James Potter warily kept an eye on the window. This whole situation seemed like "hurry up and wait" to him. The instant he had gotten word that Voldemort was after him, he had gathered up Lily and Harry and rushed to hide. He hated hiding. He hated creeping. He hated the way that Sirius had convinced him to make someone who was all too good at hiding and creeping his Secret-Keeper. Something was just wrong about Peter Pettigrew-but he couldn't put his finger on it. One way or another, however, Peter WAS the Keeper, and he, James, WAS hiding from the Dark Lord.
"I wonder," he muttered to himself "if I would take my wand and go after him, were it not for Lily and Harry..." He said that at least once or twice every day, and had to believe that he would. Voldemort was a great threat, yes, but his best friends Padfoot and Moony were off chasing him, so he saw no reason why he shouldn't. Except for his wife and his son. He sighed. Once this whole thing was over, he would rest easier. MUCH easier. As for now...all he had to do was wait for it all to blow over. How long could it take? Voldemort was sliding down anyway. For one, ever since Dumbledore had declared that Hogwarts was a rallying point, a haven and bastion that even the Death Eaters dare not touch, the great FEAR that was Voldemort's greatest ally was lessening. People finally believed that he was not infallible. Some of his more lukewarm followers had already deserted him. All he had to do was wait.
Voldemort stormed down the empty streets, furious and tired. He slumped down underneath a tree, sucking in huge gasps of air. The duel with that absurd Knight had drained his energy greatly-he could feel that his inner reserves of power were lower than they had been for years. He was too used to dropping Aurors with a single curse; he had not had such a workout for years. Still, he had a mission to carry out. The Potters had to die this night, or his plans for assaulting Hogwarts would all go down the drain. "Hmmmmm." Lucius was out for the count-he hoped that the old con artist had managed to haul himself away from the area before the Muggles arrived in force. If not...oh well. He had enough supporters that losing one would not be that much of a problem. Maybe the fool would learn to be more careful from now on. He snarled, then hauled himself up, muttering "Rejuvinatus", and suddenly his tired demeanor slipped away. Vigor took the place that exhaustion had formally occupied on his features. On to the Potters. No time to spare.
James waited nervously. His good friend Remus Lupin would not be watching guard tonight, not with the full moon out. And Sirius was off trying to track down several members of the Ministry who had recently disappeared. Not good at all. He had tried to convince Dumbledore and even Barty Crouch to let him bait a trap; let Voldemort know he was here and have dozens of Aurors waiting to greet him. Unfortunately, that would not work, at least according to the two most powerful wizards on the good side. He had a bad feeling about tonight, for some reason. He wasn't about to tell Lily, however. There was no need to worry her-especially when she had Harry to worry about. She had gotten very protective very fast-so much so that James was almost glad to go on sentry duty every once in a while. So far, nothing. Still, it was better than waiting and doing nothing. He peered into the deep fog surrounding his house. No evil, lurking figures. No shining red eyes, no green flashes and whistles of impending doom. Wait, wait, wait. For it to end.
Normally, Voldemort would have refused to show any sign of weakness, but he went ahead and called several of his most loyal Death Eaters to meet him at the Potter residence. If nothing else, they could be a contingency plan if James proved to be more difficult than he anticipated. It wasn't as if he couldn't do it on his own-but it was better to be sure than sorry, especially in his weakened state. So close now, according to the information that lowly Pettigrew had given him. He sneered at the thought of that pathetic wizard, so much like the rat he could embody. Still, he could sense where the power was. He has given me the Potter's heads on a silver platter, the Dark Lord reflected. Perhaps he should be rewarded, somehow. Perhaps not. He would decide that after the Potters were dead. WAIT! Movement ahead. Voldemort peered ahead. Yes. Someone was moving, walking in meaningful circles. He hissed quietly to a tiny grass snake that lay only a few feet away, directing it to the man and the house he patrolled around. Soon the snake reported back. Tall. Dark hair and eyes. Wand. Voldemort smiled. It HAD to be James Potter. Now the game would begin. He silently rose, thrust his wand forward, and cried out in his cold, hissing voice "Avada Kedavra".
