Note: You may have come across this story before; I am not copying it. The account Lightningwolf325 is my old account that is no longer in use. I am transferring all of my old stories to this account. Please do not report this as a copy. Also, I have not edited it at all since the original post so this is not a good example of my current writing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and do you really think that I wrote a lullaby that's been around since approximately 1784? I don't think so.

Stuff: Okay, so, I'm actually a fan of Harry getting along with the Diggorys, even after Cedric's death (generally hurt/comfort there), especially him getting some comfort from Mrs. Diggory after Cedric dies. Warning: ending's kinda corny. So yeah. Disregards some of Voldemort's memories of the events of 31 October 1981.

The Interrupted Lullaby

Halloween, 1981

Lily Potter nee Evans looked on adoringly as her husband played with their now fifteen-month-old son, throwing the toddler up into the air and catching him. She grinned as Harry shrieked with laughter, his vibrantly green eyes wide with innocence. James set the boy down and wiped some sweat off his forehead.

"Dang kid, you're really getting heavy," he said. Harry looked up at him.

"Up," he said, trying to look as cute as possible. James shook his head.

"C'mon Harry, Daddy's getting tired," he told his son.

"Up!" Harry insisted, reaching his arms up. The older man sighed theatrically and scooped Harry up into his arms, plopping down on the couch and poking the toddler gently in the stomach.

"The things I do for you," he said. Harry giggled, nestling into his father's chest and yawning. Lily decided to intervene.

"I think that it's time for someone to be heading to bed," she announced, grabbing Harry. "Say goodnight to Daddy, Harry."

"'Night 'night," he said tiredly. James smiled.

"'Night, kiddo. Love you," he placed a kiss on Harry's head and one on Lily's cheek. Lily returned the smile and headed upstairs with their son.

Once Harry was all ready for bed, Lily took and cuddled him in the rocking chair in his nursery, as had been their ritual for many months. It was a time that Lily could completely forget about the war, about the worry she held for all of her friends. As she rocked, she began to sing to him.

"Sleep my child and peace attend thee,
All through the night
Guardian angels God will send thee,
All through the night
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,
All through the night"

Lily looked down at her son as she sang and gently caressed his ember locks. He looked so peaceful, so innocent. He was so perfect.

"Angels watching, e'er around thee,
All through the night
Midnight slumber close surround thee,
All through the night
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,
All through the night"

She rocked him slowly as his eyes drifted shut, his face completely relaxed and at ease. His tiny, meaty toddler hands grabbed her shirt, holding himself tightly to her as though he never wanted to let go. She held him close briefly before slowly standing up and placing him in his cot. She stood over it, still singing softly.

"While the moon her watch is keeping
All through the night
While the weary world is sleeping
All through the night
O'er thy spirit gently stealing
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure and holy feeling
All through the night"

Lily bent down and laid a kiss on his flawless forehead. He stirred slightly, disturbed by the absence of music. She was about to continue her lullaby when James yelled:

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" * A cold, cruel voice cut him off.

"Avada Kedavra!"Lily spun around and placed herself between the door and the cradle just as the hinges were blown apart. But small scratches from the shrapnel weren't her biggest concern right now.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now."

"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 ..."

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl! Avada Kedavra!"

So Lily Potter fell. Her fiery locks flowed around her and splayed as she hit the floor. Lord Voldemort's wand turned on Harry, who began crying as he realized that this man wasn't a friend.

"Avada Kedavra!" the spell came for a third time that night. However, this was the spell that would put the boy down in history as the Boy-Who-Lived. Voldemort's body was now ashes, his spirit fleeing into the night.

And on Harry's forehead, right where his mother had placed her final kiss, was a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

. . .

But the lullaby was left unfinished, leaving the boy waiting, though he knew in his heart that he would never hear his mother's sweet, soft voice again. It hung there like a contained wind, constantly moving yet always unable to reach him.

Until the next great tragedy…

. . .

