A poisonous green fire flared up in the cold grate and the vague shape of a human head coalesced in its centre, glancing about frantically.
"Dumbledore!" called the head of James Potter. "Professor Dumbledore, are you there?"
Seeing as it was three in the morning, Professor Albus Dumbledore was not, in fact, in his office. He was sleeping soundly in his room, or at least, he had been, until the jarring blare of the floo alarm had startled him into disgruntled wakefulness. He swiftly summoned the Elder Wand to his hand and silenced the alarm with a negligent flick as he transfigured his plain white nightgown into a thicker, more colourful material before he conjured a low chair and sat down in front of a mass of cheerily dancing orange flames. Rubbing his eyes tiredly and settling his glasses onto his nose, he gave his wand another flick and transferred the office call into his private fireplace.
The fire twisted itself into a bright green caricature of James Potter's face with its mouth opened widely. A brief expression of surprise crossed James's face before he seemed to regain his wits.
"Dumbledore, we were attacked! Sirius betrayed us!"
Albus grew alert at that and immediately stood, vanishing his chair and summoning his real robes.
"Where are you right now?" he inquired urgently. Surely the house was not under attack right this moment? He dismissed the possibility; the floo connection would have been cut off, if that were the case.
"The house. Godric's Hollow. We think Voldemort is gone." James replied. It was over, then. Albus paused in putting on his robes and then gave up the tangled mess as a bad job. He banished the clothing back to its place.
"I am coming through. My boy, you will have to explain more clearly." he said. James gave a nod and the green of the fire bled away back into a healthy orange. Albus took a pinch of floo powder in hand and threw it in the fire before stepping in and clearly visualising his destination. It was only through force of habit that he did not vocalise it as was normal; the name of a home under fidelius could not be spoken, though, of course, the spell on the Potters' house had evidently been recently broken.
As the spinning slowed, Albus rotated himself smoothly out of the fireplace at Godric's Hollow. He was met with James Potter, as expected, though was somewhat surprised to see Peter Pettigrew and a stocky, brown-haired Auror. A moment later he recognized the man as John Dawlish.
"Now, what has happened?" he asked firmly. Peter stepped forward, wringing his hands nervously. Albus noted that it was a nervous tick of the man's which had been present since his schoolboy days. Peter had never been as confident as his troublemaking compatriots.
"S-Sirius betrayed us." he began uncertainly, "I called the Aurors. Lily is dead." The man seemed quite distressed, to the point of uncommon inarticulacy. Still, he had imparted enough information to alarm Albus.
"Lily is dead? What of the boys?" Had the prophecy played out? Albus could feel the slight, oily sensation of dark magic floating about the house. Had Tom been here? It was likely. The Lestranges had been arrested only yesterday for casting the cruciatus curse on the Longbottoms. It was only because the Order of the Phoenix had received an anonymous tip-off shortly before the attack that the family emerged whole and relatively unscathed, though Frank would require a short stay at St. Mungo's. Albus had already determined logically that Tom had decided to target Harry and Charlus Potter personally, but he had certainly not expected the fidelius charm to fail.
"They're fine." said James. "I went to St. Mungo's with Harry to check on Frank. Charlus was with Lily, but he's fine."
"You-know-who murdered Lily." Peter added emphatically, a spark of ineffectual rage flashing through his eyes. Albus glanced at him sharply. Tom had indeed been here, then, if the man was to be believed.
Charlus had survived. Did that mean that something had happened to Tom between killing Lily and attempting to kill Charlus Potter?
"And what of Voldemort? Has he fled?" Albus asked. It would be best not to hurry to conclusions, especially where prophecies were concerned.
"We think he's gone." James said. Albus recalled him previously communicating something similar through the floo connexion, though the precise meaning of the statement remained elusive.
"What do you mean?" Albus continued cautiously.
"Gone. Dead." James said, with more vigour this time. "We think Charlus vanquished him."
