Chapter 15

James was cold, colder than he should have been. It was odd, as the last he could remember he had been in bed, tucked up warmly opposite Fred, who had been snoring softly. Fred's snoring, however, had been replaced by laughter, a high, cold, mirthless laugh which chilled James to the bone. Yet the laughter was coming from within him, he was creating this unnerving noise. He was not himself. James was looking around, he felt like a small child, taking his first steps. He strode forwards, like suddenly he had done so for his entire life. A sound came from behind, and distracted James from his elation,

"My Lord…" there was a small, watery eyed man on the floor, he was missing a hand, and covered in blood, he choked the words, and addressed James as if he were a king, "my Lord… you promised…. you did promise…"

James spoke again, in that horrible, chilling voice, "Hold out your arm," he spoke with complete boredom.

The watery-eyed man did so, showing the bleeding stump from beneath his dirty robes, "Oh master! Thank you master!"

James laughed the bone-chilling laugh once more, "The other arm, Wormtail." he spoke with relish in his voice, relish for this man, Wormtail, relish for his suffering.

"Master, please.. please."

James bent over, pulled out Wormtail's other arm, and forced the sleeve of his robe up. Upon it was a vivid red tattoo, which greatly resembled one Snivellus had. James wondered why, maybe it was some thing people interested in Dark Magic had.

James continued to talk, involuntarily, in the mirthless voice he would never be accustomed to, and then, after several minutes, turned around. As he turned, James took in his surroundings, which had previously gone unnoticed, they appeared to be in a graveyard. It was night-time, but the moon shone clearly from behind the whispery clouds. There was a hill, stretching up beyond the grave-yard where James was standing, and atop it was a decaying house.

James felt a cruel smile twist onto his face, and he looked straight at… himself? At a first glance it could easily have been, but even in the half-light, he could see the differences on the faces of himself and this boy. The other had a shorter nose, and thinner lips. Green eyes, like stupid Albus's, and an unmistakable lightening bolt scar on his forehead. James was looking into the eyes of his father. Harry couldn't have been older than James was himself, as even though he was tied to a grave stone, it was clear they were within an inch of each other's height. Harry had a look of fear and pain on his face, and James noticed a cut on his forearm, which was gushing blood at an alarming rate.

He was taunting his father, mocking him, sneering, as James so often did, at him. Yet this time, his voice was choked with malice, not with the usual anger. Suddenly, there was a swish of cloaks, and wizards were appearing around the graveyard. They were cloaked and hooded, staring at James in fervent admiration and excitement.

This time, James turned to taunt these wizards, obviously his friends, his loyal supporters. James was burning with anger, he wanted nothing better than to kill one of them, all of them. He wanted to kill Harry. He wanted him finished, gone, so he could run wild without an idiotic teenager getting in his way. 10 more minutes passed, minutes filled with repetitive instructions, explanations, but they were necessary. Despite the fact they were coming from his own mouth, James could not here the words, and he was only aware that he was saying them, not what he was saying through them.

He waved his wand, an suddenly, Wormtail had a hand, a gleaming silver hand, he grovelled at James' feet, but James had no time for him, and kicked him aside. Wormtail, on James' orders got up, and untied Harry, handing him back his wand. Was he letting him go? James both knew, and did not know the answer, as he only realised he was not letting his father go, when the thought popped to is head. And like that, he began to curse Harry, gleeful as he watched him writhe in pain, he was screaming like a hurt child. And then, the screaming stopped, and so did James' laughter.

"A little break," he said, "a little pause.. That hurt, didn't it Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

His father didn't answer, but looked determined, yet fearful at the same time.

"I asked you whether you wanted me to do than again?" James said, softly, "Answer me! Imperio!"

Harry looked like he was fighting an internal battle, before bellowing, "I WON'T"

The words echoed around the graveyard, and the men in cloaks began to laugh.

"You won't?" asked James, sickeningly soft, "You won't say 'no' ? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die… perhaps another dose of pain?"

James raised his wand, but Harry flung himself sideways behind a headstone. James shot a curse at him,

"We are not playing hide and seek Harry. You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean you would prefer me to finish you now, Harry? Come out, Harry… come out and play, then…. It will be quick… it might even be painless… I wouldn't know… I have never died!"

He laughed again, and Harry appeared from beind the headstone, and like that, James bellowed, "Avada Kedavra!"

At the same moment, his father bellowed "Expelliarmus!"

A bang like a cannon blast erupted, and with it, came a shout of, "James! James can you hear me?"

James was in some kind of dream-like state, not quite asleep, however not fully conscious. He was aware that someone was talking, yes, someone was talking, but it sounded as if they were talking from the other end of a tunnel.

"James!" the girl's voice came again, clearer this time and his head shot up. He looked around, bleary eyed, and saw the entire class was looking at him.

He looked straight into Lotte's face, she was red, and shocked looking. It had been another of his dreams, his visions. Voldemort had been remembering his duel with James' dad in that graveyard, and James had dreamed of it. But why in History of Magic? Why in front of an entire class full of students? Why not in his bed, where only Fred would have heard him?

"Professor Binns," said Lotte, "Can I take James to the Hospital Wing please?"

Binns nodded and pointed to the door. James stood up, and noticed he was shaking, and covered in a cold sweat. The two left the room, and shut the door firmly behind him.

"What was that?" asked Lotte incredulously, "You were talking, shouting… I was trying to wake you up for about half an hour, but you wouldn't… I couldn't…." she paused, and looked deeply into his eyes "It was another of those dreams, wasn't it? One where you were You-Know-Who?"

James mentally cursed himself, why had he ever told Lotte about is dreams? "Yes." he said sourly.

"But you were completely out of it, muttering, like you were talking to someone, your dad. You kept saying Harry, and you kept laughing. Not your normal laugh, though, it was chilling, like a Dementor… you know…. Then… then…" She looked on the verge of tears "Then you shot the killing curse at someone, and that's when you woke up… what was happening?"

And so, James explained what had happened to his best friend, as they headed, not the Hospital wing, but to Gryffindor Tower.

I know i said i wouldn't continue until i got more reveiws... but it was far too tempting :P please do reveiw though, this time i'm serious, i want at least 5 more reveiws :P xxx