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Dumbledore


“Protego!”

“Crucio!”

Two jets of light shot from two different wands. The shield charm was slightly faster than the curse, and the jet of red light bounced off a silvery white orb that had blast it’s way between Lily and the Dark Lord. Several of Lord Voldemort’s friends had gone pale and one had even disapparated, releasing Remus, who fell to the ground in surprise from his sudden freedom.

The Dark Lord spun about, panic in his eyes, recognizing the voice - as did the First Years.

“Good evening, Tom,” said the warm voice, cheerful around the edges but hard in the center. It was Dumbledore, stepping from between the trees, his magenta robes moving silently about his feet. Behind him by only a few steps was Professor Moody, whose good eye swiveled about the circle. Another of Voldemort’s friends disapparated when Moody looked at him. “I must say I am rather surprised to see you here,” Dumbledore continued, “To what do we owe this visit?”

Sirius felt a rush of relief run through him. Despite the grip on his elbow, he knew they would be alright now. They had to be. Dumbledore had arrived, and by the expression on his face, it was quite evident that he meant business.

Voldemort smiled, “I suppose you owe it to these delightful little first years,” he answered, waving his palm about the circle. “They summoned me, you see. Requested my presence, even. Since when do you allow students out onto the grounds in the dead of night?” He sneered, “Don’t you remember how dangerous that was - how much trouble students get into in the darkness of the forest?”

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore replied, “I remember quite well.” He nodded, “But much like the times when you were a student here, Tom, I am afraid that these students were acting of their own volition as well.” Dumbledore rocked on the balls of his feet. “You’ll forgive me, of course, for not knowing they were disturbing you. You see, they never told me of their plans.”

Moody had knelt beside James and cast a spell that returned some strength to him, though he was still shaky in the knees from the pain that Voldemort’s spell had set upon him. He stood awkwardly beside the auror and tried to regain his breath. Moody placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“I did see a bit of a rebellious nature in them,” replied Voldemort cooly.

“Defiant little brats,” hissed Bellatrix into Lily’s ear.

Dumbledore smiled, “Yes, well, that is what it is. Now, Tom, if you could please release my students, and we’ll return to the castle, I should most appreciate it.”

Voldemort sneered, “Stop calling me that.”

Dumbledore’s smile didn’t falter in the least. “But it is your name.”

Voldemort raised his wand menacingly, and the moment he had, so had Dumbledore, and Moody, too, and Bellatrix’s shrieky little laugh halted instantly, silence ringing through the forest so loudly that it felt nearly tangible. “Now Tom,” said Dumbledore coldly, “I did not come here to fight you, I came to collect my students. Release them.”

Voldemort seemed to consider the situation, sized up Moody and Dumbledore and his eyes flickered about the circle. Even though he clearly out numbered Dumbledore, even if you included the children, he still wasn’t sure that they could easily defeat him. He knew too well of Dumbledore’s powers, knew too well that he was vulnerable being so close to Hogwarts, from whence there were surely others coming to aid. As though to emphasize the point, there came the sound of shouting and footsteps in the woods beyond and with a sharp motion, Voldemort signaled for the Death Eaters to drop the children.

“But master,” pleaded Bellatrix, “I so wanted to play with the little Mudblood.”

“Leave it,” growled Voldemort. “For now,” he added.

Pouting, Bellatrix threw down Lily, and she collapsed onto the ground, tearing her robes on a rock, landing beside Sirius, who was on his hands and knees. Sirius felt quite sick to his stomach. As the man holding his arm had released him, he had gotten a glimpse - however briefly - beneath the man’s hood and had seen his own father’s eyes looking down at him with a hatred unrivaled by even that which glowered through the Dark Lord’s. He stared at the ground, trying to come to terms with this reality.

Between the trees suddenly appeared the large form of Hagrid, followed by McGonagall, Viridi, and Madam Pomfrey, their wands all illuminated, and Hagrid armed with a large crossbow, his huge boarhound at his side. They came up short directly behind Dumbledore, and McGonagall’s eyes flashed between the first years, seeming to count them, to be sure they were all there.

Voldemort backed away slowly, eyes on Dumbledore firmly locked, and hissed, looking directly at James, “This is not over.” And with that he disapparated with a crack. The remaining Death Eaters did, too, although Bellatrix sneered at Lily fiercely and her face clearly echoed the words Voldemort had said before she, too, disapparated.

Silence filled the clearing.

Peter whimpered as he stood up, favoring the ankle he had twisted while running blindly away. Lily’s knee was bleeding right through her stockings. Sirius was physically fine but his eyes were unfocused as he processed everything that had happened. Remus couldn’t look the teachers in the eyes, he was too ashamed, and James was still panting from the recently receded pain of the cruciatus curse.

Madam Pomfrey leaped forward and reached for Peter’s ankle.

“What were you thinking?” McGonagall wailed, her voice quivering with fading fear and astonishment at what they’d done.

“Minerva,” said Dumbledore calmly, “We shall wait to discuss what has happened until we are able to return to the castle.” He looked around at the students. “Madam Pomfrey, I trust you could heal Mr. Pettigrew’s ankle?”

