Chapter Text
Albus was walking back to his office from a filling Samhain feast when he felt the pulse of magic hit him. His reaction was immediate. Fawkes, his phoenix friend had gone through a burning not ten hours ago and could not help him. He spared a moment to rue his decision to bring the castle's wards to their highest level of security, something now preventing him from disapparating on the spot. Knowing that there would be nothing else to it and that there would be no students he’d alarm on his way, he began to run as fast as his legs would carry him. He was practically a young man for a wizard, if not in the best physical condition, and he rapidly made his way to the doors of his home, the venerable castle that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. From there, he would be able to apparate to his destination.
He reached his interim destination and the doors opened to allow him passage. A quick turn and a near-silent pop later, he was gone. He reappeared with an identical pop hundreds of miles away in the silent west country village of Godric’s Hollow. He continued his frantic pace towards a small cottage in the wizard quarter of the mixed village that was the source of the magical pulse he had felt what was barely a handful of minutes but felt like hours ago. Almost the moment his destination came into view, a violent explosion (and a flash of green Albus willfully ignored) blew part of the roof and wall away. Still hoping against hope, Albus ran through the door that had been blown off his hinges by the prior intruder towards the staircase that was just beyond the entrance hall, absently noticing the young father who lay nearby, and up to the nursery that he had visited merely a week ago. On the landing, Albus Dumbledore, a man many regarded as one of the most learned and powerful mages alive, heard what he could only describe as a miracle. He heard the loud cries of a recently orphaned Harry Potter. In the nursery, lay a tragic yet miraculous sight; an unarmed mother fallen before her child’s crib and her child’s would-be murderer’s cooling corpse, wand in hand. But before he could marvel any further, he noticed a sinister-looking mist - if indeed mist could look sinister - escaping through the newly created opening in the room. At the same time, a fragment of the same mist seemed to be darting towards the crying child, who had received a small cut on his forehead.
Albus, while still reeling internally, didn’t pause to take action; a swift flick of his wand had an arcane cage surrounding the mist, which struggled briefly against its confinement before vanishing. His senses and a quick spell told him there were no hostiles nearby. A few more spells had the child back asleep, sans the bleeding cut. Finally assured of little Harry’s immediate safety, he placed himself between Harry and the two entrances and paused to take stock of the situation.
Tom had killed the elder Potters, but something had prevented him from harming Harry, perhaps even turning the Killing Curse back at its caster. However, Tom - the bottomless pit of depravity - had done something truly vile to ensure his survival. Albus didn’t know what; he was a master of many magicks, but the Dark Arts were not among them. But how did he even enter this house? How had Tom broken past the Fidelius, a spell antithetical to his nature? Sirius Black was the Potters’ Secret Keeper and while brash and full of anger, he would not be easily tricked and would rather die than betray them. Albus had kept a closer eye on him than most when Severus had informed him of a mole in the order and found no reason to doubt him.
His musings were rudely interrupted by the arrival of the very object of his thoughts. Sirius’ loud flying motorcycle announced the young man’s arrival. Albus shook his head; the boy had no subterfuge in his nature. The rumbling of the engine came to a halt outside the cottage.
“James? Lily?” Sirius’ voice reached Albus. The cold, calculating part of Albus’ brain was abating, giving way to the painful facts that he had just glossed over. Two of his former students, his comrades in arms had just been robbed of their lives. A sweet joyful child was orphaned. The tears that didn’t belong on a general’s face appeared on the face of a teacher and an old man.
“James! No!” Sirius had reached the bottom of the stairs. The loud wails and sobs that followed told Albus that he would need to finally bury his grief and take charge. He gathered himself and cast a spell he loathed - one that conjured a white sheet to lay over Lily’s body. Another summoned Tom’s want into his pocket. He finally took Harry into his arms and started to walk back towards the child’s crying godfather.
“Sirius,” Albus’ hoarse voice reached the boy from his spot atop the stairs. It took a moment for it to register with the grieving man.
