Book 2

Chapter 1

A Father's Pride

The familiar scent of burning bacon roused James Potter from his sleep. As the acrid smell filled his nostrils, his worst fears were realized: he had slept in and his wife had started breakfast. She was a terrible cook, but he had never had the heart to tell her. Waking up before her was the only way he or his son ever got a decent meal. He sighed as he rolled out of bed, there was nothing to be done for it now. He shuffled his way downstairs, grimacing all the way. Just as he entered the kitchen, he schooled his face into a dazzling smile.

"Morning, sweetheart, what's for breakfast?" he asked, as cheery as possible without being suspicious.

"Oh, nothing special," Lily said, busying herself around the stove. "Eggs, bacon, and some toast."

"Smells delicious," James said, inwardly cursing himself.

"Why don't you get Harry out of bed?" Lily asked.

"Oh, let him sleep awhile," James said with a wave of his hand, "It is summer, after all."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

Lily kept to herself as she prepared breakfast and James mentally prepared himself to scarf down the terrible meal that was to come. After a moment, Lily set a plate down before him.

"Tuck in!"

James did so with gusto. He was well practiced at pretending to enjoy his wife's cooking. The bacon was burnt, the eggs were undercooked and the toast was soggy. The tea was decent, at least.

"How does everything taste?" Lily asked as she sat down with her own plate.

James was saved from answering as the post arrived via an owl swooping through the kitchen window and dropping it in a pile in the center of the table. At the top of the pile was a copy of The Daily Prophet.

"The Prophet?" James asked, "I thought you canceled our subscription after that wonderful article on the dangers of interbreeding with muggles."

Lily grabbed the paper and gave James a look that said she wasn't in the mood for his jokes.

"It's a rag, I know," she said, perusing the front page, "But I figured it wouldn't hurt to keep up with the latest of the Empire's propaganda. Just make sure Harry doesn't read it."

James nodded, swallowing a piece of bacon that was practically ash and managing not to grimace. "Any particularly interesting bits of propaganda this morning?"

"Here's one," Lily said, frowning, "Our beloved Minister is proposing harsher restrictions on the activities of werewolves. Under the proposed law, werewolves would no longer be able to hold positions in the Ministry or at Hogwarts. There would also be restrictions on where they could live. She's calling it 'Lupin's Law'."

James sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. It was funny, in its own twisted way. Remus had spent the majority of his career fighting for the most basic rights for werewolves and now his name would be used to persecute them further.

"He hasn't tried to contact you, has he?" Lily asked, reading her husband's expression.

James shook his head. "I wish he would. Just an owl to let me know he's okay. I'm worried about him. I know Harry is too."

"And so am I," Lily said, reaching across the table to give her husband's hand a reassuring squeeze, "But you know Remus can handle himself. Wherever he is, you know he's safe."

"I know," James said, softly, "It's just not fair, you know? First Sirius, now Remus. Peter is all I have left, and it seems like I see him less and less as the years go by."

Lily swallowed hard. "I wish I had never convinced Remus to take the job at Hogwarts."

James almost rolled his eyes. He knew where this was going. "Lily, don't-"

"I know, James! But I was the one who convinced him to take the job. Practically begged him. Just like I was the one who asked Sirius to sneak my relatives out of the country."

"No one blames you for that," James said, insistent, "I certainly don't, and I know Remus and Sirius don't."

Lily sniffled. Her eyes had begun to water. "I know, I know, but that's never going to stop me from blaming myself."

"I know," James said, grinning slightly, "That's where our son gets it from. You know he blames himself for what happened to that poor girl? The one who was with him the night Remus..."

He trailed off, unable to bring himself to say it.

"Does he?" Lily asked, looking putout that there was something bothering her son that she didn't know about.

James nodded. "I tried telling him it wasn't his fault, but he's stubborn to a fault, just like you. I'm afraid he might have inherited your tendency to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"I consider that a good trait to have," Lily said.

James pondered a moment, choosing his words carefully. "It's good for the world, bad for you. Bad for Harry too."

Lily made a sound, a humorless chuckle, and returned to her paper. It was only a matter of seconds before she was shaking her head in disbelief.

"What is it now?" James asked. He couldn't imagine anything worse than 'Lupin's Law'.

"Headmaster Riddle is petitioning the Board of Governors to allow muggle-born students to stay in the castle over the winter and summer holidays."

"That sounds suspiciously out of character."

"Exactly," Lily spat, "I've never known that man to do a damn thing to help muggle-borns." Disgust was written across her face. "If he wants the muggle-born students to stay in the castle, it's probably because he wants to lock them in the dungeons and torture them."

