The funeral of Harry James Potter will be held on Monday at three o’clock in the afternoon, followed immediately by the funeral of Laura Hope Potter. Family and friends are encouraged to attend…
An angry sky glares down at James Potter as his eyes slowly flutter open. Black clouds and loud winds greet him into this new world. A fat drop of water spills from the ocean above and kisses James’s cheek. His eyes blink “ close, open “ and then he moans. His head is throbbing insistently, a steady beating rhythm in his head, one that matches his heart. As the wind whistles curses in his ears, James tries to recall where he is and why. His head gives a rather vicious throb in response and pain flashes in his eyes. Everything goes black and white for a moment.
‘What the”’ croaks James, characteristically using his first spoken breath to curse. It has become a habit of late. He struggles into a sitting position and is struck with a sudden bout of dizziness. Something warm and wet trickles down the back of his neck and into his shirt. James looks around through half-lidded eyes, still disoriented, as he reaches around to rub the back of his aching head. His fingers come back streaked with red.
He is sitting in a large, open field, which seems to find some great joy in breeding extra-long grass and extra thick shrubs. A few large trees poke out from the grass every few meters to complement the shrubbery, along with some intimidating boulders and a nervous-looking fence in the distance. Above him, there is a flash of lightning, as the sky gives one rumble, one warning, before emptying its buckets. James doesn’t even have time to run for cover. He is soaked through in seconds. Feeling that the situation cannot get much worse than it already is, he remains on his now swampy patch of earth.
For a while he just sits there in the rain, arms wrapped around his knees, head bowed slightly, watching the grass bend under the weight of the water. His back begins to ache too, his hair flaps around his head, strands occasionally poking his eyes. He ignores it all, simply trying not to think. There is a weight on his chest that he does not want to probe, a wound he does not want to pick at. For as long as he can, he wants to sit and not remember, not know, not think. Suddenly, he notices movement to his right. A piece of paper has been speared by a branch hanging out of the nearby bushes and is now flapping in the gale-force wind blowing.
James frowns at it for a moment and then stands up and walks over to the bush, managing to grab the paper just before the wind carries it away. He is about to examine it, when something else catches his eye: a satchel nestled in the shrubs. James lifts it up. The clasp has come loose and as the bag rises, the top flap falls open and out tumbles a book and another, thicker, larger piece of parchment. James bends down to pick them up, and as he does so, spots something white half-hidden behind the nearest tree. His brows contracts as he gazes at the blinding whiteness. It’s a dress. A girl stands, peering out from behind the tree, her outfit flapping in the wind, sometimes being swept high enough to reveal her knees; she doesn’t seem to care. She stares at James, her gaze carrying as much intensity as his. Her hair is tied back, James notices, but long wisps of it have come loose and flutter around her head, as white as her dress. James slowly straightens up, book and paper in hand.
Just then the wind changes direction and rain pelts James in the face. Gasping, he rubs his stinging eyes frantically, but when he turns back, the girl has gone.
All he has now is the satchel, its contents and the small piece of paper that he found flapping in the wind. His head aching even more now as he wonders where the girl could have vanished too, he looks down at the things in his hands. A history book, a map, and a slip of parchment with the words, “In Memory of Laura Potter “ Beloved Wife”. The parchment is a scrap from a newspaper.
James pushes the book and map back into the satchel and closes the bag’s flap, making sure the clasp is tight this time. The slip of parchment still in his hand, he reaches up to his neck and feels the chain hanging there. A Time-Turner. He pulls it out of his shirt and studies at it for a moment, before slipping it back in. He remembers what he is doing here now, and why. He is going to save Laura. No matter what price he has to pay.
The thought makes the weight on his chest heavier and harder to bear. Images flash in his mind, but James pushes them away forcefully. He has no time to dwell on the past “ or, in this case, the present. He will save her. And everything will be okay again.
It takes a moment to make himself believe it.