Out of the Past, Into the Future (a Harry Potter fanfic)

8 - Saying Goodbye

Chapter Eight - Saying Goodbye

31st of October, 1981

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

Dumbledore led a bemused James down the hall. He stopped at a door James had never seen before - but then James had never really had the time or the opportunity to explore headquarters before.

The room turned out to be a small study, complete with wood panelling, a small desk, a couple of armchairs, some bookshelves, and a fireplace.

With a snap of his fingers, Dumbledore created a small fire in the grate, then shut the door behind them. Gesturing at the chairs, he invited James to sit down.

"James, I know this is hard for you. I understand. And you have a right to be angry with me, it shows that you are human. It shows that you are alive."

James nodded. He could feel Dumbledore was building up to something.

"James, I'm sorry, but what I'm about to tell you is completely classified information. You cannot tell anyone, with the exception of Lily, about this, not even your friends. I know you trust them. And I know they are good people. But this is war, and I hate to say this, but look what happened the last time you trusted someone. So I'm afraid you can't tell any of them.

James, in a few years, when Harry starts Hogwarts, Voldemort will try to return. It will lead to war, no matter what, although when I do not know, and Voldemort will, undoubtedly, go after Harry. Harry is now the boy in the prophecy. They will fight bitterly, but in the end, only one will survive."

James chewed his lip anxiously. "But why is it not Neville?"

Dumbledore nodded, as though it was an excellent question. "To answer this you would need to know the contents of the prophecy. But it's too dangerous knowledge. I can only tell you a small part of it though."

James sat forwards eagerly. "Yes, any of it."

Dumbledore nodded his head and looked at the ceiling as though remembering something. Finally, he opened his mouth.

"And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal but he shall have..." he trailed off and shook his head. "No. You don't need to know that, at least, not yet. But as you see, the Dark Lord chooses his own opponent, and he has picked Harry."

James nodded as though that made sense. "Do you know who it will be? That will survive?" James asked anxiously.

"No. Harry has a chance, and it's fairly likely that he will succeed, but there will be casualties. It could go either way, easily. But there is a problem.

The only thing that could stop him having a chance is if time was changed. And it has been. James, you weren't supposed to pick up that mirror. I'm not angry at you, in fact I'm quite glad, because it means you are alive, but the fact remains: it wasn't supposed to happen. I'm sorry, but you and Lily should be dead."

James' mouth fell open. "Not Lily too!" he cried.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. But James, as I said, you should both be dead. You need to be dead. I'm sorry. It's not because of anything you've done, just that in the future, if Harry is to have a chance, it is the death of his parents, Lily and you, that will give him the incentive to defy Voldemort. And now he has no incentive. Why should he kill Voldemort when he returns? He has done nothing to him - well, almost nothing. And I'm not saying he will grow up on Voldemort's side - quite the contrary - but there will be no leader in the fight against him."

James stared at Dumbledore in horror. "Voldemort cannot be defeated while Lily and I live; we need to die." he stated. It wasn't an accusation, it was a fact.