Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything. I'm just playing with JKR's dolls.
James Potter
James Potter was not one to be afraid; through school he had forged himself a reputation for being unshakable, unshockable. In short, fearless.
But it was all a mask. Even then, if you had cared to look beneath the surface, you would have seen a scared boy. Calling out for attention, calling out for someone, anyone, to see him for him, rather than the persona he had construed.
That, however, was nothing, nothing, compared to the terror that swelled in his veins as he stood alone in the hallway of his house.
His fate was inescapable, he was doomed to die. He knew that, but it didn't stop his defiance. In a faint prophecy of his wife's actions, he refused to move aside.
Many people think only of themselves, or of one person, before they die. Almost as many would have expected the same from James Potter. But these people were the ones who never cared to lift the mask that adorned the man's face.
And so, as the villain before him raised his wand with a casual carelessness, James Potter knew how his death would affect the world.
He knew it would condemn his best friend.
He knew the secret of said best friend's love would die with him.
He knew a prophecy would be fulfilled in part.
He knew his wife would be widowed.
And he knew, most likely, his son would be, at best, orphaned.
He knew this, yet he raised his chin, and met his death like the man he had always wanted to be. And thus, James Potter met his end, a glimmer of mixed hope and despair alighting his eyes.