Chapter Text
1980 AD The Noble House of Dumbledore
- Lord, MW Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore b. 1881, m. Lady Josephine Davunt
- Heir Apparent, MW Godric Dumbledore b. 1908, m. Lady Aurelia Longbottom b. 1914
* Arthur Dumbledore, b. 1930, m. Angelina Black
~ Gregory Dumbledore, b. 1957, m. Annabelle Douglas
> Armand Dumbledore, b. 1977
> Ulysses Dumbledore, b. 1979
> Helena Dumbledore, b. 1983
~ Vesta Dumbledore, b. 1963
* Albus Dumbledore, b. 1941, d. 1977, killed by Antonin Dolohov
* Genevieve Abbott (Dumbledore) , b. 1946, m. Timothy Abbott (Uncle of Hannah)
~ Emma Abbott b. 1971
~ Isabella Abbott b. 1974
~ Thomas Abbott b. 1976
* Thaddeus Dumbledore, b. 1949, m. Rebecca Aveline (Muggle)
~ Percival Dumbledore, b. 1978
* Claudia Dumbledore, b. 1952 (Muggle Studies Professor)
- Cedric Dumbledore, b. 1919, d. 1944, killed by Grindelwald in a duel
- Elnora Shacklebolt (Dumbledore), b. 1923, m. Frederick Shacklebolt
* Logan Shacklebolt, b. 1952 (Cousin of Kingsley)
- Antioch Dumbledore, b. 1927
Godric's Hollow, 25. of October 1981
It was dark by the time Antioch Dumbledore had finished casting the spell on the house. His long brown hair and beard were wet from the rain, and his grey cloak had turned dark. He could easily dry himself up with magic, of course, but he preferred not to. Not everything required magic, when he could just as easily let it dry near the hearth.
"Is it done?" Sirius Black, a young and reckless, yet immensely skilled wizard asked impatiently. Antioch nodded but didn't spare the wizard a glance as he headed over to the heart.
"Now all you need to do is decide who you want as your secret keeper," he said, sinking into his armchair. Behind him, James and Lily Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black glanced at each other, pondering the heavy decision.
"Well," Lily Potter began, cradling her young son Harry, "there's only one clear choice in my eyes. Someone who'll protect our secret without hesitation and who can stand up against Death Eaters if they come knocking – Albus Dumbledore." Sirius nodded in agreement, but Antioch couldn't hide his incredulity.
"You want my father as your secret keeper?" He asked, feeling himself grow angry. He still had not forgiven his father for Cedric's death, despite being in the nice little order he had created. "Albus is loyal to nothing but what he perceives to be, 'The Greater Good.' Make him your secret keeper, and he'll sacrifice you for the cause if he deems it necessary."
James frowned, "Pardon me Antioch, but what are you talking about?" he asked bluntly. James, like the other members of the Order, held Albus Dumbledore in the highest regard, viewing him as an unerring paragon of virtue. They had not witnessed the first war, nor had they seen Albus's nonchalance as Grindelwald's dragon ravaged Hamburg, waiting for the opportune moment to strike while countless Muggles and wizards perished. Nor had they been there to witness Albus's indifference to Cedric's murder by Grindelwald in '44. To Antioch, it was not beyond the realm of possibility that Albus might have even allowed Cedric's death, foreseeing it as a catalyst to galvanize the anti-Grindelwald movement.
"Hmpf," Antioch shook his head, not wanting to fight a war he knew he couldn't win, "choose whomever you want, but if I were you I would avoid my father."
"Besides, he's probably too busy!" Peter Pettigrew said excitedly, Antioch's brows furrowing at his enthusiasm.
James nodded, "Aye, perhaps it's best we just let it be you, Padfoot." he said with a grin. Antioch sighed. In his opinion, James had far too much trust in someone whose entire family served Riddle - or Voldemort, he supposed, whatever it was he preferred these days. Yet to his surprise, Sirius shook his head in disagreement, "No, I'm far too obvious. It'd be better if it were someone else."
"Who then; Remus?" Lily asked curiously, "Once he's back from his mission, that is..." she added.
Sirius's face darkened. "I don't know if Lupin is trustworthy," he said with a grim sigh.
James's eyes widened, "WHAT? You don't trust Remus?" he asked
"No, I've had a growing suspicion about his allegiance. I don't think he's on our side anymore if ever he was." before James or Lily could object, Sirius went on, "Think about it, James; There's a spy among us, someone who's working for Voldemort. Remus is the only one who makes sense."
"Because he's a werewolf?" Lily asked indignantly, her arms crossed.
"No, Lil, because he's spent the last year with the werewolves. You are the sum of the five people you spend the most time with, my father used to tell me - of course when he said that, it was meant as a warning to stay away from muggle-borns, but it's a good point all the same; spend too much time with evil werewolves loyal to Voldemort, and you'll become a-... Well, you'll become one of them."
Out of all the so-called 'Marauders', Remus was the only one whose company Antioch enjoyed - which is why it was such a shame that the man was constantly spying on Albus's orders. The rest, despite their enormous magical talent, could be a tad unbearable - or despicable, like Pettigrew. And yet he had agreed to shelter them, once his father told him of the prophecy. He was rarely involved in the business of the Order, yet his hatred for Tom Riddle was enough to make him assist the Potters.
Lily Potter was pleasant to be around, however, as was her baby son Harry - the one whom the prophecy concerned.
