A/N: This is probably quite awful, and I know I should be working on the final chapter of "Of M, M, & M", but that's what I was doing when I got the idea for this- I promise! Hope you enjoy it even though it's a rather pathetic attempt at portraying Dumbledore's thoughts on Lily and James' deaths. Please review when you're done!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it but the idea and the plot and I'm not sure I want the credit for those, so don't sue! The rest is J.K. Rowling's.

18 Gryffindor Lane, Godric's Hollow. At least that's how Albus Dumbledore would always remember the address. Now the street sign said Gramercy Lane, and the small cottage he had visited after Harry's christening no longer existed. In it's place stood a one story brick house that looked remarkably identical to the one next door, and the one next door to that. But as he clicked his put-outer six times, one for each street lamp on the small lane that's not what Dumbledore saw.

He was here to remember what had been, and in the darkness he could almost see the bright lights shining from behind handmade curtains and a willowy redhead cradling an infant coming to the door and inviting him in. "Professor Dumbledore! How good to see you!" He could almost hear her melodic voice. And then came her husband, with the untidy hair and the shining blue eyes. He grinned mischievously looking exactly the same as he had many times: sitting in Dumbledore's office or in class, or in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. They looked perfect from the doorway; a young couple in love with their first child, and perhaps more on the way, but looks can be deceiving.

For most of their short marriage, James and Lily had had to fight what many considered a losing battle, yet they fought anyway, and in the end they made the ultimate sacrifice for their cause. Dumbledore remembered that night nine years ago as though it were yesterday.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office after the Halloween feast, just staring into the fire that blazed in his fireplace and thinking. It had been a lovely feast as always- Hagrid had done a stupendous job with the pumpkins yet again, and the students had been exuberant as ever, despite the threat of Lord Voldemort that tormented the world outside Hogwarts' protective gates. Only two months earlier Dumbledore had received news of the murder of a couple: Jane and Thomas McKinnon, and a few weeks before that- the Prewett sisters. It was getting to the point where anyone who stood up to Voldemort was being systematically wiped out. That's why he'd suggested the "Fidelus Charm" to Lily and James. The Potters were big targets and very active in the war against Voldemort. They had agreed to Dumbledore's suggestion and the charm had been performed less than a week earlier.' So far, so good,' Dumbledore thought. 'The less I hear from Lily and James the better.'

That's why he was a tad worried when an owl flew in through the window. But the worry subsided when he recognized the owl as belonging to Adalbert Humperdink, the minister of magic, and noticed the envelope had a ministry seal. He opened the envelope and unfolded the letter which read:

Albus- Trouble in Godric's Hollow. You-know-who showed up at the Potters'. Muggles are hysterical- reports say that Lily and James Potter are dead. Confusion on what happened with Harry- apparently you-know-who tried to "Avada Kedavra" him and failed! He-who-must-not-be-named is gone! My sincerest condolences- I know you were very close to Lily and James. Please arrange for Harry's upbringing.

Yours, Adalbert

And so he had. After receiving the letter, he'd summoned Hagrid to his office and sent him to Godric's Hollow, while he himself had apparated to Little Whinging, Surrey.

Little Whinging. That would be his next stop. Every year on All Hallows Eve, better know as Halloween, Albus Dumbledore visited 18 Gryffindor Lane, Godric's Hollow to remember; and then 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey to hope.

As he stood in one of Petunia Dursley's flowerbeds looking through a ground floor window at the cupboard under the stairs he whispered into the night sky, "Hold on, Harry. Just one more year."