A/N: The challenge was to write a ficlet in 30 minutes in which one character was late for something.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, James Potter, and all their associates are characters belonging to J.K. Rowling. I claim no rights to them, their surroundings, or their situations. Much to my sorrow.
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Awareness returned gradually, and with it, a distinct sense that he was late for something. But he couldn't remember what it was.
It took a little while longer for it to filter through that his surroundings were unfamiliar, and distinctly out of the ordinary. He was standing in a pile of wreckage. It was too dark to make out much in the way of details, but there was no question that whatever had come through this place had done an enormous amount of damage--and recently, he thought. The piles of debris had an unstable look about them, and as he watched, a precariously balanced stack of rubbish toppled slowly over, the topmost stuff sliding to the ground with a dull thud.
He crossed the devastated remains of the room, more puzzled by the minute, never noticing how easily he made his way among the chunks of plaster and splintered wood in the dark. How had he come to this desolate place? And what had he been doing before? He couldn't help but feel that something terribly important had happened, and that he ought to remember, but his brain was feeling all fuzzy.
A stack of papers, largely burnt but still partly legible, had got scattered across what remained of the floor, and he bent over to pick one up, automatically reaching to straighten his glasses. Oh bother--he must have lost them somewhere. No matter, he'd look for them when the light was a little better; he could cope without them.
Only when his hand passed through both the paper and the floor beneath it did the full gravity of the situation become clear. James stared at his fingers, his translucent, silvery fingers, and then at the title on the calendar page at his feet with growing horror.
31 October, 1981.
He remembered.
Loud pounding on the door, a mocking voice calling them out...Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!...and then the door had burst apart under a shattering blow, and Voldemort had been there--
And a flash of emerald light, green as Lily's eyes but rank and poisonous, and it had all gone away.
Dear gods. He was in Godric's Hollow. This was his house. And he, James Potter, twenty-two year old Auror, Animagus and Chief Marauder; he was--
It was too monstrous a thought to wrap his mind around. There would be time to deal with that later. Indeed, it seemed that he must have all the time in the world. There were more important matters at hand.
Where was his family? He stumbled through the ruins of the little house, marking the spot where he'd been standing when the door gave way; there was no sign of--of anything there. Following Lily's path out of the room, toward the back of the cottage, he found no traces of her, nor of Harry.
Harry. He had to find his son. His wife. They were alive, they had to be--he refused to contemplate any other possibility. If his death, his murder, had bought them the time to escape--well, then, that would be all right. He could live with it.
Or not, as the case might be.
After several circuits of the ruins, satisfied that he would find nothing there, James stopped to think. It was a sore trial, under the circumstances, but after a few minutes' pointless dithering his Auror training asserted itself, and he forced himself calm.
His body wasn't here; therefore, someone must have taken it away. Whoever it was would know what had happened to Lily and the baby. If they were friends, perhaps he could communicate with them, find out what had happened--or at least he'd know that someone was looking after his family.
If they were enemies...he smiled grimly to himself. The ghosts at Hogwarts were capable of some bloody devilish tricks, and the Marauders had always made it a point to take note of any worthy mischief-making they witnessed, even among the departed. He had the same abilities now, and by hell, he would find a way to exploit them...
But first. How to track them down? Well, in life, he would have tried to Apparate. Good thing it didn't require a wand, though he still didn't know whether a ghost could manage it.
One good way to find out. He shut his eyes, focussed his mind, and willed himself to his body.
---
The next few hours passed in a blur of numb, anguished disbelief. He'd shown up late to his own funeral. At one time, he might have found it funny, or at least terribly ironic. But as it was, all he could do was stand by her coffin and stare into the pale, composed face, still framed with terra cotta, but devoid of everything else that had made her Lily.
Everyone was there, but no one could see him. No, strike that--not everyone. Sirius was nowhere to be found. He heard someone say they'd arrested him--but no, that was all wrong, it wasn't him! It had to have been Pettigrew! At least they were saying the Rat was dead, thank the Maker. There was Dumbledore, more shaken than he'd ever seen the old man. And Remus--oh, god. How could he ever have suspected Remus? What would Moony do without the rest of them to look after him?
And Snape, what the hell was he doing here? Get away from her, you--wait, this can't be right. Surely Snivellus the Greasy Git can't be crying over a common Mudblood. Will wonders never cease. Gods, I wish I'd known. I'd have torn him limb from limb, of course, but it would have been nice to known he really was human.
Harry had gone to the Dursleys, they said. James groaned silently, wanting to grab Albus and shake him, shouting What the hell did you think you were doing? Those people hated us, they'll never understand!
But at least he was alive, his son was alive. He tried to take some comfort in that.
When all was said and done, he stood alone between their coffins, staring down at his wife and wondering why he had lingered on alone, and where she might have gone.
"James?"
He looked up into wide, shining eyes--once green, now silver--and then he knew that after all, somehow, it would be all right.