Prologue
It was a peaceful afternoon. Early spring marked a goddess' presence with refreshing light breeze and brilliantly green leaves. They scattered along the valley; the mischievous wing wormed between elegant pedestals of lilies, sunflowers and countless other no-name flowers. The sky, a cerulean silk carpet, pure and cloudless, reflected itself on the transparent water surface of the lake nearby; you could picture the sky yet in the same time looked through the glassy liquid.
A peaceful afternoon – happiness and light, pain and darkness.
As a valley, Godric's Hollow would never understand the underlying meaning. Earth was just earth, dust returned to dust.
The breeze wavered.
The flowers froze in their breath-taking beauty.
The sky, now alone, the cloud had since long fled.
The water, buckled under heavy transparency.
Godric's Hollow was only a valley. The people who lived in this utopia rest ignorant toward everything but the Dark Lord and their pitiful hide; they couldn't, and wouldn't suspect anything. Let alone care about some insignificant changes. They walked with poise and dignity rarely seen in a time of war, they hunched their back in paranoia, they stood on their feet, they cowered on their knees. They didn't know.
"On the count of three, Lily! One, two, three. Push!"
"Ow ow… that bloody hurt, James Anthony Potter! Why don't you come here and give birth instead of me! Damn it, it hurt!"
Taken aback by his wife's profanities, the Potter Patriarch almost considered running away from the lioness' clutch. However, a light pat on his shoulder woke him from his trance.
"If you run now, I fear your son might become the last Potter" Albus Dumbledore smiled serenely, sending his young charge into a bewildered state.
"Fine, you manipulative headmaster" James glared at the elderly wizard but gulped when Lily's vibrantly green eyes bored into him with promised pain. Madam Pomfrey knew better than let a staring contest begin.
"Push again, Lily! Push!"
The witch's eyebrows shot to her hairline in pain as she gave it a mighty push. She had never known giving birth could be this… torturing. But then she thought about her soon-to-be-born baby and all homicidal intention disappeared.
James Potter let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding.
"I've seen the head! Push again, Lily! You have twins!"
"What! I have twins?" Lily couldn't believe it. That meant double pain, double force to get them out of her stomach…
"Double love for them and for us, sweetheart" James' voice lingered, his hot breath caressed Lily's temple. She gathered all that was left of her endurance and pushed.
"The first one is a boy!"
Relief washed over both Potters and the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes returned in full strength.
"Push! One, two, three, push! I've got the other one! It's a boy too!"
Baby cry filled the labor room as the nurse gently slapped the red-haired one's bottom. His breath became stable with his cry as he was registered as a healthy baby and given to Lily's embrace. The nurse turned to the black-haired baby.
He didn't cry.
Pomfrey tried again, a little more forcefully but careful not to hurt the child who, still, stubbornly refused to cry. The adults panicked.
"What's wrong with him? What's wrong with my baby?"
"Lily, look at the one you're holding!"
All eyes snapped back to the red-haired baby, watched with awe and horror as the child began to choke. His pink skin turned blue from the lack of oxygen. Lily released her baby in panic. Pomfrey snatched him and began massaging his throat to no avail.
The baby's skin suddenly wrinkled at a horrifying rate. Red and blue veins could be seen racing along the body and quickly lost their colors as if the blood was being drained. The child convulsed madly in the nurse's embrace, mouth gaping yet no sound could be heard. Finally, the baby collapsed, deduced to a blood-drained skeletal corpse.
The raven-haired baby, who was left to Albus Dumbledore when Pomfrey went to help his brother, remained silent. Eyes tightly closed and chest heaving slightly in shallow breath, the baby looked like an angel…
… who just took away the brother in the parents' helplessness.
After the premature death of Anthony Potter – the red-haired twin – the Potters were never the same.
Gone was the Marauder spirit in one James Potter. No matter what jokes Padfoot, Moony and even clumsy Wormtail came up with to ignite the old fire, James would never wake up from the pain. He rarely smiled, and often was seen wandering in the garden, staring at nothingness.
Gone was the fiery temper in one Lily Potter. The mother drowned in her own hysterical fever of losing a son, and couldn't help but blamed the other twin for killing his brother and herself for being so powerless. She cried every day, sobbing into her husband's shoulder as he patted her back protectively; he himself couldn't already awaken from his devastated state, what could he do to save his wife?
Little Harry, unaware of his brother's death and his parents' grief, loved to gurgle and mess up like any other child. Yet day after day, the brunette became more and more silent. He hugged his parents when they were upset and they would look at him with watery eyes, something that his mind kept boggling about and never understood. Nevertheless, he didn't like the look. He never hugged his parents anymore, kept to his crib and played with his teddy bear.
The family was falling apart.
"Lily, take Harry and run! I'll hold him!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"James no!"
Useless mudblood… as well let her live as a witness… but no… she had to stand in his way, she had to cling tightly onto her son and beg like a dog… Just die, Lily Potter. I shall remember you as a pitiful mudblood who dared to stand up against Lord Voldemort.
The mother had fallen. Now it's your turn, Harry James Potter. Pity, if your brother had been alive, he would have been here right now taking to blow for you. Close your eyes, infant. Your soul shall be delivered to the welcoming arms of Death.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Impossible!...
The man stopped his chanting. Several golden locks damped with cold sweat clung to his forehead. A cold breeze brushed over his body, leaving behind a distinctive feeling of dread. The man shuddered but shook his head, trying to forget his body's reaction.
"This fucking can't be happening!" murmured Hidan as he paced around the room. The Jashinist knew this sensation to heart; he had only felt it one, when the enemy had brutally stabbed him in the guts and he had almost reached the brink of Death…
Hidan has believed his power as an immortal to be absolute – the blonde clearly remembered how Orochimaru kept nagging him about its secret, which he himself didn't know.
"Hidan!" He almost jumped at the sudden call.
"What the fuck!"
"I've been calling your name for a minute! What's wrong with you?" his partner, Kakuzu, snapped in his bad mood. The Stitch ninja was taken aback, however, when Hidan lowered his voice.
"Did you feel it, Kakuzu?"
"Feel what?"
"It's just… like a tug at your brain… did you feel it?"
"I don't feel anything, dunderhead. What did you feel?"
"I don't know, Kakuzu… It's like… there's another one like me out there…"
TBC