“What!” Sirius scrambled away from the source of the sound and brought his wand to bear. He couldn’t see a thing through the haze of tears and despite having his wand in hand, he wouldn’t have been able to cast a single spell if there had truly been a need.
“Peace, Sirius, it is I, Albus,” said Albus, his wand held upwards in a placating gesture. Sirius, still weeping, dropped his wand and almost turned back towards his dead brother, before he noticed the bundle in Albus’ arms.
“Is that-” he began, with dread and hope in his voice.
“It is Harry, he is unharmed,” Albus confirmed, only for Sirius to start crying loudly, blubbering apologies.
“Sirius, I’m sorry, but you must gather yourself. Harry is unharmed, but he is not safe yet. I will need your assistance to ensure that,” said Albus, his voice laced with command.
Sirius shook himself in a distinctly canine fashion and wiped his tears on the sleeve of his robe. “Yes, professor,” he finally said.
“Good man,” Albus said with a smile that was mostly grimace.
“Now, I need you to answer a few questions before we go any further. First, why are you suggesting that any of this is your fault?” Albus asked. His wand not pointing at the man didn’t mean he could not bring the requisite magic to bear against him.
“Because it is, professor, I was the one who convinced James and Lily to switch at the last moment, I thought it’d be one big prank against the Dark Wanker. I was the obvious choice. If I played the part right, they’d be chasing me up and down the country and they’d find nothing even if they caught me. No one would suspect little Peter and James and Lily would be safe. And look at the result, my brother dead and my godson orphaned and I might as well have done it with my own wand,” Sirius said hoarsely, weeping once more.
“It would have been a good plan, Sirius, you even had me fooled. But you said Peter was, ” ventured Albus.
Sirius suddenly got to his feet and moved towards the door. “Peter, that rat bastard! I’m going to… And I thought Moony was… Another thing I got wrong!”
“Sirius, stop!” commanded Albus once more. “I need your assistance with more pertinent matters than revenge. You are Harry’s godfather and James didn’t give you that honour for you to go off hunting for revenge while Harry’s safety is not assured.”
His tone brokered no argument and the effect was immediate. Sirius stopped and turned around, but the self-recrimination had just found a new outlet. “Some godfather I am…”
“I assure you Sirius, none of us were prepared for this,” Albus’ voice was much gentler now. “You have just suffered a terrible loss, and there will be a time for justice later - justice, not vengeance. We will find and root out all those that led to this, but for now, all of us must gather and focus on what is most important. Many things still need to be done and I will be counting on your help.”
“Of course, professor,” said Sirius, a sad determination replacing the overwhelming grief.
“Good, now, for what I know - less than fifteen minutes ago, I felt some of my subtle protections on this place collapse when I was at Hogwarts. I made my way here as soon as I could and arrived just as a curse - as yet unknown - seemingly rebounded upon Voldemort when he cast upon Lily or Harry, blowing away part of the nursery. I found his body along with Lily and James’ and witnessed a dark spirit, presumably Voldemort, moving to attack Harry. I was able to repel it, but it escaped. Harry only had superficial injuries, but I am not a healer and he requires medical attention. Can I trust you to take Harry safely to the hospital wing at Hogwarts? St Mungo’s is too public.”
“Yes, professor, I’ll die before I’ll let any harm come to him,” said Sirius and Albus did not doubt the truth of his statement.
“You needn’t fear supplying any details that Poppy deems pertinent to Harry’s medical care. I know it will not be easy, but I want you to remain vigilant and not leave Harry’s side. While you are away, I will handle the official response here. We shall reconvene in the Hospital Wing before long.”
With Sirius taking Harry to relative safety, Albus took a moment to breathe and prepare himself for what was to come. Tom seemed to have tempted Fate and suffered for it by trying to counteract the prophecy, but it seems that Fate wasn’t the only primal force he seemed to be willing to defy. The facts of the night told him that his silly anagram of a pseudonym was also indicative of his willingness to defy Death itself. Shaking himself out of his wool-gathering, he set to work. He didn’t know if or when Tom might return, but he had to ensure that it would not be a happy one for his wayward former student.