The Road to Godric's Hollow

Part II: Misleading Clear-cut Paths

It was a maze, a labyrinth of endless monotonous cream walls. His heavy leather boots barely made a sound, almost gliding surreally on the tacky white tiles, thanks to a silencing charm. He caught a whiff of a familiar scent, the scent of death. It hung everywhere, a ghostly presence trailing him in this blinding fluorescent light. How he despised it, for it remained a constant reminder of his mortality. Yet he still craved for it; he craved for the memory of power, HIS power, to bring about death in a split second.

He approached another set of doors. By Merlin, why do Muggles insist on putting doors around every corner? he thought disdainfully.

Through the glass panes on the doors, he could see a young doctor standing by the nurses' station. He checked on his invisibility cloak, making sure that it was secure before passing through the entrance. He moved through the doors, not even caring that they make a loud, creaking sound. The young man looked up, puzzled at the sight of the doors moving as if by their own volition.

The wizard hurriedly strode towards his destination, which was at the end of this passage. Already he could see the glass panes that allowed visitors to see into the room. He felt for his wand, nestled in a holster by his left forearm. It appears to be his lucky day. There was no one, not even a solitary nurse, patrolling this particular corridor today. He moved next to the glass window, and peered into the room.

He was sorely mistaken. He was not alone, not today. Two women were in the room, one of them an elderly nurse who was standing guard over her young charges. The other was a young woman, her hair a magnificent shade of red. She sat by the corner, holding what appeared to be a bundle of blankets. The mother was oblivious, completely unaware that she had an audience. She continued to hold her baby, impervious to the passage of time.

The man slowly stepped back away from the viewing panel. Tracing his previous steps, he gradually found his way back to the hospital's lobby. Cautiously manoeuvring around the people milling the hall, he moved towards the doors and into the park across the street.

An androgynous figure sat on a bench by the park's farthest corner. The individual was draped in formless mahogany robes, and a thick hood obscured the person's face. The man strode towards this figure.

"Well?" a soft, almost indiscernible voice spoke from beneath the hood.

"The Boy Lives," answered the wizard.

***

2 August 1980

1120 GMT

Lily Potter sat back at the comfortable couch. She was glad, no, relieved to be back home. She never did like hospitals, with their hushed corridors and artificial character, not to mention the lingering feeling of decay one gets from staying too long.

A loud thump made her look towards the front door, where a tall man was currently clutching at his forehead while three others were busy laughing at him. Baby bottles of all shades and sizes, along with a couple of blue baby blankets, were scattered around the entryway.

"What happened?" she called out.

James Potter moved past a teary-eyed Sirius Black, carefully stepping around the scattered effects. He was carrying an infant swaddled in yellow sheets, who was still dozing despite the ruckus created by the men.

"Sirius here was too busy ogling our brunette neighbour to pay attention to where he was going," James answered, merriment evident in his eyes.

"Oh, my head hurts," Sirius moaned, while being helped into the house by Remus Lupin. Peter Pettigrew remained by the door and was gathering the baby's belongings.

Lily tried to hide her smile. It was amazing how, despite the dark and trying times, these four boys, rather men, could retain their own brand of charm. Underneath his cool and occasionally distant exterior she discovered the mind of a cunning prankster in Remus. Sirius was, well, Sirius. James, though admittedly a bit on the arrogant side, was a good person with a pure heart. He was her knight, the one who would defend her and keep her safe always. He was also her joker, the only one who could make her smile even when days seem bleak.

And Peter, he was definitely the surprise. Of the other three Marauders, not counting James, she was most comfortable with him. She used to think that he was nothing but a follower, content to tag along the more dominant males in their little pack. After a few years of friendship, she realized that Peter was the most sensitive and perceptive of the three. He was also the easiest to trust. He was never biased nor was he ever selfish.

Peter looked up, and saw her staring at him. She gave him a soft smile, which he returned with his lopsided grin.

"Lily, would you like to take Harry for a moment? Or should I place him in his cot? We're just going to the kitchen to put some ice on Sirius' head," James said to her.

She gestured for her child. "I'll take him. Peter, could you stay with me and keep me company?"

Peter paused, already on his way to the kitchen. He turned and gave her a small smile. "Sure Lily."

The smaller man sat next to her in the couch, his eyes focused on the babe in her arms.

"Would you like to hold Harry?" she inquired.

He looked up in surprise. "Um, no thanks, I don't know how. I might drop him..."

"Nonsense. Come on and hold out your arms. Put your right arm under here, the left around here. Place your hand over here. There, you've got him." Lily carefully guided Peter's arms and hands, which cradled her newborn son.

She gave him an encouraging smile. "See, you're a natural."

Peter was silently gazing down the sleeping child. He seemed in awe of the baby. Time seemed suspended as the two of them simply sat there, listening to the baby's soft breathing.

"His breathing seems a bit erratic," Peter murmured, a few seconds later.

"That's natural. He'll grow out of it eventually," Lily answered softly, careful not to wake her son.

"Thank you, Peter," she suddenly told the man beside her.

