Author's Note: This is a fic running slightly along the lines of "Dead Sirius," except…well, you can see the differences. The revelations into the Potters' deaths in Prisoner of Azkaban have long tickled my fancy, and finally I was able to put them to some use. Again, this was written a long time ago and isn't much better than "Dead Sirius."

Cracked Pottery and a Crushed Lily

'Stop it, James. You're making me nervous.'

James Potter came to a halt in his pacing, and stared at his reflection in the large mirror at one end of the hall. His skin looked sickly and pale, stark against his wildly tangled black hair. But he found he could not stay in one position for too long, and swiveled back into the living room. A warm fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, and Lily Potter rocked slowly back and forth in the rocking chair before it.

Lily's bright green eyes gazed up solemnly at him, her lips curled into a small frown. She mutely handed the baby to him. James took his son gently into his arms. He was sleeping now, but even in sleep he looked inquisitive about the world. James hugged him close, trying to blot out the voice that was telling him he might never see little Harry walk or hear him say, "Papa."

'James.' Lily was on her feet now, her fists clenched and her red hair seeming to crackle with anger. 'You act as though you'll never see him again.'

James kissed Harry's soft, round cheek. 'I might not.'

Lily stomped her foot. 'Stop it, James. What makes you think he'll come tonight?'

'Nothing,' he replied softly. 'But he will come sometime, and I aim to be ready.'

Lily took Harry back into her arms, holding the child against her almost in a protective manner. 'You took the Awakening Draught again, didn't you? James, how can you expect to be ready if you're about to drop dead any minute from lack of sleep?'

James kissed her forehead briefly. 'I love you, Lily.' He pulled out his wand and strode over to the curtained windows. He stopped directly in front of them, pausing with his hand on the cloth. 'It's Sirius,' he finally said.

'What?' Lily gasped, taking a step back. 'You don't mean-'

James cut her off with a quick shake of his head. 'Sirius made me change from him to Peter. He says there's a traitor in our midst. It's only a matter of time now, Lily.'

Lily came to his side and clutched his arm tightly. 'Oh, James. I'm so frightened!'

James smiled tightly. 'Don't worry. Everything will be-' Suddenly he tensed and took a step away from the window. A dark shadow flitted across the lamplight, and a cloaked figure began striding up the garden path. 'Lily!' James cried in a hoarse whisper. 'Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!'

Lily blanched and stumbled out of the room, clutching her son tight. James tightened his grip on his wand and stepped out into the hall, facing the front door. He did not have to wait long.

BANG! The front door exploded inward, and James stumbled backwards, flinging up an arm to shield his face. Through the clouds of dust and smoke, the outline of a cloaked, hooded figure appeared. A bone-white hand with long, spidery fingers appeared, clutching a wand. James's hand was shaking as he raised his wand, not from fear but from anger. Yet before he could utter a spell, a cold, high-pitched voice yelled, 'Imperio!'

Blissful emptiness immediately engulfed James's mind. He didn't have to think or worry any more.

Put down your wand.

I will not, James thought faintly.

Put down your wand. Step aside!

I won't surrender! The thought was strong and resolute.

Put it down!

'NO!!!' James shouted, and the world thudded back around him.

'You have been warned,' a pale face said from the depths of the black hood. Two livid, red, slit-pupiled eyes glared at him. Once again, he raised his wand.

James snapped into action. 'Prote-'

'Expelliarmus! Crucio!'

White-hot pain seared through his bones. James screamed louder than ever before in his life. His arms and legs twisted of their own accord into pained positions, he rolled about on the floor, and his fingers writhed in utmost agony.

And then, it lifted. James lay, limp like a rag doll, on the floor at Lord Voldemort's feet. Tears ran down his cheeks, and his breath came in short, ragged gasps. Voldemort took a step towards the stairs, and James clutched at his boot with a mighty heave. Pain shot through his arm, but he held on with all his might. Voldemort pointed his wand down at him unconcernedly, not even glancing at his enemy.

'Avada Kedavra.'

Lily laid Harry gently in his playpen, tucking blankets around him absent-mindedly. She bolted upright, however, when she heard the front door blast open. Then came a dreadful silence. Lily twisted one of Harry's blankets in her hands, biting her lips and anxiously waiting for more, not daring to move.

'NO!!!' James's shout filtered up from below. He began to scream, a terrible prolonged scream of unimaginable pain mingled with fury. But it did not stop. Lily knew what was being done to him, and tears clouded her eyes. She wanted to rush down the stairs to James, to raise her wand and protect him from Voldemort. But she knew she could not, and that knowledge pulled the tears from her eyes and down her cheeks.

As suddenly as the screams began, they were instantly cut off. A blinding green light filled the darkness. Heavy footfalls landed on the stairs, creaking up slowly, unhurriedly. In the half-minute before those footfalls reached the bedroom door, Lily realized that she could save herself. She could Apparate from here, and run to Dumbledore, where she would be safe. Her gaze fell on her sleeping son in a moment of indecision, but that moment took too long. The doorknob began to turn. Her chance gone, she desperately placed herself between the playpen and the door, and it was only then that she realized she had left her wand downstairs, where she had set it on the mantle to pick up Harry. Fear shot through her, but it was too late.

The bedroom door slowly creaked open. Voldemort's lipless mouth curled into a snarl. 'Stand aside, you silly girl.'

'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!' She wasn't sure what good she could do by pleading with the merciless Dark Lord, but she simply couldn't just stand by and watch her son be killed.

'Stand aside, now…'

'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-'

Voldemort raised his wand meaningfully.

'Not Harry!' Lily screamed. 'Please…have mercy…have mercy…I'll do anything!'

Voldemort laughed a high-pitched laugh and Lily screamed with fright. 'Avada Kedavra! You asked for it, girl.' He kicked her body unconcernedly to one side and stood over the playpen. 'At last,' he whispered. Two green eyes blinked curiously up at him. Curious, but unafraid. 'I have you now, Potter.'

A blinding flash of green light spurted out the upper windows of the house, and a strange shriek pierced through the night. The leaves of the trees rustled wildly, as though in a great wind, and then became still once more. The only sound that punctuated the quiet night was the soft snuffling cries of a baby boy experiencing his first real pain.