A Pebble in the Stream of Time

A Pebble in the Stream of Time

She stood in front of the window, oblivious to the dark grey storm clouds scudding across the sky outside, all her focus on the small bundle in her arms, the very picture of young motherhood. James watched his wife from the doorway; even from ten feet away he could see the tiredness etched into her young face, the dark circles under her eyes, purple against her pale skin. There were curves on Lily's body that hadn't been there when he'd married her, almost two years ago now; her stomach was softer, her hips wider. She had gained some weight, yes, but James thought she looked beautiful.

He moved silently to her side, put his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder, looking over it to watch the baby nursing. Lily relaxed slightly into James, and he stood up a little straighter so that she could tuck her head under his chin. He moved his arms up, and she relaxed further, allowing her own arms to rest on his, taking the strain of their load off them. At last Harry fell asleep, and Lily disengaged herself gently to put the baby in the bassinet, tucking his blankets in around his small form. She stood upright again, and James replaced his arms around her. She leaned against him, and together they stood for a while, each ensconced in the other. Their small family was like a pebble in the stream of time, standing still while all else went on. Somewhere, nameless and faceless innocents were being slaughtered by a power-hungry man and his followers, but within the little willow-encircled cottage, all was peace. Time stood still. Rain began to fall.

Lily turned her head and gazed out of the window for a moment, then spoke.

“Are you sure about the Fidelius Charm? There's no chance of his finding us?”

“I'm positive,” said James. It was not the first time Lily had asked, and he wasn't surprised to hear her asking again. Even with the secret of their location guarded safely in one of James' best friends' heart, there was still the fear of being found. “Peter is completely loyal, love. He'd die rather than tell where we are.”

“All the same…” Lily murmured, and she shivered. James held her closer, and was surprised a few moments later to feel the splash of a hot tear on his hand.

“What's wrong?” he asked quietly. “Why are you crying?” She didn't answer, but turned back to the bassinet, looking at their sleeping baby. “Lily?” He moved around to face her, but she didn't look at him. He lifted her chin, looking into those astonishingly green eyes, rimmed with tears and barely-visible auburn lashes. “Why are you crying?” he repeated.

Lily bit her lip. “I—I'm sorry,” she murmured, shaking her head and wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. “I'm just so tired, it's just too much, I—”

“What's too much?” James asked. “Lils, you're not just tired. What's wrong?”

Lily shook her head again. “Nothing,” she insisted, dashing away a rebellious tear. “I'm just—just being silly. It's nothing, Jamie.” She tried to pull away, but James slipped his arm about her waist and pulled her closer, laying a feather-light kiss on her lips.

“Come on, Lils,” he said softly. “Tell me.”

Lily sighed shakily, and the words came pouring out. “I'm just—afraid, that's all. Just—it's terrifying, living in this little house, and there's no protection on it, and there's us, and there's Harry, and then there's—there's Voldemort out there, and if—if he finds us, it's all over, and I thought, what—what if that was the last time that I kissed you? Because, James, if you get a call from the Order tonight, and you leave, and I wake up, and you're not there, and then it comes in the evening Prophet that you're dead, then—” and the tears came pouring down again, “what shall I do?” She buried her face in his shirt.

James tightened his hold on her, rocking back and forth. “Hush,” he said hoarsely, feeling the sobs racking her body. “Hush, love. I love you. I love you. Don't cry, now. Hush, hush. Don't cry, don't cry. We're safe, we all are. Sirius and Peter and Dumbledore are the only ones who know where we are. We're safe, don't worry. He won't get us. He won't get me. Hush, Lily. Don't cry, don't cry.”