With reflexes that showed why he was one of the greatest Quidditch players of all time, James Potter somehow threw himself out of the path of the green ray of obliteration. It streaked past his house to explode violently a few streets down.
"LILY, TAKE HARRY AND GO! IT'S HIM! GO! RUN! I'LL HOLD HIM OFF!" James bellowed as he leapt back up and sent an ardent jet of light back towards the source of the Killing Curse. He heard Lily frantically gathering Harry. Good. Again he had to dodge a spell from the Dark Lord. Sweat poured from every pore of his body. His mind was more alert than it had ever been before. He watched every direction at once, wand and curse prepared. A fly buzzed around his head. He ignored it. He ignored everything except the bushes ahead of him.
He never even saw that harmless fly Transfigured into an enormous scythe that snicked through his body. Blood streaming from the huge wound across his entire body, James did the only thing he could. He morphed. Even as a buck he had a vicious slit from throat to groin. He staggered, then, screaming a cry, lowered his horns and charged at Voldemort, who was just emerging from the grove of trees and shrubs he had been hiding in, a terrible smile on his pale face. He watched with contempt as James hurried towards him, flicking his wand with casual disdain. Prongs slumped to the ground, never to get up again.
Voldemort barged through the door even as Lily was leaving the house. He swung open the back door-only to run face to face with several Death Eaters. They herded her back into the main room. She noticed that, under the long flowing cloaks and robes, one of them was no other than Peter Pettigrew. Shrieking with hatred and burning for revenge, she launched herself at him, only to be instantly bound with magically summoned shackles and cords from every direction. Still, she glared with malice towards the traitor Peter, spitting in his face as he dragged her before Voldemort.
"I expect your brave face will fall at bit," he hissed, blood-red eyes glowing evilly, "when your realize that we are not here for your or even your husband." He gestured elegantly. "We are here for your son."
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she screamed.
"Stand aside, you silly girl, stand aside now. You all must die for the magical world to realize what a mistake they have made, ignoring my power. He must die for a greater reason...the signs are true in this way. If you do not stand aside," he gloated, "you will watch him be tortured first. Move away, and he will die instantly." He laughed, a noise as frigid as an arctic blast.
Lily stood aside, crying as she watched Voldemort prepare to kill her son.
"I beg of you, Dark Lord, kill me first. I cannot stand to watch him die...while I still live." She burst into tears anew.
Voldemort seemed taken aback by the request, but instantly spun around, hissed "Avada Kedavra" yet again. Now he turned on young Harry. "With you dead, little one, my rule is guaranteed for a million years!" Again he repeated the incantation for the Killing Curse. And could only watch as the verdant light instead slammed into him. Even as his soul separated from his body, he shrieked to his followers, "KILL THE BOY! KILL HIM NOW!"
Seeing the Dark Lord engulfed in his own fatal curse, Sirius Black knew that the time was ripe. Transforming into the huge black dog he knew so well, the sprinted towards the house, which even now was burning down as Voldemort's misdirected spell sent licks of flame all over. Even as the other Death Eaters raised their wands to strike Harry down, Sirius bulled between them, sending the robed figures to the ground as he plowed through their circle. Scooping up young Harry in his jaws, he sprinted into the woods, dodging spells by the dozen. Several minutes later, giving up on any hope of killing the dog and his cargo, the cloaked figures gathered up their fallen leader's body and Disapparated.
Fifteen minutes later, when Hagrid arrived at the Potter residence to pick Harry up, he saw Sirius atop his flying motorcycle, the boy protectively gripped in his arms. He handed Harry over to Hagrid after appealing to keep him himself. Knowing that he would never need it again, if he could not take care of his godson, Sirius even lent Hagrid his precious motorcycle. Tears streaming down his face, Sirius Apparated into the countryside. He would track down Pettigrew, and bring him to justice. Even if it killed him.
