AN: The school librarian is especially vindictive today, so I have no time
for answering reviews. Though, there were so many, so thanks to EVERYBODY.
~~
"I have news, my Lord."
The Dark Lord's eyes flared. "You." The word came like ice. "You have caused me enough failure."
But Peter smiled. "You could not possibly fail. Not with what I have for you."
Whatever intrigue now had a hold of Voldemort was not hidden well. "What is it?"
Wormtail's lip curled. "Many secrets, my Lord."
~~~~~~~~~~
"The signs of a werewolf are listed in your books on page – " The professor stopped when he noticed one of his students had his hand up.
"Mr. Weasley?"
Bill cleared his throat. "Sorry Professor Longbottom, but I was wondering... has anyone survived the Avada Kedavra curse?"
The professor stood in front of the board, his mouth hanging open. "I – I don't – how is this relevant to the lesson, Mr. Weasley?"
Bill smiled. "It isn't, professor."
However, Professor Longbottom smiled, shaking his head. "I remember one of my first year students asking me the same question this morning."
"Yeah, that was my brother, Charlie. He told me you refused to answer, so I thought I'd give it a try." The class laughed.
The professor gave it a moment of thought, then replied, "I've known no one who's survived a hit from that curse – the Killing Curse, that is – but that doesn't mean it can't happen." The classed hushed.
"Perhaps," he said. "Perhaps the times will change. Perhaps someone will stand against it... against this chaos. I assume that's what inspired the question, Mr. Weasley?"
Bill nodded.
"Well, perhaps that very person will show us the way – defy death. Perhaps someday we'll understand why."
Each student glanced to one another restlessly. They had no clue what their teacher was speaking of, and they were beginning to think he didn't, either. Defying death? Surely, he wasn't making any sense?
But as he stood before them, the professor thought fleetingly of his son – and what he could be. Perhaps he was the one?
"There's a cure for everything, I'm sure," he said in conclusion. "It's only a question of how long it takes for us to discover it."
"Even for werewolves?" called one of the voices in the back.
The professor smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Shaklebolt, for leading us back to the lesson."
~~~~~~~~~~
"We can't strike immediately," Voldemort said ponderously. Wormtail nodded his head, urging his master to continue speculating.
"They are too cautious in the beginning."
"Yes, my Lord."
Voldemort glanced harshly at him. Peter lowered his head in humility.
"We will have to wait – but not for too long. They may give up after too long. And we cannot let a rat leave its corner, can we now?"
Wormtail shook his head, pressing his mouth shut lest he let a word slip. Voldemort smiled, noting how much power he could wield over his servant – this worthless, yet incredibly fortunate servant.
"They'll wait as we wait for the 31st." He laughed a cruel, sickeningly joyful laugh. "Come now, Wormtail. Imagine dying on the night of the dead."
He marveled at his own heartless brilliance.
~~~~~~~~~~
"We could have lived beautifully." Lily sighed, and James cast a weary look her way.
"A tall, white house, with a brilliant garden, and stone steps leading towards the front door." Harry quieted to listen. "Friends would come by to visit often. Harry could play in the yard. There'd be trees to climb, and fruit to pick. He could play all day with his little sister..."
"Sister?" James cut in dubiously.
Lily shrugged, sighing. "We could have lived beautifully. But we can't – not anymore."
"Lily – "
"No. It's over, James. Even when we do get out this... place... things will never be the same. Harry will live to defeat Voldemort, remember? Which means he will reign for years to come – or at least until Harry can hold a wand properly."
Harry frowned. Nothing made sense.
"But what about Neville Longbottom? Isn't he also a possibility? Maybe it won't be Harry..."
Lily shook her head. "All the same, we'll have to wait. I don't know how long I can hide, James."
"But there're things Dumbledore hasn't told us," said James hopefully. "He even said we didn't know it all. Maybe there's hope. Maybe it'll be okay."
Lily's face grew bitter and her lip trembled. "You'd think if the other half of it all were at all pleasant, he'd tell us."
James swallowed the lump in his throat.
"He chose not to tell us the other half for a reason, James. He doesn't want us to know what will happen – so we won't stop it."
"Things will happen, of course," James agreed. "And there's no doubt he knows more than we do. But we can't blame him for that."
"No," Lily said. "There's only one man who's to blame for all of this." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "After all he did – all the lives he took away from us – from everyone." Her weeping eyes shone with despair... and hate.
"It's a pity we can only kill him once."
~~~~~~~~~~
"Wormtail. It was here, you said?"
"On this street, my Lord." He pointed his finger to an empty lot of weeds and stones covered in the ruins of old vines and dead trees. "It's standing there."
