The warm sunshine was almost blinding, and Lily and James each threw their hand across their faces to shield their eyes from its shining rays. It was too bright, too warm. Something was wrong.
If yesterday was the last day of October, Halloween, then by the natural laws of time itself, today should be the first day of November, the beginning of winter. But looking around them once their eyes had acclimatised to the brightness of the light, James could tell that this was definitely not winter. The trees and bushes were adorned with green leaves that were waving lazily in the light breeze, and the sun that was beaming down at them was not the watery one that shone on winter days, but was emitting the warm shining rays of summer from where it hung in the deep blue, cloudless sky. The flowers in the beds bordering the daisy-strewn lawn were not the dying twigs of winter, but shining with all the glory of the sun itself. This was not the first day of winter, but the middle of summer.
What in the world was going on?
‘Lily –’ James began to say, but she cut him off.
‘I know. It’s summer!’ she breathed. ‘What on earth is happening? How long were we unconscious?’
James shook his head; he was stunned and confused at this strange turn of events.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on,’ he said, tightening his grip on his wand-obviously some sort of Dark Magic was being worked here, but what, James didn’t know. What sort of magic could change the seasons?
‘I don’t like it; it’s not natural,’ Lily said, the panic coming through in her voice. ‘Let’s get to Headquarters.’
James nodded in agreement and cast one last suspicious look around their warm, sweet smelling garden before turning on the spot and vanishing into thin air. He materialised a few seconds later on a windy stretch of gorse-strewn moor with Lily beside him. In front of them were four raised, wooden stands that didn’t quite hide the set of three hoops standing on stilts, fifty feet in the air. James could see a couple of players zooming in and out of view on their broomsticks, passing a crimson-coloured Quaffle between them. He sighed; it had been so long since he had been on a broomstick. He could almost feel the wind rushing through the players’ hair....
‘Come on,’ Lily grabbed his hand again and dragged her husband away from the Quidditch pitch that he was staring at longingly, and towards an old weather beaten shed with the sign that read ‘Staff Only’ pinned lopsidedly to the rusty door.
She pushed the door open with difficulty and the scream of twisting metal reverberated around them; the door was in desperate need of oiling. The room concealed behind it was dark, and the dank, musty smell of disuse lingered in the air. It contained only a rotting wooden table, several splintered chairs, and, along the back wall, a fireplace riddled with dust and cobwebs.
‘Urgh,’ Lily said, as she took the mouldering flowerpot off the mantelpiece. ‘They make it look worse every time. Does it need to be quite so disgusting?’
But James seemed to be only half listening; he was examining the place with apparent interest.
‘No wizard did this,’ he said quietly, running a finger along the top of the fireplace.
‘What?’
‘I said this wasn’t done by wizards. It’s natural,’ James repeated darkly. ‘Magic has a certain trace about it. This doesn’t feel like it’s magical.’
‘Natural? But, it must have taken years...’ she trailed off quietly. ‘The house.’
James looked at her, his face pale, unsure as to what all this meant.
‘But we can’t have been unconscious for years!’ Lily breathed in disbelief. ‘Someone would have come looking for us! What happened to Harry?’
‘Let’s just get to Dumbledore,’ he told her, failing to get his head round the situation, and taking a handful of the dusty powder from the flowerpot she still clutched in her hands.
As he threw it into the fireplace, bright green flames sprung up where there had been nothing but leaf skeletons and dead spiders. He stepped into the warm flames, Lily at his side.
‘Dolorous Place!’ he said into the flames, and clutched onto Lily’s hand as they both spun upwards in a whirl of flame and ash.
After a few seconds of sickening spinning, they came to an abrupt halt at a fireplace in a grand, but dark room. James stepped out into the handsome oak panelled room and looked about him.
This was wrong. Usually, the room was bustling with hushed activity, but now it was bare of all human life. This unnerved him, and he strode over to the ornate carved table that stood in the centre of the book lined study, and stared down at it. It was bare, a stark contrast to the maps, lists, and other parchments that usually littered the table.
The place seemed desolate and forlorn, as if it mourned the people that should be present, and whose absence was profound and unnerving. James had never really liked this place, or felt at ease here. Of course, it suited Dumbledore well, who matched both the regal settings and furnishings, and the ponderously sad atmosphere that seemed to linger here.
For James, the things that were discussed within these walls had to have a melancholy effect on the surroundings, and it always depressed him to be here. He felt the familiar sorrow creep upon him again, though this time the feeling was heightened, as if the place contained more sadness than the previous times he had visited.
‘Why is nobody here?’ he whispered quietly, trying to shake off the strange feelings.
He heard Lily move across the room behind him, but he still jumped when she called his name.
‘James!’ he turned to see her stood by one of the bookshelves, her finger held up in the air. ‘Dust! Nobody’s cleaned in here for months.’
This was odd. James knew for a fact that there was always someone in this house; it was the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, for goodness’ sake! Dumbledore may not spend much time in his house personally, and James privately understood why, but he always made sure that there was someone here, just in case.
‘Maybe something has happened,’ he gulped, feeling a wave of distress course over him.
‘James,’ Lily breathed, close to him now, her voice comforting in his ear, soothing away the wistful feeling. ‘If we had lost, surely Voldemort would have destroyed this place, smashed it to the ground! He wouldn’t have calmly left it to sit and do nothing,’ she reasoned. ‘Anyway, this isn't like the other places; the house and the shed. They looked like nobody had been in for years, this looks like it’s only been left a few months. They could have just relocated.’
‘And not told us?’ James asked.
‘We were in hiding,’ she said. ‘We didn’t need to know. It was two less risks to the Death Eaters finding out where we were.’
James nodded. She was speaking sense.
‘We still have to get to Dumbledore, though,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘We’ll have to go to Hogwarts. And if he’s not there, McGonagall will know what to do. Or where he is.’
‘We should look round here anyway,’ he looked at her, almost for reassurance. ‘Just check.’
She nodded softly, but he could tell from her expression that she was really just humouring him. She didn’t expect to find anything. The other rooms in the house were just as disheartening as the study they had just left, and a quick scour revealed nothing. James knew that Lily had been right, but she was being graceful about it, patient, which, considering the circumstances, was incredible. Not a day had passed since he had known her that she had failed to impress him.
‘Hogwarts now?’ she turned to him, the impatience finally creeping slightly into her voice.
‘Hogwarts,’ he confirmed with a quick smile, ready to leave the house in its forlorn state.
A Stone From the Riverbank by Sapphire at Dawn
Chapter Notes: Thanks once again to katie616 and harrypotter627 for catching my little mistakes.
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks for reading. Please review and tell me what you think.