Chapter 2- Between Pub and Post Office
James and Lily Potter were crucial to the resistance against Voldemort and had defied the Dark Lord three times before. The people of Godric's Hollow rarely saw the Potters and none knew where they lived. For reasons of safety, the Potter house's location had been locked away in the mind of Sirius Black courtesy of the Fidelius Charm. After the charm was performed, the only way one could learn of the Potter's whereabouts would be if Black willingly told the information. And through the blackest treachery in recent memory, Voldemort was told where to find two of his greatest enemies.
One Halloween night, Voldemort entered Godric's Hollow. It was late and the houses were dark. The normal sounds of the night, the chirps and buzzes of insects had gone silent, as if a hand had muffled the collective voice of nature. The Dark Lord had come. His tall, thin form, cloaked and hooded in black, appeared at the end of the street. Slowly he began to walk. His footsteps were loud on the cobbles and seemed to be amplified in the oppressive silence. He stopped as he came to a dirty alleyway between a shabby little pub and the local owl post office. The alleyway was empty, that is of course, unless you had unlocked the secret guarded by the Fidelius Charm. As Voldemort looked into the alleyway, he repeated the words spoken to him by the Potters' betrayer. The exact address of the Potter house.
All of a sudden, a two-story house made of brick ballooned into existence between the pub and post office. It had a little iron fence around its neatly trimmed yard and lit jack o'lanterns lined the walk. Under the shadow of his hood, Voldemort smiled a wide, thin smile. He swung open the iron gate set into the fence and strode up the walk. With a clang, the gate slammed shut behind him and as it did, the word POTTER, inlaid in iron on the front of the gate, could be seen in the jack o'lanterns' flickering light, its letters cold and lifeless.
Voldemort reached the front door and slowly the doorknocker, in the shape of a roaring lion head, rose and fell three times. As if on cue, a lock could be heard latching at the top of the door, then another, and another. A series of clicks, rattles, jingles, and ratchetings could be heard running down the length of the door as it magically sealed itself. Voldemort smirked and placed his death-white fingers upon the door. His voice was high and cold as he spoke to the night.
"Fine, be that way." There was a flash, scalding heat, and the door exploded inward.
Voldemort stepped into the house, the broken shards of the door cracking and smoking under his boots. He was met with silence. A staircase rose before him to a landing encircled by wooden banisters. Hallways sprouted left and right off the landing, leading to other parts of the house. Voldemort ascended and as he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear a baby crying softly in a closed room to his right. This was it. The minute before the tide would sway in his favor. The Dark Lord could sense the premonition in the air, the utter and terrible sense of purpose that permeated this moment. It was electric. Tonight would be the turning point. There would be great changes that would shake the world to its very foundations. And he, Voldemort, would be at their center.
James and Lily Potter were crucial to the resistance against Voldemort and had defied the Dark Lord three times before. The people of Godric's Hollow rarely saw the Potters and none knew where they lived. For reasons of safety, the Potter house's location had been locked away in the mind of Sirius Black courtesy of the Fidelius Charm. After the charm was performed, the only way one could learn of the Potter's whereabouts would be if Black willingly told the information. And through the blackest treachery in recent memory, Voldemort was told where to find two of his greatest enemies.
One Halloween night, Voldemort entered Godric's Hollow. It was late and the houses were dark. The normal sounds of the night, the chirps and buzzes of insects had gone silent, as if a hand had muffled the collective voice of nature. The Dark Lord had come. His tall, thin form, cloaked and hooded in black, appeared at the end of the street. Slowly he began to walk. His footsteps were loud on the cobbles and seemed to be amplified in the oppressive silence. He stopped as he came to a dirty alleyway between a shabby little pub and the local owl post office. The alleyway was empty, that is of course, unless you had unlocked the secret guarded by the Fidelius Charm. As Voldemort looked into the alleyway, he repeated the words spoken to him by the Potters' betrayer. The exact address of the Potter house.
All of a sudden, a two-story house made of brick ballooned into existence between the pub and post office. It had a little iron fence around its neatly trimmed yard and lit jack o'lanterns lined the walk. Under the shadow of his hood, Voldemort smiled a wide, thin smile. He swung open the iron gate set into the fence and strode up the walk. With a clang, the gate slammed shut behind him and as it did, the word POTTER, inlaid in iron on the front of the gate, could be seen in the jack o'lanterns' flickering light, its letters cold and lifeless.
Voldemort reached the front door and slowly the doorknocker, in the shape of a roaring lion head, rose and fell three times. As if on cue, a lock could be heard latching at the top of the door, then another, and another. A series of clicks, rattles, jingles, and ratchetings could be heard running down the length of the door as it magically sealed itself. Voldemort smirked and placed his death-white fingers upon the door. His voice was high and cold as he spoke to the night.
"Fine, be that way." There was a flash, scalding heat, and the door exploded inward.
Voldemort stepped into the house, the broken shards of the door cracking and smoking under his boots. He was met with silence. A staircase rose before him to a landing encircled by wooden banisters. Hallways sprouted left and right off the landing, leading to other parts of the house. Voldemort ascended and as he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear a baby crying softly in a closed room to his right. This was it. The minute before the tide would sway in his favor. The Dark Lord could sense the premonition in the air, the utter and terrible sense of purpose that permeated this moment. It was electric. Tonight would be the turning point. There would be great changes that would shake the world