Downfalls, Deaths, and a Deer in Love
Walburga and Orion had elected to sit at the Slytherin table with Regulus, which was alright with Sirius. The other parents sat at the Gryffindor table. Little Bill was still asleep in his mother’s arms, although that probably wouldn’t last very long.
”Who would like to read first?” Dumbledoor asked.
”I’ll read it first,” professor Sprout volunteered.
The Boy Who Lived
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense.
”Who the hell are these old sods?” Marlene McKinnon asked. “I thought this story was about someone interesting.”
”Give it a minute, jeez,” her friend Mary said, swatting at her.
Like the mature fifth year she was, Marlene stuck her tounge out in response. Professor Sprout rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and continued on.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy - spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
Lily very quickly realized where she’d heard the name Dursley before; It was Petunia’s boyfriend’s last name. Were they married in the future?
Several Slytherins were looking at the book in disgust. They weren’t sure what a drill was, but it sounded very muggle.
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn’t think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years; in fact, - but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that.
“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with the Potters,” Sirius said indignantly.
”Who do these people think they are?” Remus agreed.
Charlus was quiet, he and Dorea both thought they might be referring to James’ future family.
Lily, however, had gone completely still. This could not be talking about Petunia. That would mean they she married a Potter, that she married James Potter. Just the thought was enough to make her feel ill.
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, - as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
”That child sounds like a menace,” Professor Cadence, the DADA professor muttered.
”Who would wear their most boring tie for work?” James asked incredulously.
”A sociopath,” Mary replied.
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
”Ooh, spooky omen!”
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, - chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four’s drive.
“That is not how you should raise a child,” Molly insisted. She would never let Bill behave like that.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map. - cats couldn’t read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.
“Sounds kind of like Minnie to me,” Sirius laughed.
“Mr. Black,” the professor in question said sternly, “You will not use that name to address me.”
The eldest Black child just smirked in response.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn’t help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. - But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something…yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.
“What the bloody hell?” Remus said. “They can’t just wander around muggle streets in their robes!” The teachers were too bewildered to even reprimand him for his language.
Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn’t, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. - He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he’d stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.
“Oblivious fool,” Dorea muttered under her breath.
”Old lard really likes to yell, doesn’t he?” Dorcas Meadows said from the Ravenclaw Table.
He’d for gotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker’s. He eyed them angrily as he passed. - Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
”Pity it wasn’t a literal death,” Narcissa Black said sarcastically, already hating this vile-sounding muggle. Her sister, Bellatrix, cackled next to her. She, too, found these muggles dreadful. Although, in truth, she saw most muggles as disgusting vermin anyway.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. - she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn’t blame her — if he’d had a sister like that…but all the same, those people in cloaks.…
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o’clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
“Harvey is a great name!” A Hufflepuff boy in first year, whose name was Harvey, shouted.
“Sorry,” he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. - Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!”
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
And there is was Voldemort was dead, according to this wizard, who sounded remarkably like professor Flitwick. Mr. and Mrs. Black could be seen with expressions of disbelief and rage written across their unfortunate features.
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. - It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
”Yeah,” Sirius grinned. “That’s definitely Proffie Mc.G.”
”What did you just call me Mr. Black?” The deputy headmistress asked her student incredulously.
”Sorry, Professor,” he responded.
”Oh, you’d better be.”
Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door’s problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word (“Won’t!”). - there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.” The newscaster allowed himself a grin.
“This man really is pathetic,” Rabastian Lestrange scoffed.
“Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?”- Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters.…
”Can these people get any more dramatic?” Frank Longbottom asked.
Always.
Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He’d have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. “Er — Petunia, dear — you haven’t heard from your sister lately, have you?”
“Wait-“ Mary started. “Lily, isn’t your sister’s name Petunia?”
Lily froze. There was no doubt in her mind that this was her sister, but that meant-
“Wait!” James shouted. “Is she? ‘Cause that would mean that I marry Evans, and if I do that, then that means we have a son together, and that would mean-“
”James,” Remus interrupted. “Shut up.”
The dark-haired boy went a bit red at that. He was out of breath and couldn’t believe that he might actually marry Lily. Marry Lily…Is it possible? He hoped so.
Professor Sprout did not want to hear Potter go off on another tangent of realization, so she quickly continued.
As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn’t have a sister. - Instead he said, as casually as he could, “Their son — he’d be about Dudley’s age now, wouldn’t he?”
“What a bitch!” Marlene exclaimed loudly. She looked over to see what Lily thought, but was surprised to see the girl only looked mildly upset but resigned. Her sister must always act like that.
”Ms. McKinnon!” Her head of house chastised. “You will watch your language.”
”Yes, Professor.”
“I suppose so,” said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.
“What’s his name again? Howard, isn’t it?” - Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.
”I wonder what she’s waiting for,” Peter murmured to himself.
Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did...if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn’t think he could bear it. - He couldn’t see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn’t affect them.…
“Sounds like famous last words if I’ve ever heard them,” Arthur Weasley said.
How very wrong he was.
”Well,” said Sirius, “This should be good.”
Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. -, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.
”Why have you spent all day sitting in a muggle neighborhood?” Lily asked.
