Lily probably wouldn't have argued too hard for her sanity, either, at that point. All this time they'd been raging against Voldemort, all the meetings and the missions and the people who'd died, all the lives simply destroyed, and he'd had Horcruxes. They'd lost before they had even begun because they had been fighting the wrong battles.
Because Dumbedore hadn't told them the whole truth.
Much like the prophecy. She had known the timing; known that, for whatever reason, Harry (or the Longbottom child, Neville, who had been born at the same time) was a 'Chosen One'. But she hadn't know why. And, in her ignorant blind faith, had never asked.
That was her mistake. But Dumbledore would answer for his.
For a moment she just looked at him. At this...this man who had once been her son. And she longed, she ached, with something deep and intrinsic and undefinable, to protect him. To shout and rail against a world who would ask this of him. To kill Voldemort herself to save him this.
That silence stretched as Lily processed. As she forced back that instinct. Taking a small, shuddering breath, she offered, with a tiny smile, "You know prophecies are a load of rubbish, right?"
Then, eyes dropping away as she wished so hard for James that it was nearly her only thought, she nodded once. Green eyes rose once more to meet green, steadily, no sign of anything but love and pride and acceptance. "Then I guess you get to be the one to kick that bastard's arse. Too bad. Perhaps I can sell tickets."
Swallowing hard, she moved a step closer, her hand reaching out to rest on his arm. "I'll help you. Your education has been...rather sporadic of late. I'm no Dumbledore," she flashed a grin that seemed to take years off of the worry still evident in her face, "but I'm a fairly good Witch. And I have...resources. I can teach you what you'll need to know. Voldemort doesn't stand a chance."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-05-26 06:07 pm (UTC)Because Dumbedore hadn't told them the whole truth.
Much like the prophecy. She had known the timing; known that, for whatever reason, Harry (or the Longbottom child, Neville, who had been born at the same time) was a 'Chosen One'. But she hadn't know why. And, in her ignorant blind faith, had never asked.
That was her mistake. But Dumbledore would answer for his.
For a moment she just looked at him. At this...this man who had once been her son. And she longed, she ached, with something deep and intrinsic and undefinable, to protect him. To shout and rail against a world who would ask this of him. To kill Voldemort herself to save him this.
That silence stretched as Lily processed. As she forced back that instinct. Taking a small, shuddering breath, she offered, with a tiny smile, "You know prophecies are a load of rubbish, right?"
Then, eyes dropping away as she wished so hard for James that it was nearly her only thought, she nodded once. Green eyes rose once more to meet green, steadily, no sign of anything but love and pride and acceptance. "Then I guess you get to be the one to kick that bastard's arse. Too bad. Perhaps I can sell tickets."
Swallowing hard, she moved a step closer, her hand reaching out to rest on his arm. "I'll help you. Your education has been...rather sporadic of late. I'm no Dumbledore," she flashed a grin that seemed to take years off of the worry still evident in her face, "but I'm a fairly good Witch. And I have...resources. I can teach you what you'll need to know. Voldemort doesn't stand a chance."