A/N: Hello! This is the same as my other story, except much better, and longer. I really hope you like this updated version, and please review

Lily Potter landed with a soft thud on the grass. Her head was swimming, the grass beneath her swaying back and forth like a ship at sea. She couldn't breathe, she was shaking, and even though no coherent thought came into mind, even though nothing made sense at the moment, she knew something was wrong.

Slowly, she sat herself up. She tried to swipe her cheek, which was covered in dirt, but to no avail. Her legs were shaking, her mind dancing and her surroundings swimming, but she willed herself to stand. And when she did, she swayed, the world coming in and out of focus. Bloody hell, she felt like….death.

Her eyes trained to the gray figure in front of her, and she squinted at it. Still, her mind pounded fiercely, and her body shook, but she stumbled forward, reaching out a hand to the gray figure, because something was slipping in her brain, something was beginning to make sense…

And then she stopped dead, stumbling back a few steps in shock.

James Potter

It read, and at first, she didn't know what to think. She looked from her left, to her right, and then back. They were in a graveyard. And in front of her was….was her biggest fear…the one thing she wished to never see in her life. The one thing she thought impossible, untouchable, here…now…

What little strength she had gained seemed to evaporate. Her knees gave away, and she fell sideways, touching the terrible, mocking marble. Her body had gone numb in shock…it didn't make sense, any of it! Why was she here? What was this? Is she dreaming? Is she crazy?

All the questions that one asked themselves in times like these flew threw her mind, but slowly, it all began to make sense…

She was alive. She wasn't dream, and this was very much…real.

"No…no…"

She leaned against the stone, one hand digging into the grass, into the dirt in pure horror, in anger, in sadness…and before she could stop them, tears fell down her face. She looked down at her hand, her hair falling in front of her face. This couldn't be…it just couldn't….James….gone….

Her eyes stung from crying, her head throbbing with the pain and disbelief of it all. Yet after some time, in which she forced the thought of James out of her mind, his crooked grin, his sparkling hazel eyes, his laugh…she lifted her head up.

And then did she notice it. A second grave, which she had been leaning against while she traced James's own.

Lily Potter.

"What?" she whispered, her lips parted in confusion and horror. Something was wrong, terribly, terribly wrong. It didn't make sense. A grave means death, and as far as she was concerned, she was perfectly alive…

She stood up quickly, wiping her hands on her pants. She didn't know, nor understand what was going on, but she knew she would get nowhere by sitting there. Gritting her teeth, she pulled out her wand and looked about her in the darkness. It was empty. She was completely and totally alone. The thought both comforted her, and terrified her.

And then, what seemed to echo through the graveyard, a twig snapped. Her breathe hitched, her wand flying to the direction of the noise; her hands shook as she gripped in front of her face. A dark figure was moving about, off in the distance, but she did not lower her wand. It was a man, a tall man, with crazy black hair, and thin face…

She didn't dare believe it. She was imagining things, that's all. Her mind was fooling her, because she had been thinking of him, that's all. Yet hope spread through her body like wildfire. Could it be?

His grave stood in the corner of her mind, like a sharp reminder that it was impossible, and she felt her stomach plunge…

Yet, so was hers. And she was standing here, alive and well…

And then the man stepped into the moonlight, and caught her eye. She saw them widened in relief, and he broke into a dead run. And it was that moment, that she knew it was him. Her legs didn't seem to carry her fast enough however, for they were shaking with confusion and relief…

She threw her arms around his neck, taking him all in. Even it was just for five minutes she believed him gone, it was still five minutes…the longest, scariest five minutes…and as she buried her head in his shoulder, his heart beating against her own, she tried hard not to cry.

"James…I thought…I thought…"

He shushed her, holding her just as tightly. And then his body went rigid, and Lily knew something was wrong. She pulled away to look at him, but he was already issuing her aside, pale in the moonlight. He walked, as if in a trance, past her, and kneeled before the stones in disbelief.

Lily stood where was, watching him.

"What is this?" he whispered, looking back at her, then the stone. She walked slowly next to him, shaking her head.

"You know as much as I do," she answered softly. They sat in silence for a moment, the kind that weighs on your shoulders, where your mind is supposed to be reeling with thoughts and clue and pieces to the puzzle, but it is really, horribly, blank and numb…

He stood up slowly, his whole body shaking. He turned to her, paler than he had ever been in his life.

"Harry."

"Har-?" she whispered, then gasped. "Harry!"

She looked over at the graves, horrified, and sure enough, there it was…a third grave. James turned in the direction she had screamed, and saw it too. For he followed her, kneeling next to the third grave and feeling as if he was falling through the very Earth, his mind swaying, his heart clenching…

"It's…it's not him," she looked over her shoulder at James. In fact, now that she looked more closely, she saw that it was a grave entitled to…to…

"Cedric Diggory?"

James shook his head, standing up. There were more graves, he noticed, now that he looked. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, and both hope and dread filled his veins. He so Ariana Dumbledore, Hesketh Bones, even someone by the name of Patil, but no more Potters.

They sat in silence for a second, both watching the night sky, both taking in the stars, both thinking back, because none of this made sense. None of it. Lily stood beside him, her shoulder touching his as she stared at a point feet away, and he could practically feel her mind reeling, her thoughts bouncing…

What had she done before? Why was it unclear, everything that happened up until now?

And then, it seemed to rush back to her like the drop of a rollercoaster. She gasped, the sound echoing all around them, and James turned to her. By the way he returned the look, something must have clicked in his brain, for his mouth was open, his eyes round, and his face paper- white.

"Voldemort!" was all he managed to get out, even though his mind was crammed with every event, every memory possible…Hogwarts, Sirius, Remus, Peter, the Prophecy, the Order, Dumbledore, hiding, secret keeper, Voldemort…

It was like a story was flipping in his head, and his mind pulsed painfully. And finally, came the flash of green light…

"We're supposed to be dead," she whispered. She thought of that faithful Halloween night, of the creaking gate, of the door bursting open, and running with Harry. She remembered those awful words, the ones that took her husband from her, and then shutting herself in the room. She knew it was useless, that he could blast the door open, but at that point, she cared of nothing more than Harry. She remembered that awful, terrible feeling that James was gone, and that bit of herself that begged Voldemort to kill her, to bring her to James…

And then she got her wish. But Harry – surely he didn't escape. No matter how much she hated to think of it, she knew it was impossible…

"I wonder where his grave is," said James thickly, his voice shaking. The words rest like frost on them, and it was like someone had sliced Lily's heart with a knife. The words, spoken out loud, made it seem so real, so official…Harry, dead…gone…so young…

This shouldn't have ended like this. Harry was just a baby; it was so unfair. He had the weight of the Wizarding World on his shoulders before he could walk, and because of that, he had lost his life. She thought her childhood, of her times at Hogwarts, and suddenly felt like the most selfish person in the world. Why should she have gotten it, when her son couldn't? Why him, not her?

He would have loved Hogwarts. He would have made friends, and ate feast, and laughed with them all, and…quidditch. God, would he love Quidditch. He was his father's son, after all. She wondered vaguely what position he would play, what house he would be in, what marks he would have…

"Let's go to Dumbledore," said James suddenly, breaking her thoughts. He sounded as horrible and heartbroken as she felt. "He'll have answers."