A/N - So this is a new piece I'm toying with. I'm putting up the prologue now, but I can't really say when I'm going to update, as I don't want to put any chapters up until I have a substantial idea of how the story's going to play out. This is going to be a mystery, and I estimate that it'll be around twelve or so chapters. It's nothing like From First To Last, in terms of genre, because this is going to take on more serious notes, but I'm interested to hear your feedback nonetheless. Cheers!
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Whoosh.
The sound of the wind flooded his ears as he dodged a tree branch and jumped over a recently sliced tree trunk in his sprint. James Potter brushed over yet another scratch on his face, wincing slightly, but maintaining his sprint.
'Shit!'
He nearly stumbled over a stray log on the floor, caught his balance, and then changed directions. If they found him, it would be over; they'd even already taken his wand.
James swore again as a sharp branch pierced through the sleeve of the Muggle tuxedo coat he'd been sporting that night. He pulled off the coat, deciding he didn't need the extra weight, and changed directions. He could hear shouting nearby, but couldn't tell which direction it came from—one of them had managed to get him in the ear earlier, had shot a spell that ricocheted off his left ear and left blood sliding down against his jaw.
James wasn't entirely certain if they were still following him, but he didn't make any attempt to slow down. He remained low, sprinting past rotting trees, jumping over branches, moss and wet leaves, heading anywhere that appeared safe in the crucial goal to remain alive. Above him, the moon was full, standing over him tauntingly, its bright light threatening to reveal his location immediately.
He tore through the forest, running, his arm bleeding, his cheek opening in a clean slice by the branch he'd just passed. His legs began to ache, but he ignored the pain, and the thought of survival continued to pound against his temples when, suddenly in the distance, where there seemed to be an opening towards a clearing, he saw—
Lily.
James froze. A wand was pointing directly at him.
She was in a long, emerald dress; it was the colour of the blazing eyes regarding him, the colour of James' own tie that night. Her red hair had come undone from the chignon he'd seen earlier that evening. She was barefoot.
'I'm sorry, James,' she said. Her voice cracked, but Lily's wand remained firm, pointing at him resolvedly. Her eyes were bright against the reflection of the moon.
'Lily?' James took a slow step towards her. 'Lily, what are you doing?'
'I'm sorry,' repeated Lily. 'I have to—'
'—what's going on, Lil?'
'—I love you—'
'—Lily!'
'Avada Kedavra!'
A green, blinding flash filled the air.