He stood staring out into the darkening blue sky. Black rain clouds past
over head as he stood there in the warmth of his manor. Three days ago the
manor had been busy and full, three days ago there had been laughter,
bright smiles, and excited chatter. Now the house laid empty, silent, cold.
There was no happiness, no joy, only a lingering pain.
Three days ago his life changed...
Sitting in the parlour, room lit aglow with the firelight and candlelight. On his lap sat The Evening Prophet, and across from him sat an elderly woman. Stone cold grey eyes, pale white skin, and even in her old age, thick black hair.
"James," she croaked.
Every since she had returned from her trip in Africa she had looked older, weaker, more like the mother she was.
"I'm dying."
He never wanted to believe her; he didn't want to lose her. It was only five months ago that a horrible accident had claimed his father's life, and now, his mother was dying. Why was she telling him this anyway?
"The will is in the vault. Everything goes to you and your future family," she looked at him with tear filled eyes, "now I would like to be alone."
James had done as he was told. He left her alone. He knew he should have stayed with her, he knew in his heart that what she was saying was true, and now she was gone. Through the window, he could see the graveyard filled with Potters dating back a hundred years or more.
"James?" Lily questioned as she walked into Elizabeth Potter's parlour. "Sirius and Remus are worried about you. You've been up here for three days. Please, come down stairs."
They were only seventeen, only children playing adult games of love, lust, betrayal and hate. How he missed the youthful days of childhood, when the hardships of adults meant nothing to his small mind. When death was when the fish went down the toilet or the cat went missing, not when mothers and fathers were buried within the soils tainted with evil. Death was not about lose friends or family to unknown diseases, or evil Dark Lords, or stupid accidents, or muggles who just didn't want to believe in magic. No, things were much simpler when he was a child.
"My love?" she questioned, walking up to him. "Please talk to me."
James turned to look at his girlfriend. They had come home as soon as Elizabeth had sent word that she had returned. The headmaster had allowed them to visit, knowing Elizabeth had been ill. Now, the teens had a few more days off school before they had to return.
"I miss her." James replied, kissing her coldly as he left her to stand alone in the parlour.
Three days ago his life changed...
Sitting in the parlour, room lit aglow with the firelight and candlelight. On his lap sat The Evening Prophet, and across from him sat an elderly woman. Stone cold grey eyes, pale white skin, and even in her old age, thick black hair.
"James," she croaked.
Every since she had returned from her trip in Africa she had looked older, weaker, more like the mother she was.
"I'm dying."
He never wanted to believe her; he didn't want to lose her. It was only five months ago that a horrible accident had claimed his father's life, and now, his mother was dying. Why was she telling him this anyway?
"The will is in the vault. Everything goes to you and your future family," she looked at him with tear filled eyes, "now I would like to be alone."
James had done as he was told. He left her alone. He knew he should have stayed with her, he knew in his heart that what she was saying was true, and now she was gone. Through the window, he could see the graveyard filled with Potters dating back a hundred years or more.
"James?" Lily questioned as she walked into Elizabeth Potter's parlour. "Sirius and Remus are worried about you. You've been up here for three days. Please, come down stairs."
They were only seventeen, only children playing adult games of love, lust, betrayal and hate. How he missed the youthful days of childhood, when the hardships of adults meant nothing to his small mind. When death was when the fish went down the toilet or the cat went missing, not when mothers and fathers were buried within the soils tainted with evil. Death was not about lose friends or family to unknown diseases, or evil Dark Lords, or stupid accidents, or muggles who just didn't want to believe in magic. No, things were much simpler when he was a child.
"My love?" she questioned, walking up to him. "Please talk to me."
James turned to look at his girlfriend. They had come home as soon as Elizabeth had sent word that she had returned. The headmaster had allowed them to visit, knowing Elizabeth had been ill. Now, the teens had a few more days off school before they had to return.
"I miss her." James replied, kissing her coldly as he left her to stand alone in the parlour.