Who to trust

James opened his arms. "Harry!" he called across the grounds.

Harry saw him and ran over towards him. "Dad!" he shouted, running across to his father.

Suddenly, a jet of green light engulfed the boy. With a cry, he fell down, green eyes wide and staring. Lily gave a cry of fright.

A high, cruel laugh came, soft at first, then louder and louder, until it made their heads hurt and their ears ring. Behind their son's still, cold body appeared a shape, tall, dark, and foreboding.

"I thank you, James," said a high, cold voice. "And you, Lily, to a certain extent. You have brought me what I desired."

"Voldemort?" gasped James in shock.

"Yes," said Voldemort cruelly. He raised his wand. "And now that you have served your purpose, you must die again!"

Voldemort laughed, high and cruel. The ghosts of Voldemort's former victims, tortured or murdered, circled around, including a young boy, an old man, and Bertha Jorkins, a girl a few years above James at school. They called out to him tauntingly: "James! James! James!"

Something dug into James's side. He was shaking with sadness and fright. To die once is a burden enough, but to die again?

Then he heard a familiar voice, a voice he knew but couldn't place, rising above all the others.

"James! James! James, wake up!"

James's eyes snapped open, and he sat up quickly. He had fallen asleep on a desk in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and someone had been shaking him awake. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, Professor, I swear!" he babbled, not quite realising what was going on. He thought he was still a boy in class.

"I know, James," said the familiar voice, trying to be stern but breaking with emotion. "Professor Dumbledore suggested I speak with you."

"What?" asked James, looking up at the blurry face above him, still groggy. "But this is only the first time I've done it! Why would Professor Dumbledore want to talk to me?"

"No, James, he wants me to talk to you," said the face, breaking with emotion again. "Don't you recognise me?"

James blinked several times and shook his head. Then he rubbed his eyes, unsure if he could trust them. In front of his eyes was his old friend Remus Lupin.

"Remus?" he whispered.

"Harry told me you were here," said Remus, looking at him anxiously. "I had to see for myself if it was true."

The last few hours came back in a rush. Waking up in the graveyard...Apparating to Hogwarts...discovering that he and Lily had been dead for fourteen years...Harry's innocent comments about Voldemort...and now the dream, the nightmare, the horrible nightmare where he led his son into a trap, a deadly one...

James did something he hadn't done since he was eleven years old, when he had told Sirius the story of his own father's death. He put his head down on the desk, and his shoulders shook as he cried.

Remus found himself in an awkward position. He, like Harry, knew that this could be a clever trap of Voldemort's. Yet this man looked so much like one of his oldest and dearest friends. He couldn't just leave him like this. He placed a comforting hand on James's shoulder.

Finally, the tears subsided. James raised his head off of his arms and looked at Remus. "I'm sorry, Remus," he said tearfully. "I just don't know who I am anymore. Tell me, Remus, am I really James Potter or am I someone else?"

Remus hardened his heart. He could not show this man boundless kindness and friendship. He had to assume that he might be a clever trap on the part of Voldemort. "I think you're the only one who can answer that," he said quietly.

James nodded helplessly and looked at his hands. "I know," he whispered. "I was just hoping you could decide for me."

Remus shook his head. "I'd best be getting back to my lesson plans. I'll see you later, James." He paused before he left the room and turned around. "If that's who you really are," he said stiffly, and walked out the door, shutting it behind him.

James stared after him. This wasn't the Remus Lupin he remembered. Or maybe--maybe he wasn't really James Potter. He put his head down on the desk. He needed to sleep badly, dreams or no dreams. He yawned. He'd figure this out in the morning...

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Harry was back at Hogwarts. Professor Lupin had shown up at the Burrows late that night. By good luck, Harry had just come down for a glass of water. After writing Mrs. Weasley a hurried note telling her that he had gone back to Hogwarts, and not to worry, Harry had followed Professor Lupin into the fire.

