She never tried to hide. During times of great fear, many try to hide. They hide behind masks of who they are expected to be. They hide behind others, because they aren't ready accept what is.
That thought never occurred to Lily. She stood erect as a beacon of something greater during this terrible war.
She was the most unlikely beacon. Lily was muggleborn
All her life Lily had been told that honesty was more valuable than life, and more important than death. Lily was taught by her mother and father that there were a few precious things in life worth living and dying for, chiefly love, truth, integrity, and compassion. Subsequently, when Lily was 16 she knew who she was. This fortification of spirit was tried greatly during the War, when many were hiding, and acting cowardly. Lily always knew who she was and precisely what mattered to her.
James was fueled by anger. His anger contrasted sharply with Lily's confidence and serenity.
James's anger stopped him from hiding. Perhaps if left to his own devices he would have hidden. He would have been one of the nameless who shrunk in fear.
One never knows what would have been, only what is.
But James was too angry, too irate with the constant loss of those around him. James hated seeing potential die.
He started brooding.
All his life James had been taught by his parents to fight, or die trying. This in the end is what saved him. It's a strange world when anger preserves and doesn't distort. It's also ironic that both sides of this tragic war were essentially fueled by an ineffable resentment.
James was enraged. His anger helped to reinforce the wall surrounding him. He didn't want anyone to break through.
Today was a day devoted to thought. James didn't feel much like talking, lately James never did. There are certain events in life which define us. Events which mark us and leave us bereft of emotion, permanently marked. These events are similar to a tree that has been malnourished and subsequently grows deformed and bent. James's soul was like that. Irrevocably changed, and subsequently different.
When James was a little boy he lost his sister
When a family loses a child, that family is never the same. It is dented. Shortly after her death the Potters stopped talking.
It must be said that before her death the Potters were a lively family, a group of people which could only be described as constant motion. James nor his sister, Iris, were ever left wanting. They always felt loved and cared for. The Potter parents were careful to create children who would build a better tomorrow.
Back then James' walk was carefree; his gait resembled skipping more than it resembled walking. He would saunter with his head thrown forward in a state of internal ecstasy.
Iris never walked. She ran.
When Iris was seven she went to work with her uncle Henry Potter. Henry worked in the Department of Mysteries. The Ministry didn't usually allow children to come into that department. But the Potters were a ministry family. Iris ran into an isle in the Prophecy room. A crystal orb fell on her head leaving her small form lifeless.
The Potters learned that day, that they were mortal, and that there are some things which even magic cannot fix.
Ever since then James had always been angry. Voldemort gave him a face on which to put his anger. In every death he saw his sister, and in every life he saw his sister.
His wall was his defense, and his sister, his inspiration.