Summary: Josephine Potter has lived her entire life in second place. She may be funny, but her older twin brother could always make people laugh. She has learned to live with it, though and goes through life with a 'What the hell?' outlook. That is...
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Edited 2/2/2022
Warning: there will be triggers in this chapter just so everyone is aware.
Chapter Two, Nightmares
Josie tossed and turned in her sleep small whimpers escaping her lips, unable to wake up, trapped within her own mind as she watched her parents die until it changed to whatever she was seeing now, that kept her locked in.
A snakelike man with blood red eyes stood outside a small cottage watching a dark haired bespectacled man playing with a dark haired baby boy (who looked so much like the man, his father perhaps?) - the boy he's come to kill. The boy didn't look like anything special as he giggled and tried to reach for the coloured puffs of smoke that were emitting from his father's wand. Having seen enough he used his wand to blast open the door causing the man to run out and greet him, wand raised. Though, as soon as he locked eyes with Lord Voldemort, the man froze, his eyes widening in fear for a moment before a hardened resolve settled over him.
"Lily it's him! He's here! Take Harry and run to Josie! I'll hold him off!" The man cried, who was revealed to be none other than James Potter - not taking his eyes off of Lord Voldemort as he called desperately to his wife. A ferocious battle started between the two powerful wizards. One driven by madness and domination, the other by love and desperation to protect his family. As they were fighting James knew he was losing and was going to die but he'd hold off as long as he could, until he saw his wife run past him and up the stairs with their son in her arms. That was when realisation struck him, she couldn't get out. "Enough of this!" Lord Voldemort snarled. "Avada Kedavra!" He said as he flicked his wand at James, a sickly green light coming out of his wand and striking James in his chest where he crumpled to the floor in a heap on the stairs.
The blood that had been pouring from his wounds ceasing with the immediate stopping of his heart, his wand fell from his limp grasp, his eyes glassy and unseeing behind his askew glasses.
