A/N: You guys should be proud of me. I saw the amazing mods had the queue down to 3 hours, so I went from 800 words on this chapter to 2000 in half an hour, because I knew I couldn't leave you hanging.
BUT . .. I can't update another chapter for a while. This one kind of ties some stuff up, before (yet another) turning point that will take place in either the next chapter or the one after that. (I still have to write them)
I'll have more information on the story, as well as a (semi- peculiar) question.
I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER, this is from JAMES'S POV . . . and enjoy. :)
Beautiful, wonderful, amazing chappie image done by Manga_Gir
l @ TDA!!!!
“I’M GOING BACK TO HOGWARTS!” I bellowed. “I. AM. FINE!” It probably wasn’t the best time to start coughing.
“No, you’re not,” my dear
father said simply.
“Well I’m not staying here! I’m sixteen, remember? You can’t tell me what to do- medically- any more!” Ha! Take that, Pops.
“Actually, if the patient has been deemed mentally-” Teddy offered helpfully. Note the sarcasm.
“I’M NOT BLOODY LOONY!” I felt the need to defend myself virtuously. I didn’t care if it felt like my throat was going to shred into tiny, bloody, sore pieces.
“Of course you’re not,” Lily piped up, smirking. I hated how sarcastic she was for a fourteen-year-old. Her face lit up for a second, until my bloody reflexes had to override my mind. (I coughed) Then the grin slid off her face like stinksap.
“Lily, Teddy . . . leave. You’re not helping,” my dad ordered, and I watched their faces fall. They loved a good fight.
“Why can’t they stay?” I replied, not caring if I was forcing an argument.
“Because, your mother and I don’t need their two knuts right now. If you would just-”
“I’m not bloody staying here! I have a match next week!” I swore mentally. The match! My team would not be pleased with me. Actually, Laurel just might stab me with a butter knife. That’s if she was feeling nice. Why did I let her on my team, again?
“You might not even be alive next week if you keep this up!” Way to be positive, dad. Thanks. I’d prefer not to be reminded that I was going to die, thank you.
“James, honey, he’s right. If you don’t calm down, it will progress faster,” my mother said soothingly. Normally she’d yell at me for picking a fight with dad.
“I. Don’t. Give. A-” I started, gritting out each word.
“JAMES!” I turned around so fast, I almost fell over. It was Al.
“You need to stop this. Fighting isn’t going to-”
“Oh, go shove a broomstick-”
“See?” Bloody wanker. Stupid logic. Why can’t I just bask in my anger?
“Didn’t you hear me? I. Don’t. Give. A-”
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Dad was pisssssssed. Yes, I am even more immature than I was before. I was going to fight for this; I didn’t bloody care about living anymore, especially if it meant here, or locked up at home because they were scared I was going to off myself or something.
“Harry,” Mum warned, but he didn’t listen.
“NO! I’M SICK OF THIS! JAMES
OBVIOUSLY DOESN’T BLOODY CARE IF HE DIES! WELL I DO! AND I’M NOT JUST GOING TO SIT BY AND WATCH HIM KILL HIMSELF!” Ouch. I actually do care that I’m dying, thank you. But it’s not an if it’s a when. And I’m not going to bloody off myself! That’d be stupid . . . if I try to live I could make it to the Quidditch match.
“I’m not going to off myself . . .” I mumble, because as much as I love to antagonize my father, no one should have to watch their son slowly die, while he’s doing everything he can not to ‘help’ himself. By that I mean that there is no way in hell I’m staying in Mungo’s. I bloody loathe this place! And while home is, well, home . . . majority of my family is at Hogwarts. (and Quidditch)
“James: stop shouting, it’s not good for you. Harry: I need to speak with you,” my mum ordered, and for once I listened to her. Mostly because it felt like my throat was going to split in half if I talked anymore. She and dad left the ward, but the argument didn’t stop.
“You need to stop fighting with Dad,” Albus said, and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes.
“It’s his bloody fault,” I replied, before coughing. It was agonizing, but I smiled when it was done. They didn’t need to know. “See? I’m fine.” Charlie laughed.
“Stop lying. I know
, remember? And mine was the diluted, so that means . . .” Charlie let it hang in the air. I glared. There was no blood this time, though, so that was good.
“James?” Rose asked worriedly.
“It’s nothing. It’s only been a few-”
“Twenty-six,” Albus corrected.
“hours,” I finished. Did they really need to know that if no anti-cold potion has been taken you feel the full effects this early on? I didn’t think so.
“But-” Charlie started.
“It’s nothing. You had a diluted
version. It’s not the same,” I dismissed, but Charlie looked hurt.
