In Case You Don't Live Forever
Briefly James Potter thought he was being burnt.
His lungs were constricting, it was hard to breathe, he couldn’t move. But a part of him knew that he had to move, he had to- he had to protect Lily and Harry, he had opened the door and-
…
The truth hit him like a cold bucket of water right to the face. Halloween night. He thought Peter was coming by, he said he would, he wanted to see Harry again, take some pictures of him in his little lion costume to give to Sirius and Remus. And he opened the door to see the face of a bitch.
James tries to scramble up from the floor, his heart constricting in his chest, what the fuck had happened? He knew as soon as he opened the door he was dead, why was he not dead? Where were Lily and Harry?
He tried calling out for his son and wife as he realized in a split second that something was completely, horribly wrong.
First of all, that was not his voice. Well- It was- but it sounded younger for some reason. James quickly realized why that was when he looked down and he saw his body. He was younger. Judging by what he can spottily remember, he seemed to be 11?
James shook his head and got up on unsteady legs, hurriedly making his way through the rubble of what used to be his house to reach the stairs and begin the grueling task of climbing them. Each step made it feel like his body was on fire again, his legs would randomly lock up, or stumble as he was getting used to them. It seemed like he hadn’t used them for years, which if he was in his 11 year old body that would make sense but it sort of reminded him of what it felt like to get used to walking as a deer.
Following instinct he pushes the door to Harry’s nursery open, the name of his son dying on his lips immediately. James took slow measured steps further into the room as he looked around. The entire room was coated in dust, the paint was peeling, and it looked like the toys and books on the shelf were all knocked down.
He couldn’t understand. Why didn’t it look like it was touched? Where was his son? His wife? Voldemort?
Just standing in his son’s nursery filled him with a sense of foreboding, like something had happened here, something bad enough his magic was urging him to get out, to leave. In the back of his mind James supposed he should probably follow that feeling.
As thoughts and questions swarmed his head, James made his way back down the stairs, looking for his wand. He needed answers. And he was going to get them.
Grabbing his wand from under the couch, it must have rolled under there from the table somehow, he took a look around the house before he stepped outside, breathing in the crisp air of… summer?
Why would it be warm? It’s the beginning of November, it shouldn’t be warm.
Quickly shaking his head he felt the pull of apparition. The only way he was going to see what was going on was to get answers.