This outburst came as no surprise to him; the same fear had haunted him for too long, since he'd asked Lily to marry him, on their last day at Hogwarts. What was the point of marrying your girl, after all, if your life was endangered by your job every day, if she had to spend every day worrying about whether you'd be home that night? But this girl worked with him, fighting against the Dark Lord, and in the months before Harry's birth he'd constantly stayed up nights, worried about her safety, and the baby's. What was worst was having those fears allayed, only to have them reawake the next night as soon as Lily left the house, or worse, to see them written plainly across her face as he went out the door in the morning. Too often, they had gotten no sleep at all for weeks running, as Lily worked nights for the Order and James worked days, each staying awake to make sure that the other arrived home safely. Even when Harry was born, Lily had taken only a few weeks off to recover, despite the combined horrified arguments of James, Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore, and in spite of the rows that ensued when she ignored them all. Indeed, it had only been through the intervention of Madam Pomfrey, whose help had been elicited after the first row, that Lily had stayed in bed for more than a week. Now, it had been more than two weeks since the last spate of killings, and it made everyone more nervous than ever. That, James reflected, was likely the reason for Lily's breakdown—the stress of being constantly on the watch without anything to watch. They'd all end up like Mad-Eye soon.

Once her sobs had died away, James led Lily into the kitchen, where he busied himself making tea for them both. They sat at the little table while waiting for the water to boil, not speaking. Lily looked up at the clock, and James followed her gaze. Two-twenty-five. Dumbledore usually called around two-thirty if he had instructions for them. The tenseness in the room was palpable. If he didn't call, that meant there was nothing to do but keep watching and waiting. If he did, then the slaughter had started again. There was nothing to hope for. But somehow, James felt that he would rather have the Death Eaters on the move again, than to be lulled into a false sense of security by their lack of movement. The fire turned green and started sparking. Both jumped; Lily hurried to the fireplace and removed the teakettle, and a moment later, Albus Dumbledore's head appeared in the fire in the kettle's place, looking very grim.

“It's begun again.”

Lily let out a long, shuddering breath and sat down ####### the floor in front of the fire. James joined her, looking intently at Dumbledore.

“The Bones' house is marked for tonight,” he said, speaking swiftly. “James, you will station yourself there, inform Amelia of your presence, and wait. See if you can get a Shield Charm around the house before they arrive. I cannot move them out of there, for fear that a Death Eater may be watching the house.”

James nodded; he had been stationed at too many houses for this very purpose to ask unnecessary questions. “What time?”

“No later than eleven o'clock,” Dumbledore answered. “Ten-thirty would be optimal.”

“Have you an assignment for me, sir?” Lily asked.

Dumbledore turned his gaze on her, considering. “Tomorrow night, yes. The Perks. Cwmbran, you know. Evan Rosier is out for their blood.”

“I don't doubt it,” said Lily, frowning. “After Ed Perks killed Rosier's brother…it was self-defense, but still…I'm not surprised. Right, then, further instructions forthcoming?” Dumbledore nodded, and Lily got up. “Harry's awake. I'll be right back.”

When she was gone, James turned back to Dumbledore. “Where's Peter?” he asked quietly. “He said he'd keep in touch, let me know he was safe in hiding. But I haven't heard from him since we made him Secret-Keeper.”

“Sirius informed me that he has arranged to check on Peter tonight and make sure he is safe,” Dumbledore said, looking at James keenly. “And may I remind you, James, that not sending owls is part of remaining hidden for Peter.”

“I know, I know,” James sighed, passing a hand through his hair. “I'm just nervous, that's all. Lily had a breakdown today. It's just been too much for all of us.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully, and voiced the thoughts he'd had earlier. “You know, Professor, I'm almost relieved that it's started again.”

“A feeling I must admit I share,” Dumbledore nodded soberly. “You are not content to sit at home in hiding while others are in danger, are you?…But James,” he said, a new note of urgency in his voice, “you must be careful.” James' face must have had confusion written all over it, for Dumbledore repeated himself. “You must be more careful, I say, than usual. You have shown remarkable courage in the past, but always with more than your fair share of rashness. James, I cannot repeat myself enough: you are no longer at Hogwarts, these jobs you undertake are no longer amusements for an idle, clever mind. There are people's lives at stake, your own and your family's included.”

“I know all this, Professor—” James started, but Dumbledore interrupted him, speaking more quickly, his lined and ancient face concerned.

“I am aware that I have told you all of this in the past, when you first began your work in the Resistance, and have repeated myself many times since then. You must understand, James, that recklessness in the face of danger is not bravery, but folly. I implore you to keep yourself hidden until you absolutely must fight. You and Lily are among the strongest wizards in the Order, and with the Prewetts and the McKinnons gone, I need your strength more than ever. I had my doubts about your continuing work with the Order after the information of Voldemort tracking your movements came to light, but when you insisted, I backed down. Do not fail me in order to have your fun.” And with a small pop, his head vanished.

