Takes a bow

Thanks, everybody! Is my story really that good! You really can lift someone's spirit during examtimes! I've finished the lousy exams so now I'm a bit more free. Sorry for the massive delay in updating, but I had to send my stupid computer away to be fixed - I think there's a virus in my modem or something.. anyways, I hope you enjoy chapter 3 just as much!

Review replies:

amrawo: Thanksies! Glad you liked the chapter!

Schnickledooger: Oh God, you're still bawling, darling? hands a tissue You're not alone. Everyone who had the sense to love Sirius cursed J.K into the 155th century. But, know that miracles happen! tiny, itsy, bitsy little hint

Barbossa'sApples: Thanks a lot!

IamSiriusgrl and Eric2: I'm glad you love the story! I try to update as soon as I can! I really do!

zebraFinch: Oh my God, thanks a lot! You really like my writing that much? P.S: What sort of fic would this be if James never meets Harry! I'll throw myself out the window before i even think of that..

RainingInsanity: Thank you so so much for your compliments! I hope the next chapters and this one appeal to you just as much! I love it that you like the idea f how James turned out to be alive, but I have to tell you that this idea is - unfortunately - not completely original. I once found a 'James is alive' fanfic on this very site and the idea of how he lived was stunningly similiar to this one, even though I created the idea myself, but the other fic's starting date is much earlier than mine! Oh, well...it's amazing how people's thoughts from different countries could be so similiar.

To those who see no reply to their reviews above..I'm really sorry, but you must have reviewed after day 10/5/2005!

Chapter 3: The Capture

No. 4, Privet Drive

Harry's scar continued to prickle uncomfortably after waking up from the vision, but he hardly noticed. It's been a half-hour since he learned that his supposedly-dead father was alive. No matter how hard he tried to think, sickening scenes and scenarios kept popping up in his head.

His father had never died. He was buried alive and now Lord Voldemort is about to bring him back to lure Harry - if he still lived to this day.

Or if he hadn't already suffocated inside his coffin.

Harry shook his head and leaned again against the wall, with new tears softly sliding down his flushed cheeks. He closed his eyes and tried to think, and a new thought came to him:

What if this whole vision was an illusion? What if Voldemort had fabricated the whole thing up to make him make the same foolish mistake that made him lose his dear godfather in the first place?

He didn't want to have someone else killed because of him - because of his reckless mistakes. The emotional and loving side of him - however - took the firmer hold. His father is known to be dead by everyone and confirmed, but Voldemort had just said that he'd banished his soul and now brought it back. Back...

Trapped inside a dark, dead grave. Harry clamped a hand over his mouth and sank to the floor. How would that feel, being locked up in a box underground where no one can ever hear you even when you scream your lungs hoarse for help..

"Enough! Please enough!" Harry sobbed, clawing weakly at his head. His head fell non-too gently against the wall and he started crying all over again. This was too much. He had to know the truth before he totally lost his mind with grief. He replayed Voldemort's words again in his head.

He abruptly stood up and wiped his eyes in his sleeve. His father was either dead or alive. He's going to find out and no one will stop him. If James was dead.. then Harry wouldn't be risking anyone because no one will know he's gone until it's too late, but if James was really alive, then he'd be with him even if they never got out of Voldemort's clutches.

Or Maybe - just maybe - I might get lucky and escape with him. The hopeful voice in any human whispered.

Now that decision made, Harry found himself against another obstacle: How the hell was he going to find Voldemort's lair? He didn't have the foggiest idea where it could be, besides the fact that it's very likely to be in Britian. Another problem intoduced itself into his mind: What's he going to do with Mundungus and Figgs and all those watching him but hidden from view? They'd never let him out of his sight as soon as he left the house and won't let him go anywhere - not after Dumbledore's strict orders.

First things first, Harry thought firmly. He stood still, a strange power of determination mingled with magic coursing through him and focused with all his might as he attempted to do something he never thought he'd do; he was going to enter Voldemort's mind - willingly.

