Disclaimer: Characters and places © JK Rowling. I don't want any money for this story, so don't try to get money from me!
Prologue: There's No Place like Home
It was night-time in the old Potter home. The rooms were dark, quiet, sleeping. The house was peaceful.
In the study, papers littered the desk. A pale streak of light from a waxing moon fell through the unobstructed window and lay across the floor, an unbroken silver line. Dust settled quietly, unhindered. The muffled sound of a cricket chirping was all that could be heard.
In the fireplace, the last embers of the fire were dying. They pulsed gently orange and then faded completely into darkness.
There was moment of complete silence and silver blue light.
The fire flared green. The room glowed. A rushing sound filled the empty space. A figure appeared, revolving in the middle of the green flames. He spun very quickly for a few moments, and then stepped uncertainly into the room as the green fire died.
He was dressed in black and tugging on a heavy trunk which was coated in a fine layer of soot from the fire. The sound of his ragged, heavy breathing filled the room, and as soon as he had regained his balance he sat on his trunk and tried to catch his breath. His eyes were wide and frightened. He put a hand on his chest to calm his racing heart.
His other hand shook where it rested on his knee. He fought to relax his aching muscles.
There was a crash from the floor above. Of course, they would have some sort of alarm system in place. Working to compose himself, he struggled to his feet, wincing at the sharp jab of pain in his right knee. The hall light flicked on, illuminating the crack under the door. He clutched his wand for a moment and then, deciding against it as a first impression, placed it carefully on the floor. As he straightened up, the study door creaked open.
Two figures were outlined in the bright yellow light. The new arrival blinked to focus his vision.
They had their wands outstretched. He held up his hands in a gesture of peace. The younger figure, standing slightly behind the other, lowered his wand slowly.
James Potter's eyes widened as he pushed past his father into the study. He stared at the dishevelled form of his best friend.
'Sirius?' he said cautiously. Sirius Black nodded weakly.
James grinned. 'About bloody time.'