they would have to at least attempt to keep Lily and James in the dark…if their son could even bear to do so.
However…
Dumbledore looked up. Minerva was still sitting there with an immensely troubled look on her face, leaning away from the boy as if worried that if he got to close, that she would become a phantom in the wrong timeline. Her eyes would flit to the scar on his forehead every so often. Dumbledore inclined his head and clapped his hands lightly.
"Well, now that we have an understanding, I think we should call Mr. Potter and Ms. Evans back in here, wouldn't you say, Minerva?"
He could see that his dear colleague was still very wary of his plan. He knew that he was stretching the reaches of her trust, but he also knew that she would not object now. There were things he could not explain to anyone, things that he was putting together through bits and pieces of events going on around them and Harry's story.
Harry, for his part, looked up at the headmaster in shock, anxiety flashing through his bright green eyes. Dumbledore suppressed a smile. The boy was unselfish. Even now, he seemed to be afraid that the headmaster would tell his parents the truth: that they were destined to marry young and die before they could see their only son grow up. Hiding that from them would be painful and difficult for the boy, but Dumbledore could see his desire to do so.
"Sir?" Harry finally spoke up. "You won't…I mean, you aren't…"
"No, I am not going to tell them anything that you told me, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "I am, however, going to give you what the Mirror of Erised meant for you to have. And I truly am sorry to only be able to give you so little time with them. But then, I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
Dumbledore leaned in a little further, to ensure Harry's attention. "I need you to want to go back."
Harry would not understand what Dumbledore was asking of him until he got there, but once he did, what needed to be done would be something that only a certain kind of person would be able to do. Harry, Lily, James…they were those kinds of people. In the midst of this fledging war of blood, Albus Dumbledore trusted in that.
He didn't wait for Harry to respond, but instead nodded to the Head of Gryffindor House, who wordlessly turned and admitted the two sixth-years back into the room.
James appeared to be about as tentative as Lily was this time. Both of them were uncertain as to their involvement at this point. They had expected to be summarily dismissed after handing Harry over to the proper authorities. And it was beginning to look like that was not going to happen.
"I have an appointment for the two of you," Dumbledore said, spreading his palms on his desk and pushing off to stand. "I have already discussed this idea with Professor McGonagall and she has decided to allow you, Mr. Potter and you, Ms. Evans, to leave Hogwarts grounds in order to accomplish this."
Lily was absolutely floored. She looked between McGonagall and Dumbledore, a thousand thoughts running through her head and not one of those thoughts coming to the forefront to even know where to begin.
James, however, didn't have that problem. "I'm going to say that this has something to do with the little bloke, but I don't understand what this has to do with either of us, Professor. I mean…we just found him. I don't think…" he trailed off. What did he think?
"Are you refusing my request, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore inquired, his eyes twinkling characteristically.
James started. "I—no…no."
"What would we have to do?" Lily finally found her voice after a long moment of silence. Dumbledore could have answered her, but he seemed to be deliberately waiting for Harry to speak up.
"There's this…thing…that I have to find," the eleven-year old finally said. "And it's not here, but I need it, and I need someone to take me to it. And Professor Dumbledore thought…" Harry looked between them almost shyly. "Well, he thought that it might be best for you to take me to it."
"What is it?" Lily said. True, she didn't have much of an idea of what was going on, but Dumbledore's line of thinking was baffling to her. There were certainly teachers better-equipped to deal with this, never mind that James had literally no position of authority and a propensity for trouble. And McGonagall was going along with it? Suddenly, the questions were forcing their way out of her mouth as they sprang to her head again, directed at Harry with sharp precision. "But… who are you? How did you get here? I mean, do you remember anything? Why were you unconscious in the middle of the bloody Quidditch pitch? And why do you keep looking at me like that?"
"Lily…" James said.
She hadn't meant to blurt out the last part, but it was already out of her mouth, and she immediately regretted it when the younger boy shrank back just the slightest bit and flushed, looking away from her. It was true, he had been looking at her…avidly was the only word she could think of to describe it. It was like she was some deity or goddess that had appeared to him and the boy was supplicating himself, desperate for her attention. There was a secret here, one that she was not privy to. And it had to do with the way Harry kept looking at her.
