AN: I don't own Harry Potter, obviously, or else I wouldn't be writing this on a computer that put me into debt.

Chapter 2: Lily Evans-Potter

Lily Potter regarded her slumbering son silently. The little boy looked so sweet and innocent, it made her furious that Voldemort would dare try and kill her little Angel. And she knew, she just knew, that she wasn't going to see her son grow up or get married.

With that in mind, Lily grabbed a piece of Notebook paper and a Muggle Pen, and started to write.

To the Bastard who is trying to murder my son:

Blunt and to the point, Lily noted as she read over the greeting; very her, and very disrespectful. Even the notebook paper and the pen were designed to piss off the self stylized Lord.

You will NOT win. I will NOT allow it. You may have been able to murder my friends, you may have been able to murder my family, but you will NOT kill MY son!

Lily smiled slightly as she glanced at her son once again. Little Harry was still fast asleep, and, with any hope, he wouldn't wake until she finished her letter.

I may be a muggle born or a Mudblood as you like to call me, but I am the brightest witch of my age. I was top of my year at Hogwarts, I was Head Girl, and I was one of the most powerful witches in my class. I found a way to save my son, and if you find us, I will use it.

Lily was fueled by a reckless rage. She didn't care if this letter pissed off Voldemort. He was the one who had the gall to paint a target on her family, on her son, he deserved it.

If you even think about touching my son, about harming a single hair on his precious little head, I will destroy you. I will rip your arms off of your body, and pummel you with them. I will tear off your legs and allow out neighbor's dog to play with them. I will rip off your head and serve it to your Death Eaters on a Silver Platter; no…It would be golden, with red trimmings, just to prove that a Gryffindor beat you. I will rip your soul from your body and send it into the deepest part of hell.

If you harm him, you will wish that you had never heard the name Lily Potter.

Lily smirked, she felt much better now that she had gotten that off of her chest.

Hoping Your Death is Painful,

Lily Potter, Wife of James Potter, Mother of Harry, and Proud Mudblood

Lily finished the letter and placed it on the table when Harry started fussing.

She returned to the letter three days later, right before Voldemort burst into Harry's nursery, and she added one line.

P.S. You may kill me, but I always win you useless son of a bitch.