Crack.
I'm here.
No. No, no, no.
He didn't.
He gave me his word.
No.
The house barley remains standing. The entire first floor wall crumbling down.
Lily?
Are you there, Lily?
My feet take me forward.
I don't think I even realise it.
And I'm opening the gate.
There's a pumpkin at the open door and plastic bats hang from the porch roof.
She always loved halloween.
But the door is still open.
I head down the path and although I hardly have the eyes for it I notice the mark his cloak made through the autumn leaves.
He gave me his word.
They both did.
Please let you be here, Lily.
Please let you be alive.
Please please let the whispers be wrong.
Let the rumours be false.
I see him.
James Prat Potter.
His glasses are slightly askew as he lies on the stairs and his wand is no where to be seen.
The idiot.
It's on the sofa.
The arrogant idiot.
I step over him, avoiding the lifeless hazel eyes.
Please, please, please.
At the top of the stairs.
The door to a room of an infant.
The door where he had stood and broke the promise he made me.
Don't think that.
She could still be-
She might still be-
Please Lily.
Please still be breathing.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
But what was that?
Crying?
A baby's crying?
Coming from behind the white door before me.
An incessant whining.
If I had never spoken to her that way could it be ours?
Oh Lily, please, I'm so sorry.
I am terrified of what I will find as I open the door.
I don't see her at first.
I don't see the lifeless body of the woman I love.
I see the boy.
The boy with her eyes.
The boy with her eyes and the lightning scar.
The boy, who lived.