Chapter 18

James could hardly breath. He felt like a thousand daggers were piercing his lungs every time he drew a breath. He felt like he had just killed a man.

"You as good as did," said that little voice in his head, "Its your fault the Great Lord Voldemort has returned."

James felt sick to the stomach. Sick with himself. He understood something, he was a Horcrux, and therefore was keeping Voldemort alive. Alive long enough for him to kill Albus. He had brought him back to life, when he was eleven, the Horcrux had been activated. Suddenly everything was clear to James, that was why Professor Baddock (the death eater) was teaching here this year. He was planning to fulfil the prophesy.

When James got back to Gryffindor tower he could hardly breath. He shot the password at the Fat Lady and ran upstairs to the dormitory, the book still safely in his bag. He didn't care that yet again the entrie common room was staring at him. He didn't even notice, he felt like crying, he wanted to go home.

"But nobody wants you at home," said the high, cold voice in his head, "You attacked your brother. Your father will be angry with you, I expect he'll kick you out… I would! Who would want a traitor for a son. James Potter the mad traitor! HA!"

James slumped into his four-poster bed, and drew the curtains. He didn't want to see Fred, and he was the only one allowed in the room apart from him.

"James?" the familiar voice rang out through the room, "James, mate you need some serious help! Lotte just about flipped when you ran into the common room like that. She's worried about you James. I'm worried about you."

"Go Away." James said stubbornly. Fred was the last person he wanted to talk to.

"Fine," said Fred, "Don't talk to me, but my dad always says that a problem shared is a problem solved."

James pulled back the curtains on his bed, "When has Uncle George ever said that?" he asked curiously.

"All the time!" replied Fred, "He just doesn't like to seem serious in front of his brothers. Seriously, mate, talk to me. I can help."

James sighed and sat up, "No you can't. No one can help me. I don't deserve help."

Fred scoffed, "You don't deserve help? What did you do? Kill Mrs. Norris? 'Coz that's more of a miracle than a crime, Jamie P!"

James smiled, "I didn't kill Mrs. Norris. I as good as killed others though." he said bluntly.

"What?" said Fred incredulously, "You haven't killed anyone! All you did was go to detention, and Albus is a bit shaken up, buts he's not dead!"

"I didn't say I literally killed anyone, you goon!" he dove into his bag, which was sitting at the foot of his bed, and chucked the big heavy book at Fred.

"Secrets of The Darkest Art" he read the title, "Ooh, spooky! I know you have some You-Know-Who connection, mate, but you don't have to become him!"

"Look at page 666." James said, as Fred flicked through the dusty pages. The room was silent as Fred read about Horcruxes, his eyes growing wider, and his mouth larger as he read.

"But… what does it mean?" he asked confusedly.

"It means that I'm the reason Voldemort has come back to life. I'm the reason why he's killed a load of people. I'm the reason why he'll be able to try and kill Albus."

"I think you beat him to it on that last one mate," said Fred jokily, James shot him a murderous look, and Fred looked guiltily at him, "You don't think he was controlling your mind to make you kill Albus, do you?"

"What? No! Seriously, wanting to throttle Albus was all my idea."

"We should show this to Lotte." stated Fred. James nodded in agreement, and the friends walked to the common room to find her.

They weren't surprised to find Lotte in an armchair, head bent over a book dustier and older even than Secrets of the Darkest Art. James walked up beside her, and slumped into the chair next to her own.

"Oh!" she squeaked, "James you scared me. James! Oh my Goodness! Are you alright?"

James sighed again, he felt as though the information he had learned tonight had aged him a hundred years. He looked around at the other people in the common room, so care free. They were the lucky ones, not him. He was so used to thinking that because his dad was famous, he was the luckiest guy on earth, that it was odd thinking of how unlucky he really was. Not so unlucky as his dad, at least he had parents, but all the same. The weight of the wizarding world was resting on his shoulders, almost literally.

"James?" Lotte asked again. He had forgotten entirely where he was, and who he was talking to. He couldn't tell Lotte! What was he thinking? She would tell someone. She wasn't to be trusted. James almost felt as though these thoughts were not his own, he was usually so trusting. But not anymore. He had other things to worry about. He could deal with them alone, Fred wouldn't be much help, but at least he wouldn't tell as soul.

"Don't worry," he said hurriedly, "Its nothing. I'm going to bed, I'll catch up with you in the morning."

He pulled himself again from his armchair and trudged once more up the stairs to his dormitory. Despite Fred's protests, he knew he wouldn't tell Lotte without asking him first. Fred was loyal.

James dreamt that night of all manner of things. First he was at home, telling his father about his school term, when suddenly he begun to spill his secrets to him. His father had put Veritaserum in his drink, and was taunting and laughing at him. Then Voldemort arrived, and joined league with his dad, all the while cooing, "Harry Potter loves me, even me, more than you!" Then he shot the killing spell at James, and he woke up.

It was early morning, and the sky outside was blood-red and cloudless. There was a thick frost on the ground, as December was fast approaching. James was going to try to stay at school for the holidays, Lotte would be, and he could keep her company. The last thing he wanted was to see the entire Weasley clan mere weeks after his attack on Albus. He could see the look of disappointment on each of their faces. Especially Teddy's, Teddy had always backed James in everything he did, but he got the feeling this would be one step to far even for him.

James dressed quietly, and felt as though he did far too much alone. He could remember when the dorm had held the snores of more than one other boy. He wondered silently whatever had happened to Kerry, he hadn't heard from him since he left. Or of Ben for that matter, but they had never been as close. James had been allowed one term, just one of absolute bliss, and the feeling that he was king of the world. Then he knew the only other time he had ever had that feeling, and walked to the only place where he could clear his head.

The wind was whistling in his ears, and the cold morning air was prickling his skin like tiny daggers, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation, it was calming. Flying helped him think clearly, and chase off any stupid thoughts. His thoughts about telling Lotte for example. James sighed, as he noticed two little figures bobbing down the dewy hill to the Quidditch pitch through the low morning mist. It was a Sunday, so most of the school were in bed, but his friends knew him too well. Fred had probably noticed his empty bed, panicked, and gone to find Lotte, then she would remember that he love to fly, and led Fred to the pitch. She was so predictable, but in a nice, safe way.

James swooped into an elegant dive, and touched down on the ground, hopping off his broomstick at the same time. Lotte's smiling face was looking at him from the stands, she and Fred were clapping for him. They climbed down the stairs, and Lotte proceeded to giving James a bone crushing hug.

"James! I'm so sorry for blaming you about what happened to Albus! You're right, he's a spoilt git, and needed to be knock down a few notches," she grinned even more widely at him.

"I'm sorry too. I should have told you… I… you'll know what to do," said james, and he launched into the story of what happened the night before.

"You have to tell someone! This is dangerous!" Lotte squealed anxiously, "You should tell your dad."

"No!" James said so loudly that his voice echoed around the castle grounds, "Not my dad, he'll get angry and not understand. Not to McGonagall either, they'll stop me from doing what I have to do. You can't tell anybody. They'll try to stop me.. I have to…I have to do it."

Lotte and Fred nodded earnestly, grimacing, not asking what James had to do. They had read the passage in the book, they knew what had to be done. That's what the prophesy must have meant, another will be lost in the means, he was the other who had to be lost. It was the only way to stop Voldemort for ever, so he couldn't make another Horcrux. James Potter would have to die.

ooooh! drama! Thanks sooo much for all the reviews :P really makes me want to update, and i think i do pretty well to tell you the truth! Please reveiw again!! xxx