bruises - james potter

one hundred and seven

･・･☽✥☾･・･

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN

･・･☽✥☾･・･

THE NIGHT WAS STILL; IT WAS SILENT. The moon hung high in the sky and was resting on its back as it looked down at the world below, clouds that passed in front of it acted like a blanket and stars around it like night-lights in the dark.

The Potter Cottage stood, as it always did, peacefully at the edge of a large field of green - it was like a coast that met an ocean that spread as far as the eye could see.

Foxes chased rabbits across the field, creating soft indents in the tall grass that would have disappeared come morning. Owls hooted in the surrounding trees, their sounds muffled, yet still prominent, by the time they reached the Potter Cottage.

The air was warm rather humid, creating a slight residue on each green blade of grass that would evaporate in the morning sun. Crickets swarmed the grass, playing their music as loud as they could and creating a melody around the quiet cottage.

The Potter Cottage stood between a field and a town, there was a solid like from where the town began and the field ended - the green turning into a grey in an instant. Street lamps illuminated one half of the cottage in the night while the other half was plunged into a deep darkness.

No lights were on inside the cottage, apart from the bathroom light that James had forgotten to turn off, despite the countless times his parents had told him to do so.

Every window was open, hoping to release some of the warmth that was trapped inside, but only replacing that warmth with warmer air that just so happened to be fresh.

A small path led from the door of the cottage to the pavement and the road just outside of its walls. At the end of the path stood a gate, it was a rather old gate, orange flaked around the once silver nails and the black paint that covered it was slowly beginning to peel off.

The gate let out a loud noise each time it was opened, and it was this noise that stirred Fleamont from his slumber.

The man let out grumble that even he couldn't understand as he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes with his fist. He shook his head and was just about to settle down to sleep again when the gate creaked yet again.

Fleamont knew that it wasn't the wind because his windows were open and the curtains were as still as they could be.

He let out a small yawn and placed his glasses on his nose, getting out of bed and running his hands through his hair.

The gate creaked once more.

Fleamont shook his head as he quickly got out of bed, Euphemia was beginning to stir besides him but he paid no attention to his wife as he grabbed his wand and started his way out of his bedroom and down the stairs.

The front door was illuminated by one of the street lamps and it was with an uneasy feeling in his stomach that Fleamont noticed that there were two people standing outside of the door.

"Alohomora." He muttered.

The door opened and the two people outside of it froze in their steps, both of them had their wands raised within an instant and were pointing them at the man.