Albus caught the emphasis clearly; James thought that the prophecy had been fulfilled. Albus's first thought was that the idea was utterly absurd. Tom was misguided and cruel, but neither of those things equated to weakness. Albus had trouble imagining a baby boy defeating anyone, let alone Tom. However, he held his disbelief in check.
"May I see Charlus?" He felt rather selfish for asking, but assured himself it would be best to check now, not only to sate his curiosity, but to ascertain whether Tom was still an imminent threat. Still, he expected to meet with denial or at least resistance, perhaps in protection of the boy's health and constitution. After all, it must have been a frazzling day for everyone, if appearances were to be believed. James's face was utterly ashen, and Peter had been gnawing furiously at his lip for some time now. Even Auror Dawlish looked overstressed.
But James beckoned wordlessly to the staircase and led everybody up into the half-destroyed nursery. Albus was immediately appalled to see that the children were huddled together in the crib, obviously uncomfortable in the chilly draft that entered unimpeded through the missing wall. A sense of sebaceous wrongness slipped languidly over his skin and seemed almost to press against him, but he only gritted his teeth at the tangible sensation of lingering dark magic and flicked his wand at the open space, conjuring a temporary barrier to seal the room up again.
"The evidence!" Dawlish squawked somewhat belatedly, but Albus dismissed him with a light stare of disapproval. The man shrunk back, undoubtedly recollecting his Hogwarts days with uncomfortable clarity. Sometimes, Albus himself was surprised at how much influence a teacher could have over former students. He turned back to James.
"You left them here in the cold?" Albus demanded sharply. James looked rather confused, and Peter abashed.
"We had to carry L-Lily down." Peter explained, stumbling over the words slightly. A pained expression crossed his face as he said Lily's name. Albus nodded, but gave them a reproving glance nonetheless before taking a better look around the room. The tarp-like white barrier he had conjured covered the jagged, gaping hole in the far side of the room, which looked like it had been struck by a powerful magical blast. Whatever furniture there had been was reduced to smithereens but for the crib, which had miraculously survived almost completely intact, if a little charred. Albus's breath hitched as he noted something thin and white resting at its wooden base.
"Accio." he murmured, lifting his wand up and redirecting the spell into a levitation charm at the last moment. He recognised the object easily; it was Tom Riddle's wand. James's claim that Charlus had vanquished Voldemort abruptly became more believable. But the man had certainly not seen Tom's wand. Albus highly doubted he would have left it lying about on the ground carelessly if he had. What, then, had caused James to reach the conclusion he had? Merely the fact that Charles lived? There remained, of course, the question of how the boy had survived.
"Is that…?" Peter began quietly. Albus turned to him, scrutinising his face. Peter did not look entirely surprised or confused; in fact, he would gauge the expression as rather resigned. Filing away the curious reaction for later, Albus completed Peter's musings for him.
"Voldemort's wand."
"The slimy bastard would never have just left his wand." James said with a sudden fury. Albus turned to him in concern, somewhat startled by the emotional tone that coloured his voice. His earlier words had been rather listless in comparison. "Charlus must have done something, then." James paused, before he walked to the crib and picked up the boy on the left, who was whimpering softly. "Is he all right?"
Albus repressed a flinch as Charlus was brought nearer to him. The unpleasant sensation of dark magic grew so much exponentially stronger as to linger in the back of his throat like some particularly disgusting taste. He moved the tip of his wand in a careful circle and cast the charm to determine whether the boy was hurt. The feedback manifested itself as a momentary, intrusive sense of peace.
"There is nothing physically wrong with him." Albus informed James carefully. The sheer amount of dark magic he was radiating was rather troubling, however. "However, it is likely that he has come into contact with Voldemort's magic." In fact, he was surprised James could not feel it. Glancing in Auror Dawlish's direction, Albus noted that the man was quite tense and seemed somewhat bemused by Charlus. Perhaps the man could also sense magical residues. All Aurors had occlumency training, which vastly improved mental alertness.
