[chap.3]

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Chapter Three: The Boy Who Lived and the Man Who Died
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||Lily||

I have never felt so empty before. All the thoughts in my brain had vanished. All the bones in my body seemed to have broken. All the tears I can cry are streaming out.

But my son is still alive.

But wasn't that who he was after? Voldemort was after Harry, not James. So why had he killed only James and not Harry?

My son was sitting in his crib, wailing and crying. But hold on, he has something.

On his forehead there is a lightning shaped scar, still burning into his flesh. I stand up, walk away from James' dead body and over to Harry's crib. I pick Harry up in my arms and cradled him gently, looking at the scar. The scar....a lightning bolt shaped scar....what did that mean? Had Voldemort broke into my home, killed James, left Harry with some sort of scar and fled?

He could have.

But why?

I am so confused, and I'm about to go cry over James' body some more when Harry gives a lurch and his vomit is all over my shirt. Oh Merlin.

Harry starts crying again and I don't know what to do. Usually I would because it's pretty simple (clean him up, make the potion, give him the potion, go take a shower, wear another set of clothing, put Harry to sleep and try to find help.)

But I am lost without James. I love him so much, and he's dead. I could've went with him, died with him if only I hadn't went to the Apothecary tonight. Maybe I would've been in time for the attack if I hadn't seen Severus.

Perhaps if I let James go to the Apothecary, I would've died instead of him. Yes, that sounded better. I shouldn't have gone. I should've stayed back and let myself die instead of James, a loving and caring man.

I wonder what his last words were, or what he had thought of before he died. Harry? Me? Living? Did he know he was going to die?

I let my head fall and I cry tears, angry angry tears and the fall onto Harry, who is crying also. Furious, I wipe them away with my thumb and take my wand.

"Evanesco." I muttered miserably, at my shirt. The vomit had all gone, except the sickly scent still lingered on me. I pointed my wand at the floor and the crib, and muttered the spell once more.

I look at Harry, who's eyes are closed but he's calmly crying. His mouth is in a frown while his mouth is still mumbling wails. Tears are leaking from the corners of his eyes.

As I start to cry again, I put Harry in his crib and proceed to James. I sit down, bring my knees to my chest and bury my head in and cry. I cry and I cry and I cry.

"James!" I screamed. "James...James why...." My hoarse voice was faltering weakly.

With my left hand I take James' lifeless hand. He's already cold and feels more dead than I thought he was. I squeezed it, but it didn't squeeze back.

//

It had been two days since James died. Instead though, it feels like a million years had gone by because I hadn't been able to be with my goofy and loving husband. I missed him. But I have so much worries in my head, and so much problems to be fixed.

On the night he died, I contacted Professor Dumbledore who came over immediately along with a couple aurors. The aurors examined the house, examined any magic that was used within the house in the past couple hours (which was only my Episkey and an Avada Kedavra), they just checked every detail that could've happened.

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