It was nighttime on Halloween. A hooded, shadowy figure was walking through the village of Godric's Hollow, with what looked like coat trappings billowing in his wake. The tall figure felt amused as he beheld the decorations he saw everywhere he looked: shop windows covered in paper spiders. A couple of children dressed as pumpkins ran past him, laughing all the way. All mortal trappings of a world they did not believed existed. Bless them, he thought, as if bemusing the drawing of a small child handed to him.

The figure eventually reached his destination; the fidelius charm had broken, although they did not realise it yet. From the garden wall he saw two of them in the living room: James Potter creating multi-coloured smoke for the amusement of his baby son, Harry, who with great determination tried to grasp the images that were formed in front of him. The figure's eyes remained fixed on Harry, like a hawk would fix its eyes on its prey. Lily, the wife and mother, walked in, laughing as she said something to James. She then scooped up the young Potter as the man threw his wand on the couch and yawned as he laid back. The figure pushed open the gate and rushed to the door, not even bothering to keep quiet; for the Potters would not have enough time to stop him. Hearing the gate creak, they turned to look outside and horror appeared on their faces. Horror and fright.

"Lily, it's him!" The figure heard James shout, "Take Harry and go! I'll hold him off!"

Hold him off? Without even a wand in his hand? The figure raised his own wand and a bolt of lightning blasted the door away. The splinters impacted James, who crumpled down. As the figure entered the room, James managed to get up, though with great effort, and attempted to reach for his wand. But the figure was too quick for him and another bolt of lightning struck James. But not to kill him, no. Certainly not as powerful as the one he used to blast the door apart. Only to stun him; for James Potter was such a rarity, a pureblooded wizard who rejected the fanaticism of his fellows. It would be a shame to make such a person extinct. And besides it wasn't like he was a real threat. Not like his son.

The figure had heard Lily scream her husband's name before running up the stairs. He followed her, leading him to one of the upstairs room. He heard her try to blockade the door with whatever was in the room, as if that could stop him. Raising his wand the figure emitted his most favourite spell again and the door and whatever was right behind it disintegrated. For a moment the two figures just looked at each other; the intruder examined her terrified, tearful face. Holding the child, Lily put him in the cot just behind her and threw her arms wide, as if she could shield and save the baby.

"Not Harry, not Harry!" she begged, "Please not Harry!"

"Silly girl," the figure spoke, "stand aside!"

"No! Have mercy, please have mercy!"

"I have no desire to harm you," the figure explained, "But if you continue to defy me-"

"Please! Please I'll do anything! Just don't harm my baby!"

The figure sighed as if he was dealing with a reluctant and stubborn child. He raised his wand and shot an electrical charge at her, but again not to kill. For she was a mortal-born; the most precious of the magically gifted, untainted by the corruption that was wizarding culture. She groaned as she keeled over, falling to the floor with a thud. How foolish, the intruder thought, how irrational for this woman to continually challenge the man who was fighting for her very rights, and those of her people. She and her husband should have joined him, not fight for the Slytherins, the Pure-blood fanatics and other wizards filled with prejudice, those who shunned them and did them harm! He never understood why people like them, like Dumbledore, like the Prewetts fought for those kinds of people. He now walked towards his real prey, which was clasping the bars, with curiosity in his face, to see who this visitor was. When he came close enough, eye to eye with his enemy, the young boy looked startled at what he saw beneath the hood, and began to cry. What a waste, the intruder thought, to kill the offspring of a mortal-born and a so-called blood traitor, the most precious and pure of people. Yet this child was prophesised to destroy him, and even though he was never good at Divination, he could never shake off what his son had told him. The child now started crying 'mama' and 'dada' interchangeably as his would-be murderer was deciding how to kill him. A full lightning bolt sounded fitting, a worthy end to the one who had the power to vanquish the dark lord. He raised his wand once more and emitted a bolt of lightning.

He was not expecting to find his entire vision filled with the white electrical energy, nor to find himself screaming as every part of him burned. It was the most terrible experience he had ever felt; he felt his flesh sear away, his bones disintegrate, his organs boil and burst before evaporating. Then when there should have been nothing left to destroy, the man felt his mind split, like a splitting headache except you literally felt your head splitting down all the way. When the tearing sensation had ceased, when the pain should have stopped entirely, he still felt pain, as if the fire he was thrown in never ceased to burn. He thought he saw something swoop down on the child, like an eagle swooping down on its prey, but he was too preoccupied with his own suffering to be fully aware of what was happening around him. He must flee: he must fly away to a safe location, fly away from the screaming child and the collapsing building. Fly away…

James Potter was awoken by the screams of his son. At first he feared the worst, but then realised that if Harry was still making noise then he was not dead. Grasping his wand, James ran up to Harry's room. If he wasn't dead yet…James' heart leapt in his rib cage, what was that man doing to him? For a moment James thought that he had awoken to the moment of his son being killed, but he was still making noise, still screaming. Was Eago torturing his son before killing him? His blood boiled. He will murder him, James thought, he would torture Eago with all the power of the cruciatus curse. He would make him writhe, make him scream, all of his grief and anger would fuel that dark curse, and he did not care if it was illegal, he did not care if he was found out he would go to Azkaban for the rest of his life, he did not care if it was dark magic. He came to the top of the stairs and was horrified to find the door gone. He rushed in, thinking of seeing the dark wizard frying his young son with his terrible magic, his wife lying dead at his feet. Yet could did not see Eago in the room. All he saw was his child continuingly screaming his lungs out, as if he had been dropped in acid, and (Oh the horror) his wife on the floor, seemingly fried to become a burnt corpse.

"NO!" He yelled, running to his fallen wife, hoping vainly that by some miracle she had survived. He was surprised to hear her groan. As he held her up, James realised that only the back of her had been burnt by whatever Eago had unleashed. Although that may still be horrifying to some who may find what state their wife was in, for James it was a lot better than what he thought he saw.

"Oh Lily!" he cried, hugging her, embracing her, not caring that tears were pouring down his face, "I thought you were-" What he thought was too horrible to speak out loud.

"James," He heard Lily whisper. Then she clutched his shoulder, her nails digging into his body, but he did not care. He could tell that she too had feared for his life.

After a second had past the couple became aware of their son's screams.

"Harry!" They both cried simultaneously, standing up and reaching the cot. They could see that his face was covered in blood trickling down from a jagged cut on his forehead.

"My God!" James exclaimed, "What did he do to him?"

Although perhaps a cut on the forehead was better than the loss of his son's life, any infliction by a murderous dark wizard was still infuriating.

"Come here Harry."

Lily picked up her son and cradled him, hoping that her comfort would ease the pain. Although he stopped screaming, Harry continued to cry uncontrollably. James put his arm around his wife and hugged both, hoping to comfort both. He did not know how he survived. He did not understand how his wife and son escaped with their lives, but for now it did not matter. All that mattered was that they were all alive and together. As they were embraced with each other, James' thoughts wandered to the question that anger, grief and relief had forced into the back of his mind: where was Eago? Over his wife's shoulder James noticed a burnt circle a few inches away from the cot: all that remained was Eago's short yet powerful wand.

Had the charm somehow backfired? Was Cain Eago, the most terrible dark wizard of all time, gone forever? After all the people he killed, had a mere baby stopped him? Was it all finally over? Although his mind wanted to believe so, there was still a nagging thought in the dark corner of his mind that was not ready to stand down to such a belief.