Author's Note: I'm revising in preparation to complete the sequel, Rowan and Phoenix. This story was first posted on HPFF in 2008. I am so grateful for the support I received from eHPF, Gluttony, and HPFF members during its original creation. It's been rather fun to go through and polish up this story. My son was Harry's age when I started writing this story, and now he's in second grade. (ouch!)

I'm also indebted to my many faithful reviewers & friends on this site, especially the Reviews Lounge, Too forum. I hope to get a few chapters posted per week, though the schedule depends on the vagaries of real life.

Fidelius

Halloween, 1981

Godric's Hollow was quiet at last. Covered in old sheets with ragged holes cut over their eyes, small Muggle children wandered home from fancy-dress parties. Laden pails of candy banged against their knees. Young children later gave way to youths in hooded sweatshirts and rubber facemasks; setting fire to hedgerows and turning over rubbish bins, they tossed their empty bottles into the drainage pond at the edge of the meadow. Even the oldest revelers had long since found the warmth of their beds, dreaming of nothing more sinister than parental recrimination.

Lily Potter turned in her sleep. Her flowered patchwork quilt slid down to the floor. She sighed and settled once more on her side, curling her hand up under her pillow. From the hall downstairs came a soft, shuffling sound: footsteps on a hardwood floor. A Fidelius charm protected the Potter home. No one but Lily's husband James or their Secret-Keeper, Peter Pettigrew, could possibly be downstairs. Lily grasped her willow wand tightly as she slipped back into a dream.

Again, Lily jerked awake. Her wand pointed at a tall, round-shouldered figure, black-robed, its face in shadow.

"Potter is dead," Severus Snape said curtly. "Your wards are broken. Come with me." Lily stared at him, disbelief and denial swirling in her face. "Lily, now!"

Lily had awakened into a nightmare, the kind where she couldn't move and nobody could hear her screaming. Adrenaline overcame the torpor of dreaming limbs and body. She scrambled painfully to her feet, facing her attacker. "You'll die first!"

Snape stumbled. Lily took a few bold steps forward, pointing her wand straight at his heart. Snape held up both hands. "I'm here to help you! Let me explain!"

Lily's anger scorched away terror and pain. "You're lying! Why would a Death Eater come here and tell me they've killed him? James can't be dead! He was here, he was just here."

Lily felt her panic taking control. It had to be a lie, but if James was truly dead, had Snape killed him? Lily sent a jet of white-hot light into Snape's shoulder, making him grunt with pain and surprise. His mouth moved without words, the gasping flail of a goldfish fallen to the floor in the shattered remains of its bowl. "I told you, Snape! Talk!"

Snape drew a ragged breath. "We have to get away from here. There's no time to argue; the Dark Lord is coming."

"How do you know that?"

"You're wasting valuable time. Let me up and I'll tell you everything." Lily drew back her wand but kept him at very close range. Severus levered himself to his feet, panting with effort. "Your wards are broken. Pettigrew betrayed you. He's been planning this for months: the child..."

"But why? What about Harry?"

"Potter's boy belongs to the Dark Lord. He will kill the child or he will kill you both. There's nothing you can do for him now."

Lily backed into the small nursery next door, her wand never wavering from Snape's heart. A night-light cast distorted shadows, turning the crib slats to sharpened pikes and Lily's hurrying shadow to a looming monster. She grabbed Harry from his blankets and pressed him to her shoulder. He was so small, so fragile in her arms.

Snape took a step toward mother and child. The baby screamed. "Get away from my son!" Lily shouted. "Avada -"

As quickly as her lips moved to finish the incantation, Snape cast a silencing curse. Lily gagged and her wand wavered away from its target. Part of Lily's mind floated just outside the sphere of unreality and couldn't believe she had even attempted an Unforgivable Curse. To save the child sobbing in her arms, she would do it again.

"You have no idea what I sacrificed for you. I saved you. I convinced the Dark Lord you were worthless, that you would cause no more trouble." Snape stepped toward Lily, hatred for the child sparking in his flat black eyes. "Don't thank me by throwing away your life."

"I won't go without Harry. You'll have to kill me."

"Silence!" Snape raged.

Lily's eyes locked on his. "Go ahead. I won't leave him to die alone."

Snape raised his wand. Lily's hand tightened on Harry's warm shoulder as she braced herself for the curse. Harry would never know a moment without his mother. She let go of everything else.

Snape reeled backward and covered his eyes with one arm. "Are you crying?" Lily couldn't lose her focus; she would use his weakness to save her son. "You can't do it, can you? No matter, your Dark Lord is on his way. He'll finish the job." Her laugh was suddenly cruel. "Your life won't be worth much, will it?"