Lily came back into the kitchen and set Harry on the floor. “Oh,” she said lightly, “did he go?”

“Just now,” James said, thinking about what Dumbledore had said. He had the feeling that Dumbledore didn't want Lily to know about his worries, and that that was why he had spoken so quickly. He decided to honour Dumbledore's wishes, and said nothing about the discussion. Lily didn't ask.

During the course of the afternoon, James wrote a letter to Remus, Lily talked to Alice Longbottom's head by Floo powder for an hour and a half, and Harry pulled all his clothes out of their drawers; knocked over a vase; put Lily's wand in the whatnot, along with her earrings, a vial of powdered dragon scale, James' cloak fastenings, and the Puffskein; pulled the Kneazle's tail, got scratched for his trouble, and wailed for exactly two minutes and thirty-six seconds before pulling the Kneazle's tail again; sat on his Puffskein while it was drying; pulled several important pages out of the newest issue of Which Broomstick?, which James had not gotten to read yet; and, in the course of pulling himself up into a standing position, knocked the cauldron of Floo powder next to the fireplace onto his foot, giving himself a blood-blister and a spanking when Lily saw the mess on the floor.

“James!” she shrieked. “Get your son out of here before I do something drastic!”

James came into the kitchen from the parlour, where he'd been trying to repair the damage to Which Broomstick with Spellotape. “All of a sudden he's my son, is he?” he said mildly.

“Who's been cleaning up his messes and getting him out of his pickles all day?” Lily said furiously, pulling out the broom and starting to sweep. “It's all elbow grease for me until my wand dries, and you're sitting in the parlour trying to fix that stupid magazine of yours!”

“A nod's as good as a wink to a blind dragon,” James said cheerfully, stepping carefully around the piles of green dust to pick Harry up. “We'll go and play…oh, for God's sake, Lily, stop grumbling under your breath, you did Muggle cleaning your whole life before Hogwarts. Look, I'll do it.” He pulled out his wand and waved it at the broom, which jumped out of Lily's hand and started sweeping up the Floo powder by itself. “Accio dustpan.” The dustpan zoomed off of its nail and skated around, following the broom. “There you are, now we'll go and play. Ta-ta.”

James put Harry on the floor of the parlour and sat down. “Da, da, da, da,” said Harry with his fingers in his mouth.

“Da, da, da,” James said back, pushing his glasses more firmly on his nose. “Want a ride, mini-Marauder?” Harry chuckled, and James picked him up and put him on his shoulders, then transformed into Prongs and romped around the house for a while with Harry prattling away on his back. They had a good time playing together. James transfigured his fingers to be chew toys for Harry, who was cutting his sixth tooth, and set Harry's toys moving around for him to crawl after. It was seven o'clock when Lily came in and found Harry already asleep, curled up against a full-grown stag.

“Poor pigwidgen,” she said, smiling slightly as she bent down to retrieve the sleeping baby. “You always get him so tired out, James. It'll be a wonder if he sleeps the night through.”

James changed back into his human form and stretched. “It'll be a wonder if he doesn't,” he grumbled half-heartedly. “That child has far too much energy. It's not natural.”

His wife reached up and ruffled his hair fondly. “You complain every time you play with him, but birds of a feather, you know…He shows the same disregard for rules that you always did, Prongs.”

“Like I say,” James yawned, stretching again and following Lily into the bedroom, “he's a mini-Marauder. You watch, he'll have his own little gang of mischief-makers when he's at Hogwarts. I feel so sorry for poor McGonagall, trying to keep us in line.”

“Speaking of Marauders,” Lily said, turning from putting Harry in his crib, “there's an owl for you from Sirius. It's on the kitchen table.”

James frowned. “Sirius? I thought he was on the run, too…I'll take a look at it.”

Sure enough, there was a rolled-up piece of parchment on the table when he reentered the kitchen (the floor of which was now Floo-powder-free). He snatched it up and opened it.

