Up To No Good

Chapter Thirty-Two: 2 August 1981

James and Lily had since grown accustomed to the little house on Godric's hollow. 

Though it was named for the founder of Gryffindor house, there were many Muggles that lived their alongside the magical families, though they were quite unaware of their presence. To some, the tiny village that they were careful not to leave might have been a lonely existence. But now, it was home.

Sirius sat on the sofa across from James, Remus beside him, and Peter stood close by with his arms crossed. Wormtail never seemed able to sit still. They'd heard told that Animagi tended to adopt animal tendencies, but whether it was Peter's ratlike qualities shining through or restlessness at their situation was difficult to tell.

Though most of the Order knew where the Potters lived, Sirius, naturally, was their Secret Keeper. Part of it was they knew that he would have volunteered regardless, but that both Remus and Peter had insisted Sirius was the best choice for the job.

"Where is he?" Sirius asked eagerly. He kept eyeing the door to one of the bedrooms.

"Lily's bringing him."

Lily Potter entered the room, a small little bundle in her arms. She had a grin on her face, but at the same time there was emotion in those green eyes.

"He's smaller than I thought," Peter admitted. He was peering over Lily's shoulder.

"Here, Wormtail." She extended her arms toward him.

For a moment Peter seemed to be unsure as to what she was doing. But he took the bundle in his arms, gazing down at Harry Potter's face with as much adoration as there was uncertainty.

Remus beckoned to Peter, who took his seat on the sofa, brow furrowed as if he was afraid he'd drop him.

"He has your eyes, Lily," Remus said softly, reaching out to touch the tuft of jet-black hair on the child's head.

"And Prongs' hair," Peter laughed.

"For as long as he doesn't set him up for Quidditch practice, anyway," Sirius fake-scoffed. "Kid'll be riding a broom before he can walk."

"You're damn right," James agreed. "I've already bought a toy one for him."

"Doesn't surprise me," Remus grinned. "Here, give him to me."

Peter handed over the child without a word, although he moved his hands with a comical degree of difficulty.

"Padfoot," Lily began, "There's a little church just down the street. We were wondering if you may be interested in being Harry's godfather."

Sirius's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I mean, it would be an honor."

"You'll be better than I could," Remus assured him. "No child should grow up around a werewolf."

"You're no danger to Harry," Lily insisted. "You're one of the greatest wizards I know, and he could learn a lot from you."

Remus' lips pursed. That had caught him off guard. He'd spent most of his life hiding what he truly was, being wary of his every move, that he'd never dreamed anyone--especially as brilliant a witch as Lily Potter--could hold such respect for him.

"I appreciate that," he said under his breath.

When Lily returned to the room later, it was full of woodland creatures, all except for Remus, who sat on the sofa with Harry trying to stifle a laugh.

"You'll all confuse him," Remus was telling Sirius the dog.

The Patronus arrived later that day.

It was Kingsley's voice delivering the message through a wispy white lynx, and it was startlingly brief, only that Lily and the Marauders should show up to the Longbottoms' immediately.

"You shouldn't Apparate with him," Peter told James. "Side-Along Apparation can be painful. The message is urgent. I can stay with him."

"It's no trouble," Lily assured him. Though she realized he was right.

"Truly, I don't mind. Just tell me what Dumbledore says."

Lily considered this, eventually handing baby Harry to him, who was busy trying to shove his entire tiny fist in his mouth.

"Thank you, Wormtail."

The Longbottoms' was mostly empty, with only a handful of people present. And aside from that, they weren't in the living room anymore, but in the bedroom. There was Dumbledore, and beside him, Kingsley. In the corner of the room, a batty old woman James didn't recognize was holding Alice and Frank's newborn, Neville, who'd been born the same day as Harry.

And on the bed, motionless, were Alice and Frank themselves.

"Oh my God..." Lily began softly. "Are they alive?"

"Alive, yes," Dumbledore nodded slowly. "But not entirely intact."

Lily's hand flew up to meet her mouth. 

"The Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange, tortured them for what must have been hours," he went on. "They don't seem to know where they are, nor that they even have a son."

The old woman in the corner, who was wearing a fuzzy purple beret, stepped toward them, wiping her cheek with her sleeve. "I'm Augusta," she explained. "I'm Frank's mother."

James felt lost for words. After all, what did one say to someone who'd just lost everything her son used to be? As she clung to her grandson, who was blissfully unaware of anything out of the ordinary happening, James saw how Voldemort had truly stripped away everything they'd had.

"I'm so sorry," he said at last. It felt pathetic, but he meant it genuinely. "They're two of the strongest people I've ever had the pleasure of calling my friends."

Lily was holding Alice's hand. For a moment, Alice's eyelids fluttered, then opened. But her eyes were sightless. Those deep brown eyes held no sign of recognition, no clue that Alice even knew she was there. And though Lily rarely cried, rarely gave up, James spotted those tears falling from her eyes and onto their interlocked fingers.

"I take comfort," Augusta began quietly, sniffling, "I take comfort in the fact that Neville will be raised to know that his parents were heroes of the Order and friends of Dumbledore."

Maybe the prophecy didn't mean Harry at all. Maybe it meant Neville, whose parents were tortured to insanity by the cousin of one of their friends, who would grow up being raised only by the people that knew them.

James wouldn't have wished that fate on anyone. Not on Alice and Frank's child.

If only, he thought, he hadn't heard this damned prophecy at all.