"Put the child down and come with me."

Severus Snape had split so violently from her friendship years ago. He joined the Death Eaters, violating every lesson Hogwarts had ever taught him. Snape flaunted both his power and the sickening, so-called superiority of his peers but she did not believe he was capable of hurting her. In the desperate flash of Snape's eyes, Lily saw the sixteen-year-old boy who had loved her once, and the fear that she would reject him once more. It was a calculated risk, safer than sure death at the hands of Lord Voldemort.

"I'll come, but not without Harry."

Witch and wizard stood facing each other in the half-lighted nursery. Harry cried fitfully. Clinging to his mother, the baby hid his face from the strange man in the black robes.

"All right. Wait." Snape seemed short of breath. "Let me think how we're going to get out of here."

"What happened to James?" The sensible part of Lily's mind reeled. The whole world was ending, her whole life wrenched free by the roots and stomped to death, and here she was asking Severus Snape to tell her what happened to her husband.

Contempt for James brought Snape back to himself. He straightened and folded his arms against his chest, smirking. "Your friend Pettigrew killed him. Lured him out under that Invisibility Cloak of his. Pettigrew fed him quite a story: told him Lupin and Black were captured. The little rat begged him to help."

"Why should I believe you?"

Snape reached inside his Death Eater's robes and muttered a spell. Something heavy thudded onto the brightly patterned nursery rug. Pettigrew's watery eyes were wide open, his rat-like face cold and still.

Pettigrew's light brown hair brushed against Lily's bare feet. She backed away, feeling like she was going to be sick. "But why would he ever want to kill James?"

"Pettigrew took the Dark Mark months ago."

Lily's answering sob was almost a laugh. "But why did you bring the body here?"

Snape pointed his wand at the robed, bleeding mass. A sickly orange light glowed from the corpse. It swelled, elongated, and settled once more into human form. Lily Potter lay dead on the floor, her dark auburn hair spilling across the braided rug. The living Lily retched at the sight of it. Snape flicked his wand again, this time with a slight sideways motion. Grossly out of place on the slim female figure, Pettigrew's Death Eater robes were Transfigured into a copy of Lily's sleeveless cotton nightdress.

"How did you do that?"

"Stop asking questions and hold tight to the child. We're going."

"I need Harry's things!" Lily reached toward the baby's chest of drawers. Snape jerked her hand back.

"We can get those somewhere else, Lily. Please." She heard the voice of her childhood friend: someone she had once trusted, even loved. She had no choice but to trust him again. Holding Harry tight against her shoulder, Lily squeezed her eyes shut as they Apparated.

Halloween night faded into a gray, chilly morning: All Saints' Day. The Dark Mark flared above the parish church of Ottery St. Catchpole, casting shimmers of green light below. Freshly toppled gravestones marred the ground. Burn marks smoked in the upturned earth.

Alastor Moody lifted a handful of torn grass to his nose and took a deep, critical sniff. He traced the burn marks with his wand, growling a series of rapid spells. Gideon Prewett waved his wand in a figure eight. Two sets of footprints glowed in the predawn gloom. The silver trail skittered back indecisively then attacked. The golden trail halted as if crashing into an invisible wall, cut off in the middle of a loosely graveled path.

James Potter lay sprawled facedown where he had fallen. His wire-rimmed glasses were crushed, a broken temple hanging loose from one side. Gideon Prewett crouched beside the body for a few minutes. Potter wasn't old enough to die fighting; he wasn't old enough to leave a wife and son behind.

In his thirty-year rise to prominence, Voldemort had ruined countless lives. The best and brightest wizards were seduced into the ways of pure power and intimidation, or worse, hoodwinked into helping the Death Eaters. Every time Gideon secured one of these scenes, his own resolve strengthened. Gideon Prewett would fight and kill as many of the bastards as he could, right up to the moldy old snake-kisser himself.

"Who did this?"

"Does it bloody matter?" Moody grumbled. His magical eye rolled up to glare at the snake-tongued specter in the sky. "Got 'im from behind, whoever it was. Completely brainless, goin' around breakin' his own protective charms. Who in the hell did Potter think he was?"

Prewett shrugged. In life, James Potter had seemed like so much more. You couldn't be in his presence for more than a minute without feeling his vital energy, his drive, and the simple belief that everything he did was going to turn out fine.

"This war is not the bleeding Hogwarts Quidditch cup!" Moody had railed at the last Order meeting. He went on to say that Potter and Black had better rein in their conquering-hero act before somebody slapped them silly. Most of the older Order members agreed. They were tired of the risk, of the flamboyance, even if James and Sirius did somehow get results. Gideon hadn't spent that much time with Potter, but he liked the boy. He should have had a chance. They should all have had a chance.