Or perhaps she reminded Harry of someone, like an older sister, maybe.
Lily almost jumped out of her skin when James dropped a gentle hand on her shoulder and he ignored her when she made a pretty weak attempt at throwing it off. So she let it be, feeling the warmth of it seep through her robes. "Lily has a point. We don't have a clue what's going on. And I dunno how we can help…"
Dumbledore nodded. He understood their concerns. "I know that you have questions and that this isn't ideal for either of you. Those are very understandable feelings. But I'm afraid that there are certain things about all of this that must be kept from you. Harry's situation is a very precarious one, and revealing more than absolutely necessary could set it all on its head. But I cannot impress upon you enough the importance of your involvement in this. You two must be the ones to accompany him."
"If that's okay with you," Harry mumbled, his expression a little chagrined after Lily's outburst. The girl sensed this and crouched a little to his level to apologize.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said sincerely. "This is just all a bit mad and I'm confused by all of it."
"Yeah, mate," James piped up. "We'll help you, though…or, er… I will…"
"So will I!" Lily responded, sounding almost like a protestation.
"Splendid," Dumbledore said brightly, looking rather pleased with his two students. "And fortunately, Harry, you decided to drop in on a Thursday morning, so Ms. Evans and Mr. Potter will have the weekend to get you to the Mirror of Erised."
"The Mirror of what?"
McGonagall hand-waved the question. "It's an ancient magical artifact, Potter. Do not concern yourself with it. I trust you and Evans will have returned by Monday morning."
James blinked and shrugged, honestly having no idea how long this bloody excursion would take. "Uh, sure…"
"Where is this artifact mirror located?" Lily asked. She would not look at James, or even think about the fact that she had just committed to spending the weekend with him, with no barrier to maintain her tolerance beyond a shy, first-year wizard. She was sure there were better ways to spend her time off. Like throwing herself off the Astronomy Tower…
"It is with a dear old friend of mine, Mairead Mumford, who lives in Glastonbury… She had expressed an interest in examining it earlier this year and it should have been returned within the next few months. However, we do not have time to wait for her to finish her examination, and she has agreed to allow the three of you to make use of it. But really, my dear girl, getting there will not be your difficulty. It is what will come after."
McGonagall stepped forward and looked between the two students. "I am arranging train tickets at Kings' Cross for you once the school train delivers you there. You should have no trouble arriving in Glastonbury. Ms. Evans…Mr. Potter, you will meet Ms. Mumford at the train station…"
Lily frowned. Why did it feel like she was being sent in to the Quidditch championship without having ever ridden a broom? Unfortunately, this was sounding like a send-off, and she still wasn't even sure what she had agreed to. She glanced down at Harry, who didn't look any more confident than she felt.
"But where will he stay for now?" Lily asked. "We still have all day and tonight before we go. What should we tell people?"
"Harry's parents are thinking of moving to Britain from France. He is therefore shadowing an older student here in order to see if it is to his liking before his parents enroll him."
"He sounds like a bloody brat," James joked, to which McGonagall scolded, "language, Potter, really!" and then went on as if he hadn't interjected.
"He must stay close to one of you at all times, and no one is to know what took place this morning." There was a downward tilt to her lips as she said this.
"But that's not…really true, is it?"
"Of course not, Potter!"
James rubbed a hand through his hair, causing his hair to resemble a jet black porcupine. "Blimey, this is some serious mission you have here, isn't it? We can't tell anyone?!"
"And that means even Mr. Black, James," Dumbledore said serenely. "I know that not all has been explained to you, but I am sure that you will know everything that you need to know by the time you have finished your journey. And I offer my deepest apologies for leaving you in the dark for now. But at this point in time, we have no choice. Any questions?"
