Thanks for taking the time to read this Just so no one gets their hopes up, the main focus of this story is not on romance, and not every girl Harry meets is his true love. Noor is this story about bitter adolescent characters who feel as though the world has wronged them.

Parts of this story have already been posted, but due to poor structure, we have decided to restart with a clear focus on story and narrative. It is our hope that you will enjoy this story we have created.

(Disclaimer) I do not own Harry Potter or any canon characters!

Happy reading to you!

Prologue

The air is thick, an appropriate setting all things considered. I walk towards the Potter's finding their house had proved to be quite difficult, being hidden by that accursed Fidelius charm. I can't help but be amused, that one of the people that they trusted most became their biggest, if not the most obvious of enemies.

Barely a whisper of wind brushes through the trees overhead, and in return the leaves rattle with their discontent at its unwelcome intrusion. Even the forsaken leaves upon the ground rustled with unease as I trespassed, crunching in the typical autumn fashion.

I had arrived at the front door now, the windows had lights in them, and I could barely hear their murmurs of conversation. What a shame they were still awake, it would have been so much simpler if they had been sleeping unaware of the events about to unfold. However, I will not wait for them, I did not come here to honor their schedule, that is the duty of all those around me, to bow down to my wishes, after all, it is me who will be ruling this world soon enough. I tried the door, it was locked. No matter; I'll just blast the damned thing in.

A large cracking sound cut through the air and splinters of wood flew through the air. And there they were, sitting in the living room talking with one another, or they had been talking, now both stared in wide-eyed shock at the remains of their once lovely door scattered around them. "I'll hold him off," James shouted as he reached for his wand, "get Harry and run!" Such courage, and all for nothing. Hold me off? What a joke, he only lasted seconds, if that. Shame, I had expected more.

Swiftly I pursued the fleeing mother, who will conveniently lead me to my prey. I find myself in what I can only assume is a nursery, littered with toys and books. Hanging over the cradle is an odd contraption, it looks like three coat hangers strung together with tiny owls hanging off of them suspended by ropes.

And there she stood, the child in her arms. At the sight of me, she dropped her son back into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from my sight she somehow hoped to be chosen instead. "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" "Stand aside, you silly girl... Stand aside now." I said, patience running thin. "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—" "This is my last warning—" "Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry! Please— I'll do anything—" She pleaded "Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!" I could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all. The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband, again, I had expected more. The child had not cried all this time. He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib and he looked up into my face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that I was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty light, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing.

Pointing my wand at him, I prepare to kill the last member of their family. I indulge myself with a satisfied smirk. "Avada Kedavra!" The spell leapt from my wand, to think this silly little boy could be my equal, not that I doubt that he could have become just that, but as of now he most certainly is not.

Then I felt it, like getting punched in the gut. I struggled to stand as if I had been zapped of most of my energy. The spell had worked; the boy was even crying. Wait he was crying… it took me a second longer to fully grasp what that meant, HE WAS CRYING!? Not dead like he should have been, I was panicking, what does this mean? What did I do? What should I do?

Taking a moment to re-examine the boy, he now has a scar on his forehead, it's burning red like hot coals. I stand for I don't know how long, pondering my next move. This was not how I had intended this night to go. I needed to think of something fast, doubtless the order would be here soon, and while I had no concern about winning a fight with them I was feeling rather drained and was simply not in the mood. Thinking quickly, I had an idea, I grabbed the child and apparated away.

Elsewhere. Ravenous waves of the sea smash away at the dark cliff face attempting in vain to devour it. The sky above the waves swirled with black clouds as torrents of rain slice through the air, like little blades of ice. At the tallest point of the cliff, Voldemort appears with a crack his cloak snapping in the wind, like snakes striking at their prey. In his arms, he holds a small bundle. He stared at it as if contemplating what to do with it.

Then without any remorse, he tossed it off the cliff towards the water, and the water, in turn, waited with hungry maw, eager to consume the small child in its cold embrace. With another loud crack, Voldemort vanishes, and the only trace that either had been there, was a small owl resting on the edge of the precipice, though neither had brought it with them.

Thanks again for reading this! If it's not too much to ask, please take the time to review it! This is a collaboration between two writers, and any feedback helps tremendously, not only with quality but with motivation for the story! Stay tuned for more!