Harry was thinking about when he'd got back to the Burrows the first time. Uncertain whether the man was actually his father, he had neatly sidestepped all questions, saying only that Professor Dumbledore wanted to see him. He couldn't even tell his closest friends the truth, not just yet.

Now, in the warmth of the hall, Harry suddenly shivered. He realised that even in the walls of his magical school, the one place where he knew Voldemort would never attack, he was no longer safe. And that scared him, scared him so badly that he wanted to cry. He gave an involuntary sob of fear.

"Something wrong, Harry?" asked Professor Lupin, and even though no human ear could detect it, fear was laced underneath the surprisingly fatherly concern.

Harry looked up. Before he could stop himself, he was telling Professor Lupin everything--what had happened during the Triwizard Tournament, how Bagman had tried to help him, how Barty Crouch Junior had tried to take to kill him by disguising himself as Moody, how he had convinced Cedric to take the cup with him, how Cedric had died, how he, Harry, felt responsible--and how the man who called himself his father might in fact be trying to kill him...

"And, Professor, I realised just now that Hogwarts isn't safe anymore, and it scares me, Professor, scares me badly," he finished up.

Professor Lupin looked at this small, pale boy beside him with concern. He reached down and gave him a hug.

"Harry," he said gently, "I don't think you have anything to worry about. As long as Dumbledore is around, you're safe."

But Harry shook his head as Professor Lupin released him. "That's not what I'm worried about," he said, tears welling up in his clear green eyes. "I'm not worried about myself. It's everybody else--even Snape and the Slytherins. They're in danger too, perhaps more than I am."

"As long as Dumbledore is around, everyone in Hogwarts is safe," repeated Lupin firmly.

The pair walked the rest of the way to the Charms classroom, where Harry's mother waited, in silence. Professor Lupin gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze and a small smile, then was gone.

Harry, alone and more terrified than ever, took a deep breath and opened the door of the Charms classroom.

Lily Potter looked up briefly as he waked into the room, then stared out the window. Harry sat down at the window seat nearby and stared out the window too.

The sun was just dawning over the lake from behind the mountains. The lake caught the tiniest ray of light from the dawn and reflected it, turning it into a thousand glittering diamonds, skipping and dancing across the surface. The sky overhead was still a dusky blue, changing to light golden to pink clouds with purple lining to orange just over the horizon, to a bright firey red where the sun poked up from the glen. The crisp green grass was still damp with morning dew, and each blade sparkled and shone like they were made of glass. The forest, even the Whomping Willow, was still and quiet.

Softly, Harry began to sing a lullaby he remembered from the days of long ago. Lily joined in quietly, and their voices rang out together:

"O'er the wind, 'cross the sea,

Hear this song and remember,

Soon you'll be home with me,

Once upon a December."

Then they fell silent. Harry tried to imagine his friends' reactions if they knew what was going on now. Almost at once, Ron's voice filled his head.

"Hey, that's great, Harry! Now you can go to live with them instead of the Dursleys! Mum won't mind when we tell her, really!"

Harry shook his head in amusement. Okay, but what would Hermione's reaction be?

"Harry, I can't believe it. I mean, they were dead, weren't they? It must be some kind of trick..."

Nah. Maybe not. More like "Harry, I can't believe it. There is no way, no spell, that can bring people back to life, in perfect condition, after they've been dead for fourteen years. You must be hallucinating...or it's a trick. Harry, be careful."

Thinking about his friends, Harry suddenly remembered (though it bore no relevancy) another lullaby of long ago, a slow song and a beautiful one. Lily joined in again, and they sang together.

"The holly and the ivy,

When they are both full grown,

Of all the trees that are in the wood,

The holly bears the crown.

Oh, the rising of the sun,

And the running of the deer,

The playing of the merry organ,

Sweet singing in the choir.

The holly bears a blossom

As white as lily flower,

And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ

To be our dear saviour.

Oh, the rising of the sun,

And the running of the deer,

The playing of the merry organ,

Sweet singing in the choir."

