Phoenix Tear

Albus Dumbledore had never been gladder to reach the sanctuary of his office.

Although the world was celebrating wildly, although stars and fireworks exploded outside his office, although students whooped and cheered in the corridors, he had never felt worse in his life.

The defeat of Voldemort was, indeed, a reason for celebration. Unfortunately, the people who most deserved to be celebrating couldn't.

Because they, Lily and James Potter, were dead...

Because the prophecy had spoken...

Because a baby's fate had been sealed.

The room seemed dead, empty. Everyone who should have been there wasn't. Albus knew that it wouldn't do to dwell on the past. Even so, he let himself have a few moments to reflect on Lily, and in turn, James.

The girl really was a stunning seventeen year old. Her long scarlet hair tumbled down her shoulders, framing her small face. Her porcelain skin had turned a faint red, and her eyes were dangerously close to flashing angrily.

"But you can't make Potter Head Boy, sir. He hasn't even been a Prefect! Why him of all people?"

"Because James has the qualities needed to be Head Boy. James is brave. James is clever. And, most of all, James is a leader."

The boy was staring at him intently, studying him. "But why sir? Why not Remus? I've caused enough trouble!"

His ebony hair stuck up at an odd angle from running his fingers through it. The silver badge fastened to his robes caught the light and gleamed.

"Because you have the qualities needed to be Head Boy. You are brave. You are clever. And, most of all, you are a leader."

Two pairs of eyes, one hazel, one emerald, stared at him.

"Potter?"

"Me?"

"Yes... Trust me on this."

And they did.

Three months later Lily agreed to a date with James. One year later, they were wed. One year and exactly nine months later they were parents.

Two years and exactly nine months later they were dead.

Seventeen years and six months later they were sitting in his office.

It was impossible to understand how much like James Harry looked. Or how his eyes flashed exactly like Lily's. It was impossible, if you had known them, to not have to bite your tongue to stop calling Harry, James. But it was especially hard when Harry sat in his office

He destroyed the office, letting his temper get to him, a trait which ran through all generations of either side of his family. His questioned Dumbledore, like Lily, he shouted at him, like James. But he didn't cry.

Lily and James did. As did Frank and Alice Longbottom.

Hands clasped, tears fell from two pairs of eyes. James was distraught, Lily was broken. Their baby, their happy, squealing baby playing with Fawkes and clapping at enchanted spoons in the corner was cursed. He was doomed.

They had expected so much of him.

Harry, on the other hand, didn't think or expect much of himself.

And Dumbledore stared at the boy. Lily's soul, James' body. Both living inside their son.

And all of a sudden such a terrible ache filled Albus. Not since the day of Voldemort's defeat, almost fifteen years ago, had he yearned for Lily and James so much.

Harry was calmer now; processing the information he had just been given. Albus sat back in his chair, thinking. It would have been so much easier if Sirius was still here. Then again, Sirius would never have let him near the prophecy. Strangely protective, Sirius, for such an irresponsible person.

"Really Sir, it was only a bit of fun. I didn't mean for it to catch on fire. Who would have thought inflammable and flammable meant the same thing? And it's not as if it's going to stop Professor Binns anyway. He came back, didn't he?

Wide, innocent eyes, flashing mischievously. Locks of black hair fell gracefully into his eyes. His mouth turned up into the half grin he was so famous for.

And Harry, just sitting there, taking the knowledge that he was cursed in. Arms limp at his side, his forehead was creased, and his face pale. Albus could hear the sounds of students going to breakfast and knew he would have to make an announcement soon. He knew he had papers to sign, Aurors to contact and an Order to run, but nothing mattered more at that point than Harry Potter.

How the boy would deal, Albus didn't know. He knew the boy was strong, but everyone had a limit, a line not to be crossed. In the space of a year Harry had been possessed, resented by schoolfrinds and lost the closest thing to a parent he would ever have. Albus wished he knew what to do, what to say.

"I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry. You may, perhaps have wondered," he whispered, "why I never chose you as Prefect. I must confess... that I rather thought... you had enough responsibility to be going on with."

Harry Potter looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time in months. His shock was instantly replaced by a spark in his eyes. A spark that was strong and steadfast. And although it disappeared almost immediately, it told Albus that Harry would be alright.

A tear rolled down his cheek. A proud tear.

James had never looked at him like that, nor Lily. Harry Potter was stronger than both of his parents put together.

And Harry Potter would win.

Because he had to.

Because he didn't have a choice.