A Mere Child
A prophecy is unveiled, an old rival seeks revenge, and the final betrayal of a friend...all lead up to the moment on the night of All Hallows Eve. On the night one year old Harry Potter stood no chance of defeating the Dark Lord, for he was nothing more then an infant. Nothing more than A Mere Child.
The Storm of Change
It was sunset.
The time when the dark swallowed the light and it was no more. This was Voldemort's favorite time of day. This one made so much more so for the fact that threatening, fierce clouds rolled over the horizon, looming closer...closing in on him. He could feel the energy in the air, the warning that the storm was approaching.
As the rain began it's seductive sonata there was a quite knock at the door. "Sir, Severus begs an audience with you." Snape...beg. Not likely. Severus was more likely to promise a painful death to the simple servant if not admitted. Typical half-blood, but then Voldemort did -Secretly of course- hold half-bloods; half bloods mind you not muggleborns, in a higher regard for he himself was one as well, but no one was to know this tiny fact.
"Send him in." He said, waiting to listen to the ever-annoying scraping as his faithful pawns crawled their way to him, when no such occurrence took place and he felt a tug on his robe he nearly snarled. No simpering fear could be found in the boys gestures or actions as he stood back head still respectfully bowed.
"Speak before you lose my interest." The growling of thunder underlining the words.
"My Lord, I have heard the beginnings of a prophecy concerning you." Voldemort noted that he was heavily leaning on his left leg and his voice was slurred as though his jaw might be broken.
"I see hearing such a thing has cost you much, " He turned back to the window, the tempo of this storm was rising. "Sit. Tell me what it is that you know."
"I was awaiting a contact in Hog's Head Inn, Hogsmeade. Prof-Dumbledore came in, spoke with the owner and went upstairs, something seemed so out of place that I followed. By the time I reached the door, I realized what he was doing. A Sybill Trelawney was staying there and wanted the Divination position. The two talked on normally when she went silent mid sentence," Voldemort could see his reflection in the window and was about to growl out a command that he finish when he began to speak again.
"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...' forgive me My lord, but I couldn't hear the rest. I was roughly forced from the establishment."
Voldemort regarded the storm raging before him; yes, indeed the winds have changed. "You may go, Severus."
Voldemort still stood facing the window, the storm was upon them now, venting some unknown fury, but he cared not for the storm bellowing outside for he was intently concentrating upon the words revealed to him.
Who thrice defied him- Potters, Brooks, Longbottoms, McKnights...it's one of those four. Born as the seventh month dies-July...we shall see soon enough. He abruptly turned from the window and called upon his inner circle while making his way downstairs.
He could not allow this to happen.
Voldemort stood waiting for them to answer his beckoning. Things will be set in motion this night. He would not be vanquished by anyone. It is an impossibility. He was brought out of his mental rant as the door opened and a flood of people entered. The tempo was becoming quite savage, it seems.
"It has come to my attention that there has been a prophecy made. A prophecy made that I will be vanquished," A blinding streak of light and near deafening roar brought him to a pause. The storm had pasted it's peak.
"But I will not allow such a thing to happen. It is the child of either the Longbottoms, Brooks, McKnights, or Potters. Find out all you can about these four pests."
Voldemort finished his command and was met with a murmur of protest. "Master, please...how do we know that this source is not tainted."
This incited more murmuring and brought forth a red haze to Voldemort's eyes and he gave into his rage.
"SILENCE! HOW DARE YOU QUESTION ME!"
The slowly decreasing strum of rain against the window, the flicker of lightening, even the resulting rumble of thunder wasn't enough to dull the whimpers of agony of the death eaters that rested at Voldemort's' feet.
For some that night, the tempo froze.
The Only Choice
Twilight crept forward and Voldemort had begun to pace, pausing randomly to stare out the open window before him, dawn was approaching and with it night would relinquish control to day once again. Voldemort was at a silent debate with himself as he had been for nearly a year after coming to the knowledge of that accursed prophecy. Even after all this time he still could not come to terms that an infant could one day hold a power great enough to surpass him.
