Her hands grip the table of the hotel room she is staying in. Her breath comes in quick, shallow gasps and her head is pounding to an unreasonably fast tempo. The lights around her grow too bright and she slams her eyelids shut to try and block it out. Every small noise is a gunshot and just as she is about to scream, it stops. The pounding resides to a dull throb and the lights, she realizes, are incredibly dim. She has no idea how long she has been debilitated, and frankly, doesn't care to know.
It was a vision.
It was like none she'd ever had before, and certainly not one she'd like to have again.
She'd predicted death.
The horrifying, gruesome, all-too-violent deaths of hundreds of thousands of people.
She'd heard the screams, felt the blows, experienced the grief for lost loved ones.
And what was worse than everything else, was that at the end of the vision, she had been inches away from saving her brother - the one she'd never known - when a killing curse struck her square in the stomach. She hadn't saved him; they'd both wound up in the arms of their parents.
This was one vision Jamie just couldn't allow to come true.
She knew what she had to do.
She had to make sure that she was close to her brother when the battle finally came. She had to make sure he knew who she was, so he could shout to her for help.
If he lived, the world lived.
If he died, well, so did everyone else.
In order to save the world, she had to befriend her brother. If she was going to keep thousands of people alive, she had to find Harry Potter. To prevent evil from taking over the world, she had to do the one thing she'd promised herself she would never do.
She had to go to Hogwarts.
It was July 23. Exactly eight days before he turned 17. Seven days until he had to leave his 'home' forever. He had one week to inconspicuously pack up everything he owned that he'd be taking with him. He'd start with the small stuff; Hedwig couldn't carry much more than her own body weight. He had to send his things to Hogwarts, where the house elves would put them in his dorm room. He'd been sending small amounts of things so his uncle wouldn't be alerted of what he was doing, but now that it was getting closer to his birthday, he had to figure out a way of getting the larger stuff out. Like his trunk; there was no way Hedwig could lift it, let alone carry it all the way to the school. He stretched out on his bed and slid his arms underneath his head.
He'd written to Hermione, but had gotten no reply. He assumed it was because she was busy, but his thoughts kept flickering back to his father's words. If some of the Weasleys weren't to be trusted, where did that leave Hermione? Maybe she was someone to rely on. But then, why didn't she respond to his letter?
He stood up and shook his head. He was letting his thoughts distract him, and he had to focus on how to clear out his room. Then it dawned on him, and he couldn't believe how stupid he had been.
Late that night, after everyone else had gone to bed, he lit a fire in the living room fireplace. He sprinkled in some floo powder out of a bag he kept hidden in his room, and watched, completely entranced, as the small orange fire suddenly blazed up and turned green. He smiled to himself for figuring it out. He waited until the fire wasn't burning as intensely, and then pushed a small box of parchment into it. If this plan worked - and the box didn't actually catch on fire - then he'd put the rest of his belongings through.
He almost shouted for joy when the box suddenly disappeared - pulled through to the other side by a waiting house elf. Once his control was regained, he began to push the rest of his belongings into the fire.
He was about to shove his trunk through, when it banged into the table, making a loud thump.
Harry froze.
He heard the unmistakable grumble of his uncle waking up, the creak of the bed, the groan of the floorboards as the whale of a man got to his feet. Harry quickly maneuvered his trunk to face the fire, and pushed it through.
As soon as it went through to the other side, Vernon Dursley appeared at the top of the stairs. When he saw that no good excuse for a boy crouched down by the fire - no doubt trying to burn their house down - his face instantly turned a vivid shade of purple. He rushed down the stairs as fast as his fat legs would take him, and picked the boy up off the ground.
Vernon pushed his face as close to the stupid kid's as he dared, and growled, "What the hell are you doing, you ungrateful idiot?"
Before Harry had a chance to respond, he saw his uncle draw back his fist as if to punch him. His natural instincts took over, and he kicked his uncle in the shin. Hard.
Spiting and swearing, his uncle released the hold he had on Harry's shirt collar. When he recovered, he stood up straight and reached out to hit the boy. His hand was about to smash against the boy's face, when it instead connected with the mantle.
Harry Potter had jumped into the fire.
She hadn't meant to kill him. Honestly. She had just done what came natural to her - protecting her son.
She'd been watching through the windows in the parlor. She had heard the yelling and ventured out of her study to see what was going on. What she saw made a shiver go down her spine and her heart swell up with pain. Her son was lying on the floor with his knees up to his chin with his arms around his head, her husband standing above him. She saw his look of disgust - as if he couldn't believe this disgraceful child was his son. This enraged her. But what happened next had infuriated her. She put her hand to her mouth and watched in stunned horror as her husband continued to yell, then pulled back his foot. As she saw the leg swing forward in what could only be a fatal blow, and before she could consider the consequences of her actions, she shot a curse - so powerful, so wrought with anger and fear for her son - at her husband. The brilliant light raced through the air and seemed to give his body an eerie green glow. She sobbed in what might have been relief as his body crashed to the floor, and then ran to her son's side.
He was breathing to quickly, his pulse was racing, and he couldn't seem to unfurl his legs, but he was alive. She ran a hand through his hair, and pulled him close to her. Her shoulders shook silently as she wept and held her son while trying not to look over at Lucius's dead body.
Narcissa Malfoy had killed her husband.
A/N: What will be people say when they find out Lucius is dead? Will Jamie get into Hogwarts? What is Harry going to do?
Seriously, answer my questions. I have no clue.
A review or two might help me think more clearly ;)