Disclaimer: I own nothing, nor am I making any money from this story. All the rights and such go to the lovely JK Rowling.
"No one should have to live like this, James," Lily Potter said, "Especially not a child."
"I know," James responded, "But what can we do? If we leave the house, if we give up our position then he could die, and that is surely a worse way to live."
"You're right, I just want him to be able to live. Not in hiding, not friendless, but truly live. Thrive. He won't get that here. Hell, we aren't getting that here. I don't know how much longer I can take it, being out of touch with the world, not knowing where Voldemort is. We went from being highly respected aurors to being sitting ducks! I'm losing my mind James. I don't know how much longer I can take it."
James brought his fire-haired wife into his arms, wiped the tears from her eyes, and she curled into him. "Shhh, Lily. I know what you're going through, I'm going through the same thing. But we must do this, we must keep ourselves together and safe for Harry. This is the only way to keep him safe, we cannot forget that."
At that moment, a small child's cry could be heard coming from the upstairs nursery. "I'll get him, Lily." After a tender kiss was placed on his wife's tear-glossed lips, he bounded upstairs to retrieve his son from his crib.
"Hello, Harry," said James softly.
"Dada," Harry replied, quieting now that someone was there.
James looked at his son with eyes fill with love and sorrow. 'Why can't Voldemort just stay out of his life?' he pondered. 'Why can't he just bloody leave him alone? He picked up small Harry and got him ready for the day.
As nightfall fell upon Godric's Hollow, the Potter's put Harry in his crib. Lily and James couldn't help but feel as though something was going to happen. But, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't put their finger on what. As they walked down the steps toward the foyer from the upstairs nursery, they held their wands close, and each other closer. They sat on the plush leather couch in the sitting room, Lily reading a book, and James reading a newspaper, trying to ignore their mutual instinctual discomfort.
Outside the house, organized chaos reigned. Children in costumes, dressed as witches and ghosts, mummies and zombies, faeries and princesses, pranced from house to house with orange plastic pumpkins hanging from their wrists. In the midst stood a man with the best costume of all: flowing, ethereal black robes covered a slim figure; a mask, pasty white. It gave the man slits for nostrils, red eyes and cat-like pupils. His costume made him look as though a human body morphed with a skeleton, something Muggles only dreamed of seeing in movies. Therefore, he had the most frightening and enviable costume in all of Godric's Hollow. What would have made it all the more terrifying would be if they knew that his costume wasn't a costume, but his true form. A form made of the most heinous of Dark Magic: the splitting of a soul, murder, Horcruxes. Oh, the terror they would feel if they knew that their children were frolicking around a cold-blooded murderer, the self-named "Master of Death."
And furthermore, the terror he would feel if he knew that his mastering of Death had been mastered. Would he be walking through Godric's Hollow if he knew? But that is neither here nor there. Walking toward the house gives him a sort of high. Just the knowledge that blood will be spilt gives him a pleasure like nothing else ever would. For the death of a child, for him, is the most sacred; it is this death that will make him the true master.
Walking up to the gate of the Potter's home and being able to pass through was something he had long hoped of doing. He had tortured so many in his rage and insistance in finding their home. The curved walkway was lined with multi-colored and dead leaves from the empty tree branches above him, through which he could see a perfectly full moon. Two steps in front of the house led him onto the porch, where two quaint rocking chairs sat to the right of him. He unlocked the front door with his wand, opened the door and stepped through the door and into the foyer.
Two rooms on either side of him stood, both had mahogany double door entries. On the right, the two were closed tightly. On the left, however, one was closed while the other remained cracked open and revealed flickering lights from within and the sounds of turning pages. In front of him was a large marble staircase which led grandly up until the upper level of the house, where you had the choice to go forward or to turn left or right to other rooms in the house. On either side of the bottom of the staircase were two short hallways that led to two mahogany doors, both closed tightly.
At the bottom of the staircase was a large black dog that stared at the figure inquisitively before giving two short barks.