"I doubt it," James said, grabbing the paper away from his wife and reading the article, "Tom Riddle may be a sadistic, muggle hating maniac, but he's no fool. He knows he'd never get away with torturing a whole school's worth of muggle-born students."

"I was exaggerating."

"I know."

James continued to scan the article. Riddle was saying all the right things. He cited his experience growing up in a muggle orphanage, saying that no wizard should ever have to suffer the indignity of living with muggles, even muggle-borns. If he wasn't sure that Riddle had an ulterior motive, James would have said it wasn't a half bad idea. Muggles lived terrible lives, a sad fact, and to send muggle-born students back to that life after spending a year living in splendor at Hogwarts seemed like torture.

"Looks like he's already got the Minister's support," James said as he reached the end of the article, "So the Board of Governors will probably give him what he wants."

"This is serious, James," Lily said, "I know I said I was exaggerating before, but those children could be in real danger."

Before James could try to placate his wife, his son stumbled into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"What's wrong, mum?"

"Nothing, sweetheart," Lily said, beaming, "Come eat your breakfast."

A few waves of her wand and Harry had a plate at the table loaded with food. The boy sat and ate, James had schooled him in the ways of pretending to enjoy his mother's cooking after he'd come home spoiled off the fine dining of Hogwarts.

"The post has come," father said to his son, hiding the newspaper under the table. He grabbed the mail pile and went through it. He and Lily had been too preoccupied with the Daily Prophet to bother with the rest of the mail. As James inspected it, he found a letter addressed to Harry. "Look what we have here! A letter for Harry!"

"What's that?" Harry asked around a mouthful of food. He was still only half-awake.

"If I'm not mistaken, these would be your grades!"

That woke Harry up and drew the attention of Lily as well.

"Well, don't waste any time," she said, excited, "Open them up!"

James took the time to make a big show of drawing his wand and slowly opening the envelope with a charm, leaving Harry waiting on the edge of his seat, his breakfast ignored. With a flourish, James pulled a piece of parchment out of the envelope and read it carefully. His face turned deadly serious as he read over the parchment. When he was done, he folded it and placed it on the table.

"I'm afraid it's bad news," he said, locking eyes with his wife. Harry's face fell. "It appears our son is... a good student!"

James threw his face into his hands, as if the very idea was unbearable. Harry, laughing, snatched the piece of parchment and read it, his smile growing wider and wider.

"How did you do?" Lily asked with a smile to match her son's.

"High marks in everything," Harry said, barely able to contain his exuberance, "Especially Dark Arts class!"

Lily's smile faltered a bit when she heard that and James caught sight of it. He'd have to talk to her about it later.

"I'm proud of you, son," he said, patting Harry on the shoulder.

"Me too," Lily said with a warm smile, "I'm glad you didn't inherit your father's laziness. I wish I could say the same about his penchant for rule breaking."

"Hey, I was Head Boy!"

"Only after I made you to get your act together!"

James had no argument against the truth, so he turned to Harry with a wide smile. "Such good news deserves a reward!"

Harry's eyes lit up. "A new broom?"

James frowned. "You've already got the top of the line."

"The 2001 is coming out soon." Harry's eyes were so hopeful that James almost caved. Luckily, Lily provided a voice of reason.

"You don't need a new broom," she said, "Besides, we already have an agreement. If your grades are good enough you can spend the week at your friend Ron's house."

Harry's expression made it obvious he'd forgotten about that deal. "So, can I?" he asked excitedly.

"Of course you can."

Harry would have shouted if he wasn't afraid of his mother reprimanding him for it.

"May I be excused so I can write a letter to Ron?" he asked. He barely waited for his mother to nod before rushing out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room.

James watched him go with a smile. "He's a great kid."

"He really is," Lily agreed.

James turned to her with a questioning gaze. "So you're okay with his Dark Arts grade?"

"I-" Lily paused and considered her words before continuing, "I'm not. The Dark Arts are vile and evil and I don't want them being taught to my son."

"I know where you're coming from," James told her, almost surprised at how calm she was being. He had expected her typical fiery anger. "But there's nothing you can do. He'll learn the Dark Arts at any school in the Empire."

"And he'd hate me forever if I pulled him out of Hogwarts to home school him," Lily said, sounding defeated. She had obviously considered the idea before, "It's just – I know he has to learn the Dark Arts, I just wish he didn't have to be good at it."

