Chapter 1: An Old Occurrence
October 31, 1981
On an abnormally cold night, with stars twinkling in the sky like diamonds and adults drinking merrily to forget their troubles, two baby boys lay in an azure colored room.
One boy, Harold James Potter, playfully reached out to try and grab the rotating brooms and snitches that adorned the top of his crib.
The other, a Neville Longbottom, slept soundly in his crib, dreaming of a world filled with candy and chocolate.
Both boys' parents were downstairs, talking about the war that was currently controlling their lives. None of the parents noticed the menacing figure that glided across the road, making no noise and catching the eye of no one. To call this thing human would do the species an injustice. It was tall and lean, but had pale skin and crimson eyes that radiated power and darkness. With a black cloak and bony fingers, it could easily be confused for a dementor.
Slowly, the figure opened the wrought iron gate, silencing it with a flick of his wand. While the unsuspecting parents continued their discussion, Harold stopped playing with his toys and looked out the window, sensing the sinister aura that the figure gave off.
Suddenly, and without warning, the front door exploded inward, shattering it to pieces and spreading debris across the room. Four heads turned, wands pointing in the darkness, as the figure gave out a manic cackle.
"Hello you muggle-loving filth, it's time to face the punishment of going against the Dark Lord," the hooded figure chided.
As Lily Potter screamed and stepped forward with a curse on her lips, her husband held her back and exclaimed, "Lily! Take Harry and Neville and run!"
Alice's and Frank's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden turn of events, and ferociously began to duel with the figure, now known as Voldemort. Lily ran up the stairs, hoping beyond hope that her husband and friends could hold off the Dark Lord until she got the children safe.
She immediately rushed into the boys' room and closed the door, locking it with the strongest spell that she knew. Unfortunately, where there were once shouts accompanied with spells flying and pieces of furniture exploding, silence reigned. The creaking of steps on the wooden floorboards cut through the silence like a knife through butter. While Lily stood protectively around both boys, the door that she foolishly thought could hold off the Dark Lord opened with a loud snap, sending it flying off its hinges.
"Stand aside foolish girl! I have only come for the children," roared Voldemort.
"No! I won't let you take my baby away from me," Lily screeched.
Laughter that of which was completely foreign to what normally filled the house rung through her ears. "Do you seriously believe that you, a mere mudblood barely out of school, could defeat me, the most powerful Dark Lord in history?" Voldemort boasted.
Lily flinched at his words, trying desperately to think of a way to keep the children safe. When it came to her, she gave the Dark Lord a grim smile. No, she thought, but I can certainly try. As she raised her wand in defense of her young, four words left her mouth. Four words that would drastically change the course of history. "Protego fillium meum amore," she recited.
A blinding white light surrounded Harry, as the Dark Lord exclaimed, "Avada Kedavra!" sending a sickly green curse towards his mother.
Her last thoughts that echoed in her mind before she entered the dark abyss were, Please forgive me Alice, I did what I thought was right.
By this point, Neville began to loudly cry to a room empty of adults who love him, wanting in vain for someone to hold him and bring him from this nightmare. Harold on the other hand, sat silently, watching with tears in his eyes as his mother was struck down before him. Eyes brisling with defiance, he turned towards his mother's killer, showing how much contempt he held for this thing.
Voldemort walked slowly towards the boy, wand raised at his forehead. Emerald eyes met crimson, as the Dark Lord whispered his final curse for the night, "Avada Kedavra."
The spell rebounded immediately, sending it careening towards its caster. Crimson eyes widened in shock before an unearthly scream tore through the house. The impact created a shockwave that caused even the foundation to crack, and sent pieces of plaster and wood towards the other boy.
A large X cut Neville's left cheek as a perfect lightning bolt was carved into Harold's forehead, right above his left eye. Silence came as quickly as it had left.
Eventually, Neville began to cry again, as Harold was knocked out from magical exhaustion.
Out in the street, a man suddenly appeared without so much as a pop as he began to run towards the house. He was of average build, standing at a short 5'7" with floating runes across his rugged face and electric blue eyes searching for any signs of life. As he ascended the stairs, two at a time, he hoped that at least someone had survived.
Making his way into the crumbling room, he immediately noticed Neville's cry for attention. Striding over to the boy, he stopped and looked at the other crib. Heart clenching with the thought of the other boy being dead, he instead hurried to him and checked his pulse.
Finding one, he then noticed the scar lining above his left eye. This is definitely not good, he thought. Carefully picking up the boy, Harold was his name as he checked the charm bracelet around his wrist; he heard voices in the distance, coming closer to the house.
Quickly, without so much as a word, he swished his wand at the crib and created a duplicate body of the baby. This duplicate looked as though it was in a deep sleep, but was truly made to look as if the boy was dead. Hearing the voices coming closer, he vanished without a pop with the now slumbering Harold, wondering if he was doing the right thing.