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The words hung in the air, swirling between them like dust motes in the sun.
The walls of the little cottage with its floral wallpaper, brown shag carpet, and tiny fireplace closed in on Lily with each tick of the grandfather clock. James hunched on the red tweed sofa next to her, but she couldn't find any comfort in his presence. Not now.
Not with evil lurking in the shadows.
The sitting room was suddenly crowded, despite it being only the four of them and Harry hardly taking up any space at all. She focused on her son asleep in her arms, his soft hair sweaty in the crook of her neck, his baby hand resting just above her breast. He made little noises in his sleep, quiet gurgles or hiccups that any other day would have eased the tension in her shoulders.
But nothing could erase this tension, this fear. Nothing short of a Time-Turner and an Obliviate could take back Dumbledore's words and the terror they brought.
…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…
Her baby. Her sweet Harry.
…and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…
This was ridiculous. He was a baby—her baby. She would not, could not, let this stand.
…neither can live…
"No."
Dumbledore had been watching her from the black velvet armchair—waiting for a reaction from either of them, probably, but James would follow Lily's lead. So Dumbledore had been watching her specifically. He raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"Lily—" James began with a rough voice, resting his hand on her arm. She ignored him, not taking her eyes off the old wizard. The fight against Voldemort was taking its toll on him. He was pale and thin, his skin pulled tight across his face making it appear almost skeletal under his prodigious beard. Given the situation, she couldn't possibly be blamed for imagining him with a scythe, could she?
It only cemented her resolve.
"No. You are not pulling my son into this bloody war. Prophecies are nonsense. Everybody knows that. You won't use my son to further your cause."
Dumbledore stayed quiet, but he leaned in closer as if waiting for her to continue. Well, he could bloody well keep waiting for all she cared.
She held Harry tighter and stood, turning her back on the room. She couldn't bear to have them look at her son and see some kind of martyr, or saviour, or whatever the hell Dumbledore was scheming towards.
Images flashed through her mind. Memories of fights with the Order and encountering the bloodshed Voldemort had left behind. Muggles, Muggleborns, half-bloods, and blood traitors—slaughtered with impunity. The Death Eaters' evil knew no end, and there wasn't a wizarding family untouched by the deaths these monsters brought about. And her Harry would be amid the carnage.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord…
A dark lord who would murder a baby for nothing more than words overheard in a pub.
…mark him as his equal…
No. This was all…unbelievable.
"What are you suggesting, Albus?" James asked from behind her. She could hear the steely rage underneath the layer of forced calm and even words. A calm she knew he was maintaining for her sake, to even out the chaos exploding within her mind. "That we raise him to fight that lunatic?"
She stepped to the window to peer out, careful not to nudge the cat from his place on the wide windowsill. Nuzzling Harry's head, she inhaled his sweet smell.
Dumbledore let out a long sigh. Lily hated him for how old it made him sound. "I'm afraid my plans are not nearly so long-term at the moment. The risk is more immediate."
Lily spun, her heart in her throat and her fingers itching to draw her wand. "Spit it out, Albus. You're much too fond of secrets. This is my son we're talking about, and you will tell me everything. You have no right to keep any of it from us."
"My dear girl—"
"I am not your girl! I am a grown woman with a child of my own. A son I will protect, even from you."
"Lils," James murmured, walking over and wrapping his arms around her. His shoulders were stiff, and his beautiful hazel eyes were troubled, swirling with anger, devoid of their usual mirth. She leant against him, borrowing his strength. "I think you're in the right," he whispered into her ear, before turning back to Dumbledore and raising his chin.
Dumbledore nodded. His face was soft, his gentle smile clearly trying to convey sympathy, but his eyes were unreadable. "As I said, the risk is immediate. I have information that Voldemort has learned of the prophecy."
Lily opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of divination, but he held up a hand, forestalling her.
"Yes, I know your opinion on the subject, and truthfully, I don't generally disagree. However, there are extenuating circumstances. My sources say Voldemort has only heard the first half, and the rest is yet unknown to him. He has made it clear, however, that he believes Harry is the prophesied child, and he is making it one of his highest priorities to remove him from the playing board."
"It's not a game!" Lily shrieked, shoving James aside and glaring at Dumbledore. How dare he discuss Harry as though he were nothing more than a pawn? "This is my son's life!"
Dumbledore opened his mouth, but James cut him off with a growl. "No. You've said enough. I need a moment with my wife." He turned his back on Dumbledore, his attention all on her. His eyes were gentle, but his mouth was tight with strain.
"James," she asked, her eyes burning, "what are we going to do? We can't let them…hurt…Harry." She'd tried to say kill but couldn't bring herself to form the word. Kill, murder, slay—it was all the same. It would destroy her.
"We'll leave," James said after a moment, shifting his weight as though he was already preparing to move. "We'll leave the country and go somewhere he can't find us. Somewhere safe."