June, 1995

Fourteen-year-old Harry James Potter, newly-titled Triwizard Champion, sat under his favorite beech tree, staring out over the lake. He sat there silently, alone, and, if he were completely honest with himself, depressed. It had been a whole week since he had won the Triwizard Tournament.

He was absolutely miserable.

Sure, it had been a week full of congratulations, a week to simply relax without having the tournament hanging over him, but it was also a week to the day of a horrible, horrible event.

The death of Cedric Diggory. Grief ripped through his chest like a sword. Holding back tears, he clenched his jaw and looked stared unseeingly over the placid lake.

It had been his fault. All his fault.

If only he hadn't been so noble, if he had just taken the cup when Cedric had offered it, then maybe the older boy would still be alive. It had been him Voldemort had wanted, anyway.Needed, actually. No, if it weren't for him, Cedric wouldn't be dead and Voldemort wouldn't be back. Or, he wouldn't be this strong, at least.

"Hey, Potter!" Harry looked up. Coming toward him were some boys, upperclassmen that he didn't recognize. They were mixed in house, some Hufflepuff, some Ravenclaw, and there were even some Gryffindors and Slytherins.

"What are you doing? Moping around because you can't brag about your win in front of Diggory?" one of them sneered. "Or are you just upset that people aren't buying into your 'You-Know-Who' story as much as you would have liked?"

"I-I," Harry stuttered, finding himself unable to form proper words after barely speaking to anyone other than Ron and Hermione all day. And even then he hadn't said more than a few sentences.

"What's the matter, Potter? Dark Lord got your tongue?" taunted another.

"You know, I wouldn't be surprised if it was you who killed Cedric," a seventh year Ravenclaw said angrily. "Merlin knows your story about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is way too convenient. A graveyard full of Death Eaters, huh? And no other witnesses. Then you just appear back in the middle of Hogwarts clutching Cedric's dead body." The boys were beginning to advance on him.

"N-no, I-I—" WHAM! A fist collided with Harry's jaw, sending his glasses flying and effectively cutting him off.

"So you're denying it!" shouted the boy.

"Please, I didn't—" Another punch was delivered to Harry's stomach. One of the boys—Harry recognized him as a Hufflepuff sixth year, though not one of Cedric's friends—gripped his hair and pulled back his head as though he was going to slit Harry's throat.

"We'll teach you to mess with us," he hissed menacingly into Harry's ear. Soon enough, kicks and punches were raining down on his body from all over. Dirt and sweat mingled in his eyes, removing his already blurry vision.

"YOU should have died! Not Cedric!" yelled one of them, sending a fierce kick into Harry's ribs.

"What's going on down there?" came a brisk, female voice.

"Crap!"

"Run!"

The boys fled, leaving Harry moaning in pain on the ground.

"Merlin!" the woman exclaimed, leaning down beside him. "Can you walk, Harry?" she asked gently, helping him into a sitting position. He grimaced and nodded, not quite able to figure out why the voice sounded so familiar. "Come on then, honey."

She helped him up to the castle, half-carrying him as he stumbled along. It was all he could do to keep from collapsing on her, despite the fact that he wasn't entirely sure who she was. Once they reached the hospital wing, she led him over to the bed he had vacated not even a week previous. This had to be a record, even for him. Then he remembered something.

"M'dam Pomfrey s'not gonna be h're t'day," he slurred, trying to speak through the pain.

"Then it's a good thing I'm a certified healer, then, isn't it?" the woman replied. "I just needed some proper supplies."

She waved her wand and some potions, a bowl of water, and some rags appeared and Harry's filthy robes turned into fresh, clean pajamas. "Let's get that dirt out of your eyes, okay sweetie?" She dipped a rag in the water and gently began to dab away all of the muck that was currently blinding him.

"Mrs. Diggory?" he asked tiredly, squinting at the woman's face.

"Yes," she started to clean and heal his wounds. "Where are your glasses?" she asked softly after a moment.