"I do not see it. What must I do to see it?"
"It's number 97 of Godric's Hollow. Just remember that, my Lord."
Wormtail began to step back until he was no longer by his master's side. Voldemort surveyed the empty lot, and slowly – ever so slowly – the ground underneath began to stretch and rumble to fit what was beginning to come forth.
A house, beyond neglect and devoid of care and beauty. It stood, looming in the night – lonely and somewhat inviting. The Dark Lord smiled triumphantly.
"I've won."
~~~~~~~~~~
James lay next to Lily, wide awake and alert. The last time he'd fallen asleep at a time like this, he'd awoken to find his parents dead. He wouldn't close his eyes when the time demanded that he stay awake. Stay awake and alert. Over and over, his heart would whisper it to him. Never sleep, never die.
For days he'd anticipated this. Night and day he listened – he knew something would have to come eventually, whether it be good or ill. It could be a friend on the doorstep, or his own doom – he did not know. But sooner or later something would have to come.
As his thoughts continued, they began to spiral down into a dreamlike state. He could feel himself being dragged down into the welcoming arms of gentle slumber, and for once he didn't protest.
As soon as his weary eyes had closed, and his head had been laid to rest, the floors below him shook with a resounding boom. Lily was up before James had time to register the sound in his mind.
"James?" Her voice was trembling with fear.
"Stay here," came the swift reply.
James fled from the room, jumped down a few stairs, and within seconds came stumbling back up in clumsy panic.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off – "
"How will I get out?" she cried, but James didn't answer, he only ran back, kissed her firmly and desperately, and ran back to the landing of the stairs. She was momentarily bewildered, but then realized what the intent was. That kiss was goodbye.
She stumbled from the room, hearing a distant crack and rumble through the walls as a door was forced open.
She ran to where Harry was sleeping – or used to be sleeping. He was wide awake now, and crying his eyes out. She held him close to her, searching around the room for a way out. But there was nothing, not even a window.
She heard the shatter of glass, the upturning of a table, and what had to be... Harry cried harder, drowning out his mother's own cry of despair. She heard the fall of a dead body below her.
"Sleep," she whimpered. "Sleep, please. Close your eyes... you shouldn't have to see..."
The door creaked open, a cackling laughter behind it. "What kind of fate is this?" she cried.
Voldemort held his wand before him, stepping forward, advancing towards Harry.
"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything – "
Voldemort smiled. This was the kind of sweet struggle he'd been hoping for. "Stand aside," he said quietly, but she shook her head defiantly. "Stand aside, girl!" He laughed when he found how much fear he'd put into her.
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside now..." He was quickly becoming annoyed with his miserable prey.
She put Harry back in his crib, and stood firm in front of it – shaking from head to foot. "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead – " Nothing could save her, she knew it. All she could hold on to now was her blind maternal instinct. "Kill me instead," she pleaded.
"I will, don't you worry. I'll deal with you later, now stand aside!"
She fell to the floor, weeping and screaming with whatever pleas she had the strength left to scream for. At the end of all things, at the foot of her deadliest enemy, all she had left was mercy. The want of mercy, the need of mercy...
"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy..."
Voldemort laughed. This was what always amused him most. The point where people came to the pitiful end of their existence and clung to the delusion that mercy was what could save them.
They always held to the hope that he had mercy for them.
The curse hit her, silencing her.
Voldemort laughed louder than ever, advancing on Harry... his very own downfall.
"This is your victory, Harry." The child screamed louder, his mouth nearly swallowing the rest of his face.
"Not going to fight me? What kind of a wizard are you?" He laughed, bringing his wand before him – right between the boy's eyes.
Suddenly, the boy fell silent. His face lost its pleading shape of misery and blind fear – and he gazed at his predator mildly, as one watching a rainbow begin to shine through the clouds.
He'd been hoping to torture the boy for a while, but his vacant expression was beginning to make Voldemort uneasy.
"Avada Kedavra."
As suddenly as the crying had stopped, a new noise erupted. The beam shot forth, rebounding from the boy twice as lethally brilliant as it had been set out to be.
Before the Dark Lord had time to accept his defeat, his body was lifeless – and his spirit fled with all the raging panic it could possibly contain.
Emerald green shone through the room, filtering out through the windows, utterly shattering all it hit. The destruction was deafening.
Within the eternal second it had commenced, it was gone the next.
Harry blinked his confused eyes, glancing around at the ruins he lay in, and slowly, he remembered his own discontent and began to cry again.
