Sadness

A few days after the quidditch double-header came James' birthday on March 27. Gryffindor's spirits after the crushing victory were still high. 

Everyone in the Great Dining Hall sang Happy Birthday to him. It was a bit embarrassing, but he had no choice but to accept it. It was the birthday on which he received the most presents. 

Many people he barely knew gave him presents like Rachel Ollivander, who again gave him another item of Puddlemere United clothing. It was still a mystery as to how the girl knew that was his favorite team.

The next few days after his birthday came the Easter vacation that would last from the first of April until the eighth of the same month. One week. 

Most students choose to stay at Hogwarts, as the professors always send a lot of homework at this time. James last year stayed at Hogwarts and did not return home.

However, this year James received a letter from his mother telling him that he must come home. The reason wasn't explained, but it didn't sound like good news. This had never happened to him before.

After saying goodbye to his friends, James was taken to the Hogwarts Express with other students, who were also going home for the short Easter vacation.

Since there weren't many students and James didn't know anyone, he sat in a compartment alone. The whole trip was spent in silence watching the scenery. 

He had a bad feeling. His mother would never tell him to go home just because. There was a reason, and if they didn't explain it to him it must be because it's hard to tell in a letter.

'What happened?' thought James, racking his brains. Trying to think what would have happened, but he couldn't think of anything. 

After a long journey, he arrived at Platform Nine and three-quarters at King's Cross station. As he stepped off the train with his trunk and the cage with his beloved owl Shadow quickly found his mother, who hurried over to him.

The previous worried expression on Euphemia's face disappeared, and a wide smile formed on her face when she saw James.

"Sweetheart, long time no see! Happy birthday!" said Euphemia, hugging James tightly. Although she wished him happy birthday by letter, it wasn't the same as saying it in person.

"Thanks, Mom..." said James, feeling his bones being squeezed. He didn't know his mother had such strength. Whenever she hugged him she was always so caring and gentle. 

"You don't know how hard these days were... Seeing your face makes me so happy," said Euphemia, wiping a couple of tears from her eyes that were about to come out.

"What happened? Where is Dad? Why didn't they explain anything in the letter?" asked James with confusion and getting more and more anxious.

"Follow me," said Euphemia, taking James by the hand and heading for a bench.

After sitting down and settling James' things, Euphemia took a breath and said in a dejected tone, "It's about your grandfather..."

"Grandfather? What happened to him?" asked James.

"His health is not good..." replied Euphemia, taking James' hand and looking at him worriedly.

'Grandpa's health is not good?' thought James with wide eyes. 

What joke was that? His grandfather was Henry Potter! Lord Potter! He fought against Grindelwald and his followers being one of the strongest wizards next to Dumbledore.

The training Henry was giving James was hell. If Sirius and the others call James a training maniac, his grandfather would be a super maniac.

How could his grandfather be in poor health? The last training James did alongside Henry was just as intense. And his grandfather was demonstrating very good health.

"At Christmas Grandpa was doing great. It can't be anything serious, right?" asked James with a quivering lip, and looking at his mother expectantly. He knew her question wouldn't get the answer he wanted.

Euphemia shook her head softly, "It is serious, sweetheart..." said Euphemia, hugging James, who had a blank expression. His eyes were still staring into nothingness.

After this shocking news, they headed to Potter Manor. Using the apparition on the side. 

As they entered the majestic walkway of the gigantic mansion, James said nothing on the way. They were accompanied by Puddle the house-elf, who always accompanies Henry. His little face showed extreme sadness, and his eyes were red, most likely from crying.

They entered Henry's room, which was on the second floor of the mansion. It was very large, there was a double bed, oversized windows, and pieces of antique paintings. 

Henry was lying on the large bed. His face was paler than usual, and his eyes were closed. He was resting. 

There were several people in the room. James's father, Fleamont. His uncle and aunt Charlus and Dorea. Along with his cousin Oliver. In addition to them, there was a middle-aged man in a healer's robe. This was Henry's doctor.

Then there were two men and a woman about Henry's age. They were his old friends. James had met them before. There was also Mimsy, who wouldn't take her eyes off Henry. The house elf's eyes were watery.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy, and not a fly was flying. Everyone had long faces. When the door opened everyone turned their heads and looked at the new guests.

