Disclaimer: This is for my whole story. I do not and never will own any of J.K. Rowlings Harry Potter books. I am merely playing with them. And if I was why would I be on here anyway?
Utterly Golden
Chapter One: A Renounce of Blood.
Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow; October 31st, 1991, 8:20pm.
The village of Godrics's Hollow was actually rather quiet in comparison to earlier that evening from when children where running and laughing about in their costumes Trick or Treating. The night sky was inky black, blanketed in thick, opaque clouds, not even a star or a sliver of a silvery moon in sight. The nearly barren trees cast looming dark shadows across the drab ground and a light but chillingly icy wind whistled it's way through the quaint little village. On the outskirts of the village was a rather large cottage, invisible to most and seen only by only a select few people. The cottage was simple with white stone walls, thick dark wooden beams, navy blue door and small lattice windows. Only the bottom left hand window however was alight with the warm yellow glow of light.
On the other side of the window was the living room of the cottage, the walls were a soft beige, the carpet a dark red and a fire crackled merrily with hot, welcoming flames. A man, around his early sixties, sat on a large dark couch, his hair was cropped around his ears and was a vivacious scarlet with only the smallest traces of gray and almond shaped eyes coloured a pale, mint green. The lines appearing around his face were mainly around his mouth and eyes, showing that he spent a lot of his life smiling. Sat on his bent knee was a small, young baby. Only around a year old, a messy tuft of silky raven black hair sat on the baby girl's softly rounded head, her eyes the same shape as the man's, that perfect almond, but instead of a the cool mint green they were a vivid, unusually pure green, the same colour as startling emeralds. The baby girl giggled delightfully at something the man did, her small and pudgy hand gripped the man's hair lightly, her own little tuft of raven hair becoming brighter and warmer till her hair a faded into the exact same shade of scarlet as the man's, who looked on with a proud, slightly awe filled fascination.
"That's the third time she's done that." A light, amused voice came from behind the man, who turned around to face the archway that lead to the hallway, where a woman, the same age as the man stood. Her hair was in loose curls to her shoulders and was a pretty pale blonde colour, the eyes were same the colour as the small girl's, that bright emerald green, but they were larger and rounder.
"Yeah, amazing isn't it, Rose?" The man asked his wife in wonderment.
"Sure is, Dan." Rose agreed with a small fond smile. Daniel and Rose Evans had agreed to babysit their granddaughter for their youngest daughter and her husband, since they were going out to a Hallowe'en dinner and getting out of the house after being cooped up for nearly a year. They had been absolutely delighted to care for their granddaughter for the night, who was a large sight nicer than their other grandchild. The man stood up, reaching his full height of 6ft 3", set off with broad and powerful shoulders. Dan lifted the small girl high in the air as he turned around to face his wife of 40 years. Suddenly they heard the front door blow open with a crash, they heard the splinters of wood skidding across the floor and the swish of cloak. Rose looked to Dan with wide fearful eyes and sheen of tears could be seen in the dim light. Dan eyes hardened with determination even though he was to afraid.
"Rose, take Violet and run." Dan ordered his wife. He carefully handed her Violet, who Rose took numbly.
"What about y-you?" Rose's voice trembled with fear.
"I'll stall him. But that won't work for long. Go." Dan ordered more urgently than before, hearing the soft, gliding footfalls of the dark wizard coming toward them.
"Love you." Rose repeated the words she uttered every day.
"Love too you, luv." Dan replied, she smiled feebly at the overused endearment.
Rose turned sharply into the hallway and ran up the stairs that were on her immediate left. Daniel stood stiffly at the bottom of the stairs, he knew was going to die to tonight, maybe it was a gut feeling or maybe because the darkest wizard of all time was in the house, but he was glad that he would do it keeping his daughter's child safe. A tall and elegant man strode, well, more like glided into the room. The man was wearing a thin, silk black cloak with matching robes that slithered like crawling shdows along the floor. A hood obscured the top of his face, the only visible part was a shadowed, thin mouth twisted into a sinister, malice filled smirk. The man practically prowled toward him, as gleeful as a hunter that had just caught sight of prey. As the man drew nearer, Dan could feel the powerful aura of pure evil that he seemed the man seemed to radiate unconsciously, the red-haired man also caught a glimmer of glowing red irises alight with anticipation and unhinged glee.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? The grandfather I presume. So brave for you step in my way, or very foolish." The man said softly and his voice a had a strange hiss like quality.
