Prologue

Cool air blew through the cracks in the window, reminding the witches and wizards of Godric Hollow just how chilly it was outside.

Ever since last year, the darkness everyone pretended to not see, has slowly been making its journey over the community. Friends and family were quick to disappear, dead or missing, and everyone was afraid of being the next one. So, silently, they pushed down their thoughts of fighting and instead just focused on what they could.

But, no matter how hard James Potter tried, he could not brush away the nervous tremor in his heart. It was like a hole had opened up in his chest and a foreboding thought of death stuck in his head.

Days earlier, his good friend, Dumbledore had stopped by and casted spells around their house; they had officially gone into hiding. But, the sense of worry had started much earlier. Dark whispers of a prophecy floated around and Lily was scared. The life of their newborn son was the only thing on her mind.

So, they went into hiding and only their closest friends knew. Unknown to them, they had been betrayed.

With a heavy heart, the father of the household made his way upstairs. His wife was sitting with Harry tucked into her arms, whispering to him stories of their past and adventures. The sight of his family warmed his heart and for a moment he forgot about the omen he felt.

With a flick of his wand, James sent little sprouts of colors towards his son, who giggled madly at the sight. Lily smiled up at him through marvelous green eyes and he returned the look though his own; words were not needed to express the endearing sight of their son laughing.

Closer, the new father stepped, raising his hand to stroke the fine, matching hairs of his son.

But, before they could touch, an explosion was heard, followed by a bang. The front door had been slammed open and, just as quickly, James understood the tremor he had.

"Lily," he whispered hurriedly, "Take Harry and run!" But, they both knew how futile the effort would be. The only way out of the house was through the front door and that exit was already blocked. Plus, everyone heard the rumors: once you were marked by the Dark Lord, death was undeniable.

With one last look at her husband, the boy who had fought tooth and nail for her affections, Lily ran to the nursery in the house with their son. Meanwhile, James made his way downstairs as quickly as he could, hoping that it wasn't what he thought and he could convince whoever had come to kill their son to leave.

But, when he rounded the corner to the front door, James quickly realized his mistake. The Dark Lord wouldn't send meaningless subjects to complete this job. A prophecy this big had to be handled directly and perfectly. And who better to do the job than himself.

James didn't even get a sound out before he was dead and his wife sobbed when she heard the killing curse. She closed her eyes tightly, the sight of the green light being too much for her too handle. They were all going to die.

Yet, that didn't stop Lily from trying. Despite the burden of her husband's death on her shoulders, the mother of Harry was no weak girl. Foolishly, she had no wand on her person, but she spent 11 years without one and she would be damned before she lay down and die.

After piling what she could in front of the door, Lily turned to her only family member left and tried to smile. Harry was so unaware of the danger, blinking up at his mother with her same eyes, and she tried desperately to reassure him. She knelt before him, running her hands over what part of him she could touch.

As she cried, her chest squeezing tightly at her new found grief, Lily whispered to her son.

"I love you so much Harry, so, so much." A sob interrupted her but she pressed on. "You're going to be a great wizard and everyone is going to love you so much. You'll be better than your father and I ever were." She promised him, knowing everything she said was going to turn into lies within the next seconds.

All Harry could do was blink unknowingly back at his widowed mother.

With a silent spell, the door behind Lily burst open and the purest of evils stood beyond the threshold.

She quickly stood to her feet, all traces of crying gone from her eyes, despite the wet trails on her cheeks. Lily might have been raised a Muggle, but the powers of magic would not scare her today.

The first thing the monster did was offer her a chance. Move out of the way and she would have her life. But, the thought of her poor, dead husband invaded her mind. Never would James forgive her for letting the Dark Lord have Harry and the thought reinforced her determination.

The maternal instinct of a mother was the blame for Lily's death. Sure, she could have saved herself and lived on. But, no mother would willingly let their child take the fall before them. Not to mention the woman had a straight set of morals that clearly told her that dying for her son would always be worth it.

And only when Lily fall did Harry begin to cry. The young babe had seen everything as 'pretending'; he had watched his parents often use their magic and still thought it was amazing. But, the bright flash of green hurt his eyes and when he looked up beyond the wand of the Dark Lord, into his face, only then did Harry feel upset. His mother wasn't getting up and the ugly mask of the other person scared him.

With a shout, Voldemort threw the killing curse at the boy. It was an easy kill, a defenseless child who had no idea what was happening. Now the prophecy would never come true.

But, before the Dark Lord realized, the spell never hit its target. Instead, it was reflected by some unknown force and sent back at its creator. And Voldemort watched in horror as he was hit with his own spell. His biggest fear was coming true.

At the last second, his soul flared out. This once-man had split his soul seven times so he could never die and now his plan saved him.

Instead of dying, Voldemort's soul fled, running away from the death that was surely at his heels. But, one piece stayed behind, making a home within the only other person in the room.

And so, Harry, surrounded by death, cried as a harsh scar formed on his forehead; the shape of a lightning bolt.

This event marked the end of the First Wizarding War, but, unknowingly, was the beginning of the Second.