A shadow lingered in the garden, darkness cast over overgrown green grass. Illuminated in the window of the small cottage just beyond the gate were a mother and father playing with their children, twins who giggled as they clutched one another and crawled over the floor, content in their little bubble. It was warm in that house, overflowing with love even against the hatred they knew to choke the world. It was a scene played out so many times in a family determined to love each other until the death, in the face of all the hatred of the world.

The shadow in the garden shifted, stepping on a twig, and the man inside, James Potter, whirled around. "Lily," he whispered, his laugh dissipating into the air. "Lily, it's him."

The shadow paid them no mind, but they caught glimpse of him through the light; eyes like rubies glowing from beneath a dark cloak. He made his way up the garden path, unseen to all the rest of the world.

Lord Voldemort smiled to himself; and he was not the sort of man who smiled often. This was a moment he had dreamed of for many a month, and now it was almost at hand. Inside the house, the warmth of earlier had gone, replaced by an ice cold terror that seize ahold of both adults' hearts.

"Oh god," whispered Lily Potter, the inevitable moment catching up with her at last. She swept the two confused children into her arms, even as the girl wailed.

"Take them," her husband said, hazel eyes wide with fear. "Take Harry and Calla and go. I'll hold him off!"

"James!" Lily cried, rushing to the hallway and the bottom of the stairs as the cloaked figure shadowed the window above the door. "What about you?"

"I'll hold him off," James said simply, biting his lip. He'd left his wand in the kitchen, and so had Lily. "Go!"

"I love you," Lily sobbed, holding her children tight to her chest.

"I love you too," James said, tightening his jaw as his wife disappeared up the stairs.

Lord Voldemort smiled as he cast the door down. The fool was unarmed and though he lunged towards Voldemort, aiming a punch, petty muggle fighting tactics did nothing to him.

In a flash of green light, James Potter's life disappeared.

"Mummy loves you," Lily Potter murmured to her children, standing curiously in their crib. Her voice shook as she spoke, heart hammering. "Daddy loves you."

The children simply blinked, the enormity of the situation lost on their young minds. The little girl and boy just wanted their father to hold them. "Be brave, Calla, Harry. Be brave for us."

The nursery door was pushed in and Lily whirled around, desperation rushing up through her. "Not my children," Lily Potter said, staring into the eyes of Lord Voldemort. Her voice shook with both love and fear, but she would not yield. She would never yield. "Don't touch my children."

"Give me your children," he hissed. "And you needn't come to any harm."

"You've already killed my husband," Lily said, tears pricking at her eyes. "You will not get near my children. Not Calla, and not Harry."

"Very well," Lord Voldemort said, raising his wand with a cruel smile. "I will have what I came for. You will not stop me, silly girl." Lily Potter gritted her teeth as she stood before the crib, holding it tightly with white knuckles. This shadow of a man - he did not care. "Avada Kedavra!"

Lily Potter fell to the ground, one last thought in her mind: he would not harm her children. Her magic spoke it into being, the most powerful feeling in the world. The most powerful protection one could offer, born of unconditional love.

"And now for you," Voldemort hissed, staring at the small child in his crib.

The little girl screamed, a piercing sound, though there was nothing she could do. Yet she seemed to know what was happening. A bright little thing, Voldemort thought with a smile. His trophy - three Potters dead, the other a symbol of their failure, and of Albus Dumbledore's failure to protect them. He whispered an incantation under his breath, with the utmost delicacy. She was small now, but he could take no chances with the magic of prophecy. The girl was still, though breathing shallowly, and then he turned to the brother.

Power rushed through him, the sort one could get drunk on. He was prepared for this moment, for the victory about to come. "Avada Kedavra."

This time, there was another flash of green light, butthere was something wrong. The nursery lit up, but the spell light hung in the air for a moment. And then it rushed back, hitting Voldemort in the chest.

He fell to the ground, and the air swam with electricity and magic, dark magic, foul magic, smothering the two children. Calla began to cry and Harry held her hand tighter, his one year old mind confused by the two bodies laying on the floor.

A darkness swirled in the air, a smoke cloud searching for a place to settle, and it clung to them.

It was hours before anyone came to find them, a strange man with a hooked nose and greasy man, who definitely wasn't Uncle Moony or Padfoot, or Wormtail, or the funny old man with strange glasses who came over every once in a while. He barely spared the crying girl and the scared boy a second glance as he cradled the cold body of their mother while the children looked on in confusion.

It took a while for the greasy haired man to leave, and as the sun rose on Godric's Hollow, another man burst into the nursery, one with wild hair and a familiar face. Calla and Harry were asleep now, but awoke at the sound of footsteps and looked up. "Moony," he kept saying. "Moony, where are you?"

Little Calla reached out a hand to him, crying, and the man scooped her up, holding her brother, too. "It's alright," he said, but he was crying and shaking and that made them cry, too. "It's alright, Padfoot's got you. Uncle Moony will be here soon, it's all alright."

But it wasn't all alright. They weren't even out of the house when Padfoot handed them over, after heated and desperate words, to a very tall, slightly scary man who had a strangely gentle smile as he scooped them up in his ginormous arms, taking them away from this broken house.