~~~~~~~~~~
AN: I have got to start a comedy again, or I'll just blow up with angst.
~~
"I have news, my Lord."
The Dark Lord's eyes flared. "You." The word came like ice. "You have caused me enough failure."
But Peter smiled. "You could not possibly fail. Not with what I have for you."
Whatever intrigue now had a hold of Voldemort was not hidden well. "What is it?"
Wormtail's lip curled. "Many secrets, my Lord."
~~~~~~~~~~
"The signs of a werewolf are listed in your books on page – " The professor stopped when he noticed one of his students had his hand up.
"Mr. Weasley?"
Bill cleared his throat. "Sorry Professor Longbottom, but I was wondering... has anyone survived the Avada Kedavra curse?"
The professor stood in front of the board, his mouth hanging open. "I – I don't – how is this relevant to the lesson, Mr. Weasley?"
Bill smiled. "It isn't, professor."
However, Professor Longbottom smiled, shaking his head. "I remember one of my first year students asking me the same question this morning."
"Yeah, that was my brother, Charlie. He told me you refused to answer, so I thought I'd give it a try." The class laughed.
The professor gave it a moment of thought, then replied, "I've known no one who's survived a hit from that curse – the Killing Curse, that is – but that doesn't mean it can't happen." The classed hushed.
"Perhaps," he said. "Perhaps the times will change. Perhaps someone will stand against it... against this chaos. I assume that's what inspired the question, Mr. Weasley?"
Bill nodded.
"Well, perhaps that very person will show us the way – defy death. Perhaps someday we'll understand why."
Each student glanced to one another restlessly. They had no clue what their teacher was speaking of, and they were beginning to think he didn't, either. Defying death? Surely, he wasn't making any sense?
But as he stood before them, the professor thought fleetingly of his son – and what he could be. Perhaps he was the one?
"There's a cure for everything, I'm sure," he said in conclusion. "It's only a question of how long it takes for us to discover it."
"Even for werewolves?" called one of the voices in the back.
The professor smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Shaklebolt, for leading us back to the lesson."
~~~~~~~~~~
"We can't strike immediately," Voldemort said ponderously. Wormtail nodded his head, urging his master to continue speculating.
"They are too cautious in the beginning."
"Yes, my Lord."
Voldemort glanced harshly at him. Peter lowered his head in humility.
"We will have to wait – but not for too long. They may give up after too long. And we cannot let a rat leave its corner, can we now?"
Wormtail shook his head, pressing his mouth shut lest he let a word slip. Voldemort smiled, noting how much power he could wield over his servant – this worthless, yet incredibly fortunate servant.
"They'll wait as we wait for the 31st." He laughed a cruel, sickeningly joyful laugh. "Come now, Wormtail. Imagine dying on the night of the dead."
He marveled at his own heartless brilliance.
~~~~~~~~~~
"We could have lived beautifully." Lily sighed, and James cast a weary look her way.
"A tall, white house, with a brilliant garden, and stone steps leading towards the front door." Harry quieted to listen. "Friends would come by to visit often. Harry could play in the yard. There'd be trees to climb, and fruit to pick. He could play all day with his little sister..."
"Sister?" James cut in dubiously.
Lily shrugged, sighing. "We could have lived beautifully. But we can't – not anymore."
"Lily – "
"No. It's over, James. Even when we do get out this... place... things will never be the same. Harry will live to defeat Voldemort, remember? Which means he will reign for years to come – or at least until Harry can hold a wand properly."
Harry frowned. Nothing made sense.
"But what about Neville Longbottom? Isn't he also a possibility? Maybe it won't be Harry..."
Lily shook her head. "All the same, we'll have to wait. I don't know how long I can hide, James."
"But there're things Dumbledore hasn't told us," said James hopefully. "He even said we didn't know it all. Maybe there's hope. Maybe it'll be okay."
Lily's face grew bitter and her lip trembled. "You'd think if the other half of it all were at all pleasant, he'd tell us."
James swallowed the lump in his throat.
"He chose not to tell us the other half for a reason, James. He doesn't want us to know what will happen – so we won't stop it."
"Things will happen, of course," James agreed. "And there's no doubt he knows more than we do. But we can't blame him for that."
"No," Lily said. "There's only one man who's to blame for all of this." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "After all he did – all the lives he took away from us – from everyone." Her weeping eyes shone with despair... and hate.
"It's a pity we can only kill him once."
~~~~~~~~~~
"Wormtail. It was here, you said?"
"On this street, my Lord." He pointed his finger to an empty lot of weeds and stones covered in the ruins of old vines and dead trees. "It's standing there."