"You will not hurt my granddaughter." Dan said determinedly, he knew he and his wife were going die, as much as his heart broke with the thought of his lovely Rose dead, but he hoped, probably blindly that little, sweet, innocent Violet would come out of this night alive and see the light of day tomorrow.
"And what's a filthy, little Muggle like you going to do that can stop me?" Lord Voldemort said with a mocking tone that grated severely on Daniel's nerves, but he kept calm, no longer afraid of whats to come or this man, no monster, in front of him.
"Nothing." Voldemort hissed gleefully, answering his own question. A bone white wand was lifted by a thin, bone white hand.
"Avada Kedavra." Voldemort whispered forcefully, a sickly green jet of light erupted from the dark wizard's yew wand with a horrible rushing sound. The gruesome curse impacted with Daniel's chest with an unholy precision. Dan's last thought slipped from his mind like water down a sink hole I'm sorry my Rosemary...
He fell indelicately onto the steps behind him, his now lifeless body devoid of movement and creating a unkind, dull thud on the carpeted steps. His once warm, mint green eyes were blank and unseeing, never to shine with the proud love and affection they always had. Lord Voldemort paid no mind to the dead Muggle that laid in front of him and he slipped, almost silently, up the stairs. He was intent on completing his mission.
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Rosemary had reluctantly left her husband and ran quickly as she could up the stairs and toward the nursery. She clutched her granddaughter to her chest as she entered the room, she shut the door and locked it forcefully, though knowing it was futile. But she still shoved the dresser that was thankfully near the door in front of the wooden panel anyway. She heavily leaned against the dresser, her legs like led bricks. She was panting heartily but she gripped Violet tightly to her body. The baby girl was now whimpering, not liking the sad and heavy atmosphere that had now encompassed the house. Her hair had faded to a dull, limp gray colour, her once vivid eyes darkened to a sorrowful black and her skin a sickly white. Rose heard the tone of the voices down stairs, the high mocking hissing of the dark wizard and the deep, determined of her husband's, but not the words, for that she was relived and afraid. She heard the dull thud of her beloved husband's body, silent tears streaked down her aging face, sobs threatened to consume her throat and heart, but she held strong. She brought Violet higher and tighter as she heard the near silent footfalls on the stairs.
"Violet Lillian Potter. Grandma loves you, Grandpa loves you, you will make this out alive, I know it. We will always be watching over you, forever and beyond. We are and will be proud of you and will love you always. And when you grow up and you will because you have a destiny dear heart, you will be utterly golden." Her voice didn't tremble this time, she spoke in strong whisper in her grandchild's dainty ear. She stumbled over to the cherry wood crib and placed the small, sad baby girl on top of the soft claret blanket. Rose placed a loving, featherlight kiss her grandchild's forehead.
"Love you, little enchantress." She breathed softly.
Rose turned around her back toward the crib, but kept her left hand inside the crib. She felt a small, soft hand touch her's and she encased it with her older one. She was confident now, just like her strong Daniel, brave in the face of death. Something she doubted the monster on the other side of the door would be. The footfalls had stopped, an eerie silence filled the room.
How can such heavy and suffocating silence feel so deafeningly loud?
She could feel her heart thudding quickly in her chest and her blood pounding rhythmically in her ears.
Splinters of charred wood and burned fabric flew everywhere. The force of the blow shattered the windows, glass breaking and scattering outwards. Rose's head snapped sideways from the force. Her hair whipped at her face, which was set in hard resolve. The most powerful and darkest wizard of all time smoothly stepped into the nursery like it was the most natural thing in the world. Voldemort gracefully strode toward her, his cloak flitted over the broken remnants of the door and dresser. He stopped a meek yard in front of the tense woman, who stared steadily back at him, not cowering at the sight of him.