Harry looked at Lily and gave her a small smile. She looked back at him with her eyes, exactly like his. She fully expected the boy to give her a hug, but he did not. Standing up, he moved over to the fire, pulling out a handful of powder. His glasses safe in his pocket, he shouted "The Burrow!" once more and, with a last wistful look at Lily, as though wishing he could trust her, he was gone in a flash of Floo powder.

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Lily was still staring into the fire when James came in. "What are we going to do, Lily?" he said, startling her out of her thoughts.

Lily looked surprised. "I--erm--I don't know. What do you mean?"

"Well, first of all, we've been given an option," said James. "We can stay here for the summer, or we can go and live with the Weasleys for the rest of the summer. We can't go for a week yet, if we want to, but we can then."

Lily thought for a minute. "Yes, let's do that."

James nodded with a smile.

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With a whoosh, Harry reached the Weasleys' fireplace and fell out. Ron, who happened to be in the kitchen at the time, helped him up. "Hullo," he said. "Where've you been?"

"Hogwarts," replied Harry as he stood up.

"Oh, yeah, that's what Mum said," said Ron.

Five days later, after another restless night, Harry awoke to find himself alone in Ron's room. He went downstairs to discover Hermione sitting on a sofa, curled up with a book. Ron was in the kitchen having a piece of toast. A bagel sat beside him.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked, sitting down next to Ron and beginning to eat the bagel.

"Well, Dad and Percy are at work. Bill and Charlie and the twins are out playing Quidditch, and Mum took Ginny to the market. Hermione and I were hanging around waiting for you, we were going to come wake you up in a minute."

Ron studied his face closely. "Harry, why do you keep having to go to Hogwarts?"

Harry sighed. "Let's go up to your room. Get Hermione, I might as well tell her too."

In the safety of Ron's room, Hermione looked around at Harry. "Okay, tell us. What's going on?"

"Well..." Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure, even now, that he should tell them.

"Harry, just tell us," said Hermione.

"You promised," added Ron.

Harry sighed again. "Professor Dumbledore wanted me to meet someone," he said cautiously. "Someone I'd met before, a long time ago."

"Who was it, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Harry took a deep breath. "My mum and dad."

Ron grinned. "That's great, Harry! Now you can live with them instead of the Dursleys!"

Hermione put in her two cent's worth. "Harry, that's--that's impossible. They've been dead for fourteen years, they can't just come back to life now. There's no spell that can reawaken the dead, you know that, and they were definitely dead. Either you and everyone else is hallucinating, or..."

"Or it's a trap," completed Harry quietly. "I know. Professor Lupin and I went over that, too. There is definitely that possibility, even if they are my real parents. Most likely, Voldemort sent them to try to kill me."

Ron simply looked politely bemused.

The door opened below them. "Anyone here?" shouted Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, Harry and Hermione and I are up here!" shouted Ron.

"Where are your brothers?" yelled Mrs. Weasley.

Ron went halfway down the stairs. "They're all out playing Quidditch."

"Well, tell them to come in," said Mrs. Weasley. "We've got guests coming to stay with us day after tomorrow, and this house has a lot of work that needs to be done."

Harry and Hermione exchanged worried looks as Ron went to call his brothers in.

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Two days later, there were two cots wedged into Ron's room. Fred and George's room was made over for a guest room. Hermione was still sleeping in Ginny's room, and Bill and Charlie were in Percy's room. Everyone was downstairs waiting for whoever was supposed to be coming.

Finally it was obvious that whoever was coming, they weren't coming before lunch. Mrs. Weasley made a wonderful lunch, and the eleven of them--as it was a Saturday--were soon full. Suddenly, just as Mrs. Weasley served up chocolate pudding, there was a knock at the door.

"Oh, I'll get it," said Mrs. Weasley cheerfully.

She went into the front room and opened the door. "Hel--" began Mrs. Weasley. Then she screamed in shock and slammed the door shut.