He had already come to the decision and arranged that all four families were to die, no sense in allowing them to defy him so many time unpunished, now was there? He intended to send his death eaters out for the other three after the child was dealt with. He was broke from this line of thoughts as he reeled back suddenly as dawn broke full on the horizon and pain shot through his head. Ripping the curtains shut from the offending morning light he continued his pacing. Pacing always had helped him to think things through.
The Potters or the Longbottoms where the only two options to him that he was aware of.
They had children born on the seventh month. Both were born as it died. Both families had defied him thrice.
Which child of the two children would be the one to vanquish him, he had yet to discern and this cause him much annoyance, annoyance that turned into anger as the months progressed and anger that was taken out on anyone who did so much as breathe to hard in his presence. The prophecy be damned, they are all going to die...starting with that blood traitor Potter and his half blood son.
Voldemort came to an abrupt halt and stared at the closed draperies and the light that stubbornly winked from the bottom. The half blood potter brat was born the day after the pureblood Longbottom wretch. The answer had been before him the entire time only just now had he stopped to actually see it.
A year. It had taken nearly a year for Voldemort to confirm his decision. Yet it now stood before him, silently taunting him with the weight he would never fathom. Harry Potter will be the one that will have the power.
It is Harry Potter who must die.
The Final Betrayal
The scurry and scratching of a rat outside the door broke Voldemort from this reverie. He had been debating the appearance of a particularly ominous sight.
The Blood Moon Crescent.
This was on the supposed night of a near full moon and it troubled him to no end for he couldn't yet calculate the cause or reason for such an omen. The rodent at his door had become quite persistent and Voldemort sneered at the entranceway in disgust before bellowing for them to enter.
The form of Peter Pettigrew trembled as he crawled his way towards his master. He couldn't help but enjoy the power he felt as he watched the wretched creature kiss the hem of his robes, or stutter fearfully over apologies and ill-begotten praise over accomplishments that were no less then massacres. The thought alone made him quiver with the want...need to kill.
"You try my patience rat, tis quite a dangerous thing to do...Why have you disturbed me when I have commanded none are to do such?" Voldemort wasn't truly angry, at least not yet, though if given the proper chance he could be. But for now he simply relished in the fear his stance created within a soul, a look reinforced to near-breaking, a word could shatter...leaving a poor, broken soul...which was just what he needed as fodder for his upcoming war. And those strong enough to right themselves after such an assault became his inner circle, his generals...his family.
"Ma-Mas-t-te-r Master...I h-ha-ave learned someth-th-thing of gre-a-at im-p-po-portance." Pettigrew stammered, radiating fear yet wisely keeping his face pressed to the floor. While Voldemort enjoyed becoming drunk in the fear he induced; the game had grown stale for the moment so he almost lazily drew his wand, the whimper it enticed amused him. He was watching his shadow, how very thoughtful of him. Too thoughtful actually...but that shall be dealt with later if what he has to say proves to be as important as he claims.
"Cease your stammering! For the next time you do so it shall cost your life...now what is it that you deem so important to disturb me at such an hour." Voldemort noted how the rodent stopped shivering and sniffling immediately, there might be hope for the rat yet.
"Yes, My Lord. The Potters' have made me their Secret Keeper. I know the location in which you seek and none other could find." The rodent boldly claimed, but Voldemort paid it no heed, he was already making plans for the death of the Potters. He realized the rat was still there and more apparently needed to be told.
"Continue...my faithful servant. I will forgive this transgression in light of the information you have brought to me." Voldemort loathed being remotely civil to anything that groveled, yet Pettigrew balanced his miserable excuse of begging and overly cautious, yet amusingly bold remarks well so he allowed him a small amount of praise. Never though without the lingering threat that he had ventured toward Deaths' Hall and will never be above traveling there fully. So he listened on to the rat knowing that the prophecy that has plagued him will no longer be. That he shall never darken Deaths' Court. That only he could surpass death.