“Was that really
necessary?” Louis asked. I nodded, crossing my arms and leaning against the door frame. I didn’t feel like talking.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Albus asked, raising his eyebrow. How come I can’t do that? I tried it, and Lily and Charlie burst out laughing.
“What in the name of Merlin was
that?” Lily asked. I didn’t feel the need to explain my thoughts.
“I’m fine, Al.” I was mature; I was ignoring the laughter. I wasn’t angry . . . TAKE THAT, TEDDY!
“Actually, he’s not.” I turned around; it was that Healer who seemed to hate me. “By the stage that James is-”
“I’M FINE!” I bellowed, before realizing what it would do. It would set off a coughing fit. “I’m fine,” I added hastily once Albus jumped up from his seat to run over. “I’m not a baby, so stop treating me like one.”
“Actually . . . I have to agree with the Healer,” Charlie commented, but her look wasn’t sarcastic or cruel. Was Charlotte Elizabeth Aria Scout Grace worried
? About me
? I need to announce I’m dying more often.
“James?” Laurel asked, her tone skeptical.
“I’m fine,” I reassured everyone.
“Now, as I was saying-” the Healer restarted. I was sick of him and his pompous arse being in my business.
“NO ONE GIVES A DAMN WHAT YOU WERE SAYING!” I exploded. I cursed inwardly; I really needed to stop shouting. It bloody hurt.
“James!” Oops. Where had my dad come from? “Calm. Down.” I glared, but took a deep breath.
“Was that so hard?” I shot a glare at Teddy. He was such a prick sometimes; that satisfied smile, the whole ‘you should listen to your therapist because I have a fancy degree’ smirk.
“Now,” my dad started. “your mum and I were talking, and we have two options for you.” I started to protest, but at the look on my dad’s face I quickly shut it. “First option: you go home with your mum.”
“Next option,” I said immediately. Mum sighed.
“Second option: you go back to Hogwarts-”
“Deal,” I said immediately. Dad looked exasperated.
-” WHY WAS THERE ALWAYS A BUT? “you continue to see Teddy, except now you see him every day. Also, I’ll place a tracking charm on you-”
“I’m not five!” I protested, but dad just continued.
“but it would only be set off if your emotional level rises.” I rolled my eyes.
“Anything else, o dictator?”
“Don’t talk to your father like that,” my mum ordered, and I flinched at her voice. I had been on the receiving end of her Bat-Bogey hex more times than I could count . . . and I associated it with that voice.
“Actually, there is. If Neville is told that you’re causing issues, you’ll be sent home. Same thing if you don’t cooperate with Teddy. And
you have to see Mister Thomas every other day.” I swore; it was still the better option.
“Language,” Mum automatically said. “Now . . . your choice?”
“Two.” My dad sighed.
“Great plan, Gin,” he said dejectedly.
“Don’t blame this all on me!” They continued to bicker.
“OI! GET A ROOM!” I love my little sister.
“Lily!” My mum exclaimed, about to scold her youngest daughter (finally, it’s not me!) but the Healer cleared his throat.
“Mr. and Mrs. Potter?” They both turned around. “I need to speak with you. I have the results-”
“Outside,” my dad said immediately, glancing at me.
“What are you talking about? I wasn’t tested!” I questioned, but my mum shot me a look that clearly said to shut it. And so they left, with the healer.
Wow. This silence has ‘AWKWARD’ branded all over it in sparkly pink ink.
“So . . .” Laurel started, trying to break the silence.
“Yeah,” Austin said. They must feel out of place here. I knew exactly what to say; everyone in the room was Quidditch obsessed.
“Just because I’m dying, it doesn’t mean we won’t have practice when we get back,” I warned, but no one laughed. I did get a nice chorus of groans, though.
“We just can’t win!” Skye exclaimed. “I can already see it; the running . . . the core-strengthening . . . the running . . . the stair-climbing . . .the running . . . the timed
running . . . did I mention running?” There were a few light chuckles.
“You can’t just take it easy on us?” Charlie asked. She hated
my practices. I grinned evilly, before forgetting I shouldn’t, as it was probably stained red from the blood.
“Nope. If I’m going down, I’m taking at least half of you with me.”
“Half?” Fred asked, but I just grinned. I knew I shouldn’t be joking about this; but I just couldn’t face the reality. So I joked about it instead.
“Yeah. But I expect the others to off themselves to be with their master in the afterlife, like the Ancient Egyptian Wizards. It’s only right,” I added, and Rose smiled, looking surprised.
“You remembered!” Ah yes. She had been trying to teach that to me before the O.W.L. last year.
