A small whimper pulled her out of her slumber. She opened her emerald
green eyes, dull with sleep, and lifted her head up a little off her
husband's chest and listened. There. The distinct sound of a small child
crying.
Sighing she got out of bed carefully, so as to not wake her husband. Slipping into her slippers, she crept out of the room, across the hallway, and into the blue-and-white decorated room of her son.
She strode over to the crib and lifted her son out carefully. "Shh, now," she whispered soothingly, rubbing his back gently. He kept right on crying. So she started to hum a simple melody. It was the lullaby her mother used to sing to her when she was a child. She hummed softly and walked around the room, still rubbing his back gently. Soon, the child's crying ceased and soon fell asleep right in his mother's arms. She smiled to herself.
"You're so beautiful," she murmured softly. She felt a hand on her shoulder and saw her messy-haired love standing beside her.
"Hey, love," he whispered, kissing her cheek. "He at it again?"
"Yes," she smiled. "I suppose the gala tonight was too much for him."
"We had fun, though," he said, putting his arms around her waist. They looked quite a picture, a woman standing there with her child in her arms, while she was in her own husband's arms as well. A comfortable silence elapsed.
"We're so lucky," whispered the man suddenly, placing his chin on the woman's head. She nodded slightly, smiling again.
"Yes, we most certainly are. I don't know if I'll ever want to let him go," she said in a low voice, as to not wake her sleeping son. She brushed a strand of delicate black hair out of her baby's closed eyes. It was soft, like silk, and it made her want to stroke her child's head again and again. She supposed it would be more like her husband's, though, when became older. Her husband's soft voice interrupted her daydream.
"Come on love, we better get some rest after all that dancing tonight. I've got work tomorrow."
The woman sighed. "You're right. You go ahead, I'll put him to bed."
The man nodded and turned. He was barely out the door when a loud crash interrupted the silence of the night. They both jumped, and the woman heard voices outside. She ran to the window, her baby still in her arms, and gasped when she saw a dozen figures in black cloaks milling around in their front yard.
"They've found us!" she breathed, turning to her husband in fright. His eyes widened, but then became serious. He went over to his newly wed wife and grasped her shoulders firmly. He spoke quickly and firmly, but his voice shook.
"Honey, I want you to send him away somewhere safe, and fast. I'll go down and try to stall them. This may be our doom, but at least our son may live."
The woman's eyes filled with tears, but nodded and kissed her husband quickly. He then rushed out, grabbing something from the counter in the hallway and rushed downstairs. Meanwhile, the woman quickly wrapped her son in a blanket, writing hurriedly a note and shoving it among them. The placed her son in a baby basket and pulled out what looked like a stick from the pocket of her pajama bottoms, where she always kept it at night, in case of emergency. There were several bangs and yells from the floor below, so she worked quickly. She muttered a few well-chosen words, and the basket levitated into the air. Just then, she heard a yell.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll stop him . . ." But there was a loud scream of pain, and she started sobbing, recognizing the cry to be her beloved. She was saying another few words when the door behind her burst open and a hooded figure in a black cloak entered the room. They were all dressed the same, but she knew who he was.
"Move aside." The figure spoke in a low hiss.
"No, you shall not hurt him!" she said, moving right in front of her son protectively.
But this did not suit the cloaked imposter well. With a loud bang, she was thrown against the wall by an invisible force, and slumped down to the floor when her head cracked on the wall. She opened her eyes, and to her horror she saw the figure moving toward her child. "No!" she cried, gathering her remaining strength and jumping up, collapsing in front of the basket. "Not Harry, not Harry, I beg you, not Harry . . ."
"Move aside, fool, you are no match for me . . . move, now."
"No, not Harry, please, take me, kill me instead of him . . ." but the figure was advancing towards them, pointing a wooden stick threateningly. "Please," she continued to plead. "I beg you . . . have mercy, please . . . take me instead . . ."
The man laughed, a cold, cruel laugh that made her blood churn. He pointed the stick swiftly towards her, still laughing like a madman. There was a flash of green light, and the woman screamed . . . and then . . .
Silence.
The figure, turned to the child, now awake due to all the commotion. Smiling cruelly, he aimed the stick at the baby, and muttered a few words.
There was another flash of bright green light, but instead of the child screaming, like he anticipated, the being under the cloak felt a pain over coming him. It was taking over him, and he yelled half in pain, half in outrage. The man simply disappeared, black robes slumping into a puddle on the ground. The baby was now also crying, not knowing why his head hurt so much. He wanted his mother. But before he could cry out the way he always did when he wanted his mommy, he felt his basket starting to move. It flew across the room and straight out the open window, with curtains billowing around it in the wind. Almost immediately after the basket exited, the house burst into flame. But the pain in his head was too much; the last thing he heard before falling asleep were shouts and yells in the street below, where a large number of grown-ups were.
The darkness took him . . .
His head hurt . . .
Ten years later, a boy with messy black hair and emerald green eyes suddenly woke up with a start, clutching his forehead in pain.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hey everyone, this is my second Harry Potter fic. I bet everyone reading this knows what this was all about . . . but yeah, it's gonna be WAY different from the book. Yeah . . . and the title of this fic is lame, I know, but whatever . . it will reveal its meaning and stuff in future chapters. That is . . . only if people review! Reviews encourage me! ^_^
So ya, review time! I accept flames and all that, but don't be too harsh ^_^. C'mon click that button down there . . . you know you WAAAAAANN it . . . (hehe gotta love them cheesewhiz commercials!!)