Lily frowned, but James had gone pale, "You've got a point, Sirius." he said, obviously pondering whom to choose, before it seemed as if he realised, "Well Peter, that leaves you - unless you object?" he asked Sirius.
"No, no objection," Sirius said with a grin, clapping Peter on the back, "Don't worry Pete, I'll look after you."
Pettigrew smiled nervously, his eyes on the floor, "I-I'd be honoured, James!"
They all laughed and embraced one another, before preparing for the charm. Yet Antioch could not help but feel as if they had made a terrible choice...
Godric's Hollow, 31. of October 1981
The protections were broken, shattered like glass. A sense of impending doom loomed as he caught sight of the hooded figure drawing near to the door.
The question of how the Fidelius charm had been compromised echoed in his mind, but the answer was painfully evident: Pettigrew. That treacherous rat. He could only hope that the other members of the Order would swiftly apprehend him – though there was always the grim possibility they'd point the finger at Black as the secret keeper. Antioch tightened his grip on his wand, his resolve unwavering. He knew he couldn't outduel Riddle, not then, not when they were schoolmates at Hogwarts, and certainly not now, but his mission was clear – buy the Potters time to escape.
"TAKE LILY AND HARRY AND GET OUT OF HERE!" Antioch's voice roared, but James hesitated for a moment, a conflicted expression briefly crossing his face, before he bolted toward the living room.
Antioch's gaze remained fixed on the intruder, recognizing the transformation from the handsome youth of their school days into the grotesque, red-eyed monster before him. He could sense the simmering hatred and frustration, even beneath the veneer of grace.
"Step aside, Antioch, or die," Riddle spoke with an almost courteous tone, though a trace of irritation lingered in his words.
"It was foolish of you to come here tonight, Tom," Antioch retorted calmly. "They're already gone. You have failed."
A surge of anger contorted Riddle's features. "No matter. I will find them again, and your death will be my retribution."
Antioch chuckled, the calm facade remaining. "And how will you find them now? Your spy has been exposed."
Voldemort swiftly raised his wand, his voice cutting through the tension. "Avada Kedavra!"
A bright, sinister flash of green light leapt from his wand, but Antioch acted quickly, blocking the deadly curse with a painting he tore off the wall. The exchange of words dissolved into a duel, with Antioch launching his own curses, fully aware of his limitations as a duelist.
"Fracturasempra!" Riddle cursed, relentless in his assault. Antioch's defences strained, but he endured, seeking an opening. minutes passed in this brutal dance, Riddle showing no mercy. No words were said amidst their non-verbal duel, and the hisses of exhaustion were the only sounds that escaped the two aged wizards. Yet Riddle's onslaught was slowing down. He wondered for a short moment if he had already tired, yet the answer was more disturbing: He knew he had won, and in his arrogance had relaxed. Yet this had left an opening in between the cast spells.
Seizing the opportunity, Antioch unleashed "Impedimenta!" with all his might, granting himself a brief respite. Riddle blocked it, but Antioch had him on the back foot now.
"Silencio! Removendum digitorium! Expellere intestinum!" Antioch cast a rapid succession of curses. Riddle deflected most, but Antioch had forced him into a defensive posture.
"Expulso!" He followed with a bolt of lightning. But Riddle, growing impatient, remained impervious.
"Incendio Tria," he muttered, searching for a more powerful spell.
"Confringo!"
And then it came to him.
"Ruptis solaris!"
A blinding, golden light erupted from his wand, intense enough to disintegrate the very walls. It surged toward Riddle, but the Dark Lord conjured a silvery shield, absorbing the spell. The shock paralyzed Antioch, his most powerful spell thwarted. He struggled to regain his composure, only to see Riddle seemingly unfazed, yet irritation gleamed in his eyes.
Riddle retaliated with a barrage of spells, a dazzling display of red, green, blue, and white. Antioch fought back desperately, his "Protego" struggling to block the spells. Pain pierced him, bones shattering, and invisible knives stabbing at his leg. He fell to his knees, desperation mounting.
"Protego Maxima!" he whispered, his voice a mere breath, as his most formidable shield emerged. The battle was slipping from his grasp, but perhaps he could Apparate if he could just halt Riddle's onslaught briefly. Yet Riddle showed no mercy. Piece by piece, Antioch's shield crumbled.
And then, at last, Riddle's patience wore thin. He unleashed a constant blue bolt of energy, obliterating the remnants of Antioch's defence.
The curse's power threw Antioch against the wall, his wand slipping from his grasp. He reached for it, but Riddle effortlessly summoned it with an "Accio." A diabolical smile twisted Riddle's lips.
Antioch struggled to speak, blood bubbling from his lips, as he glanced around frantically for anything, anything, which he could use to his defence
Father, he thought, hoping that Albus Dumbledore could somehow hear his silent plea. He clung to the hope that James and Lily had sought refuge at Hogwarts and aid would soon come to his rescue.
"They say your father only found the courage to challenge Grindelwald after your dear brother's death," Riddle mused aloud. "Perhaps your demise will have a similar effect. Or perhaps not."
Riddle advanced closer, looming over Antioch. "You see, I am the most powerful wizard to have ever lived. You father would be foolish to challenge me, I, who have come closer to immortality than anyone before me."
Antioch accepted his fate, gazing up at Riddle as he raised his wand – not his own wand, but the one he had wrested from Antioch.
Father, I'm sorry…
The room vanished, replaced by a blinding green light that rapidly turned white...