"Son..." said Fleamont, approaching James.

His father said something to him, but James didn't hear what he said very well. He just nodded his head slightly and started walking towards his grandfather. He greeted everyone in the room with a slight nod of his head.

When he reached the bed he could see his grandfather. Since when did he have so many wrinkles and gray hairs? He didn't look like the grandfather who was always shouting enthusiastically at a quidditch match and the grandfather who would sweep the floor with him at practice.

Henry's eyes slowly opened, and looked at James.

"Boy, you finally get here. It's a shame you have to see me in this state," Henry said with a slight smile. Mocking himself.

"Grandfather..." whispered James in a shaky tone of voice. 

"Leave us alone. I need to talk to James," said Henry, trying to raise his voice. 

They all looked at each other and within seconds began to leave the room, "For any emergencies call me quickly," said the doctor to James, who nodded.

In the room, James and Henry were left. James had no words coming out of his mouth. 

"My death is coming," said Henry, breaking the silence and looking up at the high ceiling of the room.

James' shoulders shook as he heard this. Why was his grandfather so tactless? He was only thirteen years old. No grandfather would say that to his grandson.

"There must be a way to improve your health. I've got it! Nicolas Flamel's philosopher's stone," James said as his brain started to work. He had to find Nicolas Flamel.

Nicolas Flamel was a very famous French magician and alchemist. Known for being the creator of the Philosopher's Stone. A legendary substance with which it is possible to produce the Elixir of Life, making the drinker immortal. The potion had to be consumed regularly.

Flamel was born in 1326! More than six hundred years had already passed since he had been living with his wife.

He doesn't care if he has to steal the philosopher's stone. He will.

"That's the attitude," Henry said with an amused smile. James was the only one who proposed such a thing. From his eyes, he noticed that he would be willing to steal the philosopher's stone if necessary.

"No time though," added Henry, rolling up his sleeve. James saw that his grandfather's skin was riddled with black spots.

What on earth was that? Even he didn't know what it was, and he had studied a lot of healing magic.

"It's a strange disease. I don't feel like talking about it. Besides, the philosopher's stone will only extend my life, and I'll be a frail walking skeleton. I don't want that," Henry said disdainfully to the elixir of life.

"There must be some other way. A potion that in addition to extending your life will rejuvenate you," said James without giving up.

"There isn't," said Henry bluntly, bringing the subject to an end. James fell silent and looked at his grandfather with a frown. Henry had always been stubborn.

"My time is coming. I can feel it. It will be a short time before I get to see your grandmother. After so long," Henry said with a wistful look.

"How much time...do you have left?" asked James.

"It's a miracle that my sick body is still functioning. Maybe one more day. If I'm unlucky, it may extend another day." replied Henry with a pained grimace.

"I understand," muttered James nodding his head.

"You're different, James. If I answered that way to your father or uncle they would complain about me talking about my death like it was nothing," said Henry with a slight smile.

What could he do? Argue with his dying grandfather, who already accepted death?

"Your grandmother would be proud. You are the future of the Potter family. The new Lord Potter," Henry said with a longing look. His only regret would be that he would not be able to watch his talented grandson take the Potter family to the highest.

"I will not let them underestimate us again. Those who call us traitors will pay for it," James said, trying to sound as confident as possible. If that was what Grandfather wanted, he would do it.

"If it's you, I'm sure you'll deliver. You must prepare yourself. The next few years will be dangerous. Death Eaters are not playing games. Muggles are not to be treated like animals, remember that" Henry said.

"I know. I'm getting ready to fight them," James said, and Henry smiled proudly.

"I'm tired. I'll rest now," said Henry as he slowly closed his eyes and began to sleep.

James watched his grandfather's face. That was the last conversation he had with Henry. That same day, he passed away at eight thirty-five in the evening. After talking with James he never woke up again.

It seemed that he had only stayed alive so that he could have one last conversation with his precious grandson. 

James felt a deep pain in his chest. He wished he was in the ice vault so that the ice would numb his entire body. Maybe that way, he would stop feeling so much pain.

He never felt such a sensation in his entire life. Maybe like Edward Rothschild, but it wasn't as painful.

What was this? 

It was sadness.