James Potter walked through the gates, which were flanked by two pillars topped with winged boars. The sun was just setting beyond the mountains behind Hogwarts, and the result in the reflection on the lake was beautiful. He remembered when he was in his sixth year, and he had gone on his first sunset walk with Lily. He saw the tree where they had first kissed … the same tree beneath which he had once levitated Snape, upside down, in his fifth year, much to Lily’s annoyance. Those were happy times… those times had long gone.
It had been so long since he had gazed up at the Gryffindor tower from the grounds. And the Quidditch pitch... what was it, one, maybe two years since he had last ridden a broom? The one room apartment that he and Lily lived in was in the middle of the city. There was no place to fly; they even had to watch where they used their wands.
James continued up the steps taking them two at a time. What was so important that Dumbledore had made him come all this way? What could not be written on parchment, or told via the Floo? It must be about the incident, he thought as he walked through the deserted entrance hall, and waited for some staircases to move in the right direction.
A week ago, he, Lily and Dorcas Meadows captured the Death Eater, Gibbon, and held him for questioning. Snape’s Veritaserum was almost down his throat when five masked Death Eaters blasted a wall in Dorcas’ apartment. Two of them grabbed Gibbon and ran out, while the other three stayed to fight. Lily sent a fast Stunner at one, but then the other two hit her, both at the same time; she collapsed. The next thing James knew, he was using a sofa to shield himself from an Avada Kedavra. When he leaped back out, the Death Eaters were gone, and so was Dorcas.
James and Lily were all right, but the word was that Voldemort had personally executed Dorcas after torturing her into revealing what they had gotten out of Gibbon. The whole operation had been a disaster, and now Dumbledore wants to tell me “it’s not my fault,” thought James. The truth was, he had been blaming himself because throughout the whole fight (which had all happened in a matter of seconds), he never cast one spell. But the question remained: why did Dumbledore not send him an owl or talk to him by Floo?
The thoughts continued to swirl in James’ head as he skipped the trick stair and continued into the stone gargoyle’s hallway. He remembered in his fourth year when McGonagall had taken him to this very office because he had bewitched a toilet to regurgitate its contents when it was flushed, and again in his sixth year because he had snuck out of his dormitory to get Lily a birthday cake from the house-elves. Both times, Dumbledore seemed to know exactly what was going through his mind. James wondered what he would say this time.
“Fizzing Whizzbees” James said to the gargoyle, and it jumped out of the way. He walked up the moving spiral staircase and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” said a voice from inside. James opened the door to find Albus Dumbledore sitting inside with Frank Longbottom. Frank was in his late thirties and balding with remnants of brown hair.
“Aha, James… please have a seat,” said Dumbledore, gesturing to a chair, “I have asked you both here for a very serious reason; even now our enemies might be on their way to act. Please, don’t interrupt while I am explaining, I will be pleased to answer all of your questions as soon as I am done.” James made a move to speak, but Dumbledore silenced him with a raise of a hand, “Please, take a seat James, I would not want word getting around that I am an inhospitable host. Good, good, now, let me begin…”
“Sir, I am sorry to interrupt, but I need to know, is there any news on Meadows?” asked James.
“That is a sad story, but one that deserves a snippet of our time. My brother, Aberforth, was able to gather, from a crowd of Death Eaters, that she refused to give in to the torture, so Voldemort…don’t make that face, Frank. Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself. Anyway, Voldemort chose to execute her personally. She was extremely loyal and did not tell them anything. Unfortunately, as you both know, we got nothing out of Gibbon, but Meadows was just too proud. There will be a time to mourn her death, but it is not now… and James, it is not your fault.”
“But sir… I did not cast one spell… not one! My own wife hit a Death Eater, while I jumped behind a sofa!”
“Jumping out of the way so that a killing curse does not hit you is not an act of cowardice, James. Now, as I said, the time will come to mourn Meadows, but it is not this day. No, I am here to inform the two of you about something very exciting. In order for me to explain it fully, I have to back track to a few weeks ago. Now, I was going to interview a new candidate for the post of Divination teacher, as dear old Professor Heartburg had just informed me that ‘the fates had advised her to leave’ whatever that means. Now, Professor Heartburg might have been a kind old lady, but she was no seer, I am afraid to say. But this new candidate was the great, great granddaughter of a rather famous seer, Cassandra Trelawney. Anyway, I went to meet her at the Hog’s Head, and we had a lengthy interview which, by the end of, I was convinced that she could see just as well as I can ride an elephant. So I thanked her for her interview and was about to leave when she became very misty eyed and started talking in a voice that was very different from her own, and this is what she said:
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...
I could not believe my ears. Of course, there was the chance that she was just trying to impress me. But when I asked what she had just said, she did not remember saying anything at all. I told her that I would send her an owl if I decided to hire her and left at once, knowing that I had to act fast. The first step was to figure out who exactly this child was.”
All of a sudden Frank inhaled very quickly, began to cough and fell of his chair. “Dumbledore, you can’t be serious!” exclaimed Frank, rising from the floor.
“I take it that Alice is pregnant then,” replied Dumbledore.
“Yes, we just found out last night. Oh my god, I can’t believe what you’re saying. But it does make sense; we have thwarted He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named three times. Oh, what should we do? We must find a way to hide him at once… hang on, what is James doing here?”
“Well Frank, had this happened a month ago, you would have been here alone, but in light of recent events, James and Lily have now both defied Voldemort… yes, say the name, Frank… Voldemort three times now, so if Lily is pregnant, then we have two candidates for the job. Is she pregnant James?” asked Dumbledore.
James had kept quiet ever since Dumbledore had begun his story, breathing it in word by word. But now, he cleared his throat and answered meekly, “I don’t think so… I mean, it is possible… but I don’t think that she is…”
“Well, you will have to find out. Send me an owl, but don’t say anything that would give anything away, just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on the parchment. Frank, I will think of a way to keep you and Alice safe from Voldemort… for heaven’s sake don’t make a face like that, it is just a name. James, I will expect your owl in a few days. I trust that the two of you know your way out; you will be able to Apparate once off of the grounds. I will talk to you both soon.”
James and Frank both stood up, waved good bye and were about to leave when James turned around and said “Dumbledore, how did Voldemort find out about the prophecy?”
“Pardon?” asked Dumbledore, looking up from his desk.
“How did he find out? You said that even now he might be thinking of what to do. But how did he hear the prophecy in the first place?”
Dumbledore looked at James for a second, as if weighing him. James was reminded of when he had first joined the Order, and Dumbledore had looked him up and down like that. “The walls tend to have ears at the Hog’s Head,” said Dumbledore. James knew that was all he was going to get, and walked out. Dumbledore walked over to his cabinet, pulled open the door and pulled out a large stone basin, swimming with memories… his memories. He touched his wand to his head and put a string of thought into the basin, then another, then another. It would not have done to tell them about Snape, He thought. There was no point in worrying them, and Dumbledore new what Serious would do when James told him. No, some things were best left secret, and this was just one of those things.