A/N: I do not own any recognizable characters, or anything associated with Harry Potter. *Sob sob*
Chapter 1 - The Scar
It was Halloween night, and the annual Hogwarts feast was well underway. The feast was much later than usual as the resident pranksters, two Gryffindors, had broken into the kitchens and tucked in early to the delicacies on offer. The house elves where most distraught at having the day's work ruined and had gotten straight to work to repair the damage of the sticky fingered thieves. The rest of the children were now stuffing themselves with all manner of sweets, whilst the staff kept watch, looking faintly sick. The pranksters had been locked in McGonagall's office with some broth to settle their aching stomachs, with the promise of no pudding for the rest of the week for their antics.
Of those professors that were present, the headmaster looked particularly weary. The usual twinkle in his blue eyes was missing, and he wasn't tucking into the sweet feast quite as enthusiastically as his sweet tooth would normally insist that he did.
An almost inaudible sigh escaped his lips, as he toyed with the half-eaten food left on his plate. Every so often a hand would delve deep into his periwinkle robe pocket, as though checking that something was still there. After seemingly checking the item was secure, his hand would reappear to rest on the table, his fingers tapping the surface nervously. Minerva gave him a curious glance, confused at what could be troubling the headmaster so. It was very unlike him to be so nervous, much less show it. She glanced along the table to see if anyone else noticed the headmaster's subtly odd behaviour. Her unobtrusive inspection of her fellow colleagues revealed that no one but her had picked up on Albus's nervousness, the rest were concentrating on the casual dinner conversation, their meal, or sending an evil eye to the occasional student that was clearly consuming far too much sugar.
Hmm. So it would be Minerva's job (as usual, she mentally corrected herself), to get to the bottom of what was upsetting the headmaster, Merlin knows his odd behaviour was an unsettling sight to behold.
"Albus?" she whispered quietly, breaking through his reverie.
Albus awoke with a start; clearly whatever was occupying his mind was captivating his full attention.
"Yes Minerva my dear?" he replied half-heartedly, fixing a feeble smile upon his face as he turned towards her.
Apparently he was unhappy to be broken from his contemplations, however dire they appeared.
"I was simply wondering what was troubling you. If you don't mind me saying so headmaster, your behaviour this evening is becoming quite disconcerting, and will no doubt distress the students should they be savvy enough to notice it."
She fixed him with an unyielding stare, as if daring him to fob her off with some nonsense excuse.
Dumbledore recognised the stare and his mouth twitched with a ghost of a smile. That was so like Minerva, her ability to show concern for ones wellbeing whilst simultaneously being disciplinarian about it was one of her more interesting quirks.
He took a deep breath to prepare himself for Minerva's reaction to his next words.
"The Potters."
As he had predicted, Minerva's reaction was stunning. She let out a gasp and her usually calm demeanour shattered as her face betrayed her terror.
"Albus…they're not…you don't mean? No, he hasn't found them has he?" she spluttered incoherently, worried that two of her fondest students, as well as their little baby boy, were in more danger than usual.
"No, not as far as I know Minerva." He replied, placing a hand on her arm in comfort, taking a quick glance at their neighbours to make sure that they weren't being overheard. Luckily, the sweets were still entrancing the children and the staff either side of them were engrossed in their own conversations.
"Then what is it Albus?" she demanded quietly. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"Something doesn't feel right," he began, quietening her with a pointed glance to their neighbours. He leaned in closer to her before airing his suspicions.
"James has a charmed galleon on his person which he is supposed to rub every evening around six to let me know that they are safe. The galleon should be working, I performed the Protean charm myself, however it is now ten and I haven't felt it burn to confirm their safety."
Minerva gave a small nod of understanding, encouraging Albus to continue his explanation.
"He does sometimes forget, no doubt you will remember his forgetfulness well, but never has he taken so long to remember. If he is in danger, all he must do is simply grab Lilly and Harry, and activate the galleon with his wand, which doubles as a Portkey, and they will arrive to the safety of my office."
"Which hasn't happened either." concluded Minerva astutely.
"No," confirmed Dumbledore unhappily "thus, my nervousness for their safety."
Minerva nodded her agreement, she too was now more worried than ever at the news.
"I know he is an adult, and wouldn't be reckless where Lilly and Harry are concerned, but I can't help but wonder if James' lax attitude is not really helping matters tonight." Muttered McGonagall quietly, hoping that this was just the usual James Potter forgetfulness and nothing more.