Godric's Hollow

James sprinted down Godric's Hollow - which seemed mostly empty and forbidden - and stopped when he was sure he was in front of No.14, otherwise he wouldn't have believed that the old, filthy ruins surrounded by a still, slighty grey mist reflected in his hollow eyes used to be his lovely house. The part that had marvellously remained standing seemed on the verge of collapsing any second. The windows were smashed; the walls were holed and upstairs seemed like it had been the sight of an explosion.

He went through what used to be the front door and his eyes filled with tears as he looked at what used to be the living room. One of the couches was still in one piece, but dirty and inverted. The windows, the library shelves and the vases have been shattered or at least broken with many of the pieces missing. His footsteps sounded dull and lost against the bare, partly-missing floor. The walk through the kitchen and the guest room were as depressing, and his tears never stopped flowing.

He climbed the stairs and cried out in pain when his leg got caught in a hole between the steps. Yanking it back out, he climbed up the rest of the stairs and stood outside his and Lily's room: the first on the left. Destroyed but recognisable as it was, James couldn't bring himself to set a foot inside and instead walked over to Harry's little nursery just five feet away, as there was no wall to separate both rooms any longer.

He got a closer look at the little room and thought he'd die of grief right then. There was hardly any floor. The walls were holed and charred. Harry's little toys were dirty and hardly recognisable. James noticed that the black charring and ashes seemed to be coming from the centre of the room right were Harry's crib always stood, and now it was just one of the crib's legs that he could see.

He choked.

"Oh, Harry..!" he sobbed and ran out of the house as fast as he could, with bits of the floor giving way behind him as he bolted through the hall, down the stairs and out of the house where he fell onto the dead, un-mowed grass and cried harder than ever.

The Riddle House - No. 4, Privet Drive

Nagini slithered over to her master's seat and lifted her head up with a low hiss.

"Patience, dear Nagini. We shall be having a guest quite soon, and you will have a good feast." he said and stood up lazily and moved towards the window. He gazed outside onto the dark street and gardens with anxiety and anticipation, waiting for the Death Eaters he had sent to return with Potter senior.

The neighbourhood was quiet and dark. A stray brown cat could be barely seen disappearing into an alley and a large barn owl landing onto a dirty black sign:

Wissledeth Street

Rinkledin Road

Lanselnott Street

Little Hangleton

Again, Lord Voldemort felt the familiar, strange headache he'd felt only a while before, and the slight feeling of being watched. But before he could dwell on it, gone it was and back at Privet Drive, Harry fell heavily onto the side of his bed, panting slightly, his own headache throbbing against his scar - although it wasn't half as bad as it is when Voldemort tries to enter his mind.

When it eased a bit, he started to think how in the world he was going to get out of the house. He can't fly - his Firebolt wasn't with him, and he can't take a cab as he had no Muggle money. The only chance he had was the Knight Bus, but he knew Mundungus could be close by the house. If not, Arabella Figg was, and neither would let him go far away from the house and if he explained - they'll probably lock him up in his room, tell Dumbledore and he'll send Aurors who'll attack the whole place and very probably his father.

Like they'll believe it's really dad, he thought sadly, feeling so alone. But he cleared his mind and focused on how he would catch the Bus.

"Could it come in here?" he asked no one, and decided that it probably could. He walked over to his bedside table, took his wand and hurried down the stairs and into the wide living room. The curtains were shut and it was quiet outside. A good beginning. He moved the sofa, table and couches against the walls of the living room to leave as large empty an area as he could in the centre of the room.

Breathing hard from the effort, he stood on the side and waved his wand outwards as if waving for a cab. He almost passed out with relief when the Knight Bus appeared in the living room with its trademark BANG and screeched to a halt before a collidal with the kitchen door. If Harry had been less keen to leave, he would have been terrified at what his aunt and uncle would do to him when they come back and see the living room carpet lined with black tyre marks and the floor cracking noisily and slightly giving way beneath the bus's enormous weight.

Stan Shunpike appeared at the opening bus door and beamed at the sight of Harry, vaguely noticing that he and the Bus were inside a Muggle house: " 'Arry Potter! 'Tis so good to see u 'gain! Comin 'ere! Where d'u wanna gao, this toime?"

"I have to get to Little Hangleton, Stan - a street called Wissledoth or Wissledeth - something like that. Hurry up, please!" Harry replied breathlessly and hopped in, but stopped on the little step when he remembered his Invisibility Cloak - and his money.