"He's got a good mother and a great father," James said, grinning, "And because of that he'll be a great wizard. We don't have to worry about him becoming some evil dark wizard."

"I know," Lily said, not sounding very encouraged.

She continued eating her breakfast and James took that as a cue that the conversation was over so he too continued eating his breakfast, which tasted worse now that it had gotten cold. Lily casually looked through the rest of the post as she ate. She stopped as she came across a particular letter.

"There's a letter here addressed to the two of us," she said, regarding the letter with antipathy.

"That's odd," James said, sarcastic.

"It's from Mad Eye."

James stopped eating and for once he wasn't grateful for the distraction. Lily passed the letter to him and he saw that it contained a short message written in Mad Eye Moody's unmistakable scrawl.

The Lion's Den. Midnight, it read.

"Well, that's very rude of him," James said. He crumpled the parchment and tossed it on the stove. Lily shot an Incendio charm at it and together they watched it burn to ash. "He's not even asking anymore. He's practically demanding."

"You'd think he would have gotten the message by now."

"You know Mad Eye," James said, shrugging.

That was enough to end the conversation and James went back to his breakfast, determined to force down what was left. Almost unbidden, the thought of actually going to the meeting entered his head and before he could even dismiss the thought, Lily spoke.

"You're thinking about going, aren't you?" she asked, making James wish she wasn't so good at reading his face.

"Of course not," he said, not even sure why he was bothering with lies.

"Why would you want to go?" Lily pressed, she didn't seem mad, just curious.

James sighed. "I just thought that maybe meeting him face-to-face would put an end to this once and for all."

"Or maybe he would see it as a sign that we actually are interested and he'll never leave us alone again."

"It was just a thought."

"Let's keep it that way, okay?" Lily was using her 'stern mother's gaze'. James knew he would be in trouble if he didn't obey.

"Yes, mum," he said sheepishly, averting his eyes.

Lily rolled her eyes, but she considered the subject finished. "I'm going shopping later, do you want to come?"

James shook his head. "I've got some serious work to do in the shed."

"Fine," she said, "Just don't blow up the backyard. Again."

"I'll try," James said as his wife went upstairs to get ready.

Once she was out of sight, he dumped the rest of his breakfast in the rubbish bin and made his way to the shed. As he set to work in his shed, he couldn't get the meeting with Mad Eye out of his head. He had no reason to go, and yet he felt compelled to. He wanted to do it because he imagined it would be thrilling and fun. He loved his life as a dad, but sometimes he yearned for the adventurous life he'd once lived. A secret meeting at midnight in a pub with famed revolutionary Mad Eye Moody sounded like it'd be quite an adventure.

So, James decided he would go to the meeting. As long as Lily didn't find out, he'd be okay. And really, even if she did find out, what was the worst she could do to him?

James Potter was insane. Why else would he sneak out of the bed he shared with his beautiful wife to meet a man in a pub against his own better judgment? It didn't make any sense, and yet he found himself standing outside The Lion's Den, the only pub in Godric's Hollow. It was a pleasant little place full of light and laughter. In James' opinion, it lacked the charm of The Three Broomsticks – and the bartender was certainly no Madam Rosmerta – but it was still a decent place to spend an evening. He wasn't there for fun, though. He entered the pub, darted around tables and through clouds of smoke, and approached the bar. The bartender, a portly, bald fellow whose name James didn't know, greeted him upon arrival.

"Evenin', Mister Potter, you here to meet someone?"

"I – er – yes," James said. He was sure that Mad Eye would want to keep the meeting secret, but then if that were his intention he had chosen a terrible place for a secret meeting.

"Odd lookin' bloke arrived just before you did," the bartender said, "'E's waitin' for ya in the back room."

"Thanks," James said with a nod of his head.

He navigated his way to the back of the pub and found the private room. He hesitated just a moment, making sure he was committed to going through with the meeting, then opened the door and stepped in. The room was nearly pitch black, the only light came from a candle situated on the only table in the room. The table was small and only had two chairs, one of which was occupied by Mad Eye Moody, looking just as James remembered; his face covered in a menagerie of scars, his electric blue eye whirring around in its socket.

"Potter," Mad Eye said with an inclination of his head, "You came alone."

James stepped forward and took a seat at the table. "Who else were you expecting?"

"Your wife."

James chuckled. "Lily doesn't want anything to do with you."

There was a moment of awkwardness. James was content to sit back and wait for Moody to speak.

"I need you, Potter," he said, "You and your wife."

