The Real Downfall of Voldemort
As told by Draco Malfoy
The Wizarding Population seems to have it stuck in their heads that Harry Potter caused the downfall of Voldemort. Yeah right! That boy can't even stay up on his broomstick! My highly ranked father has told me the true story of what happened.
It all started one night in October… outside the Potter's house….
A tall, dark figure appeared out of nowhere onto a small cul-de-sac at the end of Godric's Hollow. He crept toward a small house flanked by surrounding trees.
The weird man peered into the front window of the unsuspecting house. An evil, curving smile, more like a smirk, spread about his face.
He took a wand out of one of his robe pockets and held it to the brass doorknob. The door opened silently.
Lord Volemort laughed. A low, evil laugh.
Voldemort surveyed the scene before him. The Potters were all asleep, just as he wanted.
A snore suddenly broke the silence. Voldemort peered down the dark hallway.
"I've got you now, Potter!" He murmured.
Voldemort walked slowly, stealthily down the hall. He failed to notice a large snag in the carpet.
His right foot got caught in the snag, and his whole body swung forward onto the floor. His ankle was twisted in the snag.
"Ahh! My ankle! I think I twisted my ankle! Help meeee!" Volemort whimpered, forgetting whose house he was in.
Voldemort fell silent. There were footsteps coming toward him. A moment later, James Potter stumbled down the hall in Choo-Choo Train pajamas.
Voldmort's jaw dropped. He couldn't move for fear of laughter.
James yawned. "Huh? What's going on?" He asked dumbly. His glasses were sitting on his bedside table, so James didn't see the hunk of flesh and bone lying in his hallway.
James thought vaguely of getting a drink before going back to bed. He stumbled down the hall and nearly tripped over Voldemort.
"Harry! I thought I told you to pick up your toys!" James disappeared down the hall.
Voldemort watched him in disgust. "Oh, I'll get you, Potter, I'll get you. Just wait until my ankle heals. Then we'll fight. Wizard to Wizard. Winner to loser."
Voldemort laughed.
Voldemort picked himself up gingerly and walked, sulking, back outside.
Unable to see where he was going, Voldemort tripped over Harry's tricycle and landed with a crash on the pavement. He was knocked unconscious.
The next day…
Harry walked outside to get the paper. Half-glancing over at the sidewalk, his eyes became as large as hubcaps.
"Daa!!! A strange man is stealing my tricickie!" Harry yelled.
Harry waited for his parents to come running outside to his rescue. When they didn't, Harry walked back toward the house.
He tripped on the steps and cut himself on the head.
"WAAAAAA!!!! I GOTS A BOO-BOO!" He half sobbed, half yelled.
Lily and James promptly ran outside after him.
"Harry! Are you okay?" James asked urgently.
Lily lifted Harry's head up and saw, to her surprise, a cut in the shape of a lightning bolt.
Suddenly, a band of Voldemort's supporters, lead by Lucious Malfoy, appeared on the street and blasted away Harry's parents.
The Death Eaters tore apart the Potter's house, while Lucious Malfoy bravely rescued the fallen Voldemort.
See? It wasn't Potter at all. Voldemort sprained his ankle and fell over a tricyckle. Potter's parents were killed by none other than my father, Lucious Malfoy. But of course, those stupid Muggle policemen said that Lily and James Potter had been murdered by Voldemort. Imagine! Not even giving my father credit! He's a Malfoy, too. It's just too bad my father couldn't finish off Harry. God knows that would have done everyone a favor.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters. JK Rowling does. Don't sue me.