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Prologue
It was dark. A cloud shielded the waning moon from view, casting the area in shadow. There were no stars in the sky, simply a black mass of emptiness. The neighborhood was silent, no lights glowing in any of the small cookie-cutter homes that lined the street, no wind blowing the tall oak trees.
Carved pumpkin faces leered from porch steps, their lights dwindling in the early morning hours, some having lost their glow some time ago. Trick or treaters had long ceased in making their stops, the cool air a reminder that it was nearing the end of the fall season.
There were no dogs barking, no loose cats, no signs of life anywhere.
Only the vividly green dark mark floating in the dark expanse just over the Potters house was out of place, creating a heavy tension that hung in the air.
Eerie was the word Sirius Black had decided on moments ago, his steps muted on the pavement as he ran towards his best friends' home. He felt oddly disconnected, even as he faced this tragedy; his Auror training must have kicked in, keeping him focused and sane. How else would he be running, wand out, without losing his mind? Instead he was listening intently for any movement, any sound that could signal someone else's presence.
How could this have happened? It was the one thing that everyone in the Order had feared happening; come hell or high water, the Potters would be protected.
They were the Wizarding World's last hope.
James and Lily had taken little Harry and gone into hiding- the house had the Fidelius charm, no one should have known! Sirius allowed his mind to wander, albeit not far, as he thought about the possible events that led to the Dark Mark hanging over their home.
Someone had overheard the location. No, impossible. Sirius himself hadn't even known; the only reason he was here was because he had been on call at the Auror Office, had been the first to apparate here, and had recognized the now-visible house.
Someone had told. Someone had given up the location- and now there it was, clearly visible to anyone. Sirius knew they were dead.
His heart clenched wildly as he struggled to quash his emotions back down. He didn't want to think of that now, or ever. Sirius had to make sure the area was clear, wait for backup, and then comb the house for any survivors.
Standard protocol.
Sirius's mind raged as he came to the only possible conclusion: their Secret Keeper. The very man that he himself had suggested, in order to fool the megalomaniac Voldemort on the true Secret Keeper's identity.
What a fool he was. What a fool he had been! He had delivered his friends- his godson for crying out loud! - into the hands of the very man they were trying to protect them from.
It all made sense; Peter Pettigrew was the perfect little minion. He blended in- no one ever paid him any mind, he kept to himself, and he had recently taken to disappearing at the oddest moments. Plus, his Animagus form was so small he would (again) be overlooked.
Mentally berating himself, Sirius had set up a perimeter, making sure the area was, indeed clear. He kept an eye out for the rat that he had once considered a friend, and seeing no one, he made his way into the crumbling house of Lily and James Potter, wand at the ready.
"Lumos."
His eyes filled as he found himself standing in the front sitting room, Harry's toys strewn across the floor. The small family stood waving from a picture on the wall, Harry sucking his thumb in his mother's arms as James ruffled his hair and kissed Lily on the cheek. She was grinning, her green eyes bright with happiness.
They had been so happy.
Crossing into the kitchen, Sirius noticed the dishes in the sink, the lone cup of tea on the small wooden table. They had been attacked after dinner, right before Lily sat down with her customary cup of tea while James had taken Harry upstairs to get ready for bed. He had seen this ritual performed many times in the past year, had even helped occasionally.
He rubbed his eyes roughly, clearing his throat. "Focus, Black." He muttered to himself, forcing himself up the stairs where he knew what he would find in Harry's room.
A few stairs were missing, and the rug on the landing was scorched beyond recognition. The door to the toddler's room was a jar. Knowing what he would find, Sirius steeled himself for the pain and opened the door, wand held aloft.
What met his eyes was not what he expected.
Harry Potter, fifteen months old, sat in his crib, sucking his thumb, untidy black hair smeared with blood. He started crying when he saw Sirius, holding his arms out to him.
