Disclaimer: If you don't know fan fic when you see it, you deserve the agony of suing my penniless hide. That means you, Jo Rowling, and especially Warner Bros.

Rating: In my mind, K+ means PG 13. I could be wrong.

Note: Consider this story a series of one-shots. The overarching story should evolve in your mind.

Section II:

It's been four years to the day since her dramatic break up with James Potter, Lily Evans realizes, suddenly. She's been working at a muggle daycare, since her baby was born, because no other job she could find would pay her enough for childcare. The war is continuing, but she has long since quit the Order to focus on her child. Not that she told Dumbledore her reason, even on his many attempts to bring her back to the fold. Only Sirius, Remus, and his girlfriend know about little Harry Evans. When the door of her small flat is blasted open, she wonders if Sirius has drunkenly mentioned her to any of his endless string of hookups, all of whom have been men for years. At any rate, now Lily Evans is facing Lord Voldemort, with Harry's little bed behind her. She can only hope the boy is somehow still asleep, rather than silently paralyzed with fear.

"Do you really think you can hope to face me, mudblood?" Voldemort really does sound more like a snake than a man, for all that he looks more like a red eyed AIDS victim than either a snake or a normal man, Lily thinks.

"Personally, I'm shocked you came after me all by yourself, without any death eaters holding your hand." She sneers, imagining the dark haired wizard as James Potter.

"Such spirit. A pity I cannot recruit you." Voldemort gives her a melodramatic sigh.

"The stalebloods really do tell you what to do, eh?" Lily has been calling all of the purebloods that for years, though nobody has really heard her use the insult before.

"I will destroy you for that, after forcing you to watch me kill your son!" Voldemort's hissing voice is really not suited to the kind of bellowing in a towerig rage that he is now displaying, she thinks.

"And that's different from what you were planning before how?" Lily raises an eybrow, and crosses her arms, tapping her wand on her upper arm.

"Stand aside, you foolish girl!" Voldemort's voice definitely cracks, and Lily snickers.

"Don't be stupid. I'd far rather die." She actually rolls her eyes.

"And so you shall. Avada Kedavara!" He cackles like a storybook villain, Lily thinks bemusedly in her last living moment.

"I guess you won't be killing me first then. Mom wins!" Harry pipes up in his little boy voice, cheerfully.

"Such a large mouth on such a small child!" Voldemort tries not to let his voice show that he is impressed. He has truly found the child that could have grown into his destroyer, it seems.

"I'm four, and we are enemies, old person." Harry is perfectly serious in his tone, despite his rumpled, pajama clad appearance.

"And you shall die, that I may live, regardless." Voldemort says, dramatically.

"I'm not afraid, my mom is waiting for me in death." Harry puffs out his chest in fierce little boy pride.

"That matters not. Avada Kadavara!" Voldemort's voice degrades into a terrified shreik when the curse rebounds off of it's target, hurtling back at him. There is a sound of thunder, and he bursts into a cloud of dust, and then Harry faints into the empty room, keeling off his bed in the process. Harry Evans lay unmoving on the floor, a large ragged gash on his chest dripping blood, only inches from his spotless, and completely dead mother. Nobody will call him the boy-who-lived, because it will be months before people are sure that Voldemort is gone, and even then, none will be convinced he is dead. Only a few people will even know that something took place here, and the only one who will ever know exactly what took place is the child on the floor.