Lily muttered the incantation to an ancient protection, her heart racing. She pricked her finger, tracing intricate runes onto the doorframe and floor. He was here, she knew. If only she had more time...
Focus, Lily, she reminded herself, but frowned as she heard not one, but two pairs of feet making their way up the stairs, their owners making no effort to silence their approach. Who was the second?
The door burst open, smearing the last rune as it knocked over the crouching mother. She stood, disoriented, before remembering herself and rushed to her baby. Two figures swept into the nursery, two pairs of red eyes sweeping the bright blue wall, finally settling on a crib in the far corner, a tiger standing over it, protecting her cub.
"Tiger, tiger, burning bright," a man's voice mocked from beneath a hood of shadow. "Even flames die."
Lily shivered at the cold, raspy voice. Somehow, it was familiar...
The other man, younger than the first, removed his hood to reveal a strong jaw, and raven hair. Malevolent ruby eyes glinted out of cold white marble. "A muggle poem, Master? Although, it's probably all she knows, Mudblood scum."
"Patience, Tom," the Master remarked, idly deflecting Lily's snarled spells. "Fire is beautiful to watch. But even flames die. You know the spell, Tom. Fight fire with fire, as they say. Go on. After all, why not kill two Potters with one spell?"
"I thought you'd never ask, Master," Lord Voldemort replied, drawing power for one spell to end this dancing defiant flame and her defenseless cub. "Fiendfyre!"
Black flame rushed along the walls, danced over the floor, eating through carpet.
Closer. Closer. Closer.
"Tom, remember yourself!" the Master warned. "Our greatest strength is indeed our greatest down fall as well. Remember that."
The two, Master and apprentice, swept down wooden stairs, past the living room that was once filled with joy.
Voldemort paused briefly near the sleeping ocean, the subdued wave, the counter and mate to that beautiful fire in the upstairs nursery. That dead wave would never rise again, tied forevermore to the bottom of the sea.
They passed the body of James Potter and left the house, shadow swirling at the dark duo's heels. From upstairs, a piercing scream of pain, anguish, sorrow resonated through the neighborhood. A dark smile appeared on the Master's face. "None shall ever challenge me again!" he cried aloud, cackling his triumph to the skies. Moments later, the deeper chuckle of his apprentice joined the Master's perverse celebrations.
Deranged laughter filtered into the upstairs bedroom. The tiger's flame had since burned out, nothing left of the beauty. The spreading black flames slowly consumed the sleeping wave, dancing out the windows and caressing the rooftop. But in one corner of the upstairs nursery, fingers of flame tickled a black-haired babe. Tongues of black fire caressed his tiny head, crowning him with deadly light. Emerald flames danced in wonder-filled eyes. The flames rejoiced in this tiny being.
Footsteps sounded again, crunching over the broken stairs, a benevolent entity carefully picking his way among the wreckage. The Flame stilled. Voices called out for the little one the Flame held so dear. It would never leave this child. Black flickers retreated into wispy black strands. Emerald fire dimmed, unseen, but present. The Flame waited now, waited for the Brilliant One to awaken and claim his destiny.