Prologue: October 31, 1981
Disclaimer: Harry Potter still ain't mine.
Full summary:
A world exists where there is always a happily ever after. But that is a very different world.
James and Lily Potter did not die martyrs, but lived as symbols of resistance. They went into hiding, true hiding this time, a perfect system impossible to infiltrate. Their child, the young boy Harry with the scar that meant not the death of Voldemort but simply his own survival, went with them. Follow, dear reader, and learn: learn of a world in which James and Lily Potter chose to live. But do we ever really choose?
Prologue:
"Take Harry and run! It's him!"
James Potter fully expected to die. He simply held on to the fact that if he could distract Voldemort for a few precious seconds, his wife and son could live.
"Stand aside, you foolish boy. You have no wand. You cannot possibly fight me. Stand aside."
But James held his ground, eyes wide and dilated with fear behind his spectacles, for he was afraid, James Potter was terrified, he knew he would never see his wife and son again but more than anything he was afraid of what would happen next. Was there anything after? If so, what?
All of these thoughts flashed through his mind in a single moment, and then Voldemort was raising his wand, his high, cold voice speaking the words that James knew would end him. But it never came, the flash of emerald light and feeling of cold emptiness; instead, he felt a slamming impact on his back-he frowned slightly: when had Voldemort gotten behind him? No, he was still there, staring in unconcealed surprise, so who-and then he saw Lily, clutching Harry to her chest, standing on the small landing of the creaky wooden stairs the tot had so loved to tramp up and down, her wand held in a death grip in her right hand.
No.
James wanted to scream for them to run, to get out while they could, but his voice was gone, his mouth moved and no sound came out, he couldn't breathe, because they hadn't gotten away, they hadn't escaped, they were still here and they were going to die-
A sneer transfixed itself on Voldemort's snakelike face. He turned to James, eyes glinting red, and spoke again.
"Avada Kedavra!"
As he began to shut his eyes, to curl in on himself, to accept it, James thought of his son.
His son, growing up without his father, Lily struggling to make ends meet.
Or perhaps his son, growing up an orphan, where would he go, with Petunia maybe?
His son, not growing up at all.
And James snapped.
A broken cupboard door shot between him and the jet of light, the bringer of death, leaving a smoking hole in the wood.
Voldemort had not noticed. Assuming him dead, he had moved toward Lily. "Give me the child."
"Go to hell!" Lily screamed.
"Never heard of it," Voldemort replied smoothly. "Is it in England?" He grinned.
James, having just shaken off the shock of succeeding in wandless magic for the first time in his life, scrambled toward his mahogany wand and just barely flung up a Shield Charm before Voldemort sent a curse intended to rip a now-sobbing Harry from his mother's arms.
Voldemort hissed in anger and dissolved the charm with a flick of his wrist.
"Give me the child, silly girl. Do you two really believe that you can stop me?"
And just for a moment, a single moment, Lily hesitated. But then reinforcements arrived.
Sharp cracks sounded outside as the Order, summoned by James's whispered Patronus and led by Dumbledore, began to arrive. Shouts could be heard as they saw the wreckage.
James smiled. "No. But they can."
That was the first time he saw Voldemort look frightened. He was determined that it wouldn't be the last.
"Very well, then. We shall make this quick." He twitched his wand and Lily was flung sideways, Harry slipping free.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"NO!"
As the light faded, James fell to his knees, shocked and hopeless, knowing that his son was dead.
But when the green glow disappeared, Harry still sat there, tears running down his cheeks, his healthy pink cheeks, a glowing scar in the shape of the lightning bolt branded onto his forehead.
If James was surprised, Voldemort was baffled. He stared in silent amazement at the unharmed boy in front of him.
"JAMES! LILY!"
The frantic yells made his head snap back up, and he remembered the growing number of Order members outside. With one last incredulous look at the young boy that had survived the Killing Curse, he fled, shadows wrapping around him like a cloak of darkness.
As black spots began swimming at the edge of James's vision, he looked around at the destroyed sitting room and smiled anticlimactically. It was over.
Then he frowned at he remembered the look of shock and pure, unadulterated hate in Voldemort's eyes when he saw that Harry had survived. He had made him look weak, James realized. And Voldemort would never allow someone who humiliated to live.
So perhaps... perhaps it was just the beginning.
No. It was far too late to be the beginning. So many lives lost, so much suffering-no. It had to be the middle.
James's last thought was a realization that he was okay with that. In the beginning, a conflict shatters the facade of peace, and in the end, they would have to face all that they had lost and begin again.
Yes. He was glad that it was the middle.
A/N: Hehe... um... so I know I told you that I would have two chapters of Unexpected Turn for you this week, but I simultaneously had a burst of inspiration and hit writer's block, so here's a new story, but I've got nothing on my other one. I've essentially got a wall. Any ideas you have, PM me. I may include them if I like them and they fit with my plans. I'll (...probably?) have two Unexpected Turn chapters for you next week. Sorry! No, really. I actually feel bad. Please don't egg my house.
~~~J, a friend. "Sanctissimi cordis, quam acerrimi animi!"