1
James Potter hadn't had an exceptionally great start to his summer break. It had started quite lovely; it always did.
The first two weeks they had gone to visit one of his parents olfest friends, something he himself didn't find quite so much joy in, but wouldn't mind anyway. He adored his parents, and there were few things he wouldn't do for them, like visiting old Hollie for some while, granting them happiness.
However, what he would be allowed to do for them were less when they truly did need him.
Not that he himself could have done anything, not to prevent any of the things that would change the course of James Potter's life. He couldn't have done anything; he were merely lucky himself, or, perhaps he was the unlucky one?
They were just driving back to their house, James sitting and playing some music in the backseat of the car when someone suddenly had driven straight into the side of their car, just before James eyes. His recollection of memory from after the initial blow was not anything he could remember easily.
He could see, though simply as if through a haze, as the car that hit them twun around and managed to hit them again; stuck between the road fence, before they stuck together, tires screeching as they drifted further down the road. James could remember the taste of blood. The faint smell of iron. Iron and gasoline.
As the two cars at last stopped, having slid down so long from the original place they began to slide from. James crawled out, an adrenal kick, forcing him to climb out the broken window just before him, not noting as he bleed from various places on his whole body. He could barely register as he got out and looked around the slightest before being flung back, a sudden exploding exploding right before him, as fire overtook where the two cars previously had been.
The moment he hit the ground, he passed out.
It wasn't until a few days later he would first regain consciousness, blinking as he looked up into the bright lamp, yet to recognize the pain as it shot through his bones, gripping into his every vein.
But that wasn't until later.
As James blinked, trying to focus onto where ever the fuck he was, he felt slightly panicked, feeling the tubes stuck into his skin, the feeling of being stuck as he was unable to move, solely managing to focus his eyes, averting them from the bright lamp.
"Mum?" He croaked out, trying to look around; nonsuccessfully, though, as he was stuck. He could just move his mouth and slightly turn his head. Why couldn't he turn his head? Why were there needles poked into his very skin? Where was his mum? "Mum, please."
James didn't speak again as he awaited his mum's answer; though it was something that never would come. He didn't know it yet, but never again would he ever hear her voice.
Or his father's.
As James laid there, still and unmoving, he listened after sounds — any sounds, really. He listened as the machines that did what-so-ever pumped and surred. He heard faint footsteps and some faint cries. He could swear he heard some flickering from what he didn't know.
It wasn't until what felt like eternities later (or maybe were just a few minutes, he did not know) that he heard the footsteps again as they finally seemed loud enough to maybe head this way. James wanted nothing else but for them to turn away. To go anywhere but here. But luck wasn't his strongest suite lately.
James cracked his eyes and opened the slightest as he saw someone enter. It was a tall girl with a buzzcuf and brown eyes. He thought she looked smart. He watched as she entered, flicking through some papers before looking at him, her eyes widening.
"Oh, my, hello," she looked slightly panicked and James tried to raise his hands in a calming manner — except he could barely lift his fingers. "Sorry, hi."
James tried to answer but found it all too difficult, his mouth seeming all to tired by itself.
"Mr. Potter," James scrunched his nose but didn't protest. Mr. Potter was his father. "I see you're finally awake.
James watched her confusedly, a simply thought chiding through his head. 'How long?'
But he didn't get to reply before she went on;
"I'm Alice Fortescue, a nurse here." She offered a smile, before fidgeting as she stood still, watching him, "er, yeah."
"Where am I?" He managed to say, his voice hoarse, as if he hasn't spoken for days. Maybe he hadn't. He didn't know. He knew nothing.
"You're at St: Mungo's Hospital," she nodded, a pitiful look suddenly gracing her features. "You've been here for a week."
He nodded, but he didn't feel satisfied. What could he do, though? His voice felt so raw it pained him to speak, and pain didn't feel just like what he needed. The pain was already slowly beginning to make itself known, causing James slight panic. Added onto the already previous one.
It seemed as if Nurse Fortescue caught this as she nodded courteously before walking out from the room, just to reappear a few moments later with a much older looking woman with a slight frown etching over her face.
"Does it hurt, Mr. Potter?" The new woman spoke as she moved to somewhere on his left. He didn't know, really, anymore. He had shut his eyes in pain. He could barely muster to nod the slightest. "Expected, but still not quite so pleasant. I'll be right back with a new dose for you."
He heard as the matching pairs of footsteps left; one of them reappearing shortly later, as he forced his eyes to crack open the slightest, watching as the older woman neared him again, this time with a needle in her hand.
But he didn't feel any stick.
"Due to your state when you arrived here we placed in an entrance si you wouldn't be completely covered with small needle holes when you left, Mr. Potter." She spoke, while she lifted the emptied needle before him. "Do you want something?"
He shook his head the slightest, awaiting whatever she had just inserted into him to kick in. No time later it had done so, and he fell asleep the moment the pain subsided.
James spent most of his days just like that one. Or maybe just one day. He didn't know, actually, he had a hard time telling the time. Not solely because of the fact he had lost his glasses, so he didn't see the clock, but the variety of sudden lights and darks in his room.
The doctors (Dr. McGonagall, Dr. Fenwick and Nurse Fortescue) had yet to tell him what had happened. His mind, although slower than he was used to, still managed to gather some questions.
Where was his parents? Why was he here? What day is it? When could he leave? What had happened?
"Mr. Potter." It was Doctor McGonagall. He had noted that she was the one who usually took care of his medicine. He looked up at her, his neck still being unmovable. "Can you tell me how your pain is?"
"A five." He muttered, looking up at her. Lately he had gotten a but if water so it was easier to speak. "Doc?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" She nodded, her hands slipping into her pockets.
"Why am I here?"
The woman blinked at him, before sighing.
"Do you remember anything before you woke up here?" He offered her a soft 'no', to which she looked at him with a small frown. "There was an accident. Your car and another car collided."
"What happened to my parents?" McGonagall looked at him for a moment, before responding. "We only got a call about one from the crash."
"But my parents!" He tried to sit up but was quickly stopped by her as she looked slightly panicked, pushing him down.
"Mr. Potter, you are seriously hurt! Be still!" She urged him to which he reluctantantly did. "Thank you. As I said, we only got a call about one person. The others.. I don't know."
James felt his heart break.
"They are.." James trailed off, watching the Doctor as she took him in, before averting ger eyes.
"I don't know."
James was completely alone.