Sighing she got out of bed carefully, so as to not wake her husband. Slipping into her slippers, she crept out of the room, across the hallway, and into the blue-and-white decorated room of her son.
She strode over to the crib and lifted her son out carefully. "Shh, now," she whispered soothingly, rubbing his back gently. He kept right on crying. So she started to hum a simple melody. It was the lullaby her mother used to sing to her when she was a child. She hummed softly and walked around the room, still rubbing his back gently. Soon, the child's crying ceased and soon fell asleep right in his mother's arms. She smiled to herself.
"You're so beautiful," she murmured softly. She felt a hand on her shoulder and saw her messy-haired love standing beside her.
"Hey, love," he whispered, kissing her cheek. "He at it again?"
"Yes," she smiled. "I suppose the gala tonight was too much for him."
"We had fun, though," he said, putting his arms around her waist. They looked quite a picture, a woman standing there with her child in her arms, while she was in her own husband's arms as well. A comfortable silence elapsed.
"We're so lucky," whispered the man suddenly, placing his chin on the woman's head. She nodded slightly, smiling again.
"Yes, we most certainly are. I don't know if I'll ever want to let him go," she said in a low voice, as to not wake her sleeping son. She brushed a strand of delicate black hair out of her baby's closed eyes. It was soft, like silk, and it made her want to stroke her child's head again and again. She supposed it would be more like her husband's, though, when became older. Her husband's soft voice interrupted her daydream.
"Come on love, we better get some rest after all that dancing tonight. I've got work tomorrow."
The woman sighed. "You're right. You go ahead, I'll put him to bed."
The man nodded and turned. He was barely out the door when a loud crash interrupted the silence of the night. They both jumped, and the woman heard voices outside. She ran to the window, her baby still in her arms, and gasped when she saw a dozen figures in black cloaks milling around in their front yard.
"They've found us!" she breathed, turning to her husband in fright. His eyes widened, but then became serious. He went over to his newly wed wife and grasped her shoulders firmly. He spoke quickly and firmly, but his voice shook.
"Honey, I want you to send him away somewhere safe, and fast. I'll go down and try to stall them. This may be our doom, but at least our son may live."
The woman's eyes filled with tears, but nodded and kissed her husband quickly. He then rushed out, grabbing something from the counter in the hallway and rushed downstairs. Meanwhile, the woman quickly wrapped her son in a blanket, writing hurriedly a note and shoving it among them. The placed her son in a baby basket and pulled out what looked like a stick from the pocket of her pajama bottoms, where she always kept it at night, in case of emergency. There were several bangs and yells from the floor below, so she worked quickly. She muttered a few well-chosen words, and the basket levitated into the air. Just then, she heard a yell.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll stop him . . ." But there was a loud scream of pain, and she started sobbing, recognizing the cry to be her beloved. She was saying another few words when the door behind her burst open and a hooded figure in a black cloak entered the room. They were all dressed the same, but she knew who he was.
"Move aside." The figure spoke in a low hiss.
"No, you shall not hurt him!" she said, moving right in front of her son protectively.
But this did not suit the cloaked imposter well. With a loud bang, she was thrown against the wall by an invisible force, and slumped down to the floor when her head cracked on the wall. She opened her eyes, and to her horror she saw the figure moving toward her child. "No!" she cried, gathering her remaining strength and jumping up, collapsing in front of the basket. "Not Harry, not Harry, I beg you, not Harry . . ."
"Move aside, fool, you are no match for me . . . move, now."
"No, not Harry, please, take me, kill me instead of him . . ." but the figure was advancing towards them, pointing a wooden stick threateningly. "Please," she continued to plead. "I beg you . . . have mercy, please . . . take me instead . . ."
The man laughed, a cold, cruel laugh that made her blood churn. He pointed the stick swiftly towards her, still laughing like a madman. There was a flash of green light, and the woman screamed . . . and then . . .
Silence.
The figure, turned to the child, now awake due to all the commotion. Smiling cruelly, he aimed the stick at the baby, and muttered a few words.
There was another flash of bright green light, but instead of the child screaming, like he anticipated, the being under the cloak felt a pain over coming him. It was taking over him, and he yelled half in pain, half in outrage. The man simply disappeared, black robes slumping into a puddle on the ground. The baby was now also crying, not knowing why his head hurt so much. He wanted his mother. But before he could cry out the way he always did when he wanted his mommy, he felt his basket starting to move. It flew across the room and straight out the open window, with curtains billowing around it in the wind. Almost immediately after the basket exited, the house burst into flame. But the pain in his head was too much; the last thing he heard before falling asleep were shouts and yells in the street below, where a large number of grown-ups were.
The darkness took him . . .
His head hurt . . .
Ten years later, a boy with messy black hair and emerald green eyes suddenly woke up with a start, clutching his forehead in pain.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hey everyone, this is my second Harry Potter fic. I bet everyone reading this knows what this was all about . . . but yeah, it's gonna be WAY different from the book. Yeah . . . and the title of this fic is lame, I know, but whatever . . it will reveal its meaning and stuff in future chapters. That is . . . only if people review! Reviews encourage me! ^_^
So ya, review time! I accept flames and all that, but don't be too harsh ^_^. C'mon click that button down there . . . you know you WAAAAAANN it . . . (hehe gotta love them cheesewhiz commercials!!)