Copyright belongs to JKR and certainly not me... things would be sooo much different if these guys resided in my twisted little mind. Heh.
Comments welcome, flames too, but please bear in mind that they will all be scoffed at, then shared with my friends, scoffed at some more, then posted on my LJ. Have fun!
I wrote this for Em in the beginning and she knows who she is. That's what's important. I continued for her and CourtMonster. Go you guys.
And... we're off! (Which should be readily apparent.)
The dark haired boy dives, appearing out of no where, his strong arms wrapping around the shoulders of the man he looked just like. The surprising weight of him takes James to the floor as the door he'd been about to open bursts off its hinges. Shoving the man down and covering the fighting Auror bodily, voice low and insistent. "Please! Stop! Listen to me! James please!"
The boy growls softly and whispers the words to bind the older man, focusing hard to make the wandless magic work. "I swear to merlin.. if you've made me too late..." He growls in his strangely hollow voice, climbing to his feet and heading for the stairs, pausing as a gods-awful scream rends the air.
Green eyes widen in realization, breath catching as he barrels up the stairs, shaking off the shock. He summons the crystal orb he'd picked up a Dimension away in an alley he wasn't supposed to visit, hoping it would work as advertized.
He lurches through the nursery door, screaming, "NO!" He stumbles, losing his feet a moment as the curse rebounds off the baby, the house around them seeming to shudder.
The young man keeps his feet through sheer will and stumbles further into the room as the Dark Lord's body crumbles. He gasps the words to catch the fleeing spirit of Voldemort, the orb glowing brightly then winking out like a snuffed star, the dust that was left of He-Who-Musn't-be-Named's body sifting to the floor.
Green eyes well with tears as the former Gryffindor crumples to his knees, staring at the body of Lily Evans-Potter, beautiful red hair lying in a halo about her somehow peaceful face. She'd died knowing she was saving her son.
Shoulders shaking, he moans like a lost spirit, salt-water sliding down his cheeks likes drops of mercury, looking up at the man he'd left in the foyer, voice hollow and lost. "Too late..."
The Wizarding World would never forget the day. They would always praise the Boy Who Lived and the Unknown Savior.
James Potter would always claim publicly to have not seen the person who'd saved his life, he didn't even tell his two remaining dear friends the Truth.
The truth that he'd slipped the binding charms easily and followed the familiar stranger upstairs and found him weeping over his wife's body. Apologies had been profuse from the green-eyed boy, who was stained and mud-spattered and looked as though he'd just been in a war and not a minor spat with an Evil Would-be Overlord.
And... they'd comforted each other. James taking solace in his sleeping son, peaceful despite the new scar; the boy crying it out into exhaustion, falling asleep in James' arms, face pale and silvery. James had left him in their bed in a strang sleep-like state as he made his reports and calls... telling the world what had happened.
After all it had been his son who'd saved them by some miracle of magic. Harry had managed to cross the boundaries of time and space... had come back to set himself free-- and ended up trapped in a worse position.