"Somewhere by the lake," he replied quietly, avoiding her eyes. She flicked her wand and they came flying in through the open window. Another tap and they were clean and repaired. She handed them back to him, waving away his muttered "Thanks". Soon enough, he was completely healed, though his body still had some aches. Madam Pomfrey had explained that this would happen if he hurt himself too soon after having been placed under the Cruciatus Curse and had advised him to be extra careful. But none of that mattered, as he was currently sitting in the same room as someone whose son he had essentially killed.

"Harry," Mrs. Diggory began, sitting down on the edge of his bed, "how are you doing?"

"Fine," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes once more. She sighed.

"Harry, you know that it wasn't your—"

"Of course it was my fault!" he looked up, eyes flashing. "If I hadn't told him to take the cup with me, if I had made him go back to it after I recognized the graveyard, if I had done something when that Killing Curse was shot at him—" he took a deep breath. "Maybe they were right," he muttered, almost to himself. "Maybe I should have died instead of him."

Mrs. Diggory tenderly grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. "Don't you ever say that again," she said, a protective fierceness in her voice. "Dumbledore told Amos and I the story, and there was nothing you could have done. Besides, do you really think that Cedric would be taking this any kinder than you are now? The two of you are more alike than you may think—too noble for your own good, loyal to a fault. You would have made an excellent Hufflepuff," she added proudly.

"Now, I know that your relatives are horrible to you, but you still have a family. The Weasleys, for one. I've heard that they practically adopted you. Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin, and apparently you have a rather dedicated godfather as well," she gave him a wink at his shocked look. "Yes, Dumbledore told us, but don't worry—we won't sell him out. Now why don't you sleep on that, and we'll see how you feel in the morning."

Harry stiffened slightly at the idea of sleep, and Mrs. Diggory noticed. "Is something wrong?" she asked worriedly. "Oh—you have nightmares, don't you?"

Harry was shaking, trying to hold back tears. The first sob broke through when Mrs. Diggory started to rub tiny circles on his back. "Shh, it's okay to cry," she whispered softly, pulling Harry closer. He finally gave up and buried his face in her robes, allowing the tears to flow. She gently began to rock him back and forth, singing part of a lullaby that she used to sing to Cedric.

"Angels watching ever round thee
All through the night
In thy slumbers close surround thee
All through the night
They will of all fears disarm thee,
No forebodings should alarm thee,
They will let no peril harm thee

All through the night."

She ran her fingers through his hair as sobs racked his body. She knew that he wasn't just crying for Cedric, but also for his parents, unable to watch him grow up. For his godfather, locked up in Azkaban and now on the run. For his childhood, so bereft of happiness. But most of all, he was crying for the circumstances that wouldn't give him respite, even though he wanted so desperately just to live a normal, uneventful life. She also knew that he had been holding it all in for far too long.

"Though I roam a minstrel lonely
All through the night
My true harp shall praise sing only
All through the night
Love's young dream, alas, is over
Yet my strains of love shall hover
Near the presence of my lover
All through the night"

She held him tighter as the tremors began to subside and his eyelids started to droop. He was so tired, yet he had been unable to sleep. She sincerely hoped that this would change. She ran her thumb over the scar on his forehead.

"Hark, a solemn bell is ringing
Clear through the night
Thou, my love, art heavenward winging
Home through the night
Earthly dust from off thee shaken
Soul immortal shalt thou awaken
With thy last dim journey taken
Home through the night"

As Harry drifted off into the arms of blissful sleep, Mrs. Diggory laid him down on the hospital bed and tucked him in. A gentle breeze played through the open window. Not a creature passed through the infirmary doors as Mrs. Diggory settled in a chair by the bed, keeping watch over the sleeping bed.

Somewhere far above them, Lily Potter gently rubbed Cedric Diggory's shoulders, both smiling down at the people they cared about the most in the world.

. . .

And so the lullaby was completed and a boy was set free. For it is as we all know: a mothers' love must always prevail.