Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or events, they are
all property of J.K. Rowling, so don't blame me if it isn't in her style of
writing.
Also, be kind, this is my first fanfic!
The spell flung him back against the wall. He could hear the blue china dishes, a wedding gift from his mother, shatter and break. Groaning, he tried to lift himself up, to send one more volley at his adversary, but he could not manage more than to lean on his elbow. His energy was gone, his will, vanished. He looked up at the figure towering over him; despair threatening to swallow the last remnants of his hope. Images flooded through his mind, memories of things he would never see again. His wife, shining and radiant on her wedding day, his son, learning to fly before he could walk, his best friend, planning yet another mission of pranks. He thought of how he had failed, how this man towering above him would destroy everything he loved, everything he had ever hoped for....
But no, surely he had given his wife and son enough time to flee; surly they would be safe by now, surely... A high, cold voice interrupted his thoughts, a voice that could convey, even in only two words, the triumph, the arrogance, of its speaker. "Goodbye, James."
As he watched a jet of green light speeding towered him, James sent a last message to his wife, hoping beyond hope that some how, someway, she would hear him. Live Lily. Please, live, for me.
Voldemorte lowered his wand. James had proven a worthy adversary, but the duel had cost him time from going after Harry. Voldemorte could not delay any longer; he HAD to kill that child. He put away his wand, and swept swiftly out the door. But before he went through the doorway, he took one last look at his victim, and what he saw there sent a chill down his spin. Unlike his other victims, James did not have an expression of fear upon his face, he didn't even have one of desperation or failure. Instead, he looked calm, even peaceful. He was smiling.
Also, be kind, this is my first fanfic!
The spell flung him back against the wall. He could hear the blue china dishes, a wedding gift from his mother, shatter and break. Groaning, he tried to lift himself up, to send one more volley at his adversary, but he could not manage more than to lean on his elbow. His energy was gone, his will, vanished. He looked up at the figure towering over him; despair threatening to swallow the last remnants of his hope. Images flooded through his mind, memories of things he would never see again. His wife, shining and radiant on her wedding day, his son, learning to fly before he could walk, his best friend, planning yet another mission of pranks. He thought of how he had failed, how this man towering above him would destroy everything he loved, everything he had ever hoped for....
But no, surely he had given his wife and son enough time to flee; surly they would be safe by now, surely... A high, cold voice interrupted his thoughts, a voice that could convey, even in only two words, the triumph, the arrogance, of its speaker. "Goodbye, James."
As he watched a jet of green light speeding towered him, James sent a last message to his wife, hoping beyond hope that some how, someway, she would hear him. Live Lily. Please, live, for me.
Voldemorte lowered his wand. James had proven a worthy adversary, but the duel had cost him time from going after Harry. Voldemorte could not delay any longer; he HAD to kill that child. He put away his wand, and swept swiftly out the door. But before he went through the doorway, he took one last look at his victim, and what he saw there sent a chill down his spin. Unlike his other victims, James did not have an expression of fear upon his face, he didn't even have one of desperation or failure. Instead, he looked calm, even peaceful. He was smiling.