"I'm flattered," James said, "But I'm a family man now, I can't go gallivanting about with your gang of merry men trying to save the world."

"This isn't a joke, Potter!" Moody hissed, slamming his hands on the table, "The world gets sicker every day, and members of the Order are dropping like flies. We need all the help we can get!"

"I wish I could help, Mad Eye," James said sincerely, "Really, I do, but-"

"That kid of yours is holding you back?"

"His name's Harry," James corrected, hardening his voice slightly, "And I wouldn't say he's holding me back. It's more like I have different priorities."

"Sounds more to me like you're a coward," Moody spat.

James' eyes narrowed. "Never call me a coward."

"I'll say whatever I damn well please, boy," Moody said, leaning over the table, "You're a damn coward hiding behind your family because you don't have what it takes to stand up and fight for what's right!"

James was up in an instant, knocking over his chair. His wand was in his hand and leveled at Moody's disfigured nose.

"You don't want to be doing that, boy," Moody said slowly. Six wizards in black robes stepped out of the shadows, all of them with their wands on James.

"You were expecting trouble?" James asked, eying the six wizards, trying to pierce the shadows that obscured their faces.

"No," Moody said, staring down the length of James' wand, "But I'm prepared for anything."

"Right," James scoffed, putting away his wand and retaking his seat, "Constant vigilance and all that."

Moody signaled and the six wizards melted back into the shadows.

"I suppose those are your newest recruits?" James asked, his tone a bit bitter. He hadn't come to Moody's meeting to be insulted, and though he had flown off the handle, he didn't like the fact that the old wizard had brought protection. It wasn't like he'd actually planned on cursing him.

"They're good wizards," Moody told him.

"I guess my opinion of them is tarnished, what with them having pointed their wands at me."

Moody seemed content to let James' levity wash away and continued his sales pitch, "I'm serious about what I said, Potter. We need all the help we can get. You used to know what it meant to fight for what was right. What happened?"

"You don't have kids, Moody," James said, "You don't know what it's like. It changes everything."

"Your boy means so much to you," Moody said, "But you won't fight for a better world for him? You won't fight so that he doesn't have to live in a world where people suffer needlessly?"

James laughed quietly to himself. "Harry is..." he paused and gathered his thoughts, "Harry is going to be the greatest Quidditch player the world has ever seen. He's going to be rich and famous, and if he's lucky he'll marry a good woman and have a kid or three. He'll be a huge success and I'll be endlessly proud of him. This world we live in is a terrible place, but it won't affect Harry, and I'm not going to put his life in danger by making myself an enemy of the Empire."

Moody frowned deeply. "So, that's it then? It's okay for the world to suffer as long as your boy leads a good life?" Moody shook his head, looking ashamed, "I was wrong about you, Potter, you're not a coward, you're selfish."

"You see, Moody, you really don't understand," James said. He grinned, but the look in his eyes was dead serious. "I would watch the world burn as long as it meant Harry was safe and happy."

"And you're going to let your boy go to that school and get his head filled up with lies and Dark Arts?"

"What part of watching the world burn don't you understand?" James asked. He rose from his seat and the six wizards from before stepped out of the shadows. "Harry could become the next Emperor and I would still be proud of him. As long as he's-"

"Yes, as long as he's safe and happy," Moody interrupted. He rose from his seat as well. "It's unfortunate that you've become such a fool, Potter. We really could have used you." He paused and stepped back from the table, standing at the border of the shadows with the other wizards. "Unfortunately, we can't allow you to leave with your memory intact. I am a wanted man, after all, and for all I know you could be chumming it up with Dumbledore himself."

"So, it's Obliviation for me then?"

"Afraid so."

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

Moody remained silent. He seemed to be giving James one last chance to change his mind.

"Here's the thing, Mad Eye," James said, subtly drawing his wand and holding it behind his back, "And let me make this clear, I'm not chumming it up with Dumbledore in anyway. I'm just very attached to my memories. It's the principal of the matter, really."

"Stop talking, Potter," Moody said.

"Sorry. Just trying to distract you."

Moody made the classic mistake of asking, "Distract me from what?"

James whipped his wand around and with a well-practiced flick sent the table flying across the room. Moody and the other wizards sent spells flying, splintering and destroying the table in mid-air. The candle fell to the ground and extinguished, plunging the room into darkness. Moody and the others sent stunning spells flying, but all James needed was a quick shield charm and he ducked out of the room. He sealed and fortified the door behind him, ensuring that Moody and his gang would be stuck in the room for at least a few minutes.

