Hmm. I just now realized, that with: "Petrificus Totalus," the one paralyzed can't speak after all. And James sort of did just that in the last chapter. Err… whoops. Ahem, well, we can pretend, that Voldemort used his great-dark-wizard powers to paralyse him only partly, because he thought it'd probably be really funny to let him be able to… scream or something. Or James used his great-good-guy-high-on-adrenaline-powers to break it.

Thank you for the reviews! Hope you'll like this chapter, because here it is…

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Chapter 1. Those who Woke

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James awoke slowly, swaying between the line of dream and consciousness in a way that vaguely reminded him of his worst experiences with drunkenness. The first thing he became aware of was his horrible, head-splitting headache. He groaned and silently wished, that he hadn't called Lily a drama queen, when she complained about her migraines. This was the revenge, tenfold.

His forehead itched nastily and he grazed his face with his right hand. He felt some odd, rather sticky substance get stuck on his fingers, but he had again fallen too deep into his insensibility to really care.

What a night. He'd had a really bad dream… He couldn't remember what it was about, but when he tried to recall it, it left him feeling like he couldn't breathe. Something terrible, nevertheless

He felt cold and unconsciously reached for his cover. His other hand was aching painfully, so he used his right hand once more. He didn't find the cover, but came across something soft, thin and long, like silk threads, or hair.

James smiled in his dream. Lily, at least she was in the bed. It must be early if she was still asleep. But why was their bed so hard… so cold, like the floor. Had he accidentally rolled off the bed or something?

James slowly opened his eyes, blinking wearily. He realized, that his back hurt and felt unusually rigid, as did about every other part of his body. He tried to recall how he had ended up here, but to his confusion, he just couldn't remember.

He sat up and looked around, noting, that for some reason he was still wearing his glasses. That was before his breath vanished somewhere around his windpipe. The room looked like it had been hit by a tornado: The furniture was in pieces, and clothes and other objects lay all over the room in a dire mess; Most of the walls had partly crashed down, giving him a straight view into the other rooms and to the stairs; Piping was still sticking out from the broken walls, leaking into the already formed puddles of water; The roof had collapsed in many places, showing the clear night sky.

The house wasn't a house anymore: It was a battlefield. Or more like what was left of the battle.

"What the hell has happened—?"

His eyes fell to his hand. His fingers were bloody. His other hand, the left one, was bruised and swollen, and very sore to even a small move.

The itching substance slid down to the tip of his nose, where it gathered until a drop of it fell to his lap. A small, red spot landed on his once white shirt. James stared at it, and carefully brought his stained hand back to his forehead, and then in front of his eyes. More blood.

He looked beside him. Red hair was everywhere, spread out around a white, inexpressive face. Two familiar green irises peeked under the half-lidded eyes, but he could see, that they didn't really watch anything.

James trembled. Something big, heavy and stinging in his throat was choking him, and he thought he was going to faint. It couldn't be true. He was still dreaming—it was just a nightmare. She was just stupefied, nothing more. Lily couldn't be dead. It was impossible. Something like that just couldn't happen to her, not to her.

A weird rattling sound burst out from his mouth. She was there, right next to him, looking more like a porcelain doll than the fiery woman he knew and loved. He leaned over her and carefully he tried to shake her. Her head rolled to the other side, but she didn't wake. She didn't wake.

"Lily…" he whispered, tears blurred his vision. "Lily…!"

He cried. He wasn't sure for how long, but it could have been minutes. At some point he couldn't help himself any longer, and leaned to rest his head in her lap. On her shirt, there became two dark, damp areas: One where he shed his tears, and another where his bloodied forehead lay.

It was the most painful thing James had ever endured. He felt like he was going to die. How could anyone even feel such sadness? It was unbelievable. The emotion was ripping him up, then gluing him back just for him to be torn apart again.

He sobbed into her chest as the memories came crashing down on him: Lily had given up her life, pleaded and begged Voldemort to kill her. Why did she have to be such a bullhead and jump in front of him? She knew he loved her! He'd fought just so that she could live, would've rather stabbed his eyes than had to see her being killed. He would've gladly died in her place—So why did she have to sacrifice herself!

The tears stopped at last. James hiccupped, gasping for breath. Slowly he started to gain it, and just as sluggishly he straightened, wiping his wet cheeks clumsily. He hid his face into his healthy hand, his breathing shaky. After a moment it got easier, but there was still an almost unbearable weight in his chest.

A pitiful cry behind him suddenly got all his attention. He looked down, his eyes wide and his heart bursting.

Harry wailed, fisting his little hands and kicking the air with his legs. On his forehead, there was a deep wound, and the boy's face was in blood. His clothes were a bit torn and he looked upset, but otherwise he was okay. No, more than that—Harry was fine. He was alive! James felt giddy.

Oh, Merlin, how could he have forgotten his own son even for just a moment? Lily would be probably happy to hear that her child is being abandoned already! His hands shook as he lifted the boy up and held him in his arms (his hurt hand ached painfully, but James didn't even notice.)

"Shh, Harry, it's okay. It's okay now," he reassured, gritting his teeth and not quite understanding what was happening: He was sure, that Voldemort had used Avada Kedavra on him and Harry, attempting to kill them at the same time. According to sense they weren't supposed to be living anymore. Nobody, nobody, had ever been hit by the Killing Curse and survived it. It was a miracle. They were two living miracles.

Suddenly James grabbed his wand from the floor. To his horror, he saw that it had split in two, probably thanks to the same explosion, which had destroyed the house. He dropped the broken wand on the floor and glanced in every direction like a hawk, holding Harry protectively against him.

He knew something had happened during the time Voldemort used the curse, something very unaccountable. However, he had no idea what happened to Voldemort and where he was now. He could still be in this room for all he knew, watching them, just waiting for a chance to strike.

