Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
He floated through the air, heaving in frustration, his blood red and silver robes billowing in the icy winter wind. How could his seer, of all people, suggest this to him? But he never dared to defy him, for his seer had powers he did not have, and was able to predict everything accurately, even the most far-fetched of them all.
He landed on the cold brick roof, blanketed with cold white snow, as he thought about his seer. The latter had, with a cold smirk on his face, told him to not kill them on Halloween, but on Christmas, or die terribly.
"Mama! Papa! Santa Claus has come to town!" The boy, clad in green pyjamas, yelled, as he watched a lanky figure slid down from the chimney. A man with unruly black hair and brown eyes came running in with a woman whose long red hair flew as she ran.
"Oh my!" Lily gasped, "It really is Santa Claus! Although he is much thinner than I thought his to be."
"SANTA CLAUS!" James ran forwards like a mad dog and hugged him; Voldemort shuddered.
"Should we call our visitor?" Lily asked.
"No, I daresay he needs to sleep," James said, smiling, "He isn't young, you know, and I bet he has seen him millions of times before."
Beneath his joyful façade, Voldemort smirked. It would be easy, he laughed silently, picking them off one by one. He would attend to the visitor later.
"Here's a gift for you, Harry," Voldemort pushed a gift into Harry's hands, smiled, though sneering inside, as he watched Harry tear open it immediately. Having counted that Harry would open the gift upon receiving it, and not keep it until he was gone (Or when Harry himself was dead), Voldemort had given him an authentic gift.
"A toy wand! Thank you, mister!" The young boy beamed as he experimented with it, casting spells around the room, which resulted in many broken furniture. So the old man was right after all, on giving Harry this.
"Harry!" Lily shouted; James laughed.
"And now, Harry, there's a performance specially for you," Voldemort announced, brandishing his wand, which now resembled a large candy cane, "Parents, please come forwards. And bow."
"Imperio!" Voldemort whispered, casting a silent spell at the two, who began dancing, like falling leaves in the cold autumn wind.
"More! More!" Harry shouted in glee, clapping his hands. With another flick of his wand, blood began spurting out of their eyes like fountains, as they danced silently to a melody unheard by anyone but them.
"More, please?" Harry turned to Voldemort, his eyes beseeching. Voldemort smirked yet again. If only Harry knew he were torturing his own parents. With that, the Imperius curse was released.
Lily and James groaned, as they rubbed their bloodied eyes in agony. "What's wrong with them?" Harry asked, his eyes wide with alarm. "They're just tired," Voldemort whispered silently, and, as a sudden spurt of blood flew out of their eyes, said, "They're ready now."
Lily and James stood up, digging into each other's eyes. White, soft pieces of their eyes dropped onto the floor, like rubble from old, dilapidated houses as they screamed in pain. Harry, thinking it was part of the performance, laughed out loud, clapping his hands quickly.
His parents, their nails suddenly long and sharp, started clawing at each other's abdomen. Their entrails began falling out of their bodies as mangled, bloody flesh laced their fingers. They then proceeded to lick them and eat each other's entrails.
They began to droop, as though from lethargy, as they munched on the soft flesh. Voldemort, thinking it was time, released the imperius curse.
And the two fell onto the floor, screaming, but where silenced even before they touched the ground. Suddenly, they writhed in the air, as though in pain, before they fell, unmoving forever.
"Are they alright?" Harry asked, concerned.
"Of course they are, my boy. They are just asleep," Voldemort replied, his voice silky, "Now, let me take you to somewhere nice."
But before he could cast the curse that would silence the boy forever, someone stabbed him from the back. It wasn't a sword-it was something else, something that burned him to his bone, that dissolved his heart slowly.
He whipped around, only to see the old man with a long silver beard, equally light hair and emerald eyes. "You!" He snarled, "You betrayed me! You only wanted me to come today so that you could kill me! "
The seer smirked. "I came today, to kill you, so that I could save my parents." With that, he pulled of his wig and beard. Voldemort gaped, for there, in front of him, was James Potter.
Or was it not? For this man had green eyes instead of brown, and a lightning-shaped scar. "The world will be much better without you," He whispered in his ear.
Glancing at the boy, he understood the situation immediately. As he felt the life leak out of him, he said his final curse, "You're parents are dead, Harry," he sneered, looking towards the two limp, mangled figures. Harry, upon taking just one glance at them, began to cry hysterically.
"And you, Harry," Voldemort said, looking towards the younger boy, "That wasn't a performance. I killed them, slowly and painfully, as you cheered on. Imagine, listening to your son shout in excitement to torture you as you die." With that, Voldemort went limp, his cold, glassy eyes staring out at the world he could not see.
"And I thought it was the best option," the older Harry murmured to himself between sobs, "To stop him from killing them on Halloween. But alas, I was too late today…"
Neither Harry was sane again.