He hurried out of the pub as fast as possible without looking suspicious. Once he was out in the warm night air, he let out a deep breath. Taking on seven wizards, one of whom was legendary revolutionary Mad Eye Moody? He hadn't done anything that ridiculous in over ten years. He missed the thrill of action, so much so that he almost wished he could go back into the pub and accept Moody's offer. In the end, though, he had meant what he'd told Moody. He had no interest in putting his family at risk playing hero.

James rearranged his robes, made sure his wand was securely placed in his pocket, and strode off towards his house. He was confident that Moody wouldn't try contacting Lily or him again. If anything, the old man would be more likely to send threats instead of invitations. For a second, James feared that he had made a huge mistake. What if Moody was so angry he sought revenge? These fears only lasted a second, as James realized Moody would never be brazen enough to attack him or his family. The overly cautious wizard had already taken a big enough risk just showing up at the pub. He was a wanted man, after all.

And, if worst came to worst, James was confident he could take the old man on, even if he brought a few cronies with him.

As James thought about it more, his mind racing due to exhilaration, he realized that Moody had never intended to offer Lily or himself a place in the Order. At least, he had never expected them to accept such an offer. He had requested – demanded – a meeting with them with the sole purpose of erasing their memories. The rest of the meeting had been a farce.

So caught up in his thought was he that James didn't notice he was walking past Dumbledore's house, or that the man himself was standing outside smoking on a pipe.

"Evening, Mister Potter," the Chancellor of the Empire called after him, startling him out of his thoughts, "Strange time for an evening stroll."

James stopped in his tracks and turned towards the Chancellor. "An even stranger time for a smoke, I'd say."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, puffing on his pipe, "But I don't suppose that would stop you from joining me, would it?"

"I – er – I should be getting back home," James said. It was the truth, and it made for a good excuse. He really had no desire to share a smoke with Dumbledore. "I've got a wife and kid to look after, you know."

"I'm aware, and yet I'm sure they wouldn't mind," the old man's eyes twinkled in the moonlight, "They don't even know you're gone, after all."

James was struck that moment, as he looked into Dumbledore's blue eyes, that the old man could read his mind. The only other person to have that affect on him was his wife, and it was a lot less creepy when she did it. "Still, I should be getting back to them all the same," and then, feeling that excuse wouldn't cut it, he continued on to say, "I don't even smoke."

Dumbledore looked at James over the rim of his half-moon glasses. "When the Chancellor of the Empire asks you to join him for a smoke, typically you do so without a fuss."

James frowned. There was no arguing with that. He walked over to where the Chancellor stood, marveling at how the man managed to make him feel like a child. Just as he was about to voice the fact that he didn't have pipe, Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured one for him. He grabbed the thing and pretended to smoke on it. He had meant it when he'd said he didn't smoke, and he certainly wasn't about to start now. The two of them stood together in silence for awhile.

"How is Alastor doing?"

James would have choked on his pipe if were actually smoking from it. "What?"

"Let's not play games, James, I know you were meeting Alastor tonight. At the Lion's Den, correct?"

James fumbled for words. He prided himself on being a good liar, it got him out of many sticky situations, but there were two people in the world he could not lie to. One was his wife, and the other was Albus Dumbledore.

"I'm not in league with Alastor Moody," he said quickly, taking half a step away from the man.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Of course you're not. Do you really think we'd be having this discussion so civilly if I thought you were?"

James frowned. "I suppose not."

"I'm just wondering how my old friend is doing."

"He's-" James cleared his throat. He had the feeling that this conversation could turn south at any minute. "He's Mad Eye."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, nodding thoughtfully.

There was an extended silence again, and eventually James' curiosity got the best of him and he had to break it. "How did you know about Mad Eye asking me to meet him? If you don't mind my asking."

"There's not much I don't know, James," Dumbledore said, "I presume you're wondering why I have yet to arrest him, if I know so much?"

That was what James had been wondering, and yet he had a feeling he already knew the answer himself. "I was."

"Because, in the grand scheme of things, Alastor Moody is less than a nuisance," Dumbledore said, "He sneaks a few muggles out of the Empire a year, and typically suffers heavy losses in doing so. He poses no threat to myself or the Empire at large."

Even though he hadn't been a part of the Order since Harry had been born, James still felt stung by Dumbledore's scathing words. To think those years he had spent helping muggles flee the country, those years he spent thinking he'd made a difference, hadn't really made a difference at all, at least not in the eyes of the Empire.

"I'm sure Mad Eye would be ecstatic to hear that," James said, sardonic.

