Harry Potter and the Return of the Parents

Chapter 4 - Story-Time

"As you know, the war was going badly," Dumbledore began. "Voldemort was rising in power, and seemed undefeatable. They were dark days, no-one sure who to trust. The order was being destroyed one by one . . . the Prewitts, the McKinnons, the Bones . . . And then, one day, I came to you about a prophecy."

Lily and James both nodded. They remembered the prophecy. Dumbledore had gathered them and the Longbottoms to tell them, quite simply, that one of their sons was going to have to defeat the darkest wizard who had ever lived. It was a terrible thing for a parent to hear, though Lily knew she could no more have wished it upon the unsuspecting boy in Alice Longbottom's arms than her own. Dumbledore continued.

"Let me recap for you. The child to defeat the dark lord would be born as the seventh month dies – the end of July – to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times. This gave two children. One, a boy named Neville, born to the aurors Frank and Alice. The other, your own son Harry. This was the information that Voldemort received. However, his informant had only heard the first half of the prophecy; the second half was, as I informed you on the night, rather more illuminating.

"Voldemort would mark the child as his equal. He did not know this, and so he proceeded to your house, intent upon removing the threat before it could grow in power. However, had he known the full contents of the prophecy I believe he would not have acted so hastily, for in doing so he inadvertently chose the boy who was to defeat him. I do not know for certain what led him to believe Harry was the subject of the prophecy and not Neville, though I have my suspicions."

Lily looked up at the professor as he paused for breath, eyes burning.

"So that night means Harry is the one who must defeat him?" she asked, clutching James' hand rather more tightly than she meant to. Dumbledore nodded, his eyes for once without their twinkle.

"I am afraid so."

"But what actually happened?" James asked. "How did he find us?" The headmaster made to answer, but Lily interrupted.

"It was Peter, wasn't it?" she said quietly, flinching as James' whipped around. The thought had been scratching away, unbidden, at the back of her mind for some time now. She could hardly bear to consider it, but could not think of another possible explanation. "Peter was secret keeper . . . Did they capture him? Or did he betray us?"

James's fingernails bit into her hand, eyes wide with shock and hurt. "Lily, think about what you're saying! Peter could never. . . he wouldn't. . ."

His feeble protests trailed away as he realised that Dumbledore was not denying it.

"No." he muttered. His wide, wet eyes seemed to suddenly remember how to blink, and he did so rapidly, trying unsuccessfully to contain the tears. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck. She hated knowing what this knowledge would do to her husband. James, who valued friendship above anything – who would die for his friends, who would stick with them no matter what – betrayed by a man he considered a brother.

"It is true." Dumbledore said sadly. "Pettigrew betrayed you to Voldemort. I cannot say why; I can only assume that his desire for power was stronger than his loyalty for a friend by whom he had always felt overshadowed. But Peter was the spy."

"What happened that night?" Lily pressed. "How are we still alive? And what happened to Harry? And –" Dumbledore raised his hand to stem the onslaught of questions.

"For the moment, I do not know how you survived. I think that it is a puzzle in which I shall have much interest later. However, for now. . ." He cleared his throat with the air of one delivering a speech.