He's gone. No signs of a struggle. I'm on my way.

“Oh, damn,” said James very softly. “Damn. LILY!”

She came hurrying in at the urgency in his voice. He showed her the note, and she gasped and looked at him in horror. “What does it mean?” she asked.

“It means,” James said grimly, “that we are most likely in very deep trouble. Sirius ought to be here soon, he's only in Turriff and that owl couldn't have taken more than an hour or so to get here. Most likely there's a Death Eater tailing him, so he won't dare Apparate anywhere near Godric's Hollow. I give him”—he checked the clock—“twenty minutes.”

“Fine,” said Lily, looking pale but determined. “Send a letter to Dumbledore. He'll know what to do.”

James sat down to write the letter, dipped his quill in the ink bottle Lily had gotten down from the highest cupboard, then looked up, quill poised to write. “You know, we don't even know what's happened,” he commented. “I mean, Peter might have left his hiding-place to come here. He wasn't necessarily kidnapped.”

“But Dumbledore told him to stay there unless there was a dire emergency,” Lily said calmly. “In which case, there's either been a dire emergency, or else there wasn't a struggle because he was taken by surprise.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So either way, we've reason to be worried.”

It was a long twenty minutes. Lily sat on the couch and stared out the window. James finished his letter to Dumbledore, put a Disillusionment Charm on the owl, and sent it off, then paced back and forth, wishing he had a Pensieve. The thoughts came, as hard and unforgiving as the rain still lashing against the windowpanes like the cracking of thousands of whips.

what if hes being tortured right now forced confession crucio Avery used the Cruciatus curse on me last year god that hurt took three days to come back to consciousness lily so worried god lily that breakdown today shes so right i don't want to die so likely prewetts mckinnons went out with marlene third year remus worked with fabian prewett in december or was it january doesnt matter theyre dead now avada kedavra boom and youre dead probably what theyll use on me if they ever get me they won't they won't they won't they won't they its a question now won't they? won't they? won't they? but they cant fidelius charm too strong dumbledores magic too strong but dumbledores been wrong before hasnt he well i dont know he was probably right about someone near us tracking our movements for voldemort but even sirius doesnt know what weve been doing and how could dumbledore suspect sirius well he had to didnt he he didnt have any other choice well he did there was remus and peter peter peter peter hes our secret keeper hes the only one who knows what weve been doing remember that time when was it fifth year maybe sixth

A scrap of conversation floated to the top of his mind.

“Would you join if they asked you?” Peter asked.

Sirius snorted and shook his head violently, his dark hair waving like a pair of floppy dogs' ears. “Hell no. I've had enough of their propaganda to last me longer than a lifetime, living with my parents.”

Remus looked at Peter incredulously. “Are you mental? I'd never join the Death Eaters. I've got enough trouble being a werewolf and keeping it under cover, without trying to keep something like that under cover as well!”

“What,” James said, raising an eyebrow at Peter, “had old Voldything round your house lately? He pressuring you? Don't try to handle it on your own, Petey dear. We're here to help.”

Peter flushed as Sirius let out a bark of a laugh. “No,” he mumbled, raking a hand through his mousy hair in a clumsy imitation of James. “Just…been hearing a lot of talk lately. You know. It was a questionnaire in the Daily Prophet last week. `Whose side are you on?' or some rubbish like that.”

“Whose side did they say you were on?” Remus asked curiously.

Peter flushed and shook his head, grimacing and pulling his jumper sleeves further down. “Like I said,” he muttered, “it was rubbish. No sense believing that stuff.”…

James stood still suddenly in his pacing and felt the rush of fear as the pieces clicked. Peter gone…Dumbledore's suspicions…no signs of a struggle…he'd betrayed them. Of course, he thought furiously, no wonder he wouldn't tell us. The stinking Prophet told him the truth—he was a Death Eater all the time. No wonder there weren't any signs of a struggle…he went willingly with them. He turned to tell Lily, the comprehension filling him at once with terror and panic, but there was a knock at the door, and oh thank god its sirius James walked swiftly to answer it. As he grasped the doorhandle, he heard Lily calling from the living room, “Check who it is before you open it.”

