possibility

The storm of the previous night had brought the first snowfall of this winter into the country. A thin layer of snow decorated the empty streets and pavements. The sky was dark and cloudy, and the sun had already set, leaving a spooky atmosphere in the village. A cold and fresh wind blew through the historic alleys of Godric’s Hollow. The dark streets, only sporadically lightened by lanterns and the lights shining through the windows of the houses, looked eerie.

“It’s soon going to be over, isn’t it?” Lily asked quietly.

She was lying on the sofa on her husband’s lap, her eyes on Harry in his little Lightning McQueen costume. He was playing with their cat, cuddling with him and pressing his face deep into his fluffy black fur, inhaling its scent.

“It is,” James assured, stroking through his wife’s copper hair.

The dim lights of the candles lightened the room in a warm golden tone.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said.

He, too, was watching their son, who now lay face to face with their cat, their nose tips touching. Harry was giggling at the cold and wet touch. Lily and James smiled at the sight. It had become hard to stay positive in such draining times, but at the end of the day, they had no other choice than to hope for the best. Ever since they went into hiding under the Fidelius, they were unable to get any updates from the outside, and they had to rely on their friends and associates from the order.

“Leo,” Harry laughed and pointed at the cat, “Leo. I lowe yu.”

Lily and James smiled at each other.

“And I love you,” Lily whispered, trying not to disturb Harry’s conversation with the cat.

“I love you, too,” James answered and kissed her.

Harry had started talking early in comparison to other toddlers, which was, given the circumstances and his lack of social contact, rather surprising. His first words had been ‘Leo’, ‘Mama’, ‘Papa’ and ‘fuck’. James wasn’t very proud of the latter—even though it was his contribution to their son’s vocabulary— whilst Lily found it hilarious. With time, James accepted it as well, seeing that when their son met Remus one day, there was no way he would live much longer without any curse words in his vocabulary.

The thought of the future was as scary as it was hopeful. The war wouldn’t continue forever, and if nothing went terribly wrong, there would be times when they could see their friends and families again. Times in which Harry would finally meet his loving uncles. Times in which they would all reunite again.

Sometimes, Lily and James had to fear that these times would never come, given that they had already lost so many friends, memories and opportunities to the war. It was exhausting to not know whether another of their friends had died or whether there had been another incident, taking countless innocent Muggle lives. It was draining to not know whether the fighting and enduring was worth it in the end.

But they had no control over anything, so there was nothing they could do except hoping for the best and not giving up.

Harry smiled widely and pointed at his parents, “Mama, Papa, up! Up.”

“Alright, alright,” James laughed, wiping the bad thoughts away.

Lily got up from his lap so that he could pick up Harry from the floor.
Harry laughed happily and touched his father’s face with his little hands.

“Tell me a stowy,” Harry demanded.

“A story?” Lily asked, “From when we were younger?”

Harry nodded excitedly.

Lily and James eyed each other and started laughing as they were certainly thinking about the same story.

They quickly ran out of children’s books after Harry had developed an interest in listening to stories, so they decided to give him an insight into their lives at Hogwarts (minus the shadows of the war, the alcohol and a whole lot more a toddler shouldn’t get to hear). Often, they told Harry the stories of the friends they had already lost to the war to keep their memory alive.

Just the other day, James had told Harry about his grandparents, Euphemia and Fleamont, who had passed away due to complications associated with Dragon Pox. And last week, Lily had shown him some memories of Sirius’ brother Regulus, who had died very early into the war.

“Do you want to hear a really crazy story about your aunties?” James asked.

Harry immediately nodded enthusiastically.

Memories of Dorcas and Marlene were gold mines when it came to insane stories. At times, the two of them were more chaotic than Sirius and Mary when they had one of their brilliantly stupid ideas.

“Alright, so Marlene,” James began, “I have known her for ages. I grew up with her, we lived on the same street. And when we came to Hogwarts she was sorted into Gryffindor, just like your mum and I.”

Harry listened eagerly as Lily and James alternately told the story of how Marlene fell in love with Dorcas and how they together pulled one of the biggest pranks of Hogwarts at their time.
With his big green eyes, Harry watched his parents whilst they gestured with their hands, trying to bring across dead memories lifelike.

Lily and James were both fully invested in describing the chaotic getting together of their friends until suddenly Harry pointed at the window, or rather at something outside the window. A dark silhouette walked down the path to their door.

“Who is that?” he asked.

Lily and James shared a worried glance.

“This can’t be…” James began but never finished his sentence.

Lily slowly turned her head to the side in disbelief. James was correct. It couldn’t be, but…

“It is,” she breathed.

