I do not own Harry Potter. Sigh.
If things are underlined (like this), it is a flashback.
It was Christmas Eve. The manor was completely done up. The house-elves seemed to take the phrase 'deck the halls' a little too literally. The whole family was home, which was a rarity. It was almost midnight. Only three people were awake. The three eldest Potter children sat by the large tree, the only light coming from the moon and the fire. It was a tradition with them to stay up until midnight, and have a mini Christmas countdown. They all go to bed after midnight, as not to be too tired on Christmas morning. They were all really excited. Christmas was almost here. 30 seconds…25 seconds…20 seconds…15 seconds…10 seconds…5…4…3…2…1…
BANG!
The house shook with the force of the hit. Mr. Potter came rushing into the room they were in, face white. Cassie's expression matched his. James and Jessie were confused.
"Dad, what happened?" Jessie asked.
"The wards are coming down." It was Cassie who answered. Both twins paled.
"Where's mum?" James abruptly asked. She was no where to be seen.
"She's tending to Sarah. No more questions. We don't have time-" Whatever else Charlus Potter said was drowned out by a big bang. The magic in the house rippled.
"Cassie, make sure that James and Jessie get out and make it to safety. The same goes for you. I am going to help you mother." The three children were staring at him. "Well what are you waiting for? Go! NOW!" He had to shout as another bang resonated throughout the structure.
The house flared white, signaling the failure of the wards. Charlus ran in one direction, while Cassie, Jessie, and James went to the fireplace.
"Damn it!" Cassie yelled. Her two younger siblings looked at her strangely. "The floo network is blocked." She explained. She then tried to apparate. "Shit."
James sighed. "We can't get out."
It was a statement rather than a question. The only way out was straight into the enemy's wide open arms.
They made their way to the entrance hall without incident.
BANG!
The outside wall exploded. Dust and debris were everywhere. James was thrown into the air. He heard Jessie scream, and the thud of a body hitting the ground. James got to his feat and ran over to where he thought Jessie was. On his way, he saw Cassie. She was sprawled on the floor. We couldn't tell if she was unconscious or dead. Not having time to check, he went on. He found Jessie. She had a nasty bruise on the side of her face, but otherwise seemed fine.
"Can you move?" He asked her.
"Yes, now go!" she hissed. They ran up the stairs.
Robed men were now swarming into the house from the gaping hole the explosion created. They reached the door to the room Sarah was in a moment too late. They heard a scream. Sarah crying. A body hitting the floor. James got there before Jessie. He saw a snake-like man point his wand at his mum. There was a flash of green light. She was dead before she hit the ground. Sarah was on the floor, but whether she was dead or not was hard for James to determine. He saw his dad panting. He must have been dueling the snake man for a while. The latter pointed his wand at the Minister, and with a flash of green light he was no more.
"DAAAAAAAD!!" James let out an anguished cry as his father hit the floor, dead.
The murderer turned to face them. Jessie and James ran for it. The ran as if their life depended on it. Which, when you think about it, wasn't very far from the truth.
They ended up in their parents' room. A dead end. They turned to leave just as the snake man entered. Jessie let out a small gasp when she saw his eyes. They were as red as blood.
"Who are you?" How James managed to speak through his terror Merlin only knows.
The man smiled. "I value such bravery, young Mr. Potter." He smiled, revealing white teeth. "I am Lord Voldemort."
James was taken aback at his honesty, and how sane he seemed. Jessie's reaction mirrored his own.
He pointed his wand at Jessie. "Jessica. You are going to become a fine young lady, not so different from your sister." The enigma of his words hung in the air.
There was a flash of purple light, and Jessie was slammed against the wall. She lay still on the floor.
"Jessie." James breathed. He turned to face Voldemort. "Why are you doing this? What have we ever done to you? Attacking innocents without provocation. You're a monster."
Wrong thing to say the evilest man on earth.
"Pity. I was beginning to like you." Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at James. He paled. "Crucio."
Pain. More pain than he had ever felt before in his life. His body convulsed uncontrollably. It seemed like his very blood was on fire, eating away at him from the inside out. It felt like thousands of white-hot pokers were stabbing him from every which way. James screamed until he could scream no more. His throat started to bleed from screaming so much. His voice became hoarse, and his screams got quieter. The pain did nothing but increase, however. He screamed his heart out. Voldemort only laughed. A high, cruel laugh that will haunt the dreams of all who hear it. After what felt like days (though only 15 minutes had passed), the pain stopped. The curse was taken off of him. Voldemort leaned closer to James.
"Good night, my sweet prince."
James woke with a start. His chest rose and fell with each shallow breath in an irregular pattern. His heart pounded frantically in his ears. His hand trembled as it reached for his glasses. He took a few deep breathes in an attempt to calm himself. The moon provided enough light with her silver beams for him to avoid hitting anything when he walked across his room and into the bathroom. His eye caught his reflection in the mirror. The sheen from cold sweat on his pale skin gave him a ghost like appearance. James splashed water on his face. The cold liquid worked its magic. His breathing evened out, his heart quieted, and the shaking lessened.
"You look horrid, dearie," the mirror observed. "Another nightmare?"
James nodded. His voice was being elusive at the moment.
