Godric's Hollow. Halloween. A dark, cool night.
He walks.
He glides—quiet and with purpose—down a narrow, leaf-strewn ally. He knows where the house is. Exactly where. Peter has told him. And, with the Fidelius Charm broken, he will be able to see it as well.
He sees.
Ah, yes, there it is. There they are. They are so confident in their protection, in their friends, that they have not even bothered to close the curtains. Their mistake.
He opens.
The door flies open with a casual flick of his wand. When they see him the man screams for the woman to run. No matter. She has nowhere to go.
He kills.
The man doesn't even have time to reach for his wand. The green sparks fly and he is dead.
He walks.
He makes his way up the stairs, to where he knows the woman has gone.
He sees.
A flash of auburn hair gives her away as she runs down the hall. She slams a door in his face.
He opens.
Just like the front door, this one is thrown open with a flick of his wand. Far too easy.
He kills.
She pleads. Not for her life, which he would give to her. For her son's. Silly girl. The small boy is why he is here. She refuses to move and more green sparks fly.
He laughs.
High, cold, and piercing. It is too easy, far too easy. They are weak, he is strong. They have died and he will not.
Lord Voldemort laughs because he is superior and no one will ever be as powerful as he is.