Fifty years in the future, Antioch Hodge, shuddering with the bittersweet memories that the mighty Hogwarts Castle brought to the surface, boarded the boat that took him across the mighty lake. Although it would be several weeks before school started again, he wanted to check out the defenses, plan his lessons to the utmost detail. He had friends to avenge, and a nightmare to end. His smile, though grim, promised that the future would be very interesting, indeed.
"I wonder," he muttered to himself "if I would take my wand and go after him, were it not for Lily and Harry..." He said that at least once or twice every day, and had to believe that he would. Voldemort was a great threat, yes, but his best friends Padfoot and Moony were off chasing him, so he saw no reason why he shouldn't. Except for his wife and his son. He sighed. Once this whole thing was over, he would rest easier. MUCH easier. As for now...all he had to do was wait for it all to blow over. How long could it take? Voldemort was sliding down anyway. For one, ever since Dumbledore had declared that Hogwarts was a rallying point, a haven and bastion that even the Death Eaters dare not touch, the great FEAR that was Voldemort's greatest ally was lessening. People finally believed that he was not infallible. Some of his more lukewarm followers had already deserted him. All he had to do was wait.
Voldemort stormed down the empty streets, furious and tired. He slumped down underneath a tree, sucking in huge gasps of air. The duel with that absurd Knight had drained his energy greatly-he could feel that his inner reserves of power were lower than they had been for years. He was too used to dropping Aurors with a single curse; he had not had such a workout for years. Still, he had a mission to carry out. The Potters had to die this night, or his plans for assaulting Hogwarts would all go down the drain. "Hmmmmm." Lucius was out for the count-he hoped that the old con artist had managed to haul himself away from the area before the Muggles arrived in force. If not...oh well. He had enough supporters that losing one would not be that much of a problem. Maybe the fool would learn to be more careful from now on. He snarled, then hauled himself up, muttering "Rejuvinatus", and suddenly his tired demeanor slipped away. Vigor took the place that exhaustion had formally occupied on his features. On to the Potters. No time to spare.
James waited nervously. His good friend Remus Lupin would not be watching guard tonight, not with the full moon out. And Sirius was off trying to track down several members of the Ministry who had recently disappeared. Not good at all. He had tried to convince Dumbledore and even Barty Crouch to let him bait a trap; let Voldemort know he was here and have dozens of Aurors waiting to greet him. Unfortunately, that would not work, at least according to the two most powerful wizards on the good side. He had a bad feeling about tonight, for some reason. He wasn't about to tell Lily, however. There was no need to worry her-especially when she had Harry to worry about. She had gotten very protective very fast-so much so that James was almost glad to go on sentry duty every once in a while. So far, nothing. Still, it was better than waiting and doing nothing. He peered into the deep fog surrounding his house. No evil, lurking figures. No shining red eyes, no green flashes and whistles of impending doom. Wait, wait, wait. For it to end.
Normally, Voldemort would have refused to show any sign of weakness, but he went ahead and called several of his most loyal Death Eaters to meet him at the Potter residence. If nothing else, they could be a contingency plan if James proved to be more difficult than he anticipated. It wasn't as if he couldn't do it on his own-but it was better to be sure than sorry, especially in his weakened state. So close now, according to the information that lowly Pettigrew had given him. He sneered at the thought of that pathetic wizard, so much like the rat he could embody. Still, he could sense where the power was. He has given me the Potter's heads on a silver platter, the Dark Lord reflected. Perhaps he should be rewarded, somehow. Perhaps not. He would decide that after the Potters were dead. WAIT! Movement ahead. Voldemort peered ahead. Yes. Someone was moving, walking in meaningful circles. He hissed quietly to a tiny grass snake that lay only a few feet away, directing it to the man and the house he patrolled around. Soon the snake reported back. Tall. Dark hair and eyes. Wand. Voldemort smiled. It HAD to be James Potter. Now the game would begin. He silently rose, thrust his wand forward, and cried out in his cold, hissing voice "Avada Kedavra".
With reflexes that showed why he was one of the greatest Quidditch players of all time, James Potter somehow threw himself out of the path of the green ray of obliteration. It streaked past his house to explode violently a few streets down.