He went back to his room. There was no way he was going back to sleep. He glanced at his clock. 3:21. Well, at least he got roughly 4 hours of shut eye. It's more than he got last night. Ever since the beginning of summer he had been getting an average of 5 hours of sleep per night. Although lately he had been asleep for less than that. Probable because his nightmares had become increasingly worse every night since he got here. He chuckled wryly as he put on shirt. Voldemort's last words to him were 'goodnight, my sweat prince'. How ironic.
James decided to take a walk. "I have four hours to kill. Might as well to something productive," he muttered as he left his room.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
The grounds were so peaceful. The night air was warm. Creatures of the darkness were at play. A soft wind tickled the trees. The sky was uncharacteristically clear. Not a single cloud marred the starry expanse. His serene surroundings mocked him. Inside, he was anything but clear and calm. He slowly made his way to the lake's edge.
Something had been troubling him for a while. He was never really sure what it was. It was hiding in the shadows of his mind, teasing his conscious. But it was slowly revealing itself to him. The nightmares would never go away. He didn't want to know, didn't want it to be true. But it was. And there's not much he could do about it.
He was particularly bothered by his most recent dream. He had a nightmare. Nothing new. He was used to them by now. But this one was different from all the others. At school he had only dreamt the last bit, where it was only him and that monster. When he came back to his house, the dream started when he was in his parents' room, when that thing came into his parent's room. Never before had he been forced to watch his parent's murder. Never before had he been made to relive that much of it. Not only does it plague him in his sleep, but he couldn't stop himself from dwelling on it when awake. It haunts him every waking moment and every sleeping moment.
He sighed and sat down. A small strip of the lake glistened. His mother always loved it when the moonlight danced in the water.
A ton of people were there. James didn't know most of them. People ranging from Department Heads to school friends were there. It seemed like a good portion if the magical community had showed up to pay their respects to the late Mr. and Mrs. Potter. But what did he expect? His dad was the freaking Minister of Magic.
He hated funerals. People you've never meat in your entire life come up to you and say, "I'm sorry for your lose" or "I'm sorry that your parents died". How do you respond? "Yeah, I'm sorry, too" just doesn't work. And why are they apologizing? It's not like it's their fault.
Empty words. All of them. They are not really sorry. They feel remorse, but not because Charlus and Dorea Potter died. No, they feel remorse because now they have to go through all the trouble of picking a new Minister. There is no sincerity in their words when they offer him their condolences. Fake smiles, fake grief, fake emotions.
Not that the family does much better. Cassiopeia faked being all right. James faked a smile left and right. Jessica faked being composed. Sarah faked a thank you many a time. But never did any of them cry. They couldn't. It is a standard code within the Pureblood Families. There are many things you are forbidden from doing in public. Crying is one of them.
All of the Heads of the Pureblood Families were accounted for. Another rule. But it was only the Head of the family, though. No children or spouses. Of course, there are always exceptions. If there is a personal connection, they are permitted to come.
The crowd thinned, slowly but surely. The last few stragglers left when it started to drizzle. James slowly walked up to the freshly dug graves. They were made out of white marble.
Charlus Antioch Potter Dorea Elladora Black Potter
8 February 1828 – 25 December 1973 12 June 1827 – 25 December 1973
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so
He traced the letters of his parents' names with his finger. Warm liquid on his cheek alerted him to the fact that he was crying. A hand squeezed his shoulder. He turned around and left the graveyard, not waiting for his older sister.
James hated his parents at the moment. Why did they have to die? Things would be so much better if they lived. He would be able to look forward to the holidays. He would be able to sleep at night. He would be able to enjoy the New Years Eve party his mother and father hosted.
"That's it," he said in realization.
The young teen got up and walked briskly to the house. At the parties, the finest wines were served. The wines were kept in the wine cellar. The other alcoholic beverages were stored in the premise.
James opened the cabinet, eyes searching for a certain drink. He grabbed the bottle and a shot glass in one smooth motion. But then he stopped. Did he really want to do this? He hadn't had a restful sleep in over a year. He hadn't gotten more than 4 hours of sleep in two weeks. He saw his parents' murder in his sleep. He was tortured every night. He heard a monster's voice daily...
His resolve was solidified. A minute waterfall of liquid diamond splashed into the little glass. It burned his throat and his eyes watered. Deciding that it would not due to pass out where he was, James went back to his bedroom.
He sat on his comfortable bed. The tiny glass clenched in his fist was filled a couple more times. The boy put the capped bottle under his bed. After downing the contents of the clear liquid container for the third time, the glass rested next to the bottle. A moment later, darkness embraced James.
A Note From the Author: I am sorry about the long wait. I am well aware of how much time has passed since my previous chapter. I apologize for keeping people waiting. Life caught up with me, and I barely had time to eat, let alone write. Fortunately, my schedule is not quite so busy right now, and should remain that way for the next two months or so.
I don't like this chapter very much. I was going to wait posting it until I changed it enough that I felt satisfied with it, but I realized that that would mean the few people who read this wouldn't get to do so for about a year. Instead, I forced myself to get it over with. Besides, I can always come back and edit it. :)
Please tell me what you think. Reviews are always apprechiated. Whenever I read a story, I make an effort to review. I know how much authors enjoy them. Be nice or be mean. I don't give a twig.
