THE LAST REMAINS
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowlings.
Rated PG for: VERY mild language and VERY mild violence.
Summary: Albus Dumbledore walks through the remains of Lily and James's home, only to imagine what had to have happened that night.
They're in: The night Lily and James died.
Chapter One:
Albus Dumbledore walked through the ruins of what was left of Gordic's Hollow. He reminisced what had happened here a few hours ago, according to some witnesses and some use of magic.
"Come on James," Lily said, "It's time to go to bed. Harry needs to sleep too you know."
"Just a minute more Lils, look at the little guy giggle!" James responded, "He's so cute!"
He bent down to wipe ashes away from a charred family picture. It seemed to be a Muggle photo, since none of them were moving. James had his arm around Lily, and was in the process of waving merrily with his other arm. Lily was holding baby Harry and looking like that day was the happiest day of their life.
"Alright," Lily laughed.
A sudden knocking could be heard. Knock, knock. James looked at Lily.
"No one is supposed to know that we're here," Lily whispered. Knock, Knock. James got up and handed Harry to Lily, "It might just be Peter," Lily tried hopefully. Knock, knock. The knocking became more urgent and sharper. James went to go see who was at the door.
He opened it just a crack, and the door flew open with great force. "RUN LILY, RUN!"
Albus Dumbledore passed through the remains of the living room. There were burnt toys, most of them fused together from the heat of the fire.
The house groaned with the wind and a wood column fell sadly and slowly to the ground with a low, sad thud.
Lily ran up to Harry's room. She hugged him close to him, afraid of what might happen.
"Avada kedavra!" The house seemed to echo the words last heard by James Potter. "Avada kedavra . . . avada kedavra . . . avada kedavra . . ."
"No!" Lily thought fiercely, "He's just messing with my mind . . . James is not gone!"
Thud.
Someone was coming closer.
Thud.
They were almost there.
Thud.
Why had she been so stupid and left her wand foolishly on the kitchen counter?
SLAM
The door slammed open.
He picked up what used to have been a wand. Had this been Lily's wand? Or had this been James, dropped after he had fallen to the ground, lifeless.
No, this was Lily's wand. It was made out of willow and had a core of unicorn hair. Had James thought of Lily and Harry before he died?
A small tear trickled down his cheek and got lost in his beard.
"Get away from us you bastard!" Lily yelled. Harry sensed that something was wrong and only sniffed to show his fear.
Voldemort laughed and said maliciously, "That's no way to be speaking to your new master!" He smirked. "Now, hand me the baby if you want to live."
"No!" Lily didn't have to think twice about it. "You'll have to kill me first!"
Voldemort sneered, "That can be arranged my dear." He raised his wand and opened his slit-like mouth to say the dreadful words. His red eyes gleamed with eagerness.
The bedroom, at least where it used to be, where it all happened was heavy with smoke and he had trouble breathing.
Strangely, there was a crib right in the middle, but the strangest part about it was that the crib was a deep pearly white. Not black and gray like the rest of the scorched remains. It was untouched, and it was in the middle of the fire.
"Avada kedavra!" Lily dropped to the floor, lifeless. Harry gave out a small cry: he noticed something was wrong with his mommy.
"And now you, you little rascal!" Voldemort walked closer to the crib. "You are supposed to be my downfall. My symbol of fail. And because of that, you will die. Finally! The moment I have been waiting for, for a long time . . . AVADA KEDAVRA!"
He walked over the crib, a feeling of hope flowing all through out his body. He was closer and his breath was now coming in short, shallow puffs. His heart was beating wildly against his ribcage.
No, it couldn't be it! They are all supposed to be dead. But what if . . . No, it couldn't be! Or could it? He reached down into the crib.
The baby acted like some type of a mirror. The curse was reflected somehow. How could this happen? Voldemort stumbled back from surprised and weakness.
"What have you done to me, you wretched child?!" He seemed to be deteriorating.
"What have you done to me?!" he repeated, knowing full well that Harry wouldn't respond to him. He was a shadow now. A shadow of guilt, hate, and madness. A dark shadow.
He had to get away. He flowed through the beginnings of a fire. He left . . . but where, he didn't know.
Dumbledore saw a bundle of blankets. He picked the blankets up and opened them up gently.
"Oh dear God!" he whispered. It was a baby boy! Is this the little Harry? Yes, it had to be him! Little Harry had ash on his head and Dumbledore reached to brush them gently away, when he felt something wet. Blood, maybe?
He brushed Harry's hair away and saw a bloody scar.
A scar in the shape of a fire bolt.
A/N:
I hope you all enjoy this. Please leave me a review and tell me what you think.