He came like an oncoming storm (Book 1 of the Stigma of the Wind series)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Lord Voldemort, formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle junior, stepped away from the unconscious body of James Potter. He hoped to ask the man some questions once he woke again, but right now he had a more important task.

Lily Potter fell just as easy as her husband, forcing the Dark Lord to step over her unconscious form towards the crib, where the two babes lay. One of them was prophesized to vanquish him, but which? The elder twin, Daniel, had been born on July 31st at 11:55 pm. His spy had told him how the boy loved creating visions and specters that could keep him entertained for hours, oh yes he had that stupid rat collect some information that might clue him as to which of the twins would have to meet his demise, for he – Voldemort – did not condone unnecessary killings of children.

He threw another look at the older brother, Pettigrew had mentioned the boy's caring attitude. Despite his young age Daniel seemed to have a love for any and every living being, his connection to everything alive most likely derived from the forest elf blood the Potters were rumored to have. His looks matched such an assumption as he had inherited his mother's blazing red hair and forest green eyes, which filled with fear when Voldemort met their gaze. Daniel's magic was like a lighthouse, basking everything in white magic. Oh, yes Daniel James Potter had power, power enough to become a Light Lord when the time arrived but not enough power to truly be the one to defeat him.

So Voldemort turned to the younger sibling, Hadrian Zephyrus Potter, born on the 31st of July exactly a second before Midnight and the start of August 1st. He had inherited his father's unruly black hair and skin as pale as freshly fallen snow. The Rat had not been able to find out much about this twin because the boy avoided Pettigrew and became incredibly fussy when held by the rodent. Wormtail could only tell of one instance where he had been able to witness the boy use magic to float his brother to the ground when said brother had followed a butterfly over the edge of the balcony. They only knew it had been Hadrian's magic because the boy had been guiding the aiding wind – which had rescued his brother – with his little arms. Other cases of Hadrian showing accidental magic also included wind and sometimes even storms. However, they could not be confirmed by Pettigrew as he had not been there to witness them.

Voldemort took another look at the dark-haired boy, who had his face turned to his now quivering brother. Annoyed at being ignored – and knowing that his reaction was beyond childish – Voldemort clicked his tongue. Jade almond-shaped eyes snapped to him, giving him a look that – on a grown-up face – would have meant something between "Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me? Don't give me that crap!" and "Can't you see that I am busy with more important matters?". Shocked to receive such a dirty look from a child Voldemort forgot his irritation and simply stared some more. The babe's magic formed a protective cocoon around his elder sibling, dimming the blindingly light magic down into a perfect grey. Other swirls of magic brushed against the Dark Lord's, surprising him once more: The boy was dark, darker than black, darker than anything he had seen before. His aura was like a winter night and if you looked long enough you could see spots of light magic scattered over the boy's magical core like the stars across the sky.

Yes, this boy, not even a toddler yet, had the potential to defeat him. He looked into jade eyes. And he felt incredibly guilty for having to end this child's life before he even got a chance to live it. "You must know that I do not want to do this. Shedding magical blood is the worst crime possible in my eyes, especially if the magic is innocent, but I have to win this war. At any cost. So, please believe me when I say: I am sorry but I cannot risk my goals to let you live." And he felt like a liar. He knew that there had to be another way but it mattered not. Slowly he raised his wand setting it against Hadrian's forehead, jade eyes full of understanding resignation, or so it seemed to him.