”Pipe down, Miss Evans,” McGonagall said, “and maybe you’ll find out.”
A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you’d have thought he’d just popped out of the ground. - which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots.
“Is that the headmaster?”
”What’s he doing there?”
“You’d expect him to at least try to look like a muggle, but no.”
”Shhh, they’ll hear you, idiot.”
”Oh, sod off.”
Professor Sprout waited a few moments for the students to quiet down before moving forward.
His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. - because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, “I should have known.”
“See, even Dumbledoor knows.” Sirius flashed a smug grin.
”Literally everyone thought it was Professor McGonagall,” Mary said. “You aren’t special.”
The Gryffindor pouted at that. Then, he stuck his tounge out and turned away like a petulant child. His parents were pointedly ignoring his existence, but he doubted that they could keep their mouths shut much longer.
He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. - Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn’t look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.
”That sounds awesome,” James grinned. “Where’d you get it?”
”I have yet to acquire such a device,” the old man said, his eyes twinkling. “But I await the day eagerly.”
“Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.” - Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman - Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.
No one in the hall could possibly imagine Professor McGonagall looking ruffled.
“How did you know it was me?” she asked. - They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I’ll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense.”
Those who knew the man personally laughed.
“You can’t blame them,” said Dumbledore gently. “We’ve had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.”
Finally, they had a time frame. Only a few years into the future Voldemort would be defeated. That was a lot to process.
“I know that,” said Professor McGonagall irritably. “But that’s no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, - on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?”
“That would be painfully ironic,” Barty Crouch Jr. said. “Wouldn’t it?” His amusement seemed misplaced. Many of the purebloods had carefully crafted masks of indifference. Barty, however, made it clear he thought these books were absolute bullshit.
“It certainly seems so,” said Dumbledore. “We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?” - “My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this ‘You-Know-Who’ nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort.
Many in the hall flinched at the name. Professor Sprout was barely even able to say the word.
”I thought you were celebrating,” Remus asked. “Why isn’t it the time for candy?”
Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, - I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort’s name.”
“You know,” Alice said. “For ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’ he sure has a lot of names.”
Many at the Slytherin Table were quietly seething. Blatant disrespect to the Dark Lord, and they could say nothing under the Headmaster’s gaze.
“I know you haven’t, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. “But you’re different. Everyone knows you’re the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of.”
“You flatter me,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Voldemort had powers I will never have.”
”Ony because you’d never use them,” Lily said matter-of-factly.
“Only because you’re too — well — noble to use them.”
”Ha, Lils thinks like Professor Minnie.”
”Miss McKinnon!”
“It’s lucky it’s dark. I haven’t blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.”
“Eww!”
”I didn’t need to hear that.”
Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said “The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they’re saying? About why he’s disappeared? About what finally stopped him?”
People leaned forward in their seats. They could finally find out what happened.
It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, - she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.
“Just spit it out already!” Rabastan Lestrange said. His outburst earned him a sharp look from his brother.
“What they’re saying,” she pressed on, “is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric’s Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter–
“Yes! I knew it, I marry Evans!”
“James,” Dorea snapped in a clipped tone. “Shut up.”
Both of his parents were pale, and his mother was gripping his arm. She looked up to the staff table and faced Professor Sprout. “Finish that sentence, Pomona.”
The Herbology Professor had gone a deathly pale as well. Looking at the last sentence she turned away from the book.
Professor McGonagall tentatively took the book from her and began to read where she left off.
The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they’re — dead.”
Silence washed over the hall, it was still, like someone had pushed the pause button. Then, in an instant, The Marauders were piled around James and his parents. Peter was scared, Sirius was scared and pissed, and Remus was just pissed. Not this time, they would make it through this alive. Everyone would.
James had gone still. His voice came out as a horrified whisper, “I get Lily killed?”
“James, no!” Peter looked horrified at the thought. “I can’t see how that’s your fault.”
”She doesn’t need to be die for this,” he choked on his words. “I dragged her into a fight she didn’t need to be involved in.”
”Oh, shut up,” Lily snapped. “You don’t know what happened. Even I wasn’t married to you, I’d probably meet the same damn fate. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m muggleborn, so it’s them or me, and I don’t intend to go out without a fight.”
James grinned shakily. This was why he loved liked Lily. She was strong, and loud, and she didn’t take shit from anyone. “You’re not gonna die this time around, Evans.”
”I don’t plan on it, Potter,” she smiled. “For the record though, I don’t plan on letting you die either.”
James went very red, very quickly.
McGonagall cleared her throat. James was her favorite student, and she loved Lily as well. If reading this book was supposed to keep them from dying, they had better get on with it. Her voice was shaky, but no one gave it a second thought.
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
“Lily and James…I can’t believe it…I didn’t want to believe it…Oh, Albus…”
“Oh, thanks Professor,” Lily said in surprise. “I didn’t realize you cared.”
It was mostly supposed to be a joke, but the look on her Head of House’s face made her regret opening her mouth.
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. - Voldemort’s power somehow broke — and that’s why he’s gone.”