"Alastor serves his purpose," Dumbledore said with a small grin, "He keeps the muggles hopeful, which keeps them complacent. They are much less likely to rebel when they believe there's a chance Alastor and his Order will come to save them."

The ease with which Dumbledore talked about keeping muggles oppressed disgusted James, and he couldn't help but find himself surprised with just how forthcoming the Chancellor was being. There had to be a reason. Perhaps he was in a particularly good mood?

"Why are you telling me this?" James asked.

Dumbledore arched a white eyebrow, "We're neighbors enjoying a neighborly conversation."

"Are you this forthcoming with your other neighbors?"

"I suppose not," the old wizard said, and he didn't seem very forthcoming anymore.

They lapsed into silence again. James wished he could just return to his home, but he couldn't just walk away from the Chancellor of the Empire.

"How is Harry?" Dumbledore asked after a while.

"Don't you already know?" James asked. He had surmised that Dumbledore didn't ask questions to which he didn't already know the answer.

Dumbledore smiled. "I do. He had quite a rough year at Hogwarts, didn't he?"

"He did," James said, "But he's a tough kid. He can handle it."

"I have no doubt that he can," Dumbledore said, "He is a very special child."

"Is that why you're so interested in him?" James asked. He had blurted the question without thinking, but he wasn't sorry for asking it. It was a question that had burned in his mind for years now and if the Chancellor wanted to be so forthcoming with him, he figured he might as well ask.

"Indeed, it is," Dumbledore said, "He has a very bright future. That much has been obvious since he was a toddler. Don't you agree?"

"Of course I do," James said. It was his job as a father to think his son had a bright future, not that Harry had made that job very hard on him.

"You must be very proud of him."

"Of course I am."

There was a moment of silence before Dumbledore spoke again.

"You know, James, I never had children myself," Dumbledore said. He had a far away look in his eyes as he spoke. The old man looked very sincere, but James couldn't help but feel skeptical. "When I look at Harry, I see the son I never had. Does that upset you?"

James hesitated before speaking. "No."

Dumbledore laughed. It was a loud and hearty laugh that took James by surprise. "You're a terrible liar."

James would have taken offense to that if anyone else had said it. He still took offense to it, he just made sure not to show it.

"Are you afraid I'm going to take your son away from you?"

"No," James said, and he didn't even have to think about it. As much as Dumbledore's relationship with Harry had vexed him, he had never feared that Dumbledore would take his son away from him.

"But your wife does?"

"Yes."

He had given up on lying to the old man.

Dumbledore took a long drag from his pipe and then breathed the smoke out slowly. "I've enjoyed this chat, Mr. Potter. You may go now, if you wish."

"If you insist, sir," James said. He didn't want to wait around to be told twice, but he also didn't want to seem rude to the Chancellor.

Dumbledore nodded his acquiescence. James offered the conjured pipe to the man, but he shook his head.

"You keep it, Mister Potter," he said, "A little gift from me to you."

"Thank you, sir," James said, stuffing the pipe into his robe pocket.

He offered Dumbledore a brief bow of his head – he was unsure of what the proper protocol was in such an informal setting – before turning and walking off the old man's property. He walked towards his home without looking back, almost afraid that if he did he'd find Dumbledore following him. Once he'd gotten far enough away, he pulled the conjured pipe out of his pocket and tossed it into a conveniently located bush. Why Dumbledore had seen fit to give him the pipe when he had already told him that he didn't smoke was just one of many questions swimming through James' head.

As he approached his house, his head was still swimming. He got the feeling that Dumbledore didn't do anything without purpose, so what had been the purpose their little chat? Dumbledore had known about his meeting with Moody, he knew that James would be walking home after the meeting, so he had obviously chosen to wait outside his house smoking a pipe with the intent of speaking to James. As James went over it in his head, he couldn't think of a single reason for the Chancellor to go through so much trouble.

As he entered his house – as quietly as possible – he pushed thoughts of Dumbledore out of his head. Whatever Dumbledore's reason had been would have to stay his own. The machinations of such a powerful man were beyond James Potter and after the strange night he'd had he was willing to let it go and crawl into bed with his wife.

With his mind clear of Mad Eye Moody and Albus Dumbledore, James snuck up the stairs to his bedroom. Unfortunately, all of his stealthy efforts were for nothing as he opened the door to his bedroom and found his wife sitting up in bed with a lamp lit on the nightstand. She didn't look happy.

"So," she began with a bitter twist to her lips, "How is Mad Eye doing?"