Best served cold

Prologue

"They have almost found us, surely you have a plan," hissed a female voice, its tone sharp with urgency. 

"Of course I do, I won't let them find us," a man said, his voice steady and resolute.

The woman, with long wavy onyx hair cascading down her back and pale skin accentuating her plump pink lips, glared with bright Avada Kedavra green eyes, filled with both determination and fear. The man, tall and handsome, possessed jet black hair slicked back immaculately, his pale skin emphasizing the intensity of his dark green eyes that held a depth of ambition and cunning.

As they conversed, a sudden commotion erupted outside the room. A cacophony of spells clashed, accompanied by shouts and the unmistakable presence of Dumbledore and his forces. The air crackled with magic, and shadows danced ominously on the walls.

Not wasting a moment, the man turned to the woman, his expression grave. "Emilia, go. Take our children. Keep them safe."

Time was of the essence as she ran down the long corridor, holding her children in her arms. She could hear the sounds of struggle behind her as her husband fought for every second he could in hopes that she would escape to safety with their children. Her heart was pounding in her chest. 

She had reached a dead end. 

She stood in the apparition room of their extravagant mansion, panting, crying babies in her arms, tears welling in her eyes. She could not give up. She had to find a way, even if it killed her. She would not let them take her children. She would not let them be condemned to the life of misery their attackers sought to bring.

Just as the sound of pounding footsteps grew dangerously close, she drew her wand and cast a spell. She only prayed it would work in time. 

"Apparate."

With a swift and determined flick of her wand, she uttered the incantation, channeling all her desperation and hope into the spell. The air crackled around her, and in an instant, she felt the familiar tug at her navel as she Apparated with her children, vanishing from the room just as the door burst open behind her.

For a moment, she was engulfed in a disorienting whirl of colors and sensations, the sensation of being squeezed through a tight tube. Then, as abruptly as it began, it was over. They reappeared in a secluded forest clearing, far away from the looming threat.

Gasping for breath, she clutched her children tightly, her heart still racing from the adrenaline-fueled escape. The babies stirred, sensing her distress, and she shushed them softly, rocking them in her arms to soothe their cries.

But the danger wasn't over. She knew they couldn't stay here for long; they needed a safer refuge, far from the prying eyes of their enemies. Looking around the dense forest, she spotted a concealed path leading deeper into the woods.

"We have to keep moving," she murmured to her children, her voice laced with determination. "We'll find shelter. We'll be safe." She tightened her grip on her wand, steeling herself for whatever challenges lay ahead.

Yet, fate had a cruel turn. 

A flash of green light erupted from behind her, the Killing Curse resonating through the air. Emilia fell, her last breath leaving her as she crumpled to the ground. Dumbledore, somber but resolute, lifted the son from her arms, cradling him gently.

"You have a lot to do, Mr. Harry Potter," he declared, a grim yet disturbingly giddy sneer on his face.