A/N: So here's a weird chapter. I won't have time to update again till Sunday, so I'm trying to get something quick in, to explain more about the Potter family. Enjoy!
Meant To Be: Part 20
Early on a Sunday morning in late November, a small nine-year-old boy slid carefully down the stairs of a huge house. He felt his way around in the dark to a bedroom.
"Jackie?" he asked tentatively. "Jackie, are you here? I had a bad dream."
Nobody answered the little boy, and he slowly turned on the light. The bed was empty, the bookshelves cleared and dusty, one lone white sock lying in the middle of the floor.
That's right! The little boy thought, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. Jack left, last week. Where did Jack go? Was he coming back for Christmas? Why'd he leave?
A small cough interrupted the boy's thoughts. He turned. A young girl of the same age with equally dark hair and big eyes stood in the doorway, observing the scene.
"Jackie left." She said simply.
The boy nodded and walked over to the girl. He hugged her tightly, and she began to cry.
"Jackie left! Jackie left us!" she cried, over and over.
The children were broken up by the entrance of a large presence. They looked up, frightened, to a tall, wide-shouldered man, at least twice as tall as their heights combined.
"Daddy…" the young girl said softly.
The man had a maniacal look in his eye.
"Jack left." He stated.
The children nodded. "Jackie left."
The man began to tremor. "Jack left. Jack left. Jack left."
"Its o.k., daddy!" The boy exclaimed. "He'll be back."
The man grabbed the boy by the neck of his nightshirt.
"Don't you understand?" he yelled, "Jack's NEVER coming back!"
"Yes he will!" the boy shouted, "He'll come back for Christmas! He wouldn't leave us, not-
The man threw the boy against the wall, hard.
"Daddy!" the girl shrieked.
The boy reached up to wipe a line of blood from his mouth, and the man advanced upon him again. He kicked him, hard in the stomach. The boy doubled up and gasped for air, and the man whispered,
"He's never coming back."
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
A young boy of ten sat in his bed, crying. He had a large bruise spreading across his forehead, and the cut on his right arm was throbbing painfully. He looked up as someone entered the room.
"Sorry, sir." He said quietly.
"You know why you were punished?" the man stated.
"Because I dropped mommy's cake."
"Yes you did."
"I'm sorry."
"You can't fix this by being sorry, son! Sorry won't bring the cake back, will it?"
"It was just a cake, dad…"
A strange purple-gray color spread across the man's face. He pulled the boy out of bed and threw him to the ground in front of him.
"Are you talking back to me, son?"
"No, I didn't-
He was cut off as a large, meaty fist connected with his jaw.
"That'll teach you to stop talking back to your betters."
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
An eleven-year-old boy sat quietly at the breakfast table, stirring his oatmeal disdainfully. He had woken up late, and the house-elves had already cleared away all the breakfast things. So he was stuck with sticky gray oatmeal. He hadn't yet eaten a bite of it when his father walked in.
"Why aren't you eating?" he demanded.
"I don't care for oatmeal, sir," he answered.
"Well that's not my problem is it? You should have been down on time."
"Sorry sir." The boy continued to stir the cold oatmeal, still not eating.
"Eat your breakfast, son."
"I don't like oatmeal."
"Eat your breakfast now!"
"But-
The man grabbed the bowl of oatmeal and pressed the boy against the chair with his fist. He grabbed a spoonful of oatmeal and stuffed it into the boy's mouth. He grabbed another, and another, continuing to force the spoon into his son's mouth. The boy began to choke violently, and the man finally walked away, leaving the boy to cough up oatmeal and blood onto the kitchen floor.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
The boy was still eleven, and eating breakfast with his mother and sister. A door opened far away.
The man walked around the corner, a strange smirk on his face.
"Dear, are you-drunk?" the woman asked.
"Ha! Of course not! I only had a few firewhiskeys down at the pub!" He bumped into a table. "Ow. Anyways-you."
The boy gulped. "Yeah, dad?"
"I talked to the minister today. You know what he said? He said-he said that you and that friend of yours were getting into trouble at school. Is that true?"
The boy lowered his gaze to his plate. "We got a few detentions, but we didn't get into any real trouble."
"Well, no son of mine is disgracing the family name. It's time…" He pulled the boy out of his chair, "…you learn some discipline."
"Daddy, NO!" the girl shrieked.
The man thrust his knee into his son's stomach. The boy gasped and keeled over, choking.
"Daddy, stop!"
He kicked the boy in the chest. The boy cried out as he kicked again, but this time in his face.
"James!" the girl shrieked. "James! James! James!"
"James, wake up! James! James!"
James Potter opened his eyes suddenly. His clothes were soaked through with sweat, and Jessi sat on the bed next to him, shaking him by the shoulders and crying.
"James, are you alright?"
James nodded and began sobbing.
"Jessi, it was awful! Dad, and, and Jack…"
Jessi began to cry too, holding her brother close and rocking back and forth.
"It's o.k., James, we'll be fine. "We're safe now."
Oh, how wrong they were…
A/N: Yay! Cliffy! Reviews please!