Up To No Good

Chapter Thirty

"It's time I've told you about what I've heard," Dumbledore said.

Rain was pattering on the windows outside, large glistening drops leaving pearly white veins on the fractal glass. It reminded him of that night, all those years ago, when he and the Marauders had become Animagi. He sat beside Lily, across from them sitting Alice and Frank, who simply looked as confused as they did.

"When I was visiting Hogsmeade," he began, "I went into the Hog's Head Inn to review an applicant for the post of a Divination teacher at Hogwarts. While this woman did not strike me as a particularly gifted Seer, she was able to provide me with information that I believe may lead to the defeat of Lord Voldemort."

"Then why tell us?" Lily asked, echoing James's thoughts. "This could change everything for the Order. This is something they should all hear."

"I disagree." Dumbledore stood up from his chair and began to pace slowly back and forth behind his desk. With each step, the portraits of headmasters of times past watched him with curious looks, although some of them were too busy sleeping against their frames to care much. One of them, Phineas Nigellus Black and one of Sirius' ancestors, looked like he might fall out of his seat.

"Miss Trelawney prophesied to me that night. She spoke of a boy, born at the end of July, who would be targeted by Voldemort himself, marked as his equal, and would go on to destroy him when the time was right."

The room had gone silent.

"Was there any more?" Frank asked softly.

"The prophecy mentioned that the boy would be born to those who have defied Voldemort three times."

"What did she mean by 'when the time was right?'" Lily sounded confused, hints of fear peeking into her voice. "Did it ever say?"

"She said one last thing." Dumbledore stopped pacing. Fawkes, the phoenix, began preening himself on his elegant perch. "That neither can live while the other survives."

James stepped away from Dumbledore's desk. It was the third time he'd ever been in this room, and he never got any more used to it. Except this time, he felt like he was shaking.

"So what you're saying is," Alice Longbottom said slowly, "you believe that this prophecy refers to our sons?"

"The uncertainty is what worries me," Dumbledore concurred. "Assuming either of your sons could be born at the end of July, there is no way to know for certain who it applies to."

"And you trust this woman? Even though you said she wasn't a good Seer?"

"There is no doubt in my mind that this prophecy was authentic."

"What I want to know," James said, trying to keep himself under control, "was why you didn't tell us this before. You kept hinting at this knowledge, but it's only now that you think to tell us. Did you not think it would be important enough to us? That we wouldn't fear for our children?" He didn't remember standing up, only that he was suddenly on his feet.

James was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder and nearly jumped. Frank was offering him a sympathetic look, and he realized he might have crossed a line. Instead of apologizing, he only sat back down, taking off his glasses and holding his face in his hands.

"I wanted to protect you," Dumbledore told him quietly. "I wanted to be certain that this prophecy might have something to do with either of you. But you have each faced Lord Voldemort twice now, and the time might come when you face him once more."

"Shouldn't we go into hiding?" Frank asked. "To protect them?"

"I have no intention of hiding," James returned, pushing his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose. "I will stay here and fight him with every ounce I have left."

"James," Lily told him softly, "we can't raise our son if we're dead. We'll do what's best for him."

James sighed. He was angry, scared, and uncertain all at the same time; he took Lily's hand and spoke once more.

"If we have to. But not yet. I can't leave the Order behind... especially not Padfoot or Moony."

What if my son is the one meant in the prophecy? What if Harry is the Chosen One?

That's exactly what James hated about it all: Dumbledore had only told them what he'd had from memory. It wasn't that James didn't trust him, but because he wanted desperately to read over its exact words, again and again, to try to decipher their meaning. And because of how it had been received, his wishes were in vain.

And yet, it got more sinister. If James, Lily, and the Longbottoms were destined to face Voldemort again, going into hiding almost seemed to be the best option. It wasn't just the Cruciatus Curse that James, admittedly, feared: it was that face. That soulless, merciless, serpentine face.

The one that Snape now served. And that Regulus had died serving.

He thought back to that night, when Snape snuck after them into the Shrieking Shack. James had begrudgingly saved the brat's life, nearly getting them both killed in the process, and by one of his closest friends, no less. What if he'd acted differently? What if Snape had died back then? Would things have been the same?

James was crying.

He hadn't realized, at least initially. Lily had taken off his tear-stained glasses, wrapping her arms around him--which was difficult, considering how large her belly was now. She was crying too, her almond eyes were shimmering. James cupped her face with his left hand. No words were exchanged between them. Just the reality of their future, and yet, only the present. Despite the future's uncertainty, despite the intense fear they both felt, in that moment it was just them and their unborn child.

Inevitably, one of them would have to inform the rest of the Marauders. James wasn't sure if Dumbledore intended on keeping this information secret, or if the rest of the Order would know, watching them like animals prepared for slaughter. He didn't like either outcome.

Their embrace was interrupted by Crookshanks rubbing against both sets of legs. Lily picked him up, with some difficulty, a broken sort of smile forming on her face. Even through the pain she felt, her bright green eyes sparkled, which James didn't fail to notice.

"I want you to know that whatever happens, we'll keep Sirius and Remus safe," she insisted, kissing the ginger cat's shaggy forehead and handing it to him. "They will be provided for wherever we go. They're our family, and that includes Peter, too."

The only reason he'd left Peter out was because of Remus' lycanthropy and Sirius' less-than-enriching household. Though his strict and cruel mother and his emotionally absent father had long passed, the former's image were forever displayed in his house where she could yell at him periodically, and their memory was forever kept alive by the house elf that Sirius hated so damn much. James didn't like Kreacher either, but it was almost comical how Sirius treated the creature.

"I know. You wouldn't let things go that way," James agreed.

In the meantime, James busied himself with preparing a nursery. His main contribution was toys, but he had a feeling Lily would want to create the more environmental aspect anyway, so he headed down to Diagon Alley and bought a toy broomstick. The things were enchanted to only rise about a foot or so off the ground, quite unlike the traditional Quidditch sort, so it was perfect for his purposes.

Although Lily did give him crap for it.