"I agree, but unfortunately there is nothing to do but wait. I've arranged to go and check in on them tomorrow afternoon, and I will take the liberty of reminding him that 6 sharp is the time to confirm that they are all safe."
Dumbledore gave a small chuckle as he imagined Lilly's reaction to her husband's forgetfulness, he was sure that she would be checking up on James' duties after his visit.
Both professors comforted themselves with the thought of the lack of contact being a clumsy error rather than something more sinister, and with that Dumbledore stood to end the feast and bid the students goodnight.
Of course, James did make a clumsy error that night – leaving his wand casually next to him on the couch rather than in its holster, ready to use at a moment's notice.
And so, something sinister did occur.
Dumbledore felt the tremor of his Fidelius charm break at 11:03pm that night, as soon as Voldemort had blasted down the door by his estimates.
Without thinking, Albus secured the Elder wand in his holster and turned to his faithful familiar Fawkes, needing to use him as transport to get to Godric's Hollow fast, without having to worry about the anti-apparition wards.
As he turned to face the perch, his stomach plummeted. What he was facing was not a fully grown phoenix, complete with a fiery plumage, but instead a tiny baby bird, bald and wrinkled with a forlorn look in its eyes. Fawkes had just recently been reborn and was in no shape to help his master with such a task.
He had no other choice; he would have to apparate as close as he could to the Potter's, and then run the rest of the way.
With all of his might, Dumbledore concentrated on lifting the Anti-apparition wards to his office, chanting quickly, grateful that he was in full health so that it could be done at a quicker pace.
Successful, and with no time to plan another route, he focused on Godric's Hollow as he turned on the spot, praying he would arrive there on time.
The anti-apparition wards went out as far as the local tavern, The Lamb's Leg, leaving Voldemort with at least a two minute head start on Albus Dumbledore. If you had been outside the pub that night, enjoying the Halloween festivities, you would have seen a periwinkle blur with a long white beard sprinting along the lane towards, what would soon become a memorial to the 'Boy Who Lived' as well as his brave parents. Children stopped to gaze at the blue blur in wonder at how an 'old man' could move so fast.
As soon as he saw the sickly green light in his line of vision, he knew he was too late. High in the sky a symbol of a skull and serpent gleamed harshly against the inky heavens.
Dumbledore gasped as though he had the wind knocked out of him.
The Potters were dead, someone had betrayed them, and now they lay in the ruins of their homely cottage.
Ironically, Tom had seemed to take the time to open up the garden gate, as though he were a friend rather than a foe.
He had not been so kind to the rest of the house.
The door had been blasted to bits and littered the now open hallway. There was wide chunk of roof missing at the right of the cottage; it appeared that most of the battle had taken place there.
It took a moment for his mind to process such a tragic turn of events, and soon it registered a muffled kind of whimpering from the depths of the ruins.
Wand at the ready, Dumbledore cautiously stepped through the door in search of the source of the noise.
Gingerly he stepped around the limp body of James Potter, his hazel eyes that had once been so full of live, glassy and unseeing, his mouth set to utter a curse.
Dumbledore cocked his head to the side, listening closely to where the whimpers were. He concluded that they were upstairs, and so picked his way up through the rubble and debris.
The search led him to the right of the cottage, which was considerably more chilly than the rest, considering its lack of insulation.
There he found Lilly, her red hair unmistakable, surrounding her face like some kind of fiery halo. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open, undoubtedly in a plea of terror for her son. Her body lay next to the crib; she clearly had tried to protect him until the very end.
As he drew nearer, he realised that the whimpering had grown louder, and understood its cause was in the room with him. Peering into the half destroyed crib, his eyes met another set, they were emerald green and rimmed in red, and looked at him in vague recognition.
Dumbledore let out a gasp, conveying his shock and wonder, at Harry's apparent safety. He reached down to pull the infant into his arms, cradling the little mite to his chest. He carefully checked for any immediate signs of distress, and found none. As he checked the boy's forehead, his hand felt something raised on the skin. Brushing back the messy tufts of black hair, Albus found himself face to face with an angry lightning bolt shaped cut on the child's forehead. A brief diagnostic spell of the scar, found that it was a curse scar, but was causing no direct harm to the boy.
After coming to that conclusion, Albus breathed a short sigh of relief, before sending a Patronous charm to the Ministry of Magic, directly to the office of Head Auror Alastor Moody.