Lily and James exchanged glances, feeling an extreme sense of camaraderie quite suddenly. Their disbelief also seemed to be mutual. Did they have any questions? Really? James grinned at her as if to say, 'Go ahead, tell the old man that he's an insane tosser', but she only rolled her eyes at him and an unwilling smile spread across her face.
"No, not at all," Lily finally managed, turning to the other three occupants of the room, who were examining the interplay between them. "I guess we'll be off on Saturday morning, then?"
"And until morning," James said, tousling Harry's hair and making the younger boy duck under the vigorous motion with a groan. "We've got a wicked mysterious babysitting job."
Lily had absolutely no idea how she was going to explain this to any of her friends.
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A peculiar and uncomfortable disconnect fell around the three students as they left Dumbledore and McGonagall in the other room. Somehow, they had landed with each other this morning and no one was going anywhere for the next few days. And more than that, all of them were feeling something that sat oddly on them—this strange sense of familiarity. It was giving Lily a headache.
And yet it clung to her like stinksap, more powerful than déjà vu. She looked down at Harry and the thought that kept shooting across her mind like a comet, intense and burning, came up again. But this time, it held its place, waiting for her to acknowledge it, make it her own.
"Harry…"
The boy turned to her, and she saw those green eyes—not in a reflective surface. On him, it was arresting and she swallowed. She wouldn't think that—it wasn't even in the realm of possibility. And like her musings of James, she pushed the thought from her mind before it was even born. And Harry waited for her to speak, his head moving back ever-so-slightly in confusion to her silence.
James was waiting too. His eyes sober, as if he were being tormented by the same things. She couldn't meet his eyes for too long, in that moment, it was like staring directly into the sun.
"Harry," she said again, turning away. "Is there…is there anything that you can tell us? More than what Dumbledore said? Anything that will help us understand what is going on?" Her throat felt dry, and she swallowed again. "Like…why us?"
Harry bit his lip, only for a moment. And then, his face took on a fierceness that she hadn't imagined could fit on his face. And she thought yet again, who was this boy? "Not yet. But I hope so."
And for now, that would have to be good enough.
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The three students departed and McGonagall was turning towards Dumbledore before the door had even closed. "Albus, are you quite sure about this? This story… it's implausible at best! At worst, it's a sensational fairytale."
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Minerva, you don't believe that the power of the heart can take us anywhere, even in defiance of time itself?"
McGonagall would be inclined to agree with him on a normal day, but after hearing the story she just did, barely at sunrise, she had to resist rolling her eyes. "But what you're suggesting… Even the parts of it that don't stretch the very reaches of the laws of magic, I would be very reluctant to believe."
"Is that so? Which more…attainable parts do you find unbelievable? I'm curious…"
McGonagall could have pointed out the one part of the story that truly troubled her, but she didn't. Because to do so would mean to think on a desperately sad and concerning situation—two of her Gryffindor students, who were exceptionally bright and had so much to give the world, would have their lives shuttered out so soon. And with that sick, horrible premonition came the more painful knowledge that she could do nothing about it. Nevermind the sheer affirmation that wizard who was currently spreading such darkness would do far more before he was finally stopped. A storm cloud suddenly loomed over Minerva McGonagall's head, promising to haunt her for the foreseeable future. And when she looked up, Dumbledore was observing her knowingly.
"I will concede that the boy does resemble Mr. Potter a great deal, and the eyes… Well, not to speculate on the personal lives of my students, but… though Mr. Potter has made his admiration for Ms. Evans perfectly clear for years now… Ms. Evans remains utterly unimpressed by him." McGonagall explained finally.
"Does she really?" Dumbledore asked mildly, a glint in his eyes beyond his half-moon spectacles. Again, the Gyffindor Head had to refrain from rolling her eyes. No matter how ridiculous or unrealistic the events may be, her colleague did have a rather irritating and, at the same time, reassuring habit of being unfailingly accurate in most things. And that knowledge alone gave her something to think about.
"Passion often walks a very tenuous line, Minerva. That's a little something I have learned throughout the years. A very tenuous line."
A/N: Review if you're so inclined. Thanks!
