Prologue: One Simple Choice
by Slytherin Dragon
A cheery fire blazed in the fireplace of the little cottage nestled away in Godric's Hollow. Inside, it was a typical evening in the Potter household: quiet and happy. Lily Potter held her infant son Harry close to her body, singing him a lullaby in a sweet, smooth voice. James sat nearby, pretending to read but in reality simply enjoying his wife's song.
Suddenly, he jerked his head up, looking around wildly. Lily broke off her lullaby, and Harry burbled in baby protest. "What is it, James?" Lily asked, looking around as well. "What's wrong?"
James looked at her solemnly. "It's him, Lily. He's found us...."
"But the Fidelius-"
"We've been betrayed. Take Harry and go."
"James-"
The door blew open, shattering into hundreds of splinters. James took out his wand, face fixed in determination as a figure moved forward to be silhouetted in the doorway. "Take Harry and go," he repeated. "I'll hold him here."
Lily's face was bloodless. "No, James, I won't. I'll help you-"
The figure laughed, an eerie, high-pitched sound that had no humor in it, only cruelty. "Oh... such a touching display...." It laughed again. "There is no running from me, no escape!" The laugh became a sort of invisible force swirling around the cottage on a black wind, drowning out the crackle of the still-blazing fire and whipping the figure's black cloak around. "You know who I am, you know what I want... give in, give up!"
Lily clutched her baby closer to her chest. Baby Harry awoke with a cry, angry about being held so tightly and unaccustomed to the noise of the black wind and laughter. "Never!" she screamed, then turned to run.
The figure threw its head back, laughing uproariously, then glided to follow. James leaped into its path, brandishing his wand. "That's as far as you go!" he snarled. "Expecto-"
The figure stopped laughing, made a gesture with one shrouded hand. James's wand flew across the room into the fire, where it burned and turned the fire brilliant crimson. "Now, now... what sort of way is that to treat a *guest*, dear Prongs?" The figure reached out and cupped James's face in both skeletal hands. "You've been quite rude, you know," it said in an almost playful tone. "You'll have to be punished...."
James shook his head, struggling futilely. Let Lily be all right, he prayed fervently, let her have taken Harry far away! A faint scrambling sound could be heard over the repeated laughter and the wind. She wasn't out yet, not yet. "No..." he moaned, hoping to extend the time he had left to help Lily get away.
"Oh, yes." A mouth hidden behind a black cowl curved into a cold, anticipatory smile. "Burn."
In less than thirty seconds, there was nothing left of James Potter but a smoldering heap of ash. The figure laughed again, renewing the swirling sound into a cacophony of voice. "James!" Lily screamed, then fumbled Harry into one arm, trying to bring out her own wand. "You've killed him, you-"
"Insults will get you nowhere, Lily," the figure said silkily. "You can still be spared... say my name, Lily, say it and swear to it, and you'll go free..."
"No! Your promises are nothing!" She brought up her wand, tears of rage and grief streaking her face. "*You* are nothing! I will never swear to you!"
"What, never?" The figure sounded amused. "Never? I don't know..." Once again, the mouth curved into a predatory smile. With a nonchalant wave, the figure sent Lily's wand to join James's in the fire, then brought out its own wand and pointed it at the baby, who was now crying loudly. "What about now?"
"NO!" she screamed. "How could you? He's a baby, just a baby, you're a monster-"
"I thought you'd say that," the figure replied in a satisfied sort of tone, then it began chanting spidery words of magic. The tip of the wand began to glow green.
She shook her head, sending coppery-red hair across her eyes. "No, no, please not Harry. Please not Harry! Take me instead! Please, take me, not him!"
The figure paused, seeming to think about it.
"Not Harry!" Lily continued to scream. "Not Harry!" She cast about for her wand, seemingly forgetting it had gone in the fire. The subject of her panic still wailed loudly: he was confused and sleepy, loud things were happening, and his mother had lost her mind.
The figure continued to think, then the green light at the end of its wand flared even brighter. "All right," it said finally. "You. Not the brat." The smile appeared again. "Burn."
Thirty seconds later, baby Harry was lying in a pile of ash, screaming because things hadn't gotten better. He was still confused, still sleepy, and now his mother had vanished. The figure glided over and picked up the baby. "Now, what to do with you."
The baby stilled and looked up at the cowled face of the figure holding him. A new person?
"I could kill you, oh, so easily," the figure crooned almost lovingly. "Any time I wanted, I could break your pathetic neck, burn you to ash like your fool parents... btu I don't think I will." It bounced the baby in its arms in a grotesque parody of affection. "You could be useful, little Potter, little Harry. Very useful..."
Still carrying the baby, the Dark Lord Voldemort left the cottage behind him. Holding the infant in one arm, he used the other to push back the cowl, revealing a face that had once been handsome, but was now shrunken and twisted into near-unrecognizability. "I suppose this makes me a father by default," he said softly, then laughed.
A pale, nervous man fidgeted by the gate, hurrying to open it as his Master approached, then following at the Dark Lord's heels. As he carefully swung shut the gate, Peter Pettigrew looked at the once happy home with tears in his eyes. "Oh, James, Lily... forgive me... I'm so sorry...."
Voldemort turned his head slightly, having caught the remark. "Watch this, my young son," he whispered to Harry. He flicked a hand at Pettigrew. "Burn."
Pettigrew's skin split with eldritch purple fire, consuming his body and reducing him to a pile of ash as it had done to James and Lily before him. Voldemort smiled coldly and continued on his way.
Everything had gone as it should. The future was his, and he saw no way it could ever have been otherwise.
