The Dark Lord Potter
Lord Sangdeboue, the Black of Blacks, the Dark Lord Potter, is seven feet tall, and his eyes are killing curse green. He binds his enemies in hellfyre, and he snaps his fingers and burns them to the ground, and nothing's left but the dust of their bones. Then he calls the Polar Wind, and it picks up their ashes, and blows them away across the seas until there's nothing to be found, not one speck of ash, not one grain of dust. And the wives have nothing to bury, and the kids have nothing to grieve, and no one can say good-bye to the proud, princes of darkness, that had once been theirs. Their husband, their father, their friend.
The tears of lamentation fill the land, and the fields lay fallow, and the once-proud Wizengamot stands silent and empty. And at night it doesn't end. The children shiver in their beds, and the wives weep endless tears, and the baby awakens in the middle of the night. The baby sees the green eyes in the darkness, staring with implacable will, and the evil intent brings forth a cry of animal terror from its mouth, its heart, its very soul. The mother leaps bolt upright from the bed and runs to the baby's room, and smashes herself against the sealed door. And the baby screams and cries while the mother pushes against the lock, pounds against the door, hurls the useless spells. if she remembered her wand, and screams into the night.
And later, after the door mysteriously opens, and the baby gasps for air, half dazed in fear, the mother lifts him up into her arms, her own tears streaming, and brings him into her own bed, holds him within her protective embrace as he weeps, then breathes, then sighs, as they lay together through the night, not sleeping, but trembling, only trembling.
"No, I don't want the Dark Lord Potter to get me! I don't want him to eat my bones and drink my blood!"
"Then eat your vegetables, and stop teasing your sister!"