"Do you think it's him then? The one?" James asked. Albus was bemused for a moment by the vague inquiry before he recalled the prophecy again. James's attempt at subtlety had honestly been rather poor.
"It is possible." Albus said vaguely, not yet satisfied with the situation.
"It has to be." James insisted, "How else could he have survived?"
But Albus knew that things weren't so simple, especially when prophecies were in play. It would be wrong to assume that the boy had special powers on account of the prophecy. Rather, he would have had these powers regardless; the prophecy merely foretold their existence. Unfortunately it had not mentioned what these powers might look like and, until now, Albus had been unable to discern any unusual manifestation in either the Longbottom twins or the two Potter boys. Even now, the only evidence that something was different about Charlus Potter was the aura of dark magic that he gave off.
"We can only guess as to what happened here tonight." said Albus at last. "I cannot say how Charlus survived Voldemort's attack. But the facts are: he lives and Voldemort seems to have disappeared."
…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal… Could it be? Did the dark magic drifting about Charlus Potter indicate that Tom had marked him? With a gentle gaze, Albus considered the two boys. "It is regretful that Voldemort's downfall exacted such a high price."
James Potter closed his eyes tightly. "Lily."
There was no doubt that Lily Potter had lost her life attempting to protect her sons. The love of a mother was a potent power. Albus paused as a suspicion crept into his thoughts. He began to entertain a supposition as to what had stopped Lord Voldemort. Could it really be so simple?
Dawlish looked from one to the other. "Is it true, then?" he asked, "You-know-who is really gone? Defeated by a little boy?"
Albus glanced down at Tom's wand in his hand. "It seems that that is what we must assume." he said pensively.
The Auror shook his head in amazement. "Who would've thought!"
"Professor?" piped Peter up shyly, "Wh-what's going to happen to You-know-who's wand?"
The question astonished Albus. Tom's wand was hardly of any priority at the moment, as he saw it. "Well now, I should think the Aurors will collect it as evidence." he replied. Auror Dawlish nodded in confirmation.
Peter bit his lip. "I…I think the wand should belong to Charlus."
Flabbergasted silence reigned. Then James nodded at Albus in agreement. "Peter's right. If Charlus really defeated Voldemort, then the wand belongs to him. He won it and should carry it as a sign of his triumph."
Albus knew that wands whose owners had been defeated usually subjected themselves to the will of the victor, granting him their loyalty. He himself had once won the Elder Wand from Gellert. Perhaps Charlus Potter would prove a worthier owner of the wand than Tom. "I see no reason why the wand should not be returned to Charlus as soon as the Aurors no longer need it." he concurred. "Now, however, it's certainly more important that we get you all to safety."
"Where are we going, then?" asked James gloomily.
"Hogwarts." said Albus decisively. "It is presently the safest place and Madam Pomfrey can take a look at Charlus and you too. I daresay you're in a bit of shock, my boy."
James looked for a moment as if he wanted to protest, but then slumped feebly and nodded in acquiescence. Peter laid his hand on his friend's arm. "I'm coming with you." he said to him and then turned his nervous gaze on Albus. "I-if you've got nothing against that, Professor."
"Not at all." replied Albus with a smile. It was good that James still had friends on whom he could rely. Sirius Black's betrayal must have hit both of them very hard. Nobody could have expected it, and though Albus had heard it out of James's very mouth, he found himself having trouble believing it. But he would deal with that later. At the moment he needed to take care of the Potters.
John Dawlish stayed several more minutes in the empty house after Albus Dumbledore, Peter Pettigrew, and the Potter family had gone. He had much to think on. At last he came to a decision and disapparated to report to his superiors what he had heard.
The news that the Dark Lord had been defeated by a boy named Charlus Potter spread like wildfire. Just a few hours after the fact, the Daily Prophet's grand headline proclaimed to anybody who'd not yet heard: Charlus Potter – The Boy-Who-Lived!
A/N: Enjoy, read and review!