James Potter
If James Potter knew the last thing he would see was You-Know-Who's face, he would have asked to choke to death on chicken instead.
Shaking his head, he sits up, running a hand through his thick, black hair. It's bright here, almost blinding to his eyes. He can barely even squint. Man. I just wish there was someplace less blinding that I could go.
And, like that, James is no longer in the bright place. He's not sure where he is now, or how to describe it. Just as quickly as he thinks this, he decides he has "gone on." It fills with everything and nothing, all at once. He's not even sure if he has a body anymore. He is sentient with a lack of directed energy and focus. He does not command himself anymore. All he knows is floating over to a hole and looking down, seeing Earth.
Strangely, he has the power to zoom in. He first looks at Sirius' place before seeing it's abandoned. Could it be Padfoot knew—?
Moony is gone from his hidey-hole as well. And Wormtail? Where is he? Gulping, James turns back to where he just came from, his little cottage in Godric's Hollow…
He watches You-Know-Who—Voldemort, he thinks savagely, because in death what is there to fear about a mere man?—climb the stairs. James studies his body in the vision in detail. Etched onto his face is fear and panic, not at all the bravery he would prefer would be there. He sighs, or perhaps only thinks he does. Suddenly, he jolts back to the hole and stares down, zooming in as Voldemort throws the door to the baby's bedroom open with magic.
Just setting Harry down, Lily looks up like a doe in the headlights. As Harry begins to cry, Lily faces Voldemort and flings her arms open. A pang runs through James: Lily has always been far braver than he himself. He has never met anyone like her. The fear sparkling in her eyes is not for herself, he realizes, but for their son.
Harry cries from his crib. Voldemort and Lily stare at each other for a brief moment before her shaking, alto voice cuts in.
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"
Voldemort inches closer. James cannot see underneath his cloak, and for that he is glad. He hopes Lily will look at Harry before she goes. Voldemort's voice, high and cold, snarls, "Stand aside, you silly girl… Stand aside now…"
"Not Harry!" Lily interjects immediately. Her whole form shakes, but she does not break her protective pose. "Please, no, take me, kill me instead!"
Voldemort tilts his head. James can't keep his eyes off of what is unfolding before him. He knows what will happen before it does, but sick grief and fascination keeps him rooted to the spot. You could be reprieved, Lily!
Lily takes a step toward Voldemort. "Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy…"
At the sound of the shrill laughter and Lily's screams, James turns away. He sees a reflection of green light off of the surface of wherever he is now. Is this the place where people watch others die? No, he reasons. This is where we watch over the living. He turns back, startled when Voldemort is no longer there and it is only his crying son echoing off the walls of the cottage with the dead bodies of his two parents.
In that moment, James knows where he must return to. He wills himself back to the bright place, hoping it tones itself down so he can see his brave wife before him.