Destroy
October, 1981
Lily lay in bed, her green eyes staring intently at the ceiling. She thought about getting up to check on Harry, but she knew he would never forgive her for waking him up, and she thought she might burst into tears herself if Harry started crying.
It was one in the morning, and James was not home. The Order had raided a home at four that afternoon, and she hadn't heard a word since.
No news is good news, she kept telling herself, but the pessimist within kept telling her that this would not be true if Death Eaters had killed the whole Order.
Finally the front door opened with a creak. Then there was a slam. James seemed to be talking to himself; one boot hit the floor, then the other. James' voice rose; then there was a loud bang.
Lily flew out of bed, grabbed her wand, and hurried to the edge of the stairs, eyes blazing as she prepared to fight the intruder who had come in with James. But James was alone; his head was against the wall, his shoulders heaving.
"James?" she asked quietly. Either he didn't hear or he ignored her; suddenly he stood erect and punched the wall, bang, bang, bang…
"James," said Lily more firmly, moving swiftly down the stairs. "James." She reached him and he kept punching the wall, over and over, his face screwed up with the effort. "James, you are going to wake Harry, that's enough!" she shouted finally, reaching out and pushing him away from the wall. He finally seemed to notice her, and his face softened; his fist relaxed, and Lily wiggled her hand into his while the other reached up and touched his face with concern.
"What happened?" she asked softly. His face was covered with dirt; he blinked and two tears cut slowly through the grime, leaving clean stripes on his face. "It wasn't… Sirius?"
James closed his eyes, his adam's apple bobbing. He shook his head. Lily looked at him with concern, then checked him for injuries. Only his knuckles were bloody from punching the wall. She guided him to the kitchen and sat him down on a chair while she got some ice from the freezer and placed it in a cloth. She sat across from him and tenderly administered the ice to his knuckles. He winced slightly and stretched out his hand.
"Please tell me, James," she begged of him in a whisper.
"Edgar Bones," he said finally. "Their whole family. His parents, Ellery, their children…" James shut his eyes against the image. "God, the children, they were so small, so limp, so light… their baby, their infant son…"
James' eyes suddenly bolted open and he turned out of the chair, sprinting for the stairs without another look at Lily. She ran after him and found him in the nursery, picking Harry up, touching his head, his back, feeling him breathe, feeling his warmth. Harry slept on as James whispered into the top of his head, tears cutting new lines in his dirt-covered face.
Lily felt her throat constrict as she stood in the doorway, watching this scene. Here was this heroic man, fresh from fighting Death Eaters and surviving, embracing his tiny son for fear he will be killed pointlessly. What horrid environment is this? How are they letting one man instil such terror in their lives?
Lily stepped forward, tears rolling freely down her own face, and hugged James' arm as he held Harry. "We will fight this," she whispered, her cheek resting on his shoulder. "We will win."
Harry stirred in James' arms.
"We have to keep him safe," James whispered to Lily. "We have to. He's our… he's…"
"He's our son," Lily finished quietly.
"More than that," James clarified, now conscious of the conversation. "He's the future. He's… he's our weapon against death, Lily. It doesn't matter what happens to us. It's Harry who can destroy death."
"Oh, James," she sighed, reaching up and feeling a lock of her son's thick, unruly hair.
"We can't let him end up like Edgar Bones' son. We can't. I've got to stop. I've got to listen to Dumbledore and stay in. I have to protect you and Harry."
Tears were still flowing freely down James' face, but his voice was steady. Lily's quiet tears turned suddenly into sobs of happiness. "I can't pretend I haven't been waiting to hear you say that for a long while."
But while the Potters quietly contemplated the destruction of death, Voldemort quietly contemplated the destruction of the Potters.