Part 1

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5th year. 1976

"Prongs?"

prongs prongs prongs prongs prongs prongs...

Their voices seems so far away.

" James? Darling? Are you ok?" a hand rest on his upper back and James finally looked up.

He saw his mother and father on either sides of him, warm and nurturing smiles. His mother's elegant hands were resting on his, one on his back and the other clutching his cold hands.

" I'm so sorry. We had no idea sweetheart." James' father said and took his other hand in his.

Their hands were so warm. He felt safe for just a second.

" It's ok. I never told you anything, how could you have even known." He said and stared down at the paper. His diagnosis written in red ink as if to taunt him.

Diagnosis: Post traumatic stress disorder, depression.

James gulped and took his hands from his parents grasp.

" Darling?" Euphemia asked and James turned back with a gentle smile.

" I just need some air. I'll be ok." He said and walked away, both his parents looking worried.

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Pills, papers, therapists and a million different appointments. Potions, creams, tranquilizers for the particularly bad nights. Sometimes he wakes up with bruises but doesn't bother. Some days he doesn't even wake up in the mornings, other days he does but stays in bed. He waits till the sky turns dark and his parents stop checking up on him. He waits till the house elves go to bed to get out of his and walk into the kitchen like a zombie.

He feels nothing anymore. The anti depressants keep him energized enough to be alive but not enough to get his old self back.

He still has the scars from the attack.

He hasn't attempted to shift since, shivering when he remembers how deep the claws went in. How he felt Lupin's paws kneed on his almost dead carcass, flesh bitten off in chunks. He remembers what his teeth felt like on his bones.

The milk dropped from his hand with a loud crash. The glass splitting into a million pieces.

" Honey?" His mothers voice rang and James broke down.

" James!" His father's strong arms went around him, James sobbing into the crook of his elbow.

Fleamont looked up at his wife from the kitchen floor, her eyes looking pained. She held a hand to her mouth and suppressed a gasp when she saw the remnants of James' scars.

18 hours of surgery could only do so much when your son was practically devoured by a werewolf.

It had happened before, many many scars left on his body from Lupins transformations.

He has three long lines going down his chest from the first transformation, a huge brown splotch on his side from when Lupin threw him into a tree. He thought it was getting better, lupin's wolf could finally recognize James' animagus form.

But nothing prepared him for that day, and nothing will prepare him for the consequences he'll have to live with for the rest of his life.

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" Look who's back!" Sirius said and wrapped his arms around his friend, his mother looking rather disgusted behind him.

" That's enough Sirius. Get on the train." Walburga said in her usual cool tone.

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