”Excuse me?” Narcissa looked dumbfounded. “I have listened to this chapter with an open mind, but this is ridiculous.”
Dumbledoor regarded the young lady, “Miss Black, everything within these books is entirely the truth.”
”Yes, so you say,” and with that, she turned away.
The rest of the hall was in shock. There was no way a baby could kill the mass murderer, who was currently on a rampage. Just a small child.
Dumbledore nodded glumly. - said Dumbledore. “We may never know.”
Regulus thought that was bullshit. He was Albus Dumbledore, the man had to have some theories. He also doubted that Harry managed that all by himself. There must have been some outside meddling.
Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket - said Professor McGonagall. “And I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you’re here, of all places?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Weasley said. “I think we’d all like to know that.”
“I’ve come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They’re the only family he has left now.”
”Don’t you fucking dare.” Lily Evans said menacingly. The Gryffindor girl looked positively pissed. “My sister hates magic more than I hate Voldemort. If I die, I would rather a child of mine go up for adoption, rather than live with her.”
Lily loved her sister, but that love had limits. Endangering the people she cares about, exceeds every boundary she had set in their relationship.
The professors were so shocked that they didn’t even take points. Evans was always a good student, so to hear such foul, loathing words, was a bit of a surprise.
“You don’t mean – you can’t mean the people who live here?” cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. - “His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he’s older. I’ve written them a letter.”
”A letter couldn’t possibly explain everything!” Remus shouted. “What about James’ family? They would make much more sense!”
The headmaster merely shook his head, his eyes twinkling from behind his glasses.
”I have a question,” a voice called from the other side of the Hall
”Yes, Mister Malfoy?”
”Why is it up to you where this child lives?” Lucius asked. “There’s a department for such occurrences within the Ministry.”
”I haven’t the faintest idea,” the Headmaster replied.
“A letter?” repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. “Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! - Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won’t even remember! Can you see how much better off he’ll be, growing up away from all that until he’s ready to take it?
”What about what Lily and James wanted?” Sirius asked. “I doubt they wouldn’t have written a will, and James has already said I would be The Godfather of his first kid.”
The look he received from the headmaster drained the blood from his face.
”What if we’re all dead?” He said quietly. “What if Remus, Peter, and I don’t make it?”
Only Remus heard him. The werewolf grabbed his hand and whispered softly, “You’re not dying on me, Padfoot.”
The boy looked over at the other boy holding his hand. Nothing would ever keep them apart, he decided. He lo- cared about Remus. Nothing more...Other thoughts were too dangerous, brought too much vulnerability. He wouldn’t let himself think about the L Word. That word was too fragile.
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, “Yes — yes, you’re right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?” She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.
”Don’t put that image in my head.”
“Yeah, it’s oddly unsettling.”
”Don’t make things weird.”
“Hagrid’s bringing him.” - “I would trust Hagrid with my life,” said Dumbledore.
‘Then why isn’t he here?’ A few people thought.
“I’m not saying his heart isn’t in the right place,” said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, “but you can’t pretend he’s not careless. He does tend - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.
”Wicked!” Sirius grinned. “I’m getting one of those, the second I graduate.”
Remus looked horrified. “Sirius, no.”
”Sirius, yes.”
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, - “Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,” said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. “Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I’ve got him, sir.
The young animagus was grinning like a madman. The people around him looked fearful for their lives, and the safety of the Wizarding World, at the thought of Sirius Black on a flying motorbike.
No problems, were there?” - He fell asleep as we was flyin’ over Bristol.”
James’ parents looked sick at the reminder of what had happened to their son.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. - above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we’d better get this over with.”
“I didn’t need to know that.”
”Yeah, me neither.”
Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys’ house.- Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.
The look of unbridled offense on Sirius’ face was enough to send his friends into fits of laughter, which drew some incredibly odd looks from those around.
“Shhh!” hissed Professor McGonagall, “You’ll wake the Muggles!” - He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry’s blankets, and then came back to the other two.
“You left him on a doorstep?” Professor McGonagall yelled.
”The weatherman said it was going to rain,” A Ravenclaw named Pandora said, her large eyes blinking owlishly.
People looked at the Headmaster in shock. Harry Potter was only a baby, one who had just defeated a dangerous man with many powerful allies. Why not knock on the damn door?
For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid’s shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, - We’ve no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.”
”Yes, please,” Lily said. “Celebrate our deaths, why don’t you?”
The Headmaster grimaced slightly. That was not what was being celebrated, but the time for mourning would overshadow the joy a peaceful future should bring, no matter how short that peace may be.
“Yeah,” said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, “I’ll be takin’ Sirius his bike back. - “I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,” said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
”Should be Sirius taking care of my kid,” James muttered mutinously.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps - “Good luck, Harry,” he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.
“He’ll need all the help he can get.”
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. - people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!”
”The chapter is over now,” Professor McGonagall announced. “Anyone may volunteer to read the next chapter to the hall.”
“I’ll do it!” Lily volunteered bravely. She didn’t want to read in front of everyone, but she wanted to read about her son’s life with her sister.
Her Head of House levitated the book over to her. With a nervous smile, Lily found the page and began to read.
The Vanishing Glass