“A bit of skele-gro potion will do the trick, I’ve a supply of it back at the castle,” she answered.

Dumbledore looked to Hagrid, “Would you mind, Rubeus?”

“Not a’tall, Professor Dumbldedore, sir,” Hagrid said lowly. He swung the crossbow onto his back and bent down, sweeping Peter up from the ground and into his arms.

They were about to leave the clearing when James spotted a hand mirror on the ground. The Dark Lord’s part of the mirror, he realized, and he scooped it up and slipped it into his pocket before they left the clearing.

Sirius Black felt utterly horrid. He barely registered what was happening as they began the walk back to the grounds, though Pomfrey tried to ask what was the matter, if anything was hurting, all he could do was shake his head. After all, what was he supposed to say? His heart had broken. He had known, of course, that his parents were dark through and through - he’d known that they were rough on him, and his mother had used the cruciatus on him - but this tiny part of Sirius had clung on to the belief that should the push ever come to a shove, his parents would not act on these tendencies. Tonight, looking up into his father’s eyes, he had seen otherwise. His father, the man who had brought him to Quidditch and taught him how to play gobstones and to ride a broom for the first time, that same man would have gladly held him firm as the Dark Lord killed him, had he been told to.

Some part of him, however small, had believed that they really would defeat the Dark Lord and that, when they had, his parents would have come back - loving, as he’d perceived them when he was a child, as though the darkness within them was a spell that would break with the death of Voldemort. But now he knew better. If he had managed to defeat the Dark Lord, they simply would have rallied about some other dark leader.

Not only all of that, but it was he, Sirius, who had come up with this awful plan. He’d ignored the warnings Lily and Remus and even Peter had given him regarding the plan. Even James had said it was a bad idea. He had guilted them each into going along with him into the woods and here they were, all hurt and only very nearly escaping from death.

If it had not been for Dumbledore, they would all have died in the Forbidden Forest.

Lily came up beside him, limping slightly on her scraped knee, and reached her hand out to take hold of his. “Are you okay?” She asked.

Sirius nodded.

“It’s not your fault,” she said quietly.

“Yes it is,” Sirius replied.

Lily whispered, “We all chose to come along. Any one of us could’ve said no. We chose to go with you.”

“I talked you into it,” he said thickly.

“We all make mistakes,” Lily replied with a shrug. She squeezed his fingers with her own, “You made a mistake, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” muttered Sirius. “And it almost killed all of us.”

Lily said, “Yeah… but the evil that exists in this world isn’t your fault.”

Sirius felt a lump rise up in his throat. “The guy holding me back there? It was my father.”

Lily’s fingers clenched tighter in surprise, though she somehow managed to hold back the sound of surprise that had fought to escape her throat. “Your father?” She asked. “How do you know? They all had cloaks… Maybe you’re mistaken…”

“No,” Sirius replied, “I saw his eyes, when he threw me down. I’m not mistaken. I know it was him.”

“You have to tell Dumbledore,” Lily said quietly.

Sirius shrugged. He didn’t want to tell anybody. He didn’t have any idea what had made him tell Lily even. His throat felt quite raw as they walked along through the woods. She kept holding his hand until they’d stepped out from the woods and onto the wide lawn of Hogwarts.

There, they were led up into the castle and Madam Pomfrey hustled the students up to the hospital wing while Dumbledore instructed Moody and McGonagall to meet him in his office. “I will be there in just a moment,” he told them. He followed along with Pomfrey and the students to the hospital wing and saw them put into beds.

While Madam Pomfrey collected various potions and bandages for their various cuts and sprains, Dumbledore stood before their beds and ran his hand absently down the length of his beard, a great sigh spilling forth that seemed to have come from deep in his soul. “We shall need to talk, of course, once you’re all feeling a bit better, about exactly what happened out there tonight,” he said quietly. “Perhaps in the morning. For now, I think it is important that you rest.” He looked about at them, “You were all very lucky tonight.”

“How did you know where to find us, Professor?” James asked.

Pomfrey came back, a bottle of Skele-gro in her hands and a spoon, and she started doling out the prescribed serving for Peter’s broken ankle. He made a face as the foul tasting potion made it’s way down his throat.

Dumbledore replied, “Severus Snape told me.”

“Snape?” Remus said surprised, “How did he know?”

Lily’s eyes widened.

“I do not know,” Dumbledore replied, “Now all of you, get some rest, and I will speak with you tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

After Dumbledore had left, Madam Pomfrey finished administering their potions and bandages, and then slipped out of the wing as well, turning off the light and locking the door behind her so that only the moonlight lit up the room and they all laid in their beds, staring up at the ceiling, in silence, thinking over the events of the night. Scenes flashed through each of their minds as they processed everything that had gone on.

Suddenly, Remus began to laugh.

“What’s the matter with you?” Asked James, sitting up and looking over at Remus’s bed.

Remus’s voice quivered with amusement, “I can’t believe you called the Dark Lord a wanker!” He wheezed.

Lily started laughing, too, and so did Peter, and even Sirius. James chortled too, grinning as he slid his arms up behind his head as he leaned back into the pillows. “That was rather good, wasn’t it?”