Death Scene Challenge: (By KatDucat) You have to write about the death of a HP character from the point of view of another character. It's not going to be canon, like George witnessing Fred's death, but something like Ron Hermione's. That way its more original and you can have fun choosing a mode of dying. It can be set in the future or the past, but no time-travel please.
Numbers Chosen: 13 and 85 (Parvati Patil and James Potter)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Death Scene Challenge. Parvati wanted to scream out a warning: That they needed to run. That if they didn't, this would be the last day of their lives.
A/N: Been experiencing writer's block for quite some time, so I decided to give challenges a try. This is my first one ever and it was by no means easy! However, I tried to make it work as best as I could and to make it as believable as possible. :)
SILVER MEMORIES
Parvati was 14 when she found herself wandering into her father's study. It was the holidays and only a few days were left before classes would ensue. Her twin sister, Padma, was in their bedroom listening to an upbeat song on The Wireless Wizarding Network (WWN). It had gotten too noisy for Parvati, so she had grabbed her book (Amortentia: Make Him Yours), and snuck into her father's study. Their parents were out for the night, another charity gala (her father was a rather well-known Healer). It was not the first time that Parvati had been in her father's study but she usually found it so boring that she never stayed for more than five minutes.
"You cast a spell on me, spell on me!" Padma was singing at the top of her lungs. This was enough for Parvati to hurry into the study and close the door behind her with a loud thud. It was a simple enough room. Wooden paneling, smooth wooden floors, and mahogany furniture. A floor-length mirror stood beside the marble fireplace. She examined her reflection closely. Her hair looked absolutely wonderful. All nice and glossy. She must remember to thank Lavender for the hair potion she had given her. She was in the process of braiding her long locks when something caught her eye: A glint of silver. She whipped around to see it coming from within the half-open cabinet.
She cautiously approached it. Slowly, she pulled open the cabinet door. Her eyes widened when it revealed a shallow stone basin. Being a bookworm, Parvati had amassed quite a bit of knowledge about all things related to the magical world. So she knew, without a doubt, that what was standing in front of her was none other than a Pensieve.
A Pensieve that was filled with a silvery substance, swirling, inviting, whispering to her...Come, take a look.
Entranced and beyond curious, Parvati lowered her head into the Pensieve, ignoring the fact that she might get into deep, deep trouble for peeking into her father's most private memories.
But then again, her father didn't need to find out.
The moment her face hit the surface, her vision began to blur, and she found the study around her begin to disappear, only to be replaced by a crowded street. As her eyes began to adjust to her new surroundings, she realized that she was fixated on a younger version of her father. He was dressed in what Parvati recognized as intern Healer robes. He was carrying a bag of groceries in one hand. She guessed that this was sometime during her infant years.
The street looked familiar. Her father was walking at a brisk pace. She quickly followed behind him. It was evening, possibly past dinnertime. There were no stars out that night and the atmosphere was slightly chilly.
"Good evening, Mr. Patil." A man in royal blue robes greeted in passing.
"Good evening, Biddles."
Mr. Biddles. One of the orderlies at St. Mungo's where her father worked.
"Done with work?"
"Oh yes. Tiring day. Those seniors are rather difficult to impress."
Biddles laughed. "You'll get there. Just work hard and get them to notice you." He winked before disappearing around the corner.
They continued on down the street. It was not until she passed by Ollivander's that she realized that she was in Diagon Alley. Some of the shops bore different names, which was why she did not recognize it at first. She encountered a few more familiar stores along the way. Several more people stopped to greet Mr. Patil. Patients, fellow Healers, former classmates. Parvati was not surprised. Her father was a nice man. Friendly. Kind. Loving.
However, the next person that greeted him surprised Parvati vastly. He was a few years younger than her father. Jet-black hair. Bespectaled hazel eyes. On his arm was a beautiful redhead with a dazzling green stare. And in her arms...in her arms was a tiny baby boy who inherited his father's inky locks. He was dozing comfortably in his mother's embrace.
Parvati would know them anywhere.
She was looking at Harry Potter and his family.
This was before.
Before everything.
"Mr. Potter! How's your leg?"
