Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with a deeper, more profound amusement than usual, raised a silvery eyebrow. "Please speak plainly, Mr. Wilson. After the display of tactical brilliance we witnessed today, I believe I have absolutely no reason to refuse a request from the young hero of the hour."
Anduin felt a blush creep up his neck at the effusive praise from the most famous wizard in the world. He offered an awkward, slight smile.
"I overheard Minister Barnold mention a public commendation and an award. If possible, I would strongly prefer that my name not be mentioned publicly or to the media, Professor. I truly do not enjoy being the center of attention, and acquiring undue fame at this early stage of my life would, I feel, be counterproductive to my academic goals."
Dumbledore's smile softened, turning into a look of genuine understanding. He immediately grasped the young Slytherin's meaning. Public fame was a liability, especially for someone who preferred to work in the shadows. He recognized a kindred spirit in the discreet use of power.
"I comprehend your predicament entirely, Mr. Wilson," Dumbledore said warmly, resting a hand on Anduin's shoulder. "A sensible wizard knows that the highest accolades are often those given privately. I will speak with Minister Barnold right away and ensure that your name remains out of the Daily Prophet." He paused, his eyes gleaming.
"Perhaps I could also suggest to the Minister that your public recognition be quietly converted into a larger, more substantial reward of a private nature? Something that might aid your studies, perhaps?"
Anduin's internal victory celebration was immediately replaced by sheer delight. Resources. That was far better than fame. "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. That suggestion is exceptionally thoughtful."
Dumbledore nodded, a quiet pact sealed between them. He then turned his attention back to the injured. With the crisis officially contained, the need for medical attention was paramount.
Soon after, Dumbledore departed, taking a pained but still defiant Sirius Black and a shaken Peter Pettigrew with him. Even while leaning heavily on Remus Lupin and grimacing in pain, Sirius couldn't resist calling out a final instruction to James. "Prongs! Don't forget to keep your hands off my precious motorcycle while I'm recovering! It's barely in one piece as it is!"
Anduin merely rolled his eyes, watching the badly injured wizard still prioritize a broken machine over his own health. Some people truly love their toys.
Over the next hour, the intense magical cleanup continued. The Aurors, assisted by the members of the Order of the Phoenix, efficiently restored the damaged parts of the Potter house using advanced Repairing Charms.
The air was cleared, the rubble vanished, and the necessary Memory Charms were cast on any Muggles nearby in Godric's Hollow who might have noticed the explosions and the serpentine flames.
One by one, the Aurors and their Order colleagues departed. Frank and Alice Longbottom, along with Augusta, approached Anduin to bid their farewells.
"Anduin," Alice said, her voice filled with sincerity, "what you did down there... you saved both our boys. I will never forget it."
Augusta, ever the matriarch, managed a rare expression of genuine warmth. "The boy is right to avoid public praise. But you are welcome at Longbottom Hall any time you need a safe place, young man. Don't be a stranger." Anduin accepted the invitation with genuine pleasure.
Soon, only the Potters—James, Lily, and Harry—and Anduin remained in the house. A profound quiet settled over the home, the exhaustion of battle replaced by a deep, weary gratitude.
"Anduin," James said, offering a relieved, hearty smile. "It's been quite the day. Thank you again, for absolutely everything. The guest room is ready. Get some much-needed rest here tonight."
James was a completely different person now. The residual hesitation he'd harboured about welcoming a Slytherin into his home—a boy who was Sirius's apprentice but not a member of the 'Marauders' inner circle'—had been utterly destroyed by the events of the evening. Anduin hadn't just been a guest; he had been a companion and a saviour.
"It's okay, James," Anduin replied, nodding as he looked around the peaceful house. "I appreciate the hospitality."
"Don't be daft, you're not a guest!" James laughed, placing a firm, friendly hand on Anduin's shoulder. "You are our friend, and from this night onward, you are a companion and a benefactor to this family. You can stay here without worry for as long as you need. We will always keep our doors open to you."
Lily, holding little Harry who was now fast asleep, simply smiled and nodded her agreement, her eyes reflecting the sincerity of her husband's words.
Anduin spent the rest of the Christmas holidays peacefully in the warmth of the Potter household, the events of the previous day slowly receding into memory.
Meanwhile, after delivering Sirius and the others to St. Mungo's, Albus Dumbledore did not return to the comforts of his Hogwarts office. Instead, he Apparated to a desolate, wind-swept hilltop deep within the recesses of the Forbidden Forest, overlooking the cold, still grounds of the castle. He was waiting.
He did not have to wait long.
With a soft crack, a tall, cloaked figure appeared before him. The man reached up with a pale hand and slowly removed his Death Eater mask, revealing the pallid, somber, and perpetually haunted face of Severus Snape.
Dumbledore did not offer a greeting. His voice, stripped of its usual cheerful lightness, was cold and sharp as winter air.
