Return Of The Father (Harry Potter fanfiction) **COMPLETED**

: Chapter 1- Movement in the cottage :

Godric's Hollow

October 31, 1995

The moon shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the outline of the old and wrecked cottage. The right side of the top floor had been blasted off, where the killing curse had rebounded fourteen years ago. The house had been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a mark of the violence and cruelty that had torn the family apart.

Dumbledore walked swiftly and surely towards the cottage, his long beard casting a silvery shine in the dark night. It was October 31, fourteen years to the day Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Dumbledore always paid a visit to the cottage every year on this date, to pay his respects to the brave souls who had sacrificed themselves to save their son. The night was cold and he quickened his pace, his mind wandering.

Dumbledore had always felt immensely guilty about their death. He felt that he should have insisted on being the Potters' secret keeper. But alas, they had put their faith in the wrong man, a man who didn't think twice about betraying his best friends' whereabouts to Voldemort.

Dumbledore gazed at the dense, black boundary of the graveyard for a few moments. He passed their graves and conjured a beautiful wreath of flowers which proceeded to wrap around the headstones gracefully, his mind still contemplating about the tragic fate of the young and talented couple. Indeed, they were two of the most gifted students to ever walk through the halls of Hogwarts, with personalities which were what made them so well liked among the people of the wizarding world. No doubt, after their deaths, hundreds of wizards and witches had come to pay their respects to the couple. The couple who had sacrificed themselves so willingly for their son, who had been the target of Voldemort's plans, whose son had relinquished the Dark Lord of his powers.

After a few more brisk strides, Dumbledore reached the cottage gates and stared at the wreckage. The remains of the cottage was covered in ivy, the hedge had grown wild over the last fourteen years, and the grass was now waist high, with rubble scattered carelessly in its midst. It had once been such a beautiful home, full of life. But now it was empty and cold, and oozed out sadness and also foreboding.

He carefully put out a hand and touched the rusted gates, waiting for the sign to sprout from the grass. He read it again, as he did every year. All around, there were words written by various witches and wizards who had come to pay their respects to the deceased couple. Words of encouragement to Harry, words telling others to always remember the two brave people. Dumbledore read each sentence fondly, grateful that so many wizards and witches were so supportive of young Harry.

Suddenly, he heard faint sounds coming from within the cottage. How could this be? Had somebody entered the former Potter residence? He whipped out his wand and chanted quietly, "Homenum revelio."

There was a faint buzzing sound. Someone was indeed inside.

***

A pair of hazel eyes snapped open. All he could see was darkness. James Potter blinked wildly, trying to make out some light to prove his mind that his eyes were open. He could feel the stifling sensation of suffocation. He thrust his hands upwards, but all he could feel was wood. He was locked in some sort of...box?

He could feel something long and slender beside him, and he realized that it was his wand. He grabbed it, feeling suffocated.

"Expulso!" He cried.

The lid of the box was blasted off, along with a humungous layer of dirt, and he choked as a bit of soil entered his mouth. He rubbed the remains of it from his face and got up warily. He was, for some reason, feet away from the ground. He let out a strangled sound in frustration. Suddenly, everything clicked. He had died. Where was his family? How was he alive?

His heart seemed to stop beating. Were Lily and Harry still alive?

He brought out his wand and created small gaps on the sides, just wide enough for him to place his feet in them. Accomplishing that, he placed his wand in between his teeth and began climbing. After a few pants, skids, and narrow misses which could have culminated in him toppling back, he reached the top and stared. It was a graveyard. He could see a headstone of white marble, standing there, glinting in the night.

With his and Lily's names on them.

No, he whispered, staring at the headstone as his heart seemed to stop beating. Impossible.

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he brought out his wand again and waved it, causing all the soil to move back in its place and fill the hole neatly. He then walked with a quick pace, trying to find his home. It was only a few minutes away from the graveyard.

He finally reached the house, and he gasped and stumbled back at the sight of it. The whole cottage was wrecked. The right side of the top floor was blasted off. The door had been blasted off its hinges.

No, no, no! he thought frantically. This was his house, his safe haven. Staring at the destruction caused something to shatter inside him as his mind wandered over the possibilities of the outcomes. How could Voldemort do something like this to them? His home was destroyed, inhabitable. All he could hope for now was that his family had gotten away on time. But where were they? And why wasn't he, James, dead? He could recall the green light hitting him. Then he remembered something else.

Wormtail.

What happened? How much torture must Voldemort inflicted on him that made him give out their location?

But. . . Could he have betrayed them? Voluntarily? Had he been the spy?

James's heart sank as he considered that. There was a chance. He put his head in his hands and tried to stem the anger, the feeling of betrayal. After taking him under his wing at school, after providing something he couldn't gain by himself- friendship- the snivelling coward had betrayed them.

James stared at the wreckage, daunting thoughts popping into his mind. The house was eerily silent.

Lily and Harry might be-- no, he shoved those thoughts aside. He absolutely refused to consider that option. He would not believe the little nagging voice inside his head which toldhim that his family was gone. He wouldn't believe the conclusion his mind had just brought up. The two of them were all he had.

James slowly made his way upstairs, his heart hammering in terror, hoping that he would see what he wanted to see--Lily and Harry safe and sound upstairs. Everything seemed hazy, possibly due to the tears which clouded his eyes, tears he had failed to notice. He slowly stumbled past the rooms, horrified at the amount of wreckage. This was his house, and it broke his heart to see it so utterly devastated. James finally pulled to a halt in front of the nursery, the last room left.

James stood in front of the closed door as cold sweat rolled down his face. He was terrified of facing his greatest fear, the fear of not finding Lily and Harry inside the room. The door had never looked more intimidating.

Filled with a mixture of impatience, terror and grief, he enveloped his fingers around the cold, uninviting doorknob, turned it and pushed open the door.

He almost died inside when he looked into the room, and he felt his knees buckle.