A/N: Written for Bookwormlovesharrypotter's Marauder Challenge. Requirements: Tragedy/Family genre, summertime, words: red and brown.
He doesn't normally bother with Muggles. They're nice and fun to torture, with those looks of bewilderment on their faces, but he never picks out individuals. To him Muggles aren't even individuals. They're only a group of people who only deserve to exist as servants to those of a higher social class – namely, wizards and witches.
This, however, is different. One of the most insistent members of that group that opposes him called The Order of the Phoenix is a Mudblood. She deserves to suffer. He doesn't want to go to the bother of hunting her down personally – she is safe at Hogwarts during the school year and he doesn't have the time to go and find her during the summer. Her parents, on the other hand, rarely travel. He knows from having people spy on them that they nearly always stay home in the evenings.
He had picked the date in advance – July 17th, 1977, an otherwise beautiful summer day.
That is when he attacks.
He takes special pleasure in killing. Torturing is fun, but there is something satisfying about that jet of green light that signals the end of a life. It makes him feel powerful, even more powerful than everyone already knows he is.
Night is falling as he approaches the dull, brown house that his targets live in. The sky becomes just a little bit darker; the air becomes just slightly colder. Dusk is his favorite time of day, when the grey mist of the sky conceals things.
He doesn't bother knocking. A silent unlocking charm takes care of the door. It doesn't even creak as he ever so stealthily opens it. The stealth is almost just for fun. There is nothing that his victims can do to escape him once he decides to kill them, especially not if they're only Muggles.
Two beams of green light later, two lives are lost, and nobody except the killer was there to witness it.
Voldemort smiles. He rarely bothers with Muggles, but knowing that he has killed two people so precious to a member of his opposition…it's almost better than torturing her directly. He doesn't know what love is, but he knows that it makes people do stupid things. Maybe this will make her just stupid enough to get herself out of the way.
Her favorite month is July. The weather is warm and there's no schoolwork to be done. Not that she hates schoolwork, but it does get a bit stressful after a while. She has no obligation for the rest of the month other than to sit back and relax.
It's July 17th, 1977, and night is beginning to fall. It's been almost a month since she has left from her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She absentmindedly puts her long red hair up into a ponytail to get it off of the back of her neck. She's sitting on the grass at a park near her house. She knows that she has to go back home soon, but right now, she doesn't care. It's just so relaxing, sitting outside on a midsummer night, all alone, not having to do anything besides sit and think about nothing in particular.
Suddenly, a brown owl with a piece of parchment tied to its leg approaches her. She's used to getting letters this way, but this is not her owl. Her owl is safely locked away in her room at home. She doesn't recognize this owl as belonging to one of her school friends, either. Whose could it possibly be, and why would it be bringing her a letter?
She slowly opens the parchment and sees the symbol of the Ministry of Magic. Why would they be contacting her? She can't get in trouble for using magic outside of school anymore – she's officially of age in the wizarding world. Unless, of course, she accidentally used magic while a Muggle was watching…but that is unlikely, she always makes sure nobody could see her when she uses magic in the Muggle world. She decides to just read the letter.
We regret to inform you of the deaths of your parents, which occurred at 7:37pm today at your home. They were murdered by Voldemort. We have removed the bodies for burial.
Sincerely,
The Ministry of Magic
She rereads the parchment over and over and over, hoping that the words will change. But they don't. She looks at her Muggle watch – it's only 7:45pm. How could this have happened just eight minutes ago without her knowing, without her sensing that something was wrong?
She hopes that maybe is was sent by mistake.
But the Ministry is never wrong.
She doesn't want to go back home. Not now, not yet. And yet, she has to.
As she walks through the front door of her house, all that she can think about is that everything looks the same. She doesn't know what she was expecting, but she wishes that something was different to signify that there was such a huge change in her life.
And yet things remain the same. A tear runs down her cheek. It's as if the entire world has forgotten Jonathan and Margaret Evans.
But Lily Evans hasn't.