**Continued in Chapter 1
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, they all belong to the great JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them, so please don't sue me. Besides, I'm just a poor student. I have no money.
by Slytherin Dragon
A cheery fire blazed in the fireplace of the little cottage nestled away in Godric's Hollow. Inside, it was a typical evening in the Potter household: quiet and happy. Lily Potter held her infant son Harry close to her body, singing him a lullaby in a sweet, smooth voice. James sat nearby, pretending to read but in reality simply enjoying his wife's song.
Suddenly, he jerked his head up, looking around wildly. Lily broke off her lullaby, and Harry burbled in baby protest. "What is it, James?" Lily asked, looking around as well. "What's wrong?"
James looked at her solemnly. "It's him, Lily. He's found us...."
"But the Fidelius-"
"We've been betrayed. Take Harry and go."
"James-"
The door blew open, shattering into hundreds of splinters. James took out his wand, face fixed in determination as a figure moved forward to be silhouetted in the doorway. "Take Harry and go," he repeated. "I'll hold him here."
Lily's face was bloodless. "No, James, I won't. I'll help you-"
The figure laughed, an eerie, high-pitched sound that had no humor in it, only cruelty. "Oh... such a touching display...." It laughed again. "There is no running from me, no escape!" The laugh became a sort of invisible force swirling around the cottage on a black wind, drowning out the crackle of the still-blazing fire and whipping the figure's black cloak around. "You know who I am, you know what I want... give in, give up!"
Lily clutched her baby closer to her chest. Baby Harry awoke with a cry, angry about being held so tightly and unaccustomed to the noise of the black wind and laughter. "Never!" she screamed, then turned to run.
The figure threw its head back, laughing uproariously, then glided to follow. James leaped into its path, brandishing his wand. "That's as far as you go!" he snarled. "Expecto-"
The figure stopped laughing, made a gesture with one shrouded hand. James's wand flew across the room into the fire, where it burned and turned the fire brilliant crimson. "Now, now... what sort of way is that to treat a *guest*, dear Prongs?" The figure reached out and cupped James's face in both skeletal hands. "You've been quite rude, you know," it said in an almost playful tone. "You'll have to be punished...."
James shook his head, struggling futilely. Let Lily be all right, he prayed fervently, let her have taken Harry far away! A faint scrambling sound could be heard over the repeated laughter and the wind. She wasn't out yet, not yet. "No..." he moaned, hoping to extend the time he had left to help Lily get away.
"Oh, yes." A mouth hidden behind a black cowl curved into a cold, anticipatory smile. "Burn."
In less than thirty seconds, there was nothing left of James Potter but a smoldering heap of ash. The figure laughed again, renewing the swirling sound into a cacophony of voice. "James!" Lily screamed, then fumbled Harry into one arm, trying to bring out her own wand. "You've killed him, you-"
"Insults will get you nowhere, Lily," the figure said silkily. "You can still be spared... say my name, Lily, say it and swear to it, and you'll go free..."
"No! Your promises are nothing!" She brought up her wand, tears of rage and grief streaking her face. "*You* are nothing! I will never swear to you!"
"What, never?" The figure sounded amused. "Never? I don't know..." Once again, the mouth curved into a predatory smile. With a nonchalant wave, the figure sent Lily's wand to join James's in the fire, then brought out its own wand and pointed it at the baby, who was now crying loudly. "What about now?"
"NO!" she screamed. "How could you? He's a baby, just a baby, you're a monster-"
"I thought you'd say that," the figure replied in a satisfied sort of tone, then it began chanting spidery words of magic. The tip of the wand began to glow green.
She shook her head, sending coppery-red hair across her eyes. "No, no, please not Harry. Please not Harry! Take me instead! Please, take me, not him!"
The figure paused, seeming to think about it.
"Not Harry!" Lily continued to scream. "Not Harry!" She cast about for her wand, seemingly forgetting it had gone in the fire. The subject of her panic still wailed loudly: he was confused and sleepy, loud things were happening, and his mother had lost her mind.
The figure continued to think, then the green light at the end of its wand flared even brighter. "All right," it said finally. "You. Not the brat." The smile appeared again. "Burn."
Thirty seconds later, baby Harry was lying in a pile of ash, screaming because things hadn't gotten better. He was still confused, still sleepy, and now his mother had vanished. The figure glided over and picked up the baby. "Now, what to do with you."
The baby stilled and looked up at the cowled face of the figure holding him. A new person?
"I could kill you, oh, so easily," the figure crooned almost lovingly. "Any time I wanted, I could break your pathetic neck, burn you to ash like your fool parents... btu I don't think I will." It bounced the baby in its arms in a grotesque parody of affection. "You could be useful, little Potter, little Harry. Very useful..."
Still carrying the baby, the Dark Lord Voldemort left the cottage behind him. Holding the infant in one arm, he used the other to push back the cowl, revealing a face that had once been handsome, but was now shrunken and twisted into near-unrecognizability. "I suppose this makes me a father by default," he said softly, then laughed.
A pale, nervous man fidgeted by the gate, hurrying to open it as his Master approached, then following at the Dark Lord's heels. As he carefully swung shut the gate, Peter Pettigrew looked at the once happy home with tears in his eyes. "Oh, James, Lily... forgive me... I'm so sorry...."
Voldemort turned his head slightly, having caught the remark. "Watch this, my young son," he whispered to Harry. He flicked a hand at Pettigrew. "Burn."
Pettigrew's skin split with eldritch purple fire, consuming his body and reducing him to a pile of ash as it had done to James and Lily before him. Voldemort smiled coldly and continued on his way.
Everything had gone as it should. The future was his, and he saw no way it could ever have been otherwise.
**Continued in Chapter 1
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, they all belong to the great JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them, so please don't sue me. Besides, I'm just a poor student. I have no money.