The Light

Chapter 83- The Prophecy

Chapter 83- The Prophecy

January 1981

Remus left on New Year's Day. Although the Order held a party, Remus wasn't there to attend it, as he left early in the morning so as to avoid any tearful goodbyes. Sirius wasn't quite as loud and boisterous as he usually would be, especially considering the nature of the event, so Hermione made sure to hold his hand, stroking her thumb across his knuckles every time he seemed to zone out.

January was fairly ordinary. Hermione wondered whether things were finally starting to cool down; there were no attacks instigated by the Death Eaters and the silence unnerved the Order so much that Benjy suggested orchestrating their own attacks, just to see if Voldemort would retaliate. This idea was met with mixed emotions, but Caradoc dismissed it immediately, saying there was no need for them to 'tickle a sleeping dragon'. Nobody had mentioned it again.

The world did seem to lull itself into a false sense of security in those four weeks. The Ministry started trying to rebuild itself, for its major branches had suffered great losses. People started actually leaving their houses, and heading down the path that led to resuming their old lives.

And yet, though Hermione desperately wished it was over, she knew that it couldn't be. There was too much unfinished business, too much opportunity, for Voldemort to go quiet now. That, and his presence in her mind became unnaturally still. At night, she still dreamt of the darkness, even when she wasn't thinking of it. She often dreamt of Harry and Ron, but she was careful to leave out the context of their escapades together- she dreamt of little things, ones that Voldemort would never be able to pin down as suspicious or out of place. She dreamt of dancing with Ron at Bill and Fleur's wedding, laughing when he twirled her round and round till she got so dizzy the world refused to remain steady; of flying on Buckbeak, clinging onto Harry because her life depended on it, feeling the rush of the wind lace through her hair; of loving them and being loved by them and what a privilege it was. Somehow, it kept her going, gave her reason to wake up in the morning. Often, she could see the darkness lingering in the corners of the memory, watching. She paid it no mind. There was nothing she could do to stop it. Hermione just let him watch.

It was one morning in January, when the snow had blocked them all in Godric's Hollow, that they allowed themselves to relax in this calm period. James was playing with Harry. Lily was upstairs in the bath. Hermione and Sirius were sprawled on one settee, as close as they could get to one another to keep them both warm; her feet were tucked under his thighs, and his arm was curled around her back. Peter had told them he would join them later, having opted to sleep in for once. They couldn't blame him- he finally had the security to do so.

"My little boy," James sung, dancing around the room with Harry. The baby squealed, his laughter ringing. Sirius grinned, eyes following them. Hermione couldn't mask her loving wonder.

James stopped suddenly, twisting Harry around to face them. He muttered something under his breath and Harry's bib transformed into a red cape, flowing to past his kicking feet and moving around to the back of his neck. Hermione laughed, tipping her head back.

"Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! It's Harry James Potter!" James announced, and he took off around the room again, making flying noises and taking him into nose-tail dives and loops.

Sirius said teasingly, "Better watch out, Prongs. Keep this up and he'll be a better Quidditch player than you!"

"Oh, I'm planning on it," replied James, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. Harry blew a raspberry, bending his knees to try and take off again. "I don't want him following in my footsteps. You're gonna be a champ, aren't you son? Gonna play for Puddlemere United and be the best seeker that team has ever seen!"