word count: 277
posted: October 25, 2016
The man had been easy. The Dark Lord barely dueled these days; when he set out for a personal visit, he went straight to the point. So no, Lord Voldemort did not duel James Potter. He took aim and killed him, enjoying the flash of green light that danced across the room, left that rush as the life left the man's eyes. (such a shame, because the Potters really were great wizards), relished the dull thump as the body hit the floor.
Then there was the girl. Pretty thing, she was, the Dark Lord understood Snape's fascination with her. Beautiful face, lovely body, and pure art with a wand. Hard to believe she had come from Muggles, but now she was in his way.
"Get away from the boy, girl," the Dark Lord ordered, complying with the deal he had made. "I will spare your life if you give away your son."
To his surprise, the girl shook her head, a halo of red hair flying about. "No," she defied him. "No, kill me, kill me and spare my son, spare Harry, please."
Maybe it was because he rarely made house calls. Maybe it was because when he did, he never offered exceptions. Whatever it was, something almost caused Voldemort to hesitate, for the most miniscule moment. The way the Potter girl so desperately clung to her child, selflessly offered herself in exchange for him, vehemently tried to protect him… It made the Dark Lord… feel... strange. It made him wish… He wasn't sure what he wished for, but he knew he couldn't have it. The Dark Lord knew it was long past too late.
"Avada Kedavra."