That only HE was Immortal.
The Hall of Death
Halloween...All Hallows Eve...The Night of Deaths Midnight Waltz. Any name you give it will not matter for tonight in the Wizarding world it shall be known as the night that hope will be lost and he conquers England.
The full moon looked on as the lone spectator, witnessing Voldemorts' departure from his house. This is the night that will finish it all. This is the eve of the waltz and is perfectly fitting for the Potters to dance for him on this mockery of the true holiday.
Tonight he would shed blood.
The simplest thought of doing so brought the thrill of anticipation coursing through his veins. Voldemort looked up, the house appeared before him and he strode forward with his wand in hand. Being one for making an entrance he blew the door inward and was rewarded with a terrified scream and a shouted "Lily run!" He allowed the woman to scramble away...a game of hide and seek was always welcome to him. So for now he turned his attention to the remaining Potter. James stood as he always had, rebellious.
"Potter, I am delighted to see you wish to play tonight. I have been searching for someone who I could use to try a few new experiments I have been developing," Voldemort gave James a heartless smile. "Maybe if they work well with you I might not have to use them on your wife and son."
He was answered with a bludgeoning spell with so much fury behind it that it set his shield aglow for a moment. It was shortly followed by the very unexpected coffee table that forcibly slammed into him, which was nothing more then a distraction as the true onslaught began. Voldemort dodged and regain his balance and sent his own hexes toward the desperate father.
"Briekuirm Amndren," Voldemort watched his creation hit Potter square in the chest, and gave a great blood-thirsty cackle. "Tell me Potter, what does it feel like to have your bones slowly crushed to dust within your body?"
Once again, he was met with a second volley of hexes and curses far stronger then he thought capable of the blood traitor. Somehow Potter had managed to wear multiple pinprick holes through his defense; if he hadn't been so angry at that moment he just might have been impressed.
"You don't like it? Yiern Naliera," He memorized the disjointed scream that tore itself from James Potter's throat. "Is that one any better? Does it hurt to have your organs become so hot they begin to liquefy each other?"
James Potter fell, near dead and Voldemort stepped over him and on to his true objective. He had alighted the fifth step when pain exploded in his back and he slumped to the wall; reaching behind him he grasped a large splinter and ripped it lose. His head turned back to look at the kneeling figure gasping for breath from lungs that were no longer there.
"NO!" James reached out once again trying to make another stand, but a green tinted spell ended the struggle for James Potter. Voldemort began to make his way upstairs again, he could hear the wail of a child and knew that this nights fun was about to end.
"Lily," He paused in the doorway. "You aren't trying to run away now are you? That would spoil all my fun and I can't very well allow that."
The frantic mother turned full to him blocking the cradle behind her. "Take me...Kill me instead."
"Your not worth killing, now out of my way..." Voldemort raised his wand higher. Lily Potter pressed herself closer to the cradle. "MOVE!"
"Please...please...he is only a child. He is defenseless. "Lily pleaded picking up her son, she sank to the floor and held him close to her heart. This action caused Voldemort to sneer, how could she so willingly give up her own life for something so revolting and unworthy as a child.
"Avada Kedavra." A fraction of a second before the sickly green streak hit Harry, Lily flung her back to him, sliding sideways and back into oblivion the next second. By this time Voldemort had grown near insane as he tried to quench his insatiable thirst for blood. Pulling the lifeless form of Lily Potter away he spoke the ultimate unforgivable once again.
A wave of pain hit Voldemort unexpectedly; whom was lost to the thrall of blood lust, completely disregarded it at first, until the second wave crashed upon him and it too ceased to ebb. Wave after wave of excruciating pain tore at his soul, pressed down heavier as each fell upon him. Voldemort's roar of surprised agony fell short as the fabric of his soul was unbound and he spiraled into endless agony.
His last, hollow echo of a thought rang out before he was forced to flee into nothingness.
This couldn't be. He was nothing more than an infant...A mere child.