It Meant Family

31st of October 1981 - part 1

"For never was a story of more woe than this..." - Romeo & Juliet, William Shakespeare

Potter Residence, Godric Hollow, Scotland

Whether we call it Dia de Los Muertos, Samhain, All Hallows Eve, or Halloween, the 31st of October is known for the mysteries it contains. While in some cultures, it's a sacred day of remembrance, in others it's a way to laugh at fear's expense, but the one thing that many beliefs carry in common is that Halloween is the night of the year in which the veil between the world of the dead and the world of the living is the thinnest.

To the muggle eye, Godric's Hollow was a peaceful homely village, inhabited by the loyal and courageous of heart and the events that just about to unfold would pass by unnoticed. To the wizarding eye, however, the word peace would find itself far from thought when describing any of their villages. Seeds of war had been planted all over the magical society and were sprouting grotesque poisonous flowers that reeked of death and sorrow. What the residents of Godric's Hollow could not yet see, was that that night would be followed by 13 years of sweet, yet illusory peace.

As the night of Halloween fell, a lonely figure in a black robe crept through the small looking cottages in the village with calm and posture. The man charmed open one of the cottage doors and walked in quietly. Upstairs, Lily Potter held her son in fear as if her own arms could protect him from the most powerful of magics.

"Send Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore a patronus" James whispered "and go to Harry's room." He stood next to her at their bedroom's door frame, but neither of them moved, "I should have known better," he looked at his wife and son apologetically. "I'll kill that little rat." They both knew that wasn't true, they knew this was the end, that James wouldn't live long enough to kill Peter Pettigrew or any other Death Eater, but they also knew that behind all his hate and underneath all the blood on his hands, Voldemort was an arrogant brat and that he had come to face them alone, which allowed James to buy Lily time to protect Harry. "I love you" he said, but it was more than that and she understood. It meant "I'll see you soon" it meant "I'm sorry I didn't know" it meant "I wish I could have done more".

"I love you too" she responded, but she meant "it's okay"; "I don't blame you"; "you couldn't have known"; "you did enough" and "I'll see you on the other side."

James walked closer to the staircase, on the lower floor, he could see a man in a black robe at whom he aimed a curse, but it was deflected with ease. The man turned around and a green flash of light flew his way, but missed. He went down a few steps and shot another one, but there was no effect, he yet again ducked away from a flash of green light. Voldemort saw no point in the battle, he thought, in fact, that it was quite pathetic, like James was just a little boy, fighting someone he knew he couldn't beat.

From the outside, only flashes could be seen, from time to time, maybe someone could hear an exploding sound, but from the inside, it was possible to feel fear and anger in the air, being suffocated by the overwhelming amount of magic.

There was something about Voldemort's eyes, maybe it was how he perceived James as a child, that made him remember the day he and Lily had announced her pregnancy to some of their old school friends. James thought about Sybil, how she seemed so happy, but the second she touched Lily to congratulate her, she gasp. There was something in her expression, something James never saw directed at him before, but that his son would grow accustomed to, it was pity. Sybil left early that night, without saying a word, which Lily later pointed out to be unusual behaviour.

In that moment of understanding, the so-called Dark Lord was able to aim a final spell at the father of his soon to be nemesis. James felt his body grow cold, he tried to fight it, but there was no point, his body no longer responded to his brain's commands. It was less than a second, but felt like a long time. He didn't see his life flash through his eyes, as a matter of fact, he couldn't even remember his own name, than, along with the warmth, his consciousness, too, was sucked out of his body.

Voldemort climbed up the stairs and looked around at the second floor doors for only a moment before realising that from underneath one of them there was a flash of silvery-blue light and loud crying. He opened it slowly, left hand on the handle and right hand on his wand.

"Move" he demanded, as he saw Lily standing between Harry, who sat desperately crying on his crib, and himself. Evil or not he owed one of his followers a favour, to let Lily Potter survive.

"Never" she growled.

And maybe because he hated owing people things and killing a useful pawn such as Severus Snape would be rather inconvenient at that particular moment, or because something about Lily's bravery made him wonder if his own mother would have stood between him and someone she knew she couldn't kill, but he said it again.

"Move!"

"Never" she growled louder. Lily held Harry's hand behind her back, she felt all of her love for him and all of her magic merge into one, she allowed it to take over all of her body. So when the green light filled up the room, the warmth within Lily wasn't sucked out like James' had been; it escaped, from her heart into Harry's. She thought of herself a few minutes earlier, holding her son in her arms.

"It's okay Harry," she had said "I will protect you until you can protect yourself, and even after that, I will always be here." She touched his chest with her open hand, "I swear it on my magic." Her wand flickered. And just like her husband, she tried to fight the coldness creeping up inside her, but all she could manage was a loud, high pitched "no".

Harry stopped crying, in the split second that took for life to leave his mother's body. He didn't understand what was happening and even though his mother was lying there, lifeless, and there was a strange man pointing his bone-like wand to his forehead, he felt safe. Voldemort didn't seem to notice the unlikeliness of such behaviour, so he chanted, loud and clear, the words that were so familiar to his lips.

"Avada Kedavra." The room was once again taken over by a flash of green light, Harry felt his forehead burn slightly and where the man had previously stood in front of him, there was nothing. Harry felt something else wash over his body, it wasn't warm and safe and home, like his mother's magic, it was more like being struck in the head and his heart sank, with feelings too complex for his young brain to understand.

He started crying again, alone in his house with his parent's lifeless corpses, in the seemingly peaceful village of Godric's Hollow, during the night in which the veil between life and death was it's thinnest, after watching man fall victim of his own spell, arrogance, and greed. Then and there, on the 31st of October 1981, being only a year old, Harry James Potter had become the boy who lived, with the parents who died.