"Pa'foo!" Big green eyes looked at him, and Sirius felt his heart break in two. Taking in the bodies of his best friend and his wife, he scooped up the little boy, making sure to shield his eyes from the horrific sight. Lily's head was bleeding, and James was stiff, his eyes vacant, a defiant expression frozen onto his face in death.
How was Harry still alive? Sirius felt the world spin; nothing made sense!
Sirius felt his eyes tear up and closed them, trying to hold back the pain of losing his best friend. "I'm here Harry, everything's okay now." Pulling back, he pushed the little boy's fringe of hair aside, taking in the lightning bolt-shaped gash embedded in his porcelain skin. Sirius felt a stirring of curiosity, wondering how the boy had gotten the crude cut.
Sirius froze as he heard a groan. Holding Harry tightly, he whirled around, wand held at the ready. No one was there; he had been sure he heard something…
There it was again. Looking down, he noticed Lily's head. Bleeding. It was steadily dripping onto the floor beside her, the crimson red in sharp contrast to the light carpet under her. That isn't possible…
Harry squirmed violently suddenly, and Sirius nearly dropped him.
"Mumma! Mumma!" Harry broke free from the Auror's grasp and headed unsteadily towards his mother's body. He fell on her, hugging her tightly. "Mumma!"
Suddenly, green eyes opened slowly as a hoarse voice said, "Harry…"
Sirius cursed in shock as he took in the living body of Lily Potter, who moved her thin hand and placed it on her son's head. He shot of a patronus and quickly bent to help the woman, tears trailing down his cheeks.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, head in his hands. He had failed. Allowing himself a moment to grieve, he closed his solemn blue eyes and thought about the trusting smile James Potter had given him last time they had spoken a week ago.
That long ago? Dumbledore shook his head.
So many lives lost. So much blood shed. When would it end?
At that moment, a silver dog appeared in the headmaster's office, accompanied by a frantic voice.
"Albus! Harry and Lily BOTH are alive! Come quick, I'm not sure what happened to Voldemort, he could still have Death Eaters in the area. I've called for backup, but no one has arrived yet. I need to get them out of here and somewhere safe."
Dumbledore could hardly believe his ears. Alive? Harry and Lily? Then James is dead. He stood and quickly apparated, imagining Godric's Hollow as it was before the evening began.
You-Know-Who Defeated!
Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived
By Helga Medriposh
In a horrific attack last night, James Potter of Godric Hollow was murdered in his own home by the Dark Lord. Sirius Black, long time friend of Potter and Auror, discovered the bodies of Potter and his wife, Lily, early this morning, after fearing the worst. Seeing the Dark Mark over the house, which had previously been under a Fidelius charm, he hurried inside to check for survivors. The couple's young son, Harry James, had been sitting in his crib, bearing no signs of harm except for a lightning bolt gash in his forehead. Crying for his mother, it was discovered that Lily was very much alive, with a concussion and a large laceration near her temple.
It is theorized that James Potter gave his life to save his wife and son, placing himself in front of her and their son's crib. The killing curse cast by You-Know-Who has been determined the former Auror's cause of death, and his fall incidentally took his wife down with him, knocking her unconscious and allowing her to escape the Dark Lord's wrath. This left the infant face to face with the evil wizard, who cast the killing curse again, only to have it rebound back onto the caster, leaving Harry unharmed but marked with the lightning bolt, which may forever be the symbol of defeat for the Dark Lord.
In a conclusion more stunning than Albus Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelwald, it seems Harry Potter has given us what we all desperately needed- freedom. Thank Merlin for The Boy Who Lived!
AN: So, what do you think? :) It's just the beginning! This idea popped into my head last night when I should have been sleeping, and I couldn't pass out until I had written down my thoughts. I hope you enjoyed it- criticisms and exclamations are welcome; let me know how you feel about this start!
I am working on two stories now, and will try to update regularly. I think this story was lurking in my head for so long that it was blocking the flow for my other story (Here Comes The Sun, for those interested). Thank you so much for blessing me with your time! Ciao!