A/N: Hi... I wrote this a few months ago and then took it off the site. I didn't really like where it was going and juggling two stories was too much. However, I always thought that this chapter was good as a one-shot, so please enjoy! Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
He prowled silently down the cobbled path. A young boy, no older than 5, ran past. "Nice costume, mister!" he exclaimed, in his foolish haste not coming close enough to see under the black robe. Just one flick, he thought, fingering his wand, one flick, and the child would never reach his mother. But it was unnecessary, quite unnecessary, and he carried on… He could see the house clearly now, the gate unlatched and the lights off. It was all too easy, much too easy. Did they really think that just one charm, protected by another, would save them? Did that old coot assume that all so-called friends were to be blindly trusted? Well, they would learn, and when they did, it would be too late. With an inaudible click, the door slid open, revealing a small pram and a toy broomstick pushed up against the wall, and a small sofa and ottoman in the middle of the room. He continued forward, up the stairs, silently, so as to stay undetected by the boy's parents. With a soft creak, the baby gate unlocked, and he continued towards the crib. He whispered to the child, almost silently, "So you are the brat destined to be the bane of my existence. The old fool must be going senile to think that one so small can defeat me, the immortal Lord Voldemort."
At this, the child stirred, and aptly realizing that his father was not the one under the black folds, began to cry. The mother, ever the reckless Gryffindor, rushed in, and on seeing the wizard, stepped in front of the crib as if to shield the child, and began to plead with him, "Please, not Harry! I'll do anything, just not Harry! Not Harry!". At this, the boy screamed even more, and he recoiled in disgust. He had never liked the little ones crying at the orphanage. But there was no time for that now. He stunned the mother, deciding that he could kill her later, giving her the brutal knowledge that her son was dead. He then turned his wand upon the child, and almost said the words, the two words that would end the life of the brat, but a split-second decision found him levitating the baby out of the crib, and Portkeying away, back to Riddle Manor, where the boy would stay hidden for many, many years until he was perfectly trained to serve the Dark. To the rest of the world, however, Harry Potter would be the final casualty in the First Wizarding War. How ironic it would be, a Potter, the second-most powerful dark wizard in the world.