"Prewett! Help me roll him over. Stupid prat," Moody panted. The Aurors heaved one more time and the body slumped onto its back. "Who's gone to the Potters'?"

Prewett carefully closed James Potter's staring eyes. He tucked the broken glasses in the dead man's pocket, trying not to think about what could have happened to his young wife and son. "Inspector Meadowes is taking Longbottom and Black."

"Longbottom's a good choice… Why she'd take Black along is beyond me. Too close to the victims. Gonna do something stupid. Stupid and noble, knowing him." Moody scuffed his foot along the ground, tracing the contours of footprints in the dust. His toes disappeared.

Startled, Moody aimed his wand at the ground. His prosthetic eye spun so quickly, Prewett had to look away before he got sick. With a careful hand, Moody lifted the Invisibility Cloak and shook the dirt from its shimmering surface.

Moody stuffed the shining cloak into Prewett's outstretched hands. "Somebody's going to have to tell Dumbledore."

"I'll go to my sister's and Floo in from there." Gideon straightened up slowly, feeling tired and sore. "Too many damned funerals this autumn. Who's going to be left?" Moody didn't answer: he was already closing the crime scene. Prewett folded the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it in his pocket. The uncanny fabric was so smooth under his fingertips, it almost wasn't there.

"Hagrid!" Sirius whispered. "Shut it, or I'm taking you back to Dumbledore!"

Whatever else Sirius Black had done for the Order of the Phoenix, taking the emotional Rubeus Hagrid on a stealth mission was not one of his better decisions. Hagrid muffled his sobs in the thick sleeve of his moth-eaten overcoat. Winter-browned hedge pushed and scratched at Sirius's face as he struggled to keep Hagrid quiet.

"Muffliato," murmured a light female voice just to Sirius's right. He flicked his eyes over his shoulder with a grateful half-smile. Auror Inspector Dorcas Meadowes knelt behind him with her cloak pooling in the leaves and dried grass. The moonlight shone on her silver-brown hair where it curled out from beneath her hood.

Steady and impassive, Frank Longbottom held his wand at the ready. "All right, let's move in." Dorcas shepherded Hagrid along, and Sirius brought up the rear.

A spectral caterwauling from the cottage made them all drop and cover their ears. A tree full of sleeping rooks startled into flight. Sirius sprang into a full run and his companions pounded along behind him. Voldemort's scream burned in his ears even as Sirius ran up the steps into the cottage. Beyond the dark stairwell, heavy furniture crashed into the walls. A storm of Reductor curses broke every pane of glass.

"The child! Where is the cursed child?" With a wrathful cry, Lord Voldemort Disapparated. The others waited only a heartbeat before scaling the stairs in search of Lily and Harry.

"Harry! Where are ya, boy?" bellowed Hagrid. He pounded upstairs, nearly putting his foot through the top step. The others skidded into Hagrid's back at the nursery door. "Stay back, Sirius," Hagrid sobbed. "You don' wanna see this."

Voldemort's rage was written in destruction. Shards of broken mirror glass gleamed up from the carpet. Baby clothes lay small and pathetic on the floor. Sirius had to shoulder his way past a fallen dresser and chest to reach Lily's still body.

Lily lay in the middle of the floor, her nightdress twisted around her waist. Her green eyes were fixed open, staring at Harry's mobile. Tiny folded-paper animals dangled from the side rail of the crushed cot, fluttering with the slightest movement of air. Dorcas Meadowes' lined face was full of sympathy as she moved past Sirius, laying her hand briefly on the young man's shoulder.

"May I?" Frank Longbottom knelt down beside Sirius. Sirius nodded, his eyes burning hot and tearless. It had been a sacrifice for Frank to come out on patrol tonight when his own wife and child were just as vulnerable as the Potters.

Frank laid the tip of his wand against Lily's chest. "Virgam revelio!" he muttered. Startled, Frank wavered and had to catch himself. Regaining his balance, he continued casting spells with fierce concentration.

Dorcas's wand glowed bright blue as she prodded in the corners of the broken cot. Frustrated, she repeated the scanning spell. "I've no trace of the little boy. I can't tell if anything's been taken." On the floor beside her, Sirius shooed Hagrid away from stepping on Lily's tumbled hair. Dorcas lowered her wand and crouched down beside him, careful of the mirror glass. "Sirius, dear, I'm so sorry."

Hagrid growled with vindictive triumph. "Didn't find what he was lookin' for! You-Know-Who, I mean. He killed Lily 'cause he couldn't get to baby Harry."

"I can tell you one thing." Frank Longbottom stowed his wand in his robes and looked around at the others. "Voldemort didn't kill her. It was Severus Snape."