The air was peaceful later. James found himself in possession of a new, limited edition Gobstones set, a fair supply of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes from their creator, a large lump of chocolate he planned on eating none of, a book of advanced Transfiguration with full colored illustrations, a broomstick saddle bag from his parents, and a model Quidditch set.

He was sitting on the floor beside Albus, prodding the tiny robed figures on toothpick style broomsticks around the expertly painted model field on its plastic stand with the tip of his wand when his mother's head jerked upwards across the room. Both brothers followed her eyes and saw his father standing in the corner, twitching.

"Outside," Ginny mouthed, deep in inescapable conversation with her mother, and James sprang quickly to his feet, shoving his brother back down when he tried to follow.

He made his way across the room, but before he could get far, he nearly ran head long into a figure he was quite surprised to see. "Professor Creevey!" he exclaimed.

"James," the man said, smiling warmly.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Albus stand and slip towards his father. He bit his tongue.

James made to follow him, but Professor Creevey was watching him.

"So, what brings you here?" James asked casually, desperate for escape.

Dennis laughed. "Oh, I let slip in the staff room that I was going to be alone for Christmas this year, and next thing I knew, Professor Longbottom was dragging me through your Gran's front door."

"Are you two friends, then?" James asked, craning his neck desperately for a sight of Albus.

"Oh, yes, we go way back," Dennis said airily. "Your parents too, we were all at Hogwarts together."

James forced a smile. "I see. Yeah, Mum mentioned once that she was friends with your brother at school."

Dennis stared at him, and for a moment his face seemed to tighten. It passed quickly, however, and a moment later he was smiling freely again. "Quite. Well, James, you look like you have somewhere you want to be, rather than talking with your old Professor. Off with you, then."

"I- er, well, yeah, see you," James muttered, and scooted off, Dennis chuckling in the back ground.

"Why, hello, James!" An airy voice declared mere feet later.

James stopped, muscles tensing. "Hey, Luna," he said, grinning at her and her twin boys, Lorcan and Lysander while mentally grimacing. His face muscles were beginning to ache.

She frowned seriously. "Wrackspurt got you? That's all very understandable, James, they're everywhere in here. Happy Christmas."

And with that she was tugged off by one of her sons- James could never tell which scrawny, wide-eyed blonde seven year old was which.

He broke through the kitchen and out the back door at a run, lest anyone else try to stop him.

Tearing through to the darkened frosty garden, he reached it in time to see his brother and father locked in combat on the grass, and it was instantly clear who had the upper hand. In a moment, Albus was knocked to the ground, Harry falling on top of him, and the boy gave a shriek of terror as the wind was knocked out of him and he lay, panting.

James charged at them, his wand drawn from his pocket. "Stupefy!" he shouted, but the spell missed, and next thing he knew, his father was upon him.

Like Albus before him, James fell to the ground, his wand falling uselessly out of reach as Harry's foot landed square on his chest.

James fought like a wildcat, his arms desperately trying to force his heavy leather shoe away, but the pain was murder, and finally he lay limp under it, hoping the fire in his ribs would ebb. The ground beneath him was frozen and solid, the dying grass icy, freezing his back through his shirt.

Suddenly there came a shout, and Albus ran at his father brandishing a heavy branch, desperately whacking him with cries of "Get off him, Get off!"

And Harry swung around, roaring, catching Albus square in the face with his fists causing him to stumble backward, his glasses cracked and his nose dripping blood.

James forced himself up, clutching at his chest, and staggered to his brother, but before he could reach him, Harry had him by the scruff of the neck and hurled him away. Somewhere, far away, he could hear shouting, screaming. It took him a moment to realize the sounds were coming from his mouth.

James landed hard, the arm he'd thrown out to brace against the fall snapping like a twig before his legs smacked to the ground, knees burning, as did his chin, which caused his teeth to crack against each other. Fire seemed to spring up in every bone in his body, and he was already struggling to remain conscious when Harry's foot swung out of nowhere, catching him first on his stomach, then on the side of his head. And then the darkness surrounding him became complete.

Only moments later, or so it seemed, his mother was crouching beside him, gently shaking his shoulder. He let out a moan as he shifted his face towards her, felt it sticky with blood.

"Oh, sweetie," she whispered.

"Where's Albus?" he wheezed back.

Ginny's lips trembled as she looked tenderly down at him, brushing a lock of dark hair off his forehead. "He's alright," she whispered. "Can you sit up?"

James shook his head. He honestly thought he might throw up, again, if he so much as moved. "Where's Dad?"

She hesitated. "Daddy's inside, James. Shut himself in the loo."

James was struggling to breathe through the pain in his chest.

"Shhh, honey," his Mum whispered. To herself, she mumbled, "Merlin, what am I going to do?"

"You can't take me to Saint Mungo's, Mum," James told her urgently. "One Potter attack is unfortunate, two is worrisome, but three is suspicious. You mustn't!"

His words were so slurred his mother could barely understand him.

There was a sudden intake of breath from just behind the pair, and Ginny whirled.

There stood Hermione, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide.

"Oh, Ginny," she whispered, and it was only then that James, his brain still sluggish, realized how much noise they must have been making.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, muttering, "Shit."