He glanced at her in surprise. "For what?"

"For everything. Thank you for driving me to the hospital and for holding my hand in the car. Thank you for staying with me until James arrived, and thank you for staying the whole night. I will always be in your debt. James, Harry and I will always be in your debt," she sincerely told him.

He looked down, his cheeks turning a bit red. "It was nothing. And, you're welcome." He leaned down and gently pressed his lips on the baby's forehead.

***

1400 GMT

Silence, at long last, thought James Potter as he settled down on the couch. The Marauders had departed, after nearly eating everything in their refrigerator. Well, at least Remus had had the decency to wash the dishes they used. Lily and Harry were both sleeping, the former in their room and the latter in his nursery.

He was utterly spent, having slept a grand total of four hours for the past three nights. At first, excitement over his newborn son kept him up. Then, an irrational sense of fear for his son's safety and his wife's health took over him. Today, he was looking forward to catching some quality shut-eye in the blissful familiarity of their bed.

He was just starting to nod off when a soft rapping broke through the silence. He stood up and dragged himself to the front door. Peering carefully through the ridiculously small eyepiece embedded into the door, he saw a mass of white hair and a startlingly lavender pointed hat.

"Albus! This is a pleasant surprise," James said, fighting a yawn as he opened the door.

The elderly wizard smiled at him, his twinkling eyes glancing at James' unruly locks.

"I apologize for disturbing your rest, James," Albus said.

James gave a half-hearted smile. "It's quite alright, sir." He gestured for the elder wizard to take a seat at the recently vacated couch. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

James sat in front of the Headmaster. "What brings you here, Albus?"

"I take it that both Lily and Harry are sleeping?" the headmaster inquired.

"Yes, they're both upstairs. Did you want to see the baby?" James asked.

The old man shook his head. "Perhaps later, if you would allow me. But first, there is something I must tell you."

James instantly tensed. "What is it, sir? Is this about the Order? About Voldemort?"

"No, this is not about the Order, albeit it is about Voldemort. Voldemort and your son."

This bit of information startled James. "My son? You mean Harry? What -?"

Albus interrupted James. "Please, let me finish before you say anything else. Recently, a Seer foretold the downfall of Voldemort. She saw the birth of the powerful wizard that would bring about the end of these Days of Terror." The wizened man handed James a small piece of parchment. "I wrote down the prophecy here."

James looked down at the yellowed paper, at a loss to where this was heading.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

He barely finished reading the last line before the parchment burst into flames.

"Wait. You're not saying that my Harry is the one this, this prophecy is referring to, are you?" James asked incredulously.

The Headmaster took a deep breath. "Yes, Harry is one of the Children of the Prophecy. And I, we must protect him for the enemy knows of the prophecy."

"Children of the Prophecy? There's more than one?"

"Two, actually. Your son and Neville Longbottom."

This news startled James. "Frank and Alice's son? Is this the reason why the Longbottoms suddenly disappeared?"

"Yes. There was a threat on both Alice and Neville, though we fortunately had sufficient warning. They are now in a secure location, and this brings us back to you. We cannot risk exposing a Child of the Prophecy to harm. We must relocate your family to a safe place where we could monitor your son's progress and where, in due time, we could train him," Albus replied.

James' voice became dangerously soft. "This Child of the Prophecy is my son, and his name is Harry. He isn't some weapon at your disposal."

"Forgive me if my words came out that way, for that was not my meaning. I understand how you might feel, James, but you must be prudent. The enemy has many devices and countless spies. Living here, in the open, is potentially fatal for your family."

"I'm perfectly capable of protecting my family," James answered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"James I beseech you, do not be rash. Please, just..." the old man said, a tinge of desperation seeping into his voice.

"Sir, with all due respect, thank you for your concern but we are no longer the naïve children we once were, and I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to control our lives."

***

2100 GMT

He Apparated into a vast, cold stone chamber. Flickering torches mounted on the walls sent ethereal shadows dancing upon the walls. He rubbed his hands together in an effort to warm himself, but the air had an unnatural coldness that seeped through one's skin, making its way towards the heart and resting there. This chill served as a bitter reminder, even in the warmest of days, of the chill of night and of one's powerlessness in its midst.

"My little rat, you bear tidings I presume?" a cold voice called out from behind him.

In one fluid, graceful motion that would undoubtedly astonish his peers, Peter Pettigrew turned around and knelt before his lord.

"There is still no word on the location of the Longbottoms, and the Potters are now back home, my Lord," Peter answered respectfully, all the while keeping his head low to the ground.

"Good. Stay close to the Potters and try to discern the old fool's plans from them," the Dark Lord told him.

"My Lord, if I may," Peter nervously spoke up. "Wouldn't it be wise for us to attack now?"

The Dark Lord gave a short laugh. "Do you know how the King Cobra hunts, Wormtail?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not, my Lord."

"The King Cobra is an excellent hunter. It is fierce, cunning, majestic and ultimately fatal. It swallows its prey while it is still alive, and this may go on for hours on end. Bear this lesson in mind," finished Lord Voldemort.