The Dark Lord stepped over the still body of James Potter and into the house. The woman cried something, something about the child, and he killed her without listening to what it was that she said.
He had heard it before. He did not need to listen again.
Her body fell to the floor, but the baby did not, held in midair by a quick 'Wingardium Leviosa.' He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named beckoned, and the floating child came to his outstretched wand, the forehead of Harry Potter resting beneath the wand of the most powerful dark wizard in history.
'Diffindo,' the Dark Lord said, and the child wailed in sudden pain as a shallow cut traced a lightning bolt in his forehead. 'Somnium,' and the child went limp, magically put to sleep. Unhealthy, normally, as the spell lightly touched a nerve bundle in the spinal cord; but the Dark Lord did not care about the child's health.
The Order would arrive soon, he knew, so he hurried through the wording of the next enchantments. Far darker ones, magics which few knew and fewer would ever dare to cast. He cast the magics twice, once on the boy, and once on himself.
And then he cast a Shield charm around the boy, and then created a lifeless copy of his own body in a process similar to that used by Metamorphmagi, and finally cast an explosive, destructive spell that left the house in ruins as he Apparated away.
It would be different this time.
This is short. Yes. I know. Blah.
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