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Dorcas
Godric's Hollow---James was born here, and he was probably going to die here, he had a feeling. Everything seemed to come back to here; coming home when his mother died, being abducted from his own house, the fight the night Sirius was returned. It all just seemed to happen here, and, well, James was beginning to find that a bit odd.

Did Voldemort really want to destroy every childhood memory of his? Really? The plaza was lit with spells and hexes and jinx, trees he'd climbed in were bursting into flames, he could see his old house---where his father was probably sound asleep with no idea...Dorcas' parents were nearby too, maybe her mother would realize what was happening, they were one of maybe--maybe two, three other wizarding families in the area. Honestly--if your town had become a hotspot for death eater activity, you would move the fuck out of there too.

James spotted a death eater crouching behind a short, stone fence, and he shot a quick stunning spell into his back. He watched as the figure fell, and James made to tie the man's arms up, but was shot hard in the side, sending him flying into the side of a---thankfully wooden fence.

Still hurt like a fucking bitch, though, and James laid on his stomach for a second to regain his senses. His glasses had flown off, and he patted the grass for them, crawling, shifting around in the under brush. James felt the branches of a bush scratching against his head, at least he had that cover---

"James? James Potter, is that you?"

The sickeningly sweet voice of Lord Voldemort seemed to crack straight through all the sound of the fighting going around them. James felt his stomach tighten and his fist froze around his glasses (he never, ever found them that easily), hand hovering over the blades of grass. No, no---

"Come on out, James, I haven't seen you in such a long time..."