The magic circle
"Mama loves you Harry, Dada loves you," Lilly Potter whispered to the baby standing in the crib.
His young mind could not understand what was going on. His mama was upset about something, and he didn't want her to be upset. In an innocent manner, only toddlers are capable of, the green eyed boy raised his hands and cupped his mother's face and stroked it. The same way she did whenever he was upset.
"Be brave Harry. You are so loved," she continue to whisper as she awaited her fate.
Lilly Potter knew what stalked her behind the closed door of the nursery, the fate that hunted her family. They had known for months now and still she could not do anything for them, find no barrier to protect that or ward to shelter them.
Her eyes brimmed with angry tears and she noticed the absence of spell-fire downstairs. They would die tonight, she knew. James, Harry, herself. She drank in the image of her son like a long parched traveler stumbled upon an oasis. She burned his featured into her psyche. His little perky nose, baby soft skin, a mop of unruly Potter hair and her eyes.
The little boy in turn gazed at his mother, as if to memorize every freckle, every wrinkle on her youthful face. His hands caressing her face, cataloguing the smooth skin, shapely nose, drenched eyelashes and teary emerald eyes.
The door swung open with a crash and fell off is hinges, admitting an overwhelming, foul presence in the room. Wispy shadows oozed off the figure and pooled around his feet, the stench of death bled off him. Just as animals feared the dark and prey feared the predator, the toddler knew to fear this being that had stepped into his home.
Lilly Potter hugged her baby one last time, pressing her lips to her son's brow and stood up . Swirling emerald clashed against flashing blood red. She shuddered at the malevolence in his gaze, but held her head high. She would not bow to an animal.
Magic heed your daughter's plea! Protect my son!
"Lilly Potter," hissed the figure. "I have not come for you tonight, girl. Move aside and you shall live."
"Magic heed your daughter's plea! Protect my son!
"Move aside little girl!", the man hissed. Irritation at not receiving a response evident in his tone.
Magic heed your daughter's plea! I offer you my life, my soul, my fate!
"I said move!" With a flick of his hand, she was tossed aside as he move on to the crib.
Lilly Potter scrambled up to her feet and thrust her body body between her assailant and her boy. "Please!" She cried out as a green light struck her and she fell dead.
Somewhere far a away, a figure rose and gazed up into the void, seemingly focusing on something no one else could see.
In Godric's Hollow, Dark Lord hissed hissed his annoyance and pointed his pale wand to the boy once again
"Avada Kedavra!" He spat out.
He watched as the beam of emerald green crossed the distance between wand and babe, and rebound back to him. He only had enough time to widen his eyes in shock before he was torn from his body and blasted out through the roof, away from the toddler standing unaffected in the crib.
Moments later, Harry Potter disappeared in a blaze of color, leaving behind the smell of charred wood and an intricate pattern burnt into the floor.
Location: Unknown
His stomach was upset, he was going too fast. But the pretty colors around him grabbed his attention, and he could sometimes see the pretty lights that winked at him when the world went dark. He wanted to cry and get his mama's attention so she would make his stomach all better, but he could not, and all of a sudden he could.
He let out a shriek and cried out to his mama. He looked around but only saw bright walls colored like snitch he played with, with his dada. He shut his eyes and shook his tiny fists, and he was no longer on the floor. He stopped his bawling and opened his eyes, expecting to see his dada, instead he peered at strange eyes the color of his snitch.
"Hush child, you are safe now", said the man with the strange eyes.
He did not quite understand what the man said, so he tilted his head and asked him what he meant. The man, however only gave him an amused smile and turned around.
He tore his gaze away from the glowing man and looked around the empty hall, finding nothing but snitch colored walls, until his gaze met three others. His eyes fixated upon the figure with crimson hair.
"Mama!" he cried out. He raised his arms to call upon her, and wriggled around to tell the snitch-eyed man that he wanted down.
The man carrying him strode forward to these other people. They spoke weird words that he did not understand, and nor did he care for. He only wanted his Mama. He called out for her again and this time she came forward and took him in her arms.
He gazed up at her face and stared at it for a good long while. This was not his Mama. He reached up to poke her eyes, but not-Mama held his hand.
"Mama?" he asked.
Her lips moved as she said something, but he did not understand. His eyes started to sting.
"Mama?!" he asked louder.
She pressed a kiss to his brow, and brush it with her hand. Just like Mama did before she fell, he remembered, but his world went dark as he fell into dreams.
Location: Godric's hollow. 31st October 1981
A series of pops heralded the arrival of life to the steaming ruins of Godric's Hollow.
Cloaked figures rushed into the two-story cottage as even more cracks and pops echoed around the small village.
Burnt walls and charred furniture greeted the first responders as they stepped foot into the house. Deeper inside, the walls were gouged and some lay crumbled in heaps of brick and mortar.
An unnatural sense of foreboding grew as the witches and wizards stepped closer to the living space of the cottage. Fear and desperation were tangible in the air to any who entered.
The figure in front waved his knotted wand in intricate patterns, scanning the passage and the room beyond for traps and any signs of life. His heart sank and constricted as the results came back negative. He motioned the rest forward as he stepped into the room.
He was assaulted by the acrid scent of burning leather and plastic. The muggle lights buzzed and sparked intermittently, spreading fires across the room. He smothered the flames with an absent flick of his wand even as his gaze continued to survey the room he entered, searching for the inevitable.
Shattered glass crunched under his feet as he tread carefully through the rubble. His sharp eyes cataloguing the damage. Burn marks scarred the walls evenly, shattered glass covered the floor, making for a prickly carpet. The drapes had been slashed and torn, and ripped off their hangings and tossed to the far wall. The frames that adorned the walls were empty and lifeless, cracked and splintered.
His eyes found the dead body of James Potter, and they watered behind his half moon glasses even as he tried to blink them dry. He was now used to such scenes of death and destruction, but still his heart twisted and constricted with every casualty.
He had watched every victim pass through his halls, seen them learn and love, dream and discover. He had known each of their names and had the pleasure of watching them grow from wide eyed children, eyes filled with wonder and fascination, to young adults brimming with nervous determination to make a mark in the world.
He called out to Alastor as he passed by the still-cooling body of his once pupil, and tread up the staircase. The wooden thunk behind him let him know that his friend had followed him up. He followed the corridor to the nursery and stepped through the splintered, unhinged door. His eyes fell upon the still figure of Lily Potter leaning against a charred and burnt crib. An empty crib.
His gaze captured the intricate patterns making up the burn marks on the crib and around it. He studied the sharp, angular inscriptions as he crept closer. He felt for the magic, for it certainly was a kind of magic, with his extended hand. Upon not feeling any malicious intent, me moved to examine the fine work with his wand, but the crib crumbled to dust before his eyes at the slightest brush.
He stepped back hastily so as not to disturb anything else, and studied it again. What was left before him was most certainly a runic circle, albeit an incomplete one. His eyes flicked towards Lily and back to the circle. Could she have done this? He knelt besides her and continued his examination, attempting to glean any meaning from the unfamiliar runes. Even as he did, the circle started to fade. Spotless wood overtook the once charred surface until there was no sign that there had been any magic done.
Albus Dumbledoor stood and gazed through the blown roof, his mind racing and forming links, trying to piece together the events of that night, but for nought. He stood in the silent room with Alastor by his side. The scent of fear, despair and death magic still permeating the air.
"Only one hope remains, my friend," he whispered. A grunt was all he got in response as Moody strode out of the nursery, leaving him alone to his thoughts.