“It can’t be,” James repeated, stunned.

Within a few moments, their whole world fell apart because it was for certain. The silhouette in their front yard was the one of Voldemort. It should have been impossible, but there was no point in denying it.

It just wouldn’t go into James’ brain. In order for someone, Voldemort, to find them, their secret keeper must have betrayed them. Peter was their secret keeper. He would never do something like this, not in a million lives. Peter was their friend, their family. James had known him since they had been toddlers. Their friendship was ages old.

He remembered the countless nights they and the others had spent awake at Hogwarts, too excited to go to sleep because now they were young, they were living their golden years. And nothing and no one could bring them apart, not even the war, not even Voldemort. They had sworn each other to always look out for one another. They had sworn themselves that they would be infinite, that their friendship would last forever, in every lifetime and every universe.

They were the Marauders, after all. They could not be separated and were only available as a team. They were one.

But in the end, it didn’t matter. Peter had betray them. No matter how James tried to put things. Peter had betrayed them, he had exposed them to Voldemort and left them alone. All the promises of eternity for nothing. A secret keeper could not reveal the location through torture. A secret keeper could only reveal such secrets voluntarily.

Peter, willingly, had abused their love and trust, for what? What did it matter to him? In what way would he benefit from their deaths? What had happened? What went wrong? What about the Marauders? Was all that was left of them their shared memories? Was every evidence of their bond only left in photos and their heads? Would their memories be all that was left? Of years and years of friendship, was that the ending?

What James at that point didn’t realise was that not even his and Lily’s memories, nor their photos or old diaries would still exist at the end of this evening. He didn’t consider that they would be dead and all that was going to be left of their house, their home was a ruin.

“Lily… Lily, take Harry and run! Hide!” James said, his mind slowly returning to reality, “I’m going to fight him.”

Lily looked at him in horror, unsure what to do. Harry looked at his parents in confusion.

“Run!” James said desperately. A tear rolled down his cheek. “Run. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be alright. I’m going to fight him, and then there will be a tomorrow.”

James didn’t believe his own words, and neither did Lily. Although, he wasn’t entirely wrong. There would be a tomorrow. Tomorrow always came. The world wouldn’t stop spinning. It always kept going. That was a fact, simple science. The only difference would be that tomorrow would come without them living to see it. Everyone would just keep on moving whilst they would be left behind.

“I love you, James,” Lily said. She was crying silently, knowing that this would perhaps be the last time she saw her husband.

She looked at James for a brief moment, and he looked back at her. It was only a second, not more, but it felt like forever. They looked into the eyes of the person they loved so much they chose to spend the rest of their lives with them. And they did, didn’t they? They stayed together. Until the end.

“I love you, too,” James said, “Both of you.”

“Papa?” Harry asked.

James smiled at his son through the tears and kissed him on the forehead. “It’s all going to be okay, Harry. I’ll be right back.”

Before he turned around to face Voldemort, he took another look at Lily and Harry.

He knew that over time, not only his friends but also his parents and some of his teachers had labelled him as the sun because of his cheerful personality and the way he treated other people. He had always loved that. He had felt honoured, even. To be seen as somebody’s sun, somebody’s light at the end of the tunnel had made him feel proud. However, when he looked at Lily and Harry, he had to come to the realisation that they were the real suns. They were his safe haven, and he loved them more than anyone else. For those two pairs of shining green eyes, he was willing to give up everything. For them, there was nothing he wouldn’t do. And if that meant that he would die tonight, he was willing to do that in order to save the two most important people of his world.

Finally, the door burst open, and an icy wind blew through the house.

Lily and James shared a last look, not saying anything but exchanging more than a thousand words. Then their ways parted. James turned around, ready to fight Voldemort, and Lily grabbed Harry and Leo.

“Mama? Where’s Papa goin’?” Harry asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said and pressed him a kiss on his head, “He’ll be back.”

Each step she took up the stairs felt like torture. Each time she set her foot on the ground, she felt the weight of the situation crush her down more and more. This was going to be his end. James’ end. Despite all her trust in him, she knew he wouldn’t be able to retard Voldemort for long.

By the time she reached the end of the staircase, she recognised James’ voice. He was talking with Voldemort. For a fraction of a second, she allowed herself to pause, to listen to the sound of the love of her life, but it didn’t last long. She had to continue, she couldn’t give up. Harry needed to be safe.

The next steps Lily took without really paying any attention. Her thoughts were with James. Everything was so surreal. They were supposed to be safe. This shouldn’t happen.

