A Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
The night that Voldemort died (for good, as who ever heard of immortality?) was chill and crisp. An air of something not quite right hung about Godric's Hollow, and the streets were empty and silent.
Voldemort had chosen to walk. He could have apparated, but he wanted to savour it. After all, it was not just any day you thwarted the one prophesised to be your downfall.
He didn't notice the deserted streets, nor see the shadows creep unnaturally along the path behind him.
The shadows edged forward. When the man they followed stopped so did they. It was as if they were playing some form of game, and in a way it was. A hunt is always a game to the hunter, no matter how much they may try to deny it.
But then, the shadows were mindless. They followed. They could not prey.
So Voldemort made it unmolested to his destination, unaware of the danger lurking only moments behind.
All that was required was a trigger, and Voldemort had just unwittingly walked into his own demise.
The shadows could sense it. Their mindless mass crawled up the walls and over the ceiling as Voldemort entered the house.
James Potter saw them.
In haste, Voldemort thought. How foolish, to face him without a wand.
A single spell. Voldemort watched the fear die in the man's eyes.
He walked on. The shadows consumed the body.
He couldn't help but laugh as he entered the nursery. The woman was between him and the cot. A futile gesture, but he had been asked to spare her.
'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead.'
It was tempting, Severus would understand. A momentary fancy; lust, nothing more. But …
'Stand aside you silly girl … stand aside now.'
'Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy …
Mercy?
The shadows behind him had thickened, as though they had filled all the available space and now piled atop each other, growing denser and denser, darker and darker.
Voldemort eyed the woman's body with disdain. Pitiful, he thought. Unnecessary.
But no matter, the boy was before him. One more curse and his rule was secured. It was almost too easy.
His wand rose, paused. A flash of green. And then pain. Unimaginable pain.
There was a moment, one brief second of triumph. It had worked, he was truly, unquestionably immortal.
He turned to flee. He would find his servants; they would revive him. This was a minor setback, nothing more.
He saw the shadows.
They had been so patient.