Harry Potter and the Return of the Parents

Chapter 3 - Secrecy

"I want to see my son," Lily said, pushing herself up from the gravestone against which she and James had been leaning. She stared at Dumbledore, who hadn't moved. "Professor, I want to see Harry. Can you take us to him?" It wasn't really a request, as they all knew, and yet the old wizard seemed to be hesitating. "Sir?"

He stood up and faced them.

"I want nothing more than for Harry to meet the two of you," he began, "and vice versa. I am afraid, however, that it will have to wait a little while." He raised his hand against Lily's protests. "I know, my dear, but there is much that must be discussed first."

He turned and began walking towards the churchyard gate, robes somehow billowing majestically behind him even on a night as still as this one. Lily and James followed him obediently across the parched grass.

"I'm afraid the world has changed substantially whilst the two of you were gone," he continued as they walked, "and there are many things which you must know before you can see Harry, or anyone for that matter." He passed through the gate and paused on the other side, turning back to them. "There is also the question of his housing to be seen to."

James wasn't stupid; in fact, even as the school troublemaker he had been decidedly the opposite. He knew that the two of them had been absent a lot longer than the headmaster had originally made out, and if he were truly honest the thought scared him significantly. Just how had the world changed since that night? How much of their son's life had they missed? What had become of their friends?

"Albus," he said guardedly, fixing the professor with a gaze that warned he would not accept another evasion. "How long have we been gone?"

Albus Dumbledore inhaled deeply and took a moment, gazing out over the small town-square to a pub opposite. The door had just been opened, and the trio were briefly beckoned by the faint sounds of music and chatter leaking from within, drifting casually across to their huddle in the darkened churchyard. A single man staggered through the door and swayed down the steps, allowing the door to swing shut behind him and silence to smother the square once more. Dumbledore gave a weary sigh.

"Almost fourteen years," he said softly.

James blinked, and beside him heard Lily's breath catch. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that. Dumbledore had been so nonchalant when Lily first mentioned it, as though however long they had been gone, however much they had missed, it was manageable. It was redeemable. This, however. . .

"Fourteen years?" he breathed in disbelief. "Fourteen – fourteen years!" He ran both hands through his dishevelled hair before letting them drop down and cover his face. "Harry," he moaned. "He must be almost fifteen!"

He vaguely registered Lily's silence beside him, and turned to see her face anguished and her cheeks wet with tears, curling in on herself as though under a sorrow too heavy to bear. He took her hand, offering what small comfort he could, but still grappling himself with what this meant. His son had spent most of his childhood an orphan. He had had to grow up without a father. Without a mother.

His chubby, cheeky little foal had become a teenager overnight.

Dumbledore nodded. "I didn't want to do this now," he murmured. "I would have preferred to return to headquarters before saying anything". Lily looked as though she wanted to question him further, but the professor rested a hand on her shoulder and she held her tongue. "I'll explain everything later," he promised. "It's not safe to be out these days."

He offered an outstretched arm to Lily and James, who each grabbed hold, and with a whirl of his cloak they were gone.

***

Dumbledore apparated them onto a muggle street, surrounded on all sides by tall, Victorian houses. A few late-night wanderers could still be seen scurrying to-and-fro, but for the most part the street was empty and no-one had seen them arrive. James scanned the row of houses with his seeker's eyesight until he found what he was looking for.

"There," he pointed the anomaly out to Lily. "See how the numbers go from 11 to 13?" She nodded and motioned to Dumbledore, keeping her voice low.

"That's headquarters?" Dumbledore nodded, before moving over to James and looking him squarely in the eye.

"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," he said, "is at Number 12, Grimmauld Place." In his peripheral vision, James saw the terrace begin to slide apart, rumbling and creaking as a new house forced its way between the walls of its neighbours. He barely noticed, however, as Dumbledore repeated himself to Lily and she too was able to see the house. Number 12 Grimmauld Place, he was thinking. No, surely not. He couldn't think how Dumbledore could possibly have persuaded Sirius to return to his old house, even for use as headquarters; although, now that he thought about it, everything Sirius had told of his paranoid parents suggested it would be an exceedingly safe place for the Order to meet.

Dumbledore lead the way towards the house, stopping just before they reached the door.

"I'm going to cast a disillusionment charm," he explained. "Your arrival will cause quite an uproar, and I'd prefer to explain at least the basics of what you have missed before you face the others." The Potters nodded, and the familiar cold sensation trickled down James' back as the headmaster cast a net disillusionment charm, allowing the three of them to still see each other but hiding them from the world. The door was pushed open and the trio entered softly, picking their way carefully around a haphazardly placed hat-stand in the porch.

No-one seemed to have heard them. A low hubbub of voices could be heard from the kitchen, undisturbed by their entry, but the hall they found themselves in was dark and empty. James found himself straining to hear the conversations issuing from the kitchen, suddenly desperate to hear a familiar voice. Was his son behind that door? It was, after all, Sirius' house, and his friend was Harry's legal guardian should anything happen to him and Lily. He thought at least one of the voices could belong to a teenage boy. But, James reminded himself, Sirius was unlikely to actually live here, given his hatred of the place, and at fifteen Harry surely wasn't a member of the Order. If he was rational about it, there was really no reason for his son to be here at all.

James tore his gaze from the door and followed the others quietly upstairs and into a side room. The headmaster placed a silencing charm around the room so they could talk normally, locked the door and raised the disillusionment charm.

"Albus –" Lily began, and it was clear all this secrecy was beginning to wear her down. All she wanted was some answers and to see her child. Instead, Dumbledore motioned for the pair to sit down, and lowered himself carefully into a chair. He steepled his fingers and tucked them beneath his chin, clearing his throat a few times.

"I suppose," he said, "I had better start at the beginning."