Life was a game, you win and you lose. My game was coming to an end, I could tell as I clutched my one year old son in my arms and ran up to his nursery. I heard a throaty yell, "Avada Kedavra" and I knew my husband was dead. I heard James' body slam to the floor and I choked back tears. I needed to be strong for my son. I had to make sure his dice weren't landing on a very wrong roll, the roll my husband's dice had just landed on. Harry's life couldn't be over; he was so very young, only a year old and so sweet. Voldemort was powerful though, and I didn't have my wand with me. James hadn't had his either. I didn't even get to say goodbye to him.
I ran into his nursery, I placed Harry into his cot and I bolted the door behind us. I knew it wouldn't do any help, but it might give us some time. Harry was watching me from his cot. I kneeled down next to him, I kissed his forehead. I could hear thumping footsteps, Voldemort was coming. He was the reason our dice were landing on the wrong roll. He wanted us dead, all of us.
He opened the door to Harry's nursery. I clutched my arms to the sides of his crib so I could protect him. "Move out of the way you silly girl!" Voldemort screamed. "No, please not Harry." I begged. "I'll ask you one more time, GET OUT OF THE WAY!" "No." I said. I saw Voldemort slip out his wand, 'I love you Harry. Be safe, be strong.' I thought. As Voldemort screamed, "Avada Kedavra" I thought, 'Games over. See you soon James.'