"Better, Mr. Patil. Thanks for your all your help by the way. Sirius can get a tad bit too playful sometimes." He said with a grin.
Her father shook his head with an understanding smile. "Just be careful next time. Fractures are easy enough to treat but broken bones will be a lot more painful."
They made small talk and Parvati tuned them out as she focused on James Potter. There were bits of him that reminded her so much of Harry. They had the same lean build, one that can only be obtained through hours of Quidditch Practice. There was a slight carelessness to his appearance, disheveled hair, rumpled robes. Harry always looked like that - like he just got out of bed and went straight to class. But whereas Harry always carried a certain kind of sadness, James just seemed to radiate with joy.
And why wouldn't he? He was in the company of the two most important people in the world to him. He had everything he needed in life at that moment.
Who knew that it would all be snatched away?
As if on cue, an explosion reverberated towards their left, a cacophony of sound that sent people scattering across the street. Ice gripped her heart. What's going on? James and his family looked as confused as she was. Mr. Patil was staring wide-eyed in the direction of the explosion.
A gasp escaped her throat as an all-too familiar figure emerged from the smoke.
It was him.
He had come for them.
Parvati wanted to scream out a warning: That they needed to run. That if they didn't, this would be the last day of their lives.
But alas, no sound came out.
It was as if someone had frozen time and all she could see was that jet of green light heading towards their direction. She glanced at the young couple, vaguely hearing James Potter yelling at his wife: "Run!"
The trembling redhead seemed rooted on the spot, her fear for her husband and her fear for their son warring with one another. Parvati's father, noticing her hesitation, grabbed her by the arm and half-dragged her into the nearest shop. "You need to go to the Leaky Cauldron. You need to Floo home." Mr. Patil instructed her urgently.
She was sobbing now. "No. No. My husband. James..."
Parvati staggered towards the window of the shop. She could only watch in horror as the Killing Curse hit James Potter squarely in the chest, could only watch as those warm hazel eyes that greeted her father just moments ago go dull, could only watch as he fell to the ground, spectacles and wand clattering beside him.
And the sound of his wife's strangled sob emanated across the street.
To receive news of a loved one's death is heartbreaking, but to see it actually happen...it's almost as if a piece of your soul was ripped away.
It was then that Harry Potter, the small little boy who had been sound asleep in his mother's loving arms, began to cry.
After that everything when black.
She pulled her head out of the Pensieve.
She was breathing heavily. It was almost as if she had finished a four hundred-meter marathon. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest. That's what you get for snooping around, Parvati. The voice in her head admonished. She never realized...never once knew that her father had been present during such a significant event.
She briefly wondered why that specific memory was currently in the Pensieve.
Why was her father revisiting that moment?
Why. Why. Why.
Deciding to risk getting into trouble, Parvati decided to confront her father about it. She needed to know.
She later found out that her father and several of the people in the shop had been greatly wounded by the encounter, how her father had help treat many of the people in Diagon Alley that fateful night, and how this night finally, finally caught the attention of his seniors. That he was more than just an intern Healer. He was a superb one.
As for why it was in the Pensieve?
"I've been trying to understand why the Killing Curse had no effect on their son."
"You mean Harry? Have you found out why?"
Mr. Patil just shook his head in response.
But Parvati had an inkling of what it was.
First day of classes after the holidays, Parvati was lucky enough to bump into him in the corridors. Ron Weasley was with him, of course. Those two never went anywhere without each other - like they were tethered together by an invisible chain.
"Hi Harry."
"Er, Parvati." Harry looked taken aback. They have never really spoken much outside of class. "Hope you enjoyed the holidays?"
"Erm, yes." And before she could decide against it, she reached over and gave Harry a warm hug. "Happy Holidays, Harry." She whispered in his ear, her voice cracking slightly. Without waiting for a response, she walked away.
"Um, you too." He called after her, the confusion evident in his tone.
"Oi! What about me!" Ron exclaimed.
Parvati allowed herself a small smile. He was surrounded by people who loved him. That was all he really needed. Love. That was what saved him.
He'll be okay. She thought.
The Boy Who Lived will be okay.
END
A/N: So...how was it? Review! :)