Obediently he peered through the frosted pane of glass, frowning slightly. Sirius doesnt wear a black cloak like that, with those black fastenings he doesnt wear the hood pulled up like that over his face he's not that tall that peaked hood nearly reaches the ceiling why is his wand out those aren't Sirius's fingers theyre too long oh no oh no lily lily harry oh lily its him its him quick lock the dooor lily oh lily quick quick colloportus colloportus collo

“COLLOPORTUS!” James bellowed, pulling his wand out and sealing the door. “Lily! Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—”

The door blasted inwards, sending him flying six feet before he hit the wall and slid to the ground. He got to his feet quickly, wand at the ready, heard Lily stumbling from kitchen to bedroom, heard Harry's wails, and then the sawdust cleared and he saw the black-robed figure, taller than a man, and the red eyes staring at him and the long fingers holding the wand, pointing it at him.

A soft voice came out of the pale face under the peaked hood. “Stand aside, Potter,” Lord Voldemort said.

James moved sideways, into the doorway between hall and kitchen. “No.”

The red eyes blinked slowly at him and the wand moved up further so that it was pointed directly at his heart. “Stand aside, boy! Imperio!”

He felt the lovely, blissful floating feeling of all his thoughts, all his worries leaving his mind, total oblivion, complete happiness…move away from the door…move away…just move away from it…

James shifted his weight, his body preparing to move.

Move away from the door…

No, said a small voice in the back of his mind. I won't.

Move away…

I won't.

Get away from the door. NOW!

“No.” He had full control of himself now. He was not going to move away from the door, allow Voldemort easy access to Lily and Harry. “No. I will not.”

Voldemort laughed quietly, a high, cold laugh with no mirth in it, and his red eyes narrowed. “Prepared to fight to the death to defend your family, are you, Potter? So noble, so honourable…it is a shame to kill you. You might have been a great ally for me, Potter…But I must do what I must to get my way. Stand aside, boy. Reducto!”

“Protego!” James flung up a shield charm against the blasting spell, which ricocheted and hit the wall behind Voldemort. The wall crumbled and fell to the floor

“Very nice, Potter,” said Voldemort, his thin lips curving in a smile. “But I wanted you out of my way, not protected.”

James's mind was racing. How to stall for time…think, think, what to say…“How did you know where to come?”

Voldemort's smile broadened. “You really ought to choose more trustworthy friends, Potter…but that is a weakness of the noble mind…it thinks that all minds are like it in openness and honesty…

“Your little friend…Wormtail, I believe you call him?…he joined my forces four years ago, during his fifth year under that doddering fool Dumbledore's nose. He began passing information to me after he left school…he was pleased, so very pleased, Potter, to tell me last week that he could lead me to you…

“But I decided to wait, that when the time came to act, I might catch you off guard, lulled as you were into security. I wished to secure what I wanted quickly.”

“Merlin…” James breathed. “Peter…”

Voldemort laughed again. “The notion of betrayal is unfathomable, unthinkable to the honorable mind, is it not? Good knights were always killed in the end by Dark Lords. And so it is now. The days of King Arthur and Merlin are over. Goodbye, Sir James.” He raised his wand again.

it's over youre going to die lily harry sirius remus theres no pain odd

“Avada Kedavra!”

And it was over. James Potter was dead before he hit the ground. He could not know that Voldemort stepped on him as he passed through the doorway into the kitchen. He did not know that Lily was still in the bedroom when Voldemort entered, because her wand was still in the kitchen and she could not open the window to escape with Harry. He did not hear her scream for mercy, Harry crying, Voldemort laughing again. He did not see the flash of green light as his wife was killed. He did not feel the house falling inwards, collapsing on his body as the same spell that killed him and Lily ricocheted off his son on the Dark Lord.

Rain still fell silently among the weeping willows. The baby boy cried among the wreckage of the house. And the sound of a motorcycle came roaring through the night.

FIN

A/N: This was written on the principle of the iceberg (see Analysis), so try to read this as though it really were JKR's writing. Not that I'm trying to put myself on her level, heh heh. I just tried to make it a little more complex by putting in stuff that relates to other stuff that I didn't put in. Read carefully, and you might find some clues that will tell you what's gonna happen…

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