"Hold on just a minute, Stan! Just a minute, please!" and with that, he ran back up to his bedroom and grabbed his money bag and Cloak from his open trunk. Not pausing to see whether he'll need anything else, he jumped down the steps in threes and fours. As he passed by one of the curtained windows of the living room, he thought he saw a shadow moving outside, struggling to see through. The matted hair looked familiar – Mundungus!

Harry jumped onto the bus and whispered urgently :"Hurry, Stan! Go!"

"Hold 'ur 'ippogriffs! U 'eard 'im, Ern - take it 'way!"

One and a half second later, the living room was left empty with a BANG, and the floor left badly cracked with dirt enough to make Harry's aunt pass out. The living room window was shattered to pieces and Mundungus stumbled in. He straightened up, and stared blankly with his mouth hanging open at the empty living room.

Godric's Hollow

"This is insane, Lucius! No normal person can believe this! How in Hell is Potter alive? How?"

"Avery..." Lucius answered, sounding irritated and a bit unnerved, "I know no more than you do about this, but you were there - and the Dark Lord refused to tell us anything more than the fact that he never killed him - and I was not as foolish as you to insist on knowing the reason. You are very lucky he didn't kill you on the spot..." he finished scathingly.

Avery flinched at the recent, unpleasant memory and turned round the corner with Malfoy, coming closer towards No.14.

"Why couldn't we just Apparate?" he grumbled under his breath, but Lucius heard him and smirked. Why does everyone I know so stupid?

"Because Master wanted us to search every place from the Cemetery to here, brainwave. We cannot do that when we are Apparating." he drawled.

Avery looked at Lucius's mostly-hidden face beneath the hood of his cloak :"Brainwave? Brainwave? What brought that to your memory now? I remember you calling Potter that back in the old schooldays." he commented, smiling slightly.

"Indeed. I cannot deny that he is very intelligent, but he was still one of those useless fools who fail to see our Lord's reason."

Stupid Gryffindors. No sense of self-preservation whatsoever, and they come back to you just when you thought you've gotten rid of them forever.

"I would enjoy it if Master allowed me to kill him." he said softly, maliciously "It would quite satisfy my - dislike for him."

"I don't really think that could happen, Lucius," Avery said "He'll want Potter for himself like he did all the other times...but I thought you will have rather enjoyed the thought of imagining him waking up in his own grave." he finished with a giddy sort of note in his voice.

Remembering the eerie scene of the blown-up grave, Lucius secretly thought it was too gruesome to do this to someone - even to a person who disgusted him. So he hadn't really savoured the thought much.

"Well, we have searched the Cemetery and the street leading up to here, so he's probably at his house - if it is legal to call what's left of it that."

They marched quietly, hidden by the darkness down the abandoned street which was never the same again after the fateful Halloween night 15 years ago. As they got closer, faint sobs of a broken voice started creeping into their ears.

"Shh..quietly now.." Lucius ordered and they crept up to the gate in front of the ruins of No. 14, where the crying was clearer and harder.

Lucius supressed a shiver and went through the open gate, Avery following. Even though they knew what they were coming for, seeing James Potter for the first time in 15 years after supposedly being dead still came as a shock. They both stood there for a few short moments, taking in James's lithe figure on the grass, his face hidden by his hair which seemed not to stick up for the first time in Lucius's opinion, crying bitterly. His robes were old and wasting away - they had to be the same ones he was buried with.

This is…beyond gross. Why am I watching this?.

"Come on." Lucius whispered and cautiously stepped into the front yard, taking slow, quiet steps so as not to alarm Potter - not that it would have mattered with all the sobbing. Feeling more confident, he and Avery came to a halt on either side of him. Lucius pulled his wand out and stunned him. James's crying stopped quite abruptly, as if stabbed, then slumped onto the ground, unconscious.

"That was pathetically easy." Lucius said smugly, nudging James's head slightly with the tip of his shoe.

"Hmm. Let's take him back." Avery said and bent down to hold one of James's limp arms and prepare to Apparate. Lucius did the same: "One...Two.."

Within a second, No. 14, Godric's Hollow was empty once again.