Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and settings from the Harry Potter world, which was created and owned by the magnificent J.K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership of them or the world of Harry Potter. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not part of J.K. Rowling's works.
It was a wet and windy night, the last day of October. The man appeared out of nowhere. Tall, pale skinned and slender, the man strode forward with a sense of purpose, power and determination. His jet-black hair perfectly styled, it didn't as much as move from the wind. His ice blue eyes glared straight ahead.
He passed shop windows covered with paper spiders and children dressed as pumpkins and monsters. As he looked around at everyone dressed in ridiculous costumes, he sneered. 'Filthy Muggles.' He thought bitterly to himself. 'I could kill them, it would be so simple, but unnecessary, yes quite unnecessary.' He continued with his cloak flowing behind him. He had been waiting for this day for many months, ever since his loyal servant told him of the prophecy.
Oh yes, the prophecy. When he heard it at first he was furious. How could a mere child, an infant at that, be the one to destroy him, the one to lead him to his downfall? In the beginning, he was planning to kill the little brat, but then it came to him. If the boy was so powerful why not raise him himself? This way the boy and his power would always be aligned with the dark. 'Oh yes, I can't wait to see the look on Dumbledore's face when he finds his saviour gone.' A malicious smile lit up his face.
After a few minutes, he came upon the reason he came to the town of Godric's Hollow. He could see it now that the Fidelius was broken, a two-storey cottage stood at the end of the street. So beautiful and peaceful it looked. He made less noise than the dead of night as he silently strode towards the house.
He peered through the front window; they had not drawn the curtains. The occupants inside, like the house, looked quite peaceful for they did not know this night would be their last. He saw, quite clearly, a man, tall with black hair and glasses sitting on the floor. Puffs of smoke were coming out of his wand, which a small laughing boy was trying to catch with his small fists.
A door opened and the woman entered, saying words he could not hear, her long dark red hair falling over her face. Now the father scooped up the son and handed him to the mother. He threw down upon the sofa and stretched yawning.
The gate creaked a bit as he pushed it open, but James Potter did not hear. His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door which burst open. He was over the threshold as James came sprinting into the hall. It was easy, too easy; he hadn't even picked up his wand.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"
'Hold me off without a wand in his hand.' The man thought, sneering. He laughed before casting the curse.
"Avada Kedavra!"
An emerald green light shot from the man's wand, filling the cramped hallway. James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut.
He could hear Lily scream from the upper floor, trapped like an animal. He climbed the steps listening with faint amusement at her attempts to barricade herself in. She had no wand upon her either. How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends.
He forced the door open and cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with a lazy wave of his wand. She stood in the middle of the room with the boy in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into his crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help. If he wanted the boy dead the foolish woman in front of him wouldn't be able to stop it from happening. However, this was not why he was here; the boy was not to die.
"Not Harry, please, not Harry!" The woman screamed, tears rolling down her pale white cheeks.
The man laughed a high, cold cruel laugh.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The child had not cried all this time. He stood standing, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked into the intruder's face with a kind smile, perhaps thinking it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights and his mother would pop up any second, laughing.
The man strode over to the crib and looked down at the boy. He had bright emerald green eyes, fair skin and a tuft of black hair, dark as the father. He lifted up the boy and held him in his arms.
The boy looked up and smiled, "Dada!' The boy questioned, obviously mistaking this man for James.
"You are Harry." The man said gently, more gently than the man would usually speak. "Or should I say, Harrison Riddle. You are now my son."
The man then lifted up his wand once more and pointed it at Harry, now Harrison.
"Gemino," he said quietly but clearly.
There on the ground in front of him lay an exact replica of the boy in his arms- albeit quite motionless. 'Yes this will do, they will believe the boy dead.'
Then without another word, a faint pop was heard and they were gone.
A few short minutes later a man appeared. Tall and slender, with long white hair and a beard so long it was tucked into his belt. He was wearing robes of a jewel-like blue. The man began looking around somewhat frantically. He ran over to James to see if he could find any signs of life and when he couldn't he shook his head sadly and made for the stairs. He quickly made his way up the stairs towards the nursery. Frightened at what he would most likely find, but he needed to know. When he reached the nursery he saw that the door was blown away. Upon entering, he saw the body of Lily Potter lying on the ground. Her eyes screwed up in fear, wet tears still on her beautiful face.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a baby boy, in light green pyjamas, lying on the floor as if asleep. He ran over, with any luck he would be alive. He was dead. Dumbledore lowered his head and began to cry. 'Oh Harry, what have I done.'