"I must say I admired your husband's bravery. I'll give you one chance to stand aside and let me at the girl." He hissed with a mixture mocking, sarcasm and demand.
"I will not stand aside and you will not touch her, you bastard." Rose spoke resolutely, her emerald eyes hard like chips of frozen ice. Voldemort's blazing red and snake-like slitted eyes flashed in annoyance and slight anger.
"Feisty." He mocked cruelly.
"Now, stand aside, you infernal Muggle!" Voldemort ordered hotly.
Rose knew the insult was stupid and foolish, but she couldn't help it. She knew what this man could do to her, the pain he could cause for her. But she stood there, resolute. She knew she would die, she could feel it in her very bones, but he wouldn't touch her granddaughter. She wouldn't let him.
"I won't let you touch her. So. No. I. Will. Not. Stand. Aside." Rose forcefully enunciated the last seven words, showing Lord Voldemort her determination.
"So be it." He said, lifting his wand again, pointing it at her chest.
"Avada Kedavra."He snarled again for the second time that night, and again the sickly green jet of light erupted from his long and pale wand. It hit Rose in the dead centre of her chest.
And she fell, just like her husband. It seemed to take forever for the light of life leave her eyes but they became just as blank and unseeing, the beautiful emerald glazed and lifeless. Her body made a soft, but echoing thud as it hit the nursery floor, her once shining pale blonde hair created a splayed halo of spun gold around her head.
And her hand, the one still held tightly by her granddaughter, became ice cold and limp. Voldemort laughed, high, cold, and cruel. He laughed at the foolishness of the woman with no magical ability trying stop him from touching her granddaughter. Foolish.
"Last but not least. The one supposed to stop me." He rasped in amusement, gazing down at the girl. He admitted that the girl's Metamorphmagus ability would have been useful if she joined him in the future. Such a waste.
For the third time that night, and for the last time in the next decade or so, though he didn't know it. Tom Riddle Jnr. gripped his wand and lifted it, pointing his wand down at the girl, who still had dull grey hair, sorrowful black eyes and sickly white skin.
"Avada Kedavra." Voldemort uttered.
The blinding green light flew from his wand, lighting up every corner of the destroyed nursery. It headed straight for Violet with a sinister rushing noise. Then everything went wrong, for Voldemort anyway. The moment the curse touched the small, baby girl it hardly even effected her. In fact it flew right back toward it's caster. The curse, the curse thought to be unblockable, rebounded. Voldemort's burning, bright red eyes widened in numbing shock, horrified fascination and pure fear. The curse hit him with a horrendous force and a broken scream tore from his throat, feeling the utter torment as his torn and black soul was ripped brutally from his body. His already frail body crumbled to ash and dust, his cloak and robes fluttered down in a heap and his wand fell dismally to the rubble littered floor.
The split and mangled soul of Lord Voldemort quickly fled from the scene, disappearing, unseen, into the chilling night.
Unfortunately, the after effects of the rebound caused a rather large explosion. The whole left side of the house cracked and crumbled, before it almost completely caved in. Scorching fires flared to life and rubble fell in large chucks of hot stone and brittle, sharp wood. Not to mention the large and powerful magical shock wave that tore through the the already crippling wards that were around the house as well as the Fidelius Charm.
A significant framed photograph of four laughing teenage boys fell of the crippled wall with a sharp drop, a crack appeared, splitting up and across. The crack cut off the picture of the mousy and rat-like boy from the rest of the waving and cheerful friends. Such cruel but just irony. And in the midst of the catastrophic chaos and cracking photographs was Rosemary Violet Evans' dead and cold body, and a wailing Violet Lillian Potter left with was, on the exact same spot that her grandmother kissed her forehead, a peculiar, bleeding cut in the shape of a lightning bolt.