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'To have died once is enough' (Virgil)
The man was in his pyjamas, glasses askew and black hair a rumpled mess. As he saw the dark figure in the doorway he knew, with unfathomable certainty, that it was the end. He had misplaced his trust, and his family were about to pay the price. In blind terror, he fumbled for his wand but it was too far away, discarded on the floor where he had sat smiling with his family only seconds before.
The pale, hooded figure was still in the doorway. It seemed to take an eternity for the cloaked arm to slowly lift his wand. A chillingly recognisable wand; thirteen and a half inches, yew, at its core a single phoenix feather. A wand which had performed acts of unspeakable evil, and was now about to commit one more.
'Avada Kedavra!' A burst of green light. The man fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His youthful face was frozen in a look of steely determination. The hooded figure laughed as he stepped over the fallen body, hardly giving it a second glance. The man had thought he could stop him, the greatest wizard of all time, without a wand. So the rumours of his stupidity were true.
A glint of red hair flew out of sight and up the stairs. The mother. A baby was clutched close to her chest, screaming and screaming as if he knew that something was hideously awry. The woman was panicked, desperate to save her son. Her love for him was unlike anything the hooded figure had ever encountered.
But it wouldn't be enough to save her.
The wizard strode carefully up the stairs. No rush. The woman was trapped. The carpet on the landing was stained, with baby food or vomit he couldn't tell. The screams of the dark-haired baby were beginning to grate on his nerves.
He pushed open the door to the child's room and saw the woman, standing protectively over the baby's cot. Her bright green eyes were open wide in terror, eyes duplicated almost perfectly in the baby behind her.
'Not Harry, please not Harry.' The woman begged, copper hair falling over her face as she put out a hand to keep the man away.
'Move aside', bellowed the hooded figure. The woman refused. He didn't want to kill her.
The moment was heavy with a majesty that the man had not expected. He knew in his heart, for at this time he still had a heart, that this moment would define him.
It was the end, but also the beginning.
With a flash of green light, the woman dropped dully to the ground. All that was left was the guttural cry still stuck in her throat as she reached out to her beloved son.
'Harry!'