Calm on the outside with everything inside of her screaming, Lily walked through their rooms, not particularly knowing what she was searching for. Perhaps an escape, perhaps something else.

She held Harry and Leo close. Both of them were oddly quiet, almost as if they could sense the meaning of their current circumstances. But that must have been Lily’s mind playing a joke on her because how could they comprehend something like that? They were just a cat and a toddler. Just Harry and Leo.

It didn’t take Lily long to come to the fatal realisation that there was no way out. There was no way of fleeing. They were captured in their own house, their home. So Lily did the only thing she could think of. She went into Harry’s room and sealed the door with as many charms as she remembered. Because one thing she knew for sure: she would not let Harry down. She would fight for him until her dying breath.

She lowered herself onto the ground and sat cross-legged with her bag against the wall. Additionally, she let down Leo to have both her arms to hold her son.

“Harry, Mama loves you,” she whispered with tears streaming down her face, “And Papa loves you. We love you so much, Harry.”

She cradled him in her arms and kissed him on the forehead. With his little hand, Harry tried to wipe away the tears on his mother’s face, not understanding the gravity of the situation. But how could he? He was only Harry. Just Harry.

Distantly, Lily heard the two words of the killing curse being spoken.

“Oh my God,” she sobbed, “Oh my God, oh my God.”

She clinged harder onto Harry, still miraculously hoping for a relive. For something to happen. For a way out. In an attempt to calm herself down, she stroked Harry’s hair, trying not to think of the possibility that this might be the last time she got to do so. Her whole face was sticky due to her permanent crying.

“Wha’s wong, Mama?” Harry asked. He seemed confused and scared. “Why are yu sad?”

Lily didn’t answer his question and just shook her head.

“Mama loves you, Harry, she loves you so much,” she cried and pressed her face against his. “I love you, Harry. And I’ll always do so. Always.”

Heavy steps walked up the staircase. With each each of them a new wave of horror went through Lily’s body until suddenly everything was dead quiet. There were no more steps. And she knew he was just behind the door. The monster which murdered her husband was right there, preparing to bring the same fate upon her and her son. But Lily was determined to not let that happen. Her life might end that night, but not her son’s. He was going to survive, she would do anything for him.

Lily held Harry as close as she could. Voldemort was going to break the door every second, she could sense it. And finally, with an earsplitting sound, the door burst open.

The moment Voldemort entered the nursery, was the moment Lily knew. Although she could not tell how or why, she knew she wasn’t going to survive this evening, but Harry was. Perhaps it again was just her imagination, wishful thinking. Though, it felt different this time. It felt honest. Real.

She met Voldemort’s gaze. He wasn’t frightening. He didn’t look like a killer. For all she knew, he looked a bit old for his age—dark eyebags marked his face, his hair was grey, his face a bit pale, and his skin seemed old and wrinkled, but all in all he looked like a normal person. If Lily met him whilst shopping for groceries, she wouldn’t think anything of it. A shiver went down her spine.

“Let me kill him and I will spare your life,” Voldemort offered, his voice deep, not fitting his appearance.

Lily, still sitting on the floor, looked up at him and shook her head. She then lowered her head again, spitting at his feet.

“Stupid girl,” he said derogatory.

He raised his wand, ready to speak the words of the killing curse. Lily closed her eyes, willing to die for her son. However, after a few seconds nothing had happened. When she opened her eyes again, she gasped.

Leo, who previously had been hiding in the corner, had jumped between Voldemort and her. And whilst this certainly wouldn’t change her fate, it touched her deeply nonetheless.

Thank you, Lily mouthed at her dead friend.

She truly was thankful. Not only for Leo and especially James’ sacrifice but for the moments she had been able to experience with them and Harry. Looking back at her life, she was glad that she had done everything the way she had done it. She was no longer sorry for the mistakes she had made, the failures and bad decisions. She was glad that all that had happened and that she had been allowed to experience it. She felt at peace.

Voldemort, however, was now filled with anger. Again, he was raising his wand, so Lily bowed over, protecting her son. He was not going to die. Not yet.

“I love you, Harry,” she whispered and gave Harry a final kiss. She closed her eyes.

For the third time this evening, Voldemort spoke the deadly six syllables. Harry, too, closed his eyes, blinded by the light green shine. He felt how both his mother and he in her arms hit the floor rough. When Harry opened his eyes again, he looked into the lifeless face of his mother. The scary man was gone.

“Mama?” he asked panicking, “Mama?”

His words were swallowed by silence.

“Papa,” he cried, “Mama, wake up!”

But no one answered. No one ever would.