If He Lived (Rewrite)

Before and Inbetween

Today was supposed to be like any other. Nothing bad was to happen. They were to be happy and safe. He did everything he was supposed to in order to make sure his family was okay. He went into hiding. He stopped going on missions. He barely saw anyone anymore, and it was all to keep them safe. And he'd do it again, and again. But even then it clearly wasn't enough. Why wasn't it enough? 

James Potter has been scared before. Had been terrified of dying so many times. It's a feeling you get used to when you are in the middle of a war. The thought of dying and not being able to see your friends and family again always seemed to make its home in the back of your mind. Festering. Making you feel hopeless and empty. James was familiar with this feeling. 

But this sense of dread, this feeling of absolute fear that riddled his body when he realized who had found them, he had never felt in his entire life. Voldemort had found them. And he was here to kill his son. His one-year-old son, Harry, who has done nothing wrong. This monster of a man was here to kill his son, and James wasn't going to allow that to happen. No matter what happened to him, he was going to stop this man from harming his son. He had to. He needed to. 

So he yelled at his wife to go, to take their son and run. He would hold him off for as long as he could. His wife and son had to get away. They had to leave, even if it meant for him to die. He would die a thousand times if it meant they would be safe because he knew they would have people to look after them. To protect them. Sirius would. In a heartbeat. Sirius would take Lily and Harry in. Would help Lily with him, and protect them. 

So James stood in front of Voldemort, wandless, ready to do whatever he could to buy his family more time. The man laughed at him, the cruel, cold, laugh, and brandished his wand. Aiming for his chest like he was nothing. A jet of fiery red and orange shot towards him, slamming his body hard against the wall behind him. 

His body ached and his vision blurred. Ears ringing so bad he could barely make out the words that were coming out of the Dark Wizard's mouth. James watched as the man ascended up the stairs, up towards where his wife had run with their son. James couldn't breathe. He didn't know if it was due to him being thrown against a wall or the fear he felt at the thought of losing his family. Not being able to protect them. Not being able to save them. 

He forced his body to move, forced himself to stand despite the burning he felt flash through his torso. There was something warm dripping down his face, blood most likely, but he didn't care at this moment. He used the wall to stabilize him as he tried his hardest to make his way quickly up the stairs. He could hear Lily, he could hear his wife begging Voldemort to spare Harry. It made James feel sick. 

Then, a flash of green, and James felt his whole world come to a stop. He felt himself screaming, but could not hear anything but the pounding of his heart and the ringing still constant in his ears. He had killed her. Voldemort had killed his wife, and he knew his son was next. He was yelling again, crawling and climbing up the stairs. He was desperate. Terrified. 

A large blast of magic knocked him against the wall again and James truly felt hopeless. Lost. Ripped apart. Harry. His son. His baby. 

Despite any alarm bells and instincts he had, he forced his way into his son's bedroom. The door was barely hanging off its hinges and the walls were blown apart. It was like a bomb had gone off inside the room and James wanted nothing more than to die right then and there. 

On the ground laid his wife, motionless and pale. Her once bright green eyes were now dull and empty of life. Staring up at the ceiling, unseeing. Her red hair pooled around her head like a messy halo. Even in death, she was beautiful. He felt his knees give in, falling beside her lifeless body as he screamed and sobbed. He brought her head to his lap and cried, looking around the room for the man who had done this. For the one who had taken her away from him. But he was nowhere to be seen. Gone. Vanished into the night like some fort of phantom.