Mr. Weasley jumped up and ran into the next room. "Molly!" they heard him say. "What on earth is the matter?"

They heard the sound of a door opening. "Hello," he said, and there was no mistaking the surprise in his voice. "Sorry about Molly. You startled her, although we knew you were coming."

"Yes, terribly sorry," Mrs. Weasley said. "Come in and have pudding with us, won't you?"

All of the children kept their heads buried in their pudding. They knew it wasn't polite to stare. Harry and Hermione also were worried about who the people were. They were afraid they knew who was going to be staying at the Weasleys' for the summer.

Somebody sat down at the table. Mrs. Weasley put two more bowls of pudding on the table. Harry finished his quickly and went upstairs. Hermione followed almost immediately.

Ron came running up to his room, where Harry and Hermione were sitting by the window, trying very hard not to think about whether or not it really was who they thought it was.

"Harry! Harry! Do you know who's staying with us?"

"I can guess," said Harry hollowly, "though I've been trying not to think about it."

"Harry," said Ron, not noticing his friend's reaction, "it's your parents!"

Harry nodded dimly. "That's what I thought." He stared away across the village. The sun was just setting over the very edge of the hill behind it. He watched the sky, etching each colour and how it changed firmly in his mind. It might be the last time he ever saw a sunset. Hermione, too, was watching the village with tears in her eyes, knowing the same thing Harry did--this might be his last.

"Did I say something wrong?" asked Ron, looking from one to the other.

Hermione shook her head. "Ron, remember what we were saying a couple days ago--about this being a possible trap?"

"Yeah," said Ron doubtfully. Realisation dawned in his eyes. "Oh, damn."

"Yeah," nodded Harry. He returned to the sky as the last of the sunset faded and twinkling stars came out. He tilted his head back, memorising the constellations and their positions in the inky black sky. If this was his last night, he wanted to be able to remember it. Hermione slipped her hand in his and he gave it a squeeze.

Ron looked from one to the other. "I'll--er--I'll just be going now," he said awkwardly. "I won't tell Mum and Dad about them, I promise." Then he scooted out.
Hermione leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, trying her hardest not to cry and upset him. She couldn't help it, however, and a couple of warm tears trickled down her face onto Harry's shoulder. He put his arm around her, and she sat up a little. Looking at Harry, she noticed the tears falling down his face too. He quickly wiped his eyes, turned to Hermione, lifted her chin, and gave her a kiss. Tears flowing faster now, Harry returned to the beautiful twilight. Hermione watched, but her vision was slightly blurred from tears.

Ron was down in Percy's room. Percy had opened his door and admitted Ron, though he didn't know why Ron looked so upset.

"Ron, what's wrong?" asked Percy.

Ron looked up at Percy. "Percy, you know those people staying with us?"

Percy nodded. "They're Lily and James Potter, from the looks of it. I would think you would be happy about that--Harry can live with them instead of the Dursleys."

"That's what I said," said Ron. "But Harry and Hermione say that there's no way two people can come back from the dead after fourteen years looking that healthy..."

"So, what, they think it's a trick?" said Percy.

"A trick, or a trap," replied Ron. "Harry thinks that it's part of another one of Voldemort's plans to kill him."

Percy turned pale. "That is a distinct possibility," he admitted. "Well, just think about it--you'll be going back to Hogwarts in less than a week--only four days. Harry'll be safe there."

Ron grinned. "You're right, Percy," he said gratefully. "Thanks."

Upstairs, Hermione was telling Harry the same thing.

"You're safe as long as Dumbledore's around," she said, almost hopefully.

"Hermione," said Harry quietly, "the only way I'll be safe at Hogwarts is if they don't go back either. If they can get in, they can kill me."

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione softly.

Harry looked into her gentle brown eyes. "I love you, Hermione. I want you to know that, just in case."

Hermione swallowed her tears. "I love you too, Harry."