"I do not see it. What must I do to see it?"
"It's number 97 of Godric's Hollow. Just remember that, my Lord."
Wormtail began to step back until he was no longer by his master's side. Voldemort surveyed the empty lot, and slowly – ever so slowly – the ground underneath began to stretch and rumble to fit what was beginning to come forth.
A house, beyond neglect and devoid of care and beauty. It stood, looming in the night – lonely and somewhat inviting. The Dark Lord smiled triumphantly.
"I've won."
~~~~~~~~~~
James lay next to Lily, wide awake and alert. The last time he'd fallen asleep at a time like this, he'd awoken to find his parents dead. He wouldn't close his eyes when the time demanded that he stay awake. Stay awake and alert. Over and over, his heart would whisper it to him. Never sleep, never die.
For days he'd anticipated this. Night and day he listened – he knew something would have to come eventually, whether it be good or ill. It could be a friend on the doorstep, or his own doom – he did not know. But sooner or later something would have to come.
As his thoughts continued, they began to spiral down into a dreamlike state. He could feel himself being dragged down into the welcoming arms of gentle slumber, and for once he didn't protest.
As soon as his weary eyes had closed, and his head had been laid to rest, the floors below him shook with a resounding boom. Lily was up before James had time to register the sound in his mind.
"James?" Her voice was trembling with fear.
"Stay here," came the swift reply.
James fled from the room, jumped down a few stairs, and within seconds came stumbling back up in clumsy panic.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off – "
"How will I get out?" she cried, but James didn't answer, he only ran back, kissed her firmly and desperately, and ran back to the landing of the stairs. She was momentarily bewildered, but then realized what the intent was. That kiss was goodbye.
She stumbled from the room, hearing a distant crack and rumble through the walls as a door was forced open.
She ran to where Harry was sleeping – or used to be sleeping. He was wide awake now, and crying his eyes out. She held him close to her, searching around the room for a way out. But there was nothing, not even a window.
She heard the shatter of glass, the upturning of a table, and what had to be... Harry cried harder, drowning out his mother's own cry of despair. She heard the fall of a dead body below her.
"Sleep," she whimpered. "Sleep, please. Close your eyes... you shouldn't have to see..."
The door creaked open, a cackling laughter behind it. "What kind of fate is this?" she cried.
Voldemort held his wand before him, stepping forward, advancing towards Harry.
"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything – "
Voldemort smiled. This was the kind of sweet struggle he'd been hoping for. "Stand aside," he said quietly, but she shook her head defiantly. "Stand aside, girl!" He laughed when he found how much fear he'd put into her.
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside now..." He was quickly becoming annoyed with his miserable prey.
She put Harry back in his crib, and stood firm in front of it – shaking from head to foot. "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead – " Nothing could save her, she knew it. All she could hold on to now was her blind maternal instinct. "Kill me instead," she pleaded.
"I will, don't you worry. I'll deal with you later, now stand aside!"
She fell to the floor, weeping and screaming with whatever pleas she had the strength left to scream for. At the end of all things, at the foot of her deadliest enemy, all she had left was mercy. The want of mercy, the need of mercy...
"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy..."
Voldemort laughed. This was what always amused him most. The point where people came to the pitiful end of their existence and clung to the delusion that mercy was what could save them.
They always held to the hope that he had mercy for them.
The curse hit her, silencing her.
Voldemort laughed louder than ever, advancing on Harry... his very own downfall.
"This is your victory, Harry." The child screamed louder, his mouth nearly swallowing the rest of his face.
"Not going to fight me? What kind of a wizard are you?" He laughed, bringing his wand before him – right between the boy's eyes.
Suddenly, the boy fell silent. His face lost its pleading shape of misery and blind fear – and he gazed at his predator mildly, as one watching a rainbow begin to shine through the clouds.
He'd been hoping to torture the boy for a while, but his vacant expression was beginning to make Voldemort uneasy.
"Avada Kedavra."
As suddenly as the crying had stopped, a new noise erupted. The beam shot forth, rebounding from the boy twice as lethally brilliant as it had been set out to be.
Before the Dark Lord had time to accept his defeat, his body was lifeless – and his spirit fled with all the raging panic it could possibly contain.
Emerald green shone through the room, filtering out through the windows, utterly shattering all it hit. The destruction was deafening.
Within the eternal second it had commenced, it was gone the next.
Harry blinked his confused eyes, glancing around at the ruins he lay in, and slowly, he remembered his own discontent and began to cry again.
~~~~~~~~~~
AN: I have got to start a comedy again, or I'll just blow up with angst.
