The days that followed blurred together under the cold breath of fear.
Even Godric's Hollow once vibrant and serene felt smaller now. The air was heavier, as if the land itself had begun to mourn. Every bird's cry, every crack of twigs in the woods sounded louder, closer, like whispers from a shadow that crept ever nearer. Paranoia seeped through the walls of the Potter home, and Harry, though still locked within the shell of infancy, felt it all like vibrations through crystal.
Lily moved with sharp, deliberate care now, her wand never far from reach. She would check the locks every hour, not with fear, but a quiet, fierce resolve. James no longer joked as easily, the sparkle in his hazel eyes dimmed, his smile subdued. The laughter that once filled their cottage had been replaced by the quiet murmur of protective enchantments being recast again and again.
And today, today would change everything.
Harry knew it the moment the wards shivered like a spider's web kissed by wind a signal.
James looked up from his place near the window, hand tightening around his wand. He moved to the door with quiet urgency and opened it.
Albus Dumbledore entered first. His usually vibrant robes were a dark, stormy gray, almost black, as though mourning something not yet lost. His eyes swept the room quickly, quietly assessing.
Behind him came Sirius Black. He was dressed simply, black coat and boots, and though his expression was hard set, it softened visibly when his gaze fell on Harry. A flicker of warmth, of fierce protectiveness.
Last came Peter Pettigrew.
Peter lingered in the doorway a moment too long, then shuffled in. His eyes darted around the room. He smiled nervously at Lily, nodded at James, and avoided Dumbledore's gaze entirely.
Harry watched it all from his crib by the window, small fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of his blanket.
He knew what was happening. He'd overheard Lily explaining it last night the Fidelius Charm a spell to hide a secret so completely that even the truth itself would become locked inside a single soul.
And that soul would be Peter Pettigrew.
Harry's tiny fists clenched harder.
This was wrong. So obviously, maddeningly wrong.
Peter's shoulders hunched like a man expecting a blow. He didn't belong here not as protector, not as guardian. And yet, no one else seemed to see it. Or maybe they didn't want to.
James shut the door behind them and gestured for everyone to move to the center of the room. Furniture had been cleared chairs pushed aside, coffee table vanished leaving a wide circle in the middle of the wooden floor.
Dumbledore stepped forward, his wand already in hand. "We are ready?" he asked, voice low, solemn.
James gave a nod. "Let's do it."
Lily glanced at Harry, then walked forward to stand beside her husband.
Dumbledore turned to Peter. "This is a grave responsibility, Peter. Once the charm is cast, not even I will know where this house stands. You, and you alone, will be able to share this secret."
Peter licked his lips. "I, I understand."
"Do you?" Sirius asked suddenly, his voice a blade wrapped in silk. "Because if you even think about cracking under pressure"
"Sirius," James warned, raising a hand. "Enough."
"No, he has the right to say it," Peter said, though his voice trembled. "This, this isn't something to take lightly. I know that."
"You say you do," Sirius muttered, eyes sharp. "But talk is cheap, Wormtail."
Peter flinched at the old nickname, but didn't respond.
Dumbledore's gaze never left Peter. "Are you prepared to carry this burden? It is not merely a spell. It is a sacred trust."
Peter nodded quickly. "Yes. I swear it."
"Say it clearly," James said. His voice had no anger, only a quiet desperation. "Say you won't betray us."
Peter turned toward him. "I swear it, James. On my life. On everything I have. I'll protect you and Lily and little Harry. I'll never betray you."
Lily watched him for a long moment, her eyes unreadable. Then she turned to Dumbledore and gave a slight nod.
The old wizard raised his wand.
"Then let the secret be sealed."
The glow from the wand intensified, a thread of pure golden light stretching from its tip to Peter's chest. It passed through his robes and into his heart with no resistance.
The magic was quiet.
Not flashy. Not loud.
But absolute.
Harry felt it happen not as sound or light, but like a twist in the air, a knot tied into the weave of the world.
And just like that the house was gone.
Not physically.
But hidden.
Cut off.
Protected by a coward.
Peter staggered slightly as the magic settled in him. Dumbledore lowered his wand.
"It is done," he said, his voice soft.
Sirius let out a slow breath. He stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Peter's shoulder. "You'll do the right thing," he said quietly. "You've always wanted to prove yourself, Pete. Now's your chance."
Peter gave him a shaky smile. "Y, yeah. I won't let you down."
Sirius held his gaze for a moment longer, then stepped back.
Harry watched it all in silence, tension coiled in his tiny frame. His breath came quick and shallow.
He turned his gaze to Peter, memorizing every twitch, every shift, every shadow of deceit the others ignored.
Later, after Dumbledore took his leave with a final word of encouragement, and Peter followed, the house fell into silence again.
Lily stood by the window, her hand resting on the sill. James was outside, recasting perimeter charms.
Harry stared at the door for a long time.
Then Sirius turned to harry.
He walked straight to Harry's crib, boots thudding softly on the floor. He crouched beside it, resting his arms on the rail, and studied Harry for a moment.
"You don't like him, do you?" he asked in a low whisper.
Harry blinked.
"I see it," Sirius murmured. "The way you looked at him. You've got your dad's instincts. You know when someone's wrong."
Harry gave the slightest nod just the barest shift of his head but Sirius caught it.
"Smart kid," Sirius said with a quiet smile. "Smarter than me, probably. I let James talk me out of being Secret Keeper. Thought it was clever. Unexpected. Safer."
He paused.
"But now I'm not so sure."
Harry reached forward instinctively, wrapping tiny fingers around Sirius's finger.
"You'll be okay," Sirius whispered. "Whatever happens, I'll come for you. I swear it, Harry. I'll come."
Harry met his gaze, fierce and silent.
And in that look, Sirius felt something stir an echo of defiance, of knowledge far too deep for a child.
He stood slowly, glancing once more at the window.
Outside, clouds gathered.
That night, Harry lay awake in his crib, listening to the distant hum of enchantments in the walls.
Lily was asleep on the couch. James sat by the fire, a book open but unread in his lap. His face was lined with worry.
And Harry?
Harry simmered.
Not with rage.
But with helplessness.
He was locked in a body too small, too weak. He couldn't speak. He couldn't cast a spell. He couldn't even hold a wand. And yet he knew what was coming.
Peter would betray them.
Voldemort would come.
And his parents,his now real parents would die.
Unless he can something.
Anything.
He stared at his fingers. Concentrated. Pushed. Accidental magic, that was what they called it. He'd need it. A burst of power. A ripple. Something.
But nothing came.
He was too young. Too bound by flesh and time.
A tear slid down his cheek. Not from sadness. Not from fear.
From frustration.
He had survived death.
He had been reborn with knowledge, willpower, and purpose.
But in the end, all of it meant nothing
If he couldn't protect the people who had protected him.
So he lay in the silence of the crib, staring at the ceiling as the shadows deepened outside.
Waiting.
Planning.
And praying to merlin that when the moment came, he could do something.
Even if it meant rewriting fate with a scream.