"LILY, TAKE HARRY AND GO! IT'S HIM! GO! RUN! I'LL HOLD HIM OFF!" James bellowed as he leapt back up and sent an ardent jet of light back towards the source of the Killing Curse. He heard Lily frantically gathering Harry. Good. Again he had to dodge a spell from the Dark Lord. Sweat poured from every pore of his body. His mind was more alert than it had ever been before. He watched every direction at once, wand and curse prepared. A fly buzzed around his head. He ignored it. He ignored everything except the bushes ahead of him.
He never even saw that harmless fly Transfigured into an enormous scythe that snicked through his body. Blood streaming from the huge wound across his entire body, James did the only thing he could. He morphed. Even as a buck he had a vicious slit from throat to groin. He staggered, then, screaming a cry, lowered his horns and charged at Voldemort, who was just emerging from the grove of trees and shrubs he had been hiding in, a terrible smile on his pale face. He watched with contempt as James hurried towards him, flicking his wand with casual disdain. Prongs slumped to the ground, never to get up again.
Voldemort barged through the door even as Lily was leaving the house. He swung open the back door-only to run face to face with several Death Eaters. They herded her back into the main room. She noticed that, under the long flowing cloaks and robes, one of them was no other than Peter Pettigrew. Shrieking with hatred and burning for revenge, she launched herself at him, only to be instantly bound with magically summoned shackles and cords from every direction. Still, she glared with malice towards the traitor Peter, spitting in his face as he dragged her before Voldemort.
"I expect your brave face will fall at bit," he hissed, blood-red eyes glowing evilly, "when your realize that we are not here for your or even your husband." He gestured elegantly. "We are here for your son."
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she screamed.
"Stand aside, you silly girl, stand aside now. You all must die for the magical world to realize what a mistake they have made, ignoring my power. He must die for a greater reason...the signs are true in this way. If you do not stand aside," he gloated, "you will watch him be tortured first. Move away, and he will die instantly." He laughed, a noise as frigid as an arctic blast.
Lily stood aside, crying as she watched Voldemort prepare to kill her son.
"I beg of you, Dark Lord, kill me first. I cannot stand to watch him die...while I still live." She burst into tears anew.
Voldemort seemed taken aback by the request, but instantly spun around, hissed "Avada Kedavra" yet again. Now he turned on young Harry. "With you dead, little one, my rule is guaranteed for a million years!" Again he repeated the incantation for the Killing Curse. And could only watch as the verdant light instead slammed into him. Even as his soul separated from his body, he shrieked to his followers, "KILL THE BOY! KILL HIM NOW!"
Seeing the Dark Lord engulfed in his own fatal curse, Sirius Black knew that the time was ripe. Transforming into the huge black dog he knew so well, the sprinted towards the house, which even now was burning down as Voldemort's misdirected spell sent licks of flame all over. Even as the other Death Eaters raised their wands to strike Harry down, Sirius bulled between them, sending the robed figures to the ground as he plowed through their circle. Scooping up young Harry in his jaws, he sprinted into the woods, dodging spells by the dozen. Several minutes later, giving up on any hope of killing the dog and his cargo, the cloaked figures gathered up their fallen leader's body and Disapparated.
Fifteen minutes later, when Hagrid arrived at the Potter residence to pick Harry up, he saw Sirius atop his flying motorcycle, the boy protectively gripped in his arms. He handed Harry over to Hagrid after appealing to keep him himself. Knowing that he would never need it again, if he could not take care of his godson, Sirius even lent Hagrid his precious motorcycle. Tears streaming down his face, Sirius Apparated into the countryside. He would track down Pettigrew, and bring him to justice. Even if it killed him.
Fifty years in the future, Antioch Hodge, shuddering with the bittersweet memories that the mighty Hogwarts Castle brought to the surface, boarded the boat that took him across the mighty lake. Although it would be several weeks before school started again, he wanted to check out the defenses, plan his lessons to the utmost detail. He had friends to avenge, and a nightmare to end. His smile, though grim, promised that the future would be very interesting, indeed.