"It seems, Severus, that Tom has confirmed his beliefs regarding the prophecy." Dumbledore glanced dismissively at the discarded mask.
"The frontal attack on the Order members tonight was merely a crude spectacle. A handful of his chosen fanatics, including young Rosier, infiltrated the safe house and nearly succeeded in killing Lily and her child. Is that what you wished to see, Severus? The direct, brutal murder of the woman you supposedly hold so dear?"
Dumbledore's words were calculated, a sharp instrument designed to cut through Snape's practiced indifference. Snape's hitherto stoic expression fractured. He struggled, pulling at the collar of his robes as if choking.
"The Dark Lord told no one about the infiltration, not even me!" Snape roared, his voice laced with desperate, genuine fury. "I swear it! If I had been privy to this plan, I would have found a way to stop it! I would have warned them, diverted the attack! You must know that, Albus!"
"Stop him?" Dumbledore looked at Snape with powerful, withering pity. "With what means, Severus? With what credibility? Do you still possess the courage to stand against the Dark Lord's direct will? The moment you revealed that prophecy to him, everything was set in motion. It bolted from the rails like an unguided steam train, and no one can stop its inevitable crash now. His target has always been Lily and the child. You know this in your heart." Dumbledore's voice was firm, strong, and unforgiving, offering no escape from the man's guilt.
Snape leaned forward, hunched and desperate, trying to clutch at any lifeline of denial. "The Longbottom boy is still a possibility! The prophecy speaks of a boy born at the end of July, and there were two possibilities, Albus. It must be the Longbottom child! I can still convince the Dark Lord of this! If I can only persuade him to focus his malice on the Longbottom family, if only I can divert his attention—"
"Severus!"
Dumbledore's voice cracked like thunder across the deserted hill. Suddenly, a massive, contained surge of pure magical energy radiated from the Headmaster, vibrating the frozen ground around them and shocking the surrounding air. The raw display of power was instantaneous and terrifying, causing Snape to recoil and cover his mouth, his face a mask of fear and shattered nerves.
Dumbledore watched Snape coolly, allowing the silence to stretch before speaking again, his voice now dangerously soft and low.
"Do not be so naïve as to think Tom is playing a game of chance with a destiny he fears. Do you know what your good classmate, Evan Rosier, did today? He infiltrated the house, took a highly forbidden, illegal Berserker Potion—a madness draught—to amplify his strength and fanatacism, all for one purpose: to kill Lily and her son. He risked permanent insanity, death, and capture, just to succeed in that singular, final act of malice."
Dumbledore deliberately paused, letting the silence hang heavy. He was meticulously editing the account, hiding Anduin's intervention to ensure maximum emotional devastation.
"If that young Rosier had not been so desperate that his enhanced magic ultimately ruined his aim, you might have been standing here tonight, Severus, with Lily's cold body on your conscience. His actions today confirm one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt: Tom's intention is clear and absolute. He has chosen his target, and his choice is the Potters."
"No!" The carefully constructed walls of Snape's denial collapsed entirely. He cried out in agony, his face disappearing into his hands as he fell to his knees on the frozen earth, tears streaming uncontrollably down his pale cheeks. He was finally confronted with the devastating truth he had been fleeing. He had loyalties—to the Dark Lord, to his own ambition—but when that loyalty threatened the woman he loved, everything was revealed as hollow and weak.
"I know," Snape choked out, his voice wracked with pain. "I always knew, at the edge of my mind, I could feel it... but I couldn't bear to face the truth. I lied to myself, praying it would be the Longbottoms."
"The prophecy speaks of a boy, Severus, not a woman," Dumbledore said, standing tall and implacable above the broken man. "But do you truly believe the Dark Lord would be inconvenienced by eliminating the mother first? He has chosen the Potters, Severus, and he will stop at nothing."
Snape sobbed, the sound raw and desperate. "I know, Albus, I know! The Dark Lord has long believed them to be his threat. He has been systematically trying to determine their location, their weaknesses. And I have just learned—from the edges of his inner circle's whispers—that the Potters were his target today all along, not a random Order stronghold! The Dark Lord was certain they would be there today, safe house or no safe house. He is closing in!"
He looked up at Dumbledore, his eyes red and shining with utter despair. "I have lost her, haven't I? I have condemned her."
Dumbledore finally knelt, his expression shifting from stern judge to demanding confessor. "You have not lost her yet, Severus. You have bought a moment of time. But this moment must be paid for. There is only one way to ensure Lily Potter lives: your complete, unreserved loyalty to me, and your total commitment to becoming my spy. You must give me the information I need, the moment you get it. This is your price. Do you accept the sacrifice?"
Snape swallowed hard, the denial gone, replaced by a terrible, painful resolve. "Yes, Albus," he rasped, his voice barely audible. "I will do anything."