“Seriously, though. We’re going to train as hard as we can, because I plan to stick around for the Hufflepuff match,” I said, still smiling. I just couldn’t face it. Apparently Albus could.
“WILL YOU STOP JOKING ABOUT THIS?” He shouted, his eyes blazing. “IT’S NOT FUNNY; YOU’RE GOING TO DIE
! HOW IS THAT COMICAL? WHY ARE YOU LIKE YOU DON’T CARE?”
“Albus-” I started, but someone else beat me to it.
“Because that’s the only way he can deal with it.” Charlie.
“Are you kidding me?” Albus asked, looking at me.
“It’s true. You
try to accept it; that you have two weeks to live,” I replied, my voice painstakingly calm.
“Look, if it bothers you, I’ll stop. But don’t expect me to be moping around waiting to die, because I’m not. I have a match to win,” I said coldly, before exiting the ward. As I turned the corner, I heard my parents’ voices.
“What do you mean? James said-”
My dad started angrily.
“James was lied to. He doesn’t have two weeks . . . he has five days.”
The match was in four days.
“That’s not true-”
“I assure you it is. I know a spell . . . I cast it without him knowing.”
My mom croaked, and I could tell she was crying.
“At the most. I’m truly sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Potter.”
I heard footsteps; he was walking away. But my parents weren’t. I heard my mum break down and sob; I had never even heard her cry before.
“It can’t be . . . this is all a dream. Our James can’t be dying; he’s sixteen! He turns seventeen in two months!”
I felt like I was the next Voldemort. I was hurting so many people; people I had tried to protect.
“It’ll be all right, Gin. I’ll be there on Saturday; I’ll have the warrant by then.”
No. My dad can’t
go to Hogwarts. He’ll be killed. Even Harry Potter can’t beat him.
“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s dying!”
“I know it doesn’t, but at least Montague will rot in Azkaban.”
My mum sobbed harder. I couldn’t stand listening to one more second of it. I ran back towards the roof, positively shaking.
Montague had lied; I had five days. Five
. I had five days to do anything that I wished to do, and I hadn’t even told Charlie I fancied her.
Yeah. Funny . . . isn’t it? You find out you’re dying, and suddenly you realize you fancy someone you thought was just your brother’s best mate?
But I couldn’t tell her. Deep down, I knew it’d never work. And I had five days; I couldn’t drag her into that, when I knew it was all going to end so soon.
I can’t believe it; I’m sixteen, and I’ll never be an adult. I’ll never live. I’ll never have a job, I’ll never get married, and I’ll never have little urchins running around like the ones Teddy adores.
But overall, (though that is horribly depressing) I know the worst part will be watching everyone else as I die. I’m hurting them; I simply have to die, but they have to watch me suffer. They have to watch as my body slowly wastes away. My family, my mates; they are all left to try to piece it together, to pick up the pieces. The pieces.
No! They can’t chase after him; they don’t know how strong he is! All they’ll do is join me . . .
But they won’t listen. I know they won’t. Because they won’t believe me, and (though I sound quite self-centered) they’ll be driven with grief and anger. (They are Gryffindors, [except Al] after all) They’ll go after him.
I, James Sirius Potter, am a murderer. By drinking a bottle of poison to save a girl, and knowing what my family and mates will do, I’m killing everyone I loved.
And there's nothing I can do to change it.
A/N: PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I know it's short . . . and I apologize for the shortness of it . . .but I literally finished it right before I typed it.
Yeah. But with the queue so low . . . I have a question.
I have this idea for a story (much darker) that's been brewing in my mind for a while, and I just started to put it out on paper. (I have one chapter done) It's a VERY DARK James and Al bromance. Here's an excerpt:
James tried to focus only on cooking, as something would probably burn or explode if he didn’t, but all he could think about was Hogwarts. He didn’t want to back, but he knew he had to, for his brother. Albus just couldn’t face it on his own, tough Slytherin or not. Once again, James felt like a parent, a bad one at that. He didn’t know what to say to Al about Hogwarts, how to tell him handle it all. He couldn’t help but think his dad would know exactly the right thing to say to both of them, to make it all right. He was good like that.
But their dad wasn’t there. It was up to James, and James alone.
Soooo . . . you think I should post this? It'll need a title . . . so if anyone has any dark titles and want me to post it YOU SHOULD REVIEW!
Also . . . what would you guys say if I wait until I finish writing the story . . . then post all of it so there isn't as long of the wait?
PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OF THESE TWO QUESTIONS AND I'LL GIVE YOU A COOKIE!
Seriously . . . review. And thanks for reading!
Ellie (will now do her History)