"Of course," said Minerva, looking annoyed, and Albus couldn't blame her, not one bit. She'd been telling him for months how absurd it was that a little boy would have anything to do with the defeat of Voldemort. Babies don't win wars, she'd told him irritably the last time they talked about it, and pushed his attention towards diagrams of strategy she'd been working on with Alastor. Lily Evans had had a bet on with Remus Lupin that there'd be time travel involved. "That's ridiculous, Albus," she repeated for the thousandth time. "I am frankly astonished that you ever believed such a thing." She was giving him a stern, reproving look now, the sort of look she gave him whenever he offered her a lemon drop in the middle of a tirade about Peeves.