AN: So this is just a little blot bunny in my head that interested me enough to try it out as a full fanfic. I have no idea how this will be received – all I ask is for you guys as readers to keep an open mind. It's definitely more out there, as far as stories go.
I'm not feeling the epilogue. I'm not changing Harry, Ginny, and their three children; I am, however, changing it to DHr. I don't have any plans on addressing why unless there's a want for it. It really won't have a huge influence besides the children, so please don't let that affect your perception of this fanfic too much.
This story will follow James Potter, but I will occasionally alter the POV and have other chapters with different characters as the focal points.
I have absolutely no idea how this is going to go, so feedback is appreciated. I just need to know if this is something people are interested in reading.
And now with this incredibly long author's note done, I give you the prologue.
Shouting. There was a lot of shouting. And there was his mother's – he assumed it was his mother's – warm and caring touch on his hand. His eyes weren't open. He didn't dare brave the blinding lights he had experienced moments ago. But he could guess, by the voices. He knew his parents were there. And…was that Ella's mum? It sounded like her. There were a lot of strange voices, shouting funny things, as James faded into the depths of his mind.
He had been sorted into Gryffindor. Everyone expected it, really. It was all he had talked about for the eleven years leading up to being at Hogwarts. The boy was adventurous and daring, and quite stubborn to boot. Frankly, that was what caused him to end up in his current predicament. But that wouldn't happen until the end of his first year.
The first year at Hogwarts was exhilarating, to say the least. James had seemingly followed in his father's footsteps, as far as Quidditch went. He was in the right place at the right time, and somehow managed the spot of seeker. It was controversial, if James had been chosen due to talent or fame; at the age of eleven though, he really wasn't bothered. The fact that he had been picked at all made him happier than he could have imagined.
James knew a lot of people before getting to Hogwarts. He figured that it was because his parents had friends with children who came over a lot, and by default they were prone to meet and be friends. The Malfoy children had been around since before any of them were born; there had been many nights when James listened to his mother go on about how she and Hermione were each other's support during pregnancies. It was a bit creepy, James had often thought.
Regardless, James met Scorpius and Ella when they were in nappies, before any of them could remember a thing. He honestly couldn't remember a time without the twins around. And while James concluded at a very early age that their father was way too quiet at the Potter Manor, he had grown attached to the family.
The Longbottoms were a similar story. Apparently his father and Neville were close, so Noel was around frequently. Alice became a playmate for Albus, when they were old enough. James loved his siblings, but during the young years of childhood he wanted nothing more than to prove he was the oldest and had friends of his own age.
He never would have thought that he'd regret pushing his siblings away.
Noel had ended up in Gryffindor, and Ella had too. Scorp ended up in Slytherin, which James hadn't been surprised about. His cousin Molly ended up a Ravenclaw, and they became good friends with Annie Carmichael, who was a Hufflepuff. It was a strange, often dysfunctional group of friends – but it worked, and for eleven-year-olds, that was all that mattered.
James wasn't sure what possessed him to go gallivanting through the Forbidden Forest on the last day of classes. It could have been the fact that he had just done well on all of his final exams and wanted to celebrate. Perhaps it was when Scorp reminded him that it was off-limits because they'd be dead within seconds if they tried to go out there. Maybe it was just the desire of doing something so against the rules. Ella had advised him against it, but he hadn't listened.
If only he hadn't blown her off. Maybe he'd still be there, completely normal.
He had been attacked. The assailant moved too quickly for him to even get a good look. He thought it was human – except for the eyes. The eyes haunted him, plagued his mind. He remembered feeling a searing pain in his neck, and blood was everywhere. James had struggled, clawed, even bitten to try and fend off his stealthy attacker, but it was no use. Slowly he had lost consciousness, only to come to as he was being rushed through what he could only imagine were the hallways of St. Mungo's.
How anyone had found him was beyond his recognition. It was a miracle he hadn't died out there, considering how vast the forest was. In his delirious state James concluded that he felt funny, like his body was made of lead and his head was full of hot air. He was cold, too. Incredibly cold, considering it was the end of May and he should have been quite warm.
James had been drifting off into the sea of unconsciousness in his mind when he was wheeled into an emergency room at the hospital. Carefully, a Mediwitch stuck a needle in his wrist with the intention of starting an IV to get the blood-replenishing potion quicker into his system.
In the depths of St. Mungo's, on the first floor in the Creature-Induced Injuries sector, James Potter woke with a howl of pain. His eyes were coal black.
