CANTO THREE
the bear dissipates into wisps of silver, then flecks, then it's gone; James and Lily are left alone on the settee. he springs up, pulls curtains shut and runs over to the front door, bolts it double.
"James, what are – but, Sirius –" she sobs.
"get upstairs, get Harry," he shouts back to his wife. "don't bother with anything else; it's already packed."
flings open the small chest in the hallway, grabs two large rucksacks filled with anything and everything possibly needed. he lays them down at the bolted doorway and runs to their study. behind the desk, slides open three empty drawers in succession, in panic, in desperation, before in the fourth is a large bundle of Muggle cash and two fake passports. Dumbledore rejects the idea of fleeing the country, advises them to hide in the very place where Voldemort would never expect – Godric's Hollow, the Potters' own hometown – but James knew it could be, would be different. Remus said he wouldn't help, swore he wouldn't, tried to side with Lily and pleaded with James to be reasonable, to trust Dumbledore, but in the end relents. a complete set of false documents for them - Mr & Mrs Alan Turpin, and child.
his family's lived in Godric's Hollow for generations, the Lenstone Hall up the road dark and abandoned. his father was under threat for years before, having made large donations to the Order, but both continued to live at the Hall. the previous spring he cleared it out of their belongings, selling some, putting others into storage, giving more away to cousins and friends and classmates. since then, they hide in the small cottage at the centre of the village, only exchanging owls with Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore or Lily's parents.
he stuffs the money into a bag – pounds, dollars, francs; a handsome amount of galleons – and takes his wand from his front pocket; lets the edge of his jacket cover it from sight. the folder of documents in one hand, he seizes a paperweight that belonged to his father.
"Portus."
every second Lily spends upstairs, the closer Voldemort is to Sirius, the closer to discovering them. he is ready. it's far too long, it seems like it; Lily comes down, Harry dressed into those small, puffy jacket and pants, asleep.
"here," he says, trying to keep calm. "here, do you think you can manage this 'sack, or should we take only one?"
Lily lifts one onto her back, hoists Harry back onto her hip. "yes," she says, huffing a little. "yes, i can manage. but we can't apparate with this all?"
"no," James replies. passes her the Portkey; unbolts the front door, keys the lock. "that's a Portkey that'll take us to London; we can decide where to go after that."
why London?
"safety in a crowd," she nods.
he unlocks the door; throws it open. they speed down the garden path so as to be out of the wards surrounding the cottage.
"i say America," Lily says. "my grandad went over there years ago, we can get help from him and his family."
"okay," says James, holding out the Portkey.
Lily lays a hand on the paperweight, gets a firmer hold on her son, and nods to James. he whispers the activation spell.
"Eu Porta."
a flash of blue and they're gone. remains only the wind rustling through leaves and the wailing of the cat under the log-pile.