But on the other hand… Whatever had happened, it had definitely started from here. Voldemort had been in close range. If such power could do this to a house, who said it couldn't at least frighten the Dark Lord? Maybe even hurt him? James seriously doubted, that Voldemort had expected an outcome like this. Could it really be possible… that he had run away?

Well, James thought grimly, it wasn't like he and Harry had any chance to defend themselves, now that his wand was not in so workable condition. He could as well pretend, that they were the only ones here.

He knew he had to get help. Maybe Aurors and Dumbledore were already on their way. But before that… he had to move Lily. He couldn't leave her to lie there. He just couldn't.

James strictly made sure, that Harry's eyes were turned in the opposite direction of his mother. He didn't want to be disrespectful to Lily, but he didn't want a one-year-old baby to be traumatized either… albeit that might be a bit too late. He carefully walked to Harry's overturned crib, turned it back up and set his son in the bed. His eyes watered slightly, as he begun wiping the blood from the boy's scared face. James looked at him comfortingly, although there was a clear hint of strain in his smile.

"Don't worry, Harry. Dad's not going far. I'll be right back, I promise," he said, his voice hoarse, and kissed the top of Harry's head. Then he turned away, crouching next to his deceased wife.

For a moment he just watched her, trying to not to break down. Then he gently stroked Lily's cheek, much like he had done, when he had told her to run. It seemed like the death was mocking her, making her look impossibly pale and fragile. James' head spun threateningly he hoisted Lily's body up in bridal style. He slowly walked out of the door (or rather through the large hole in the wall, which had been a door) and towards their bedroom.

When in there he carefully put her body on the bed, taking her arms and settled them on her abdomen. Then with a deep breath, he pulled down her eyelids and took a step back.

She didn't look dead. She was merely sleeping serenely. He turned away hesitantly, his heart heaving inside of his chest.

Suddenly there was a booming, even sound coming from the outside. It reminded James of footsteps, but with that noise it'd have to be an elephant strolling down the street. Anyhow, he hurried into Harry's room and took the confused child into his arms. He crept closer to the window—the glass in splinters—and peeked out. Whatever it had been, it had gone towards the front door. James cursed the fact you couldn't see to the front of the house from this direction. Then he noticed something on the ground… He squinted and distinguished big, very big footprints.

The house quaked slightly. Somebody had come in. All of sudden a thought, an image of a certain person imprinted itself into James' mind, and when he took a run down the stairs, still carrying Harry, he knew it just had to be him.

At the bottom of the stairs, his rush came to a halt. Harry had been sucking his thumb, but now turned to look at what his father was staring at: A huge body of a bawling giant was blocking their way. Tears of the size of eggs fell to his black, unruly beard, and he wiped his dark eyes with his large hand, sniffing. The giant was wearing leather boots, and a worn black jacket. He was so big, that he had to stay bent, or his head would have probably crashed through the ceiling. James throat tightened as the giant turned clumsily to his direction.

"Hagrid?" he said tentatively. Harry confirmed this question with a wondering sound. Hagrid's eyes riveted on them, and his expression became one of pure shock.

"James!" he yelled out. Harry jolted and buried his face into his father's shirt, wailing. James momentarily forgot about Hagrid and made soothing noises, patting his son's back. The giant turned, leaning so close to him that James thought he could hear the dormice scamper inside of his enormous jacket.

"Is it really yeh! Merlin, I can't believe this. When Dumbledore found the wards had broken down, he sent me here right away to check, if… if—" at this point his voice wavered. "An' then I saw yeh house, I thought yeh had to be gone, that you'd no chance to get away! Bu' here yeh are, James, alive. An' Harry, look at him, he's fine too! Though I think yeh two should probably wash yer faces a bit… Dumbledore's, no, everybody's going to be so happy! They all thought you an' Lily were, were, tha' you were dead!" he sniffed, and almost took James into a bear hug. It was straining for James to get what Hagrid was saying. He let out a deep sigh and sat down on the stairs, Harry still whimpering. Hagrid looked at him in concern.

"James?"

Just then, a familiar rumbling noise came from the outside. James' heart skipped a beat and he jumped back up. He'd know that sound anywhere: It was Sirius' motorbike. The sound of the engine quietened down.

"JAMES! LILY!" a frightened voice screamed and James heard somebody running towards the house. Suddenly Sirius Black burst in, panting and shaking, his face as pale as a sheet.

"Sirius!" James exclaimed in relief. "You're—you're alright!"

His best friend didn't seem to know whether to burst into tears or laughter as he sped to James and pulled him and Harry into a tight hug.

"Thank Merlin, James, I was so terrified," he muttered into the man's shoulder and pulled away, now looking at the baby Harry with tears in his eyes. "You little squirt—! Don't you ever worry me this much ever again, okay, Harry? What a terrible wound you have there… Don't worry, your Godfather's here now and your dad and mum… James, where's Lily?"

The tone of Sirius voice got more hesitant, when he asked the last question. Harry just whimpered and turned his eyes to his father's. Sirius followed the example and his eyes widened.

"James?" he and Hagrid chorused in concern, both leaning forward to the man, who'd started to sway slightly on his feet.

James was feeling suddenly very faint, and having a hard time to focus: Lily. Harry alive. Hagrid. Sirius being okay—He felt like he was on a roller coaster of emotions. He weakly held Harry out.

"Take…" he mumbled as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Either of them grabbed Harry, and he heard distantly someone shout his name, until he fell over, unconscious once again.

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I amazed myself and got the chapter done. I'm satisfied, although it was reeeally hard to write that whole James-angst thing and I think the ending might have come out little rushed. But there it is! HAH!

The next chapter: James confronts Dumbledore and some other people.

Review!