Post by Sirius Black on Apr 15, 2009 15:24:30 GMT -5
"It's him Lily! Take Harry and go!"
James whirled around, wanting to watch his wife and one year old child disappear up the stairs one more time. He swallowed his frustration and fear - he'd left his wand upstairs! Idiot! Not that it would have mattered anyway. Somewhere in his frantic thoughts, James realized. Realized what his so called friend had done, realized he was going to die, realized he would never see his son grow up. In the moment before the door opened, he thought of everything he would never see his son do.
His first broom ride, his first day of school, his first visit to Diagon Alley, his first train journey to Hogwarts, his first letter home that he had broken something or sneaked into the Forbidden Forest, his first kiss, his wedding. Grandchildren? James didn't know. He never would know.
The door opened with a sickening sense of inevitability. James backed away, terrified. He was a tall man but he seemed to diminish in face of the pale figure that stood regarding him. James' heart felt like it would rip out of his gawky jumper. He thought of Lily and Harry, and something in him strengthened, and his knees re-solidified. Lord Voldemort and James Potter looked at each other across the room, somewhat spellbound. A creak from upstairs broke the silence, and Voldemort moved across the room.
"Not my family, Riddle." James said with a quiet fury. Something from years ago floated to the surface of his panicked mind. "Perhaps you'll be in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart..." Halfway toward the stairs, Lord Voldemort stopped. His pale fingers rose, a wand clutched in them, pointing at James' heart. James stared defiantly at his murderer. He was going to faced this. For Lily and for Harry.
"Avada kedavra!"
James saw, the split second before death, a green line of light snaking toward him. His slim frame crumpled backward and he felt like he was being run over by an express train. There was a huge explosion, half of the house was taken, along with James Potter. He died.
The Dark Lord stepped over the broken, brave body of one of the finest wizards ever, and walked up the stairs to his doom.
James whirled around, wanting to watch his wife and one year old child disappear up the stairs one more time. He swallowed his frustration and fear - he'd left his wand upstairs! Idiot! Not that it would have mattered anyway. Somewhere in his frantic thoughts, James realized. Realized what his so called friend had done, realized he was going to die, realized he would never see his son grow up. In the moment before the door opened, he thought of everything he would never see his son do.
His first broom ride, his first day of school, his first visit to Diagon Alley, his first train journey to Hogwarts, his first letter home that he had broken something or sneaked into the Forbidden Forest, his first kiss, his wedding. Grandchildren? James didn't know. He never would know.
The door opened with a sickening sense of inevitability. James backed away, terrified. He was a tall man but he seemed to diminish in face of the pale figure that stood regarding him. James' heart felt like it would rip out of his gawky jumper. He thought of Lily and Harry, and something in him strengthened, and his knees re-solidified. Lord Voldemort and James Potter looked at each other across the room, somewhat spellbound. A creak from upstairs broke the silence, and Voldemort moved across the room.
"Not my family, Riddle." James said with a quiet fury. Something from years ago floated to the surface of his panicked mind. "Perhaps you'll be in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart..." Halfway toward the stairs, Lord Voldemort stopped. His pale fingers rose, a wand clutched in them, pointing at James' heart. James stared defiantly at his murderer. He was going to faced this. For Lily and for Harry.
"Avada kedavra!"
James saw, the split second before death, a green line of light snaking toward him. His slim frame crumpled backward and he felt like he was being run over by an express train. There was a huge explosion, half of the house was taken, along with James Potter. He died.
The Dark Lord stepped over the broken, brave body of one of the finest wizards ever, and walked up the stairs to his doom.
