3rd September 1981. 2:01pm.
"Incendio."
The whisper seems to magnify in volume each ticking second. It travelled. Echoing off the many glass displays and fancy items modelled within. Soon, it reaches a breaking point.
A scream is heard.
Chaos ensues in the narrow streets of Diagon Alley.
An event that will forever be remembered as the day families were separated. In more ways than one. The day written in history books and remembered for many years to come. A fire. A mysterious one. One that even the most powerful of witch and wizard couldn't decipher. The Diagon Blaze.
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3rd September 1981. 2:39pm. Room 151. St Mungo Hospital.
The slow beeps of the monitor reached a halt.
Silence filled the room.
Dead.
He was dead.
A sob broke through. Then another. Then another. He collapsed onto the floor and let out a wail of despair.
His son was dead and James Potter didn't know what to do.
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3rd September 1981. 3:01pm. Examination room 13. St Mungo Hospital.
Observation.
They wanted to keep him for observation.
Precautionary. They said. Just in case.
They also said he was fine and a nurse even brought round discharge papers only to be taken by the mediwitch out of their hands and explaining that in these circumstances extra observation was needed. These circumstances. What circumstances?
They had laughed in his face when he asked. A high nasal sound that made him cringe and want to cover his ears.
"Why the fire of course. The unknown cause of it is leading us to keep almost all affected patients overnight. Not to mention, your son now has asthma! Adjusting to an inhaler is a new experience and we want to make sure everyone is well informed. Especially with a child so young and a dose as strong as the one prescribed. Its a wonder the doctor examining your son upon birth didn't diagnose the asthma. Its very prominent. The smoke has only caused it to become worse." They had responded.
But for some reason, Tom didn't believe them. Something felt wrong. Very wrong. Why overnight?
There were millions of patients being brought in with far worse side effects then his son's asthma and coughing. They had discharged so many in worse state then them.
It didn't sit right.
But as he watched his wife embrace his son tearfully and hold him tightly, Tom couldn't bring himself to argue further. Hadrian would be okay. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
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3rd September 1981. 3:25pm. Corridor D. Pathway to observation rooms.
Harry Potter was dead.
There was a sentence Albus Dumbledore never thought he'd say till the end of his many plans. A sentence that had been uttered far to early.
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FanfictionQuerencia: [A place from which one's strengths are drawn,where one feels at home;where they are their most authentic self.] 11:35pm. 31st July 1980. Harry James Potter is born. Sickly and dying. To two very devastated parents. 11:59pm. 31st July 198...
