(no subject)
31 October 1981
He doesn't bother being quiet. A rattle of thunder, a knock at the door. The knowledge they've been betrayes. A hiss and her world turns green and James is dead. She doesn't see him fall, she feels it and fights the despair and the inevitability of her own end.
"Stand aside, you silly girl. Stand aside. Now."
"Not Harry, please no. Take me, kill me instead. Please! Have mercy...have mercy."
Her world slides from green to black and the baby is left alone with the beast. A cold smile. A shrill laugh. The unthinkable--the boy lives. Scuttle and scratch and a long, hairless tail disappears into the wall.
Rumbling motorbike and gentle hands cradle the baby, giving way reluctant to giant ones. A farewell kiss and then flight. Sleeping through shouting streets. Dodging fireworks. High aboce the dancing and celebration to where the old man waits to leave the baby on a doorstep. For now.
31 July 1980
Awake in the early hours and "James, James! Wake up! It's time!" And floo is really uncomfortable when you're ungainly and in pain, but at least it's fast. Mediwitches and midwives and bleary-eyed patients blur through the halls and the anaesthetic potion. Breathe. In in in--out. In in in--out. Grimace and push. Hands white-knuckle and tangle in bedsheets. In in in--out. In in in--out. In in in--a scream, a slap, a cry, and the most beautiful baby in the world is in her arms. Ten fingers and ten toes and her eyes and his smile. And war babies are always a risk but he is hope. He is a reason. He is perfect. He is-- "Oh James, let's call him Harry." A hairless tail dissolves into the floor.
31 October 1979
She recoils at everything in the Hog's Head. Every surface, every object, even the air is foul. This isn't her kind of place, but it's her last chance. Waving at long beard and twinkling eyes and leading him upstairs. One glass of sherry and then another and the Ball is predicting wrack and ruin for everything. He's frowning and she works harder, tries to see more and then it happens--
A strange deep voice. Concerts, choirs of them speaking through her lips. Hands still. Eyes unblinking and focused far away. Time grows thick. Viscous. Hardly moves--
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...
a scuffle and squeak and hairless tail slides under the door
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...
A shudder and shake and she's back to herself. Cough. Reach for the sherry and pretend she knows why he's smiling. Relief. "My dear, you're hired."
31 July 1995
Sibyll sits in her tower, lost in thought. It's holidays, the children are gone. Her job is restored and she couldn't be happier. She'd missed her students--Parvati and Lavender, both with The Sight. Longbottom, whom she can't help but like, clumsiness just a part of his charm. Even Ron Weasley has a place in her heart. And Harry. Harry Potter, who had endured so much and had so much yet before hom. Harry Potter, ordinary boy. Harry Potter, destined to save the Wizarding World--Dumbledore believed it, why shouldn't she? Harry. She smiles and idly wonders how he was chosen for the task.