Dumbledore cleared his throat, and they turned to face him, side by side, Harry tucked between them. "I've considered that option, but I don't believe there's any country where you could reasonably hide. He has supporters everywhere. When he rose to power, he incorporated the remnants of Grindlewald's networks, which, as you know, were very widespread. Leaving the country would only isolate you and leave you without the support of your friends and allies."
Betrayal; anguish; fear; fury. They tore her apart, eating at her insides and leaving a gaping hole. "You've certainly thought this through, haven't you?"
Harry stirred in her arms and began to fuss, still half-asleep. She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting back the mental images of his little body lying lifeless on a battlefield.
"Shh, shh, shh," she chanted quietly, bouncing his sturdy chubbiness until he laid his head back on her shoulder and settled again. In the silence, the grandfather clock kept ticking, enumerating each second they failed to act. She glared at Dumbledore, willing him to feel what she felt, to understand what she was prepared to sacrifice. "So, what do you propose? How do we keep him safe?"
Dumbledore let out a long breath. Was that relief? If so, at what? He couldn't possibly have thought she wouldn't want to save her baby from that thing that called itself a dark lord. "I've found a spell. It's archaic and is going to take Filius and me some considerable time to make the adjustments for what we want to do. When we're successful, however, it will hide your family from everybody except those whom you trust implicitly."
Lily looked down at Harry. His smooth, unblemished skin was a reminder of how precious he was, how perfect. She wouldn't let anyone hurt him. Not a single scratch or scar. She looked back up into Dumbledore's crystal-blue eyes. "And if we don't trust you?"
He put his fingertips together and smiled in his grandfatherly fashion—the way that normally made her feel complete confidence in him. "I'm your only option."
"Not yet, you're not," she hissed, fear turning to rage at his calm assumption of her cooperation.
"Lily," James and Dumbledore said in unison, the plea in their voices matching perfectly. She pulled away from James and rounded on them both, blood pounding in her ears.
"I said it before, and I'll say it again. No! I will not allow this to happen. Oh, you've done some research, and you've come up with a plan. You're so smart, so infallible, aren't you, Professor? But you aren't invested. Harry isn't yours. He's just a baby—my baby. Oh yes, you want to protect him, but for what? He's a tool to you, a future soldier who can win you a war. So what will happen when he doesn't die, Professor? Answer me that."
Harry was awake now, but he didn't cry. He pulled his head up and looked at her with eyes so like her own, patting his little hand on her cheek. She placed her hand over his and turned her head to kiss his tiny palm.
Harry let out a quiet giggle and made a kissing noise, leaning forward to place his open mouth on her cheek.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Bloody hell, she hated that clock.
"What will happen later, Albus?" James demanded. Merlin, she loved that man. He was always right there, one step behind her, backing her up.
Dumbledore used his familiar teacher's voice. "We'll have to train him, of course, so that he can protect himself when Voldemort comes after him. It won't be easy, but he's a smart boy. And he'll save us all."
"Get out," Lily ordered, glaring at the old man. "Get. Out. You want to train someone? Go and find a bloody fighter, a grown man, to train. You want to do research? Reinvent archaic spells? Go and find one that will kill that psychopath. But leave my son alone. James and I will find a way to protect him, and in the meantime, my son will grow up with a family that loves him. He will grow up outside a world of war. He won't be someone's hero, trained to fight and then placed on a pedestal. He'll be just a boy, and you'll respect that."
Dumbledore's penetrating eyes held hers, his face impassive. Finally, he stood up, nodded his head to each of them, and then settled his gaze on Harry. "What if I swore to do my best to make your wishes for Harry come true? Would you then accept my aid?"
When Lily didn't answer, his shoulders slumped.
"You're quite right, my dear Lily. A boy needs his family. He needs love above all else. Sometimes an old man forgets what it's like to be young. It's a failing of the aged." He hesitated, his eyes falling back on Harry. "I don't wish to see yet another child become a casualty of war. Please take this seriously."
He turned for the door.
James ran his hand through his hair, his brow drawn tight as he wrestled with his baser instincts. He'd want to rush out and slay this implacable foe, but he'd also feel the need to stay here and protect her and Harry. What would that conflict do to him? Would her hubris be the downfall of her family? What if by making this choice, she was consigning them all to death? Could she protect them all without Dumbledore's help? Did she dare turn down his support?
Tick. Tick.
No. She couldn't take the risk. He wasn't her only option, but he was her best.
Tick.
"You can help."
Dumbledore turned, his blue eyes glistening.
"But swear it, Dumbledore. Swear that you won't take my son away from his family. Swear that you'll not only protect him, but you'll let him grow up as a normal little boy. Swear to me that you'll let him live his life outside the shadow of this war."
Dumbledore raised his black, knobbed wand. "To the best of my abilities, I so swear."
Finis