Ꭺ NᎬᏔ ᏞᏆFᎬ ᏴᎬᏩᏆNᏚ

3

"Lily!" James cried, the tone of his terrified her even more as it was filled with fear, as she took a feeble step towards the living room. "Lily, take Harry and go! It's Him! Run! I'll hold him off-"

Un-freezing from her spot and with a burst of determination, Lily clutched Harry tighter to her bosom before running up the stairs to the nursery. She closed and locked the door behind her with surprisingly steady hands, and she tried to hold Harry closer to her than possible. Tears filled her eyes as she realized that her fate would end up like her husband. She took in a deep breath and looked down at her son, who gazed up at her with wide, fearful emerald eyes- her eyes.

"Baby," she whispered, her throat contracting as she set him gently in his crib. A sickening thud from below met her ears as a sob forced its way through her lips, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She forced a smile as she heard a cold, high-pitched laugh echo from the stairs as she stared down at her son.

"I...Mummy loves you, Harry. Mummy loves you so much," Lily chocked out, placing her hand to her lips as she heard another faint click coming from the nursery door. Faint light illuminated the nursery as the door was pushed fully open, and Lily, standing up, turned to face her fate.

Voldemort stood in the doorway, a shadow of his former self with his head tilted sideways in curiosity at the scene in front of him. He took a slow step into the nursery as Lily raised her arms protectively over the crib. His thin lips stretched into a mocking smile as he hissed in contempt at her attempt of protection.

"Not Harry," Lily said. "Not Harry, please. Please, not Harry."

"Step aside, you foolish girl." Voldemort jeered. "Stand aside, now."

"Not Harry," Lily said more boldly. "Take me instead. Just please, not Harry."

Voldemort took another step forward, studying her fierce expression as he towered over her with her defiant eyes staring straight into his.

"Have mercy, please. Not Harry," she begged. "Please have mercy."

With a sudden swiftness, Voldemort and brought it down wordlessly, a blinding green light filled the room, and as young Harry's eyes squeezed shut, a dull thud of a body hitting the floor confirmed the worst thing imaginable: Lily Potter was dead.

A frightening laugh echoed through the nursery and by extension, the entire house as Voldemort, Dark Lord Supreme, stood over the crib, aiming his wand in the center of the infant's face. Tears leaked from Harry's eyes as he whimpered silently while looking up Voldemort, whose grin was of delight. Feeling a rush of power course through his body, Voldemort raised his wand over his head and brought it down with a scream of, "Avada Kedavra".

There was another overwhelming flash of green light, a roaring in Voldemort's ears, a prickling sensation throughout his entire body, and right then and there he knew that something had gone wrong.

Suddenly, he knew no more.

- & -

November 1, 1981
Little Whinging, Surry
Number 4 Privet Drive

In the suburb of Little Whinging, Surrey, on the street Privet Drive, the occupants of the numerous houses lining the streets were either asleep or winding down from a long down and just settling down into bed for a good night's rest. However, as they drifted off into the sea of dreams, the people never noticed the peculiar things happening outside of their very homes.

As a cool breeze blew rustling the autumn leaves on this quiet night, a man appeared out of nowhere. He was a strange man, not one that you would see in Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which was long enough to tuck into his belt. He wore old-fashioned robes, a deep purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled buckled boots. Light blue eyes took in his surroundings, bright and sparkling over his half-moon spectacles and a nose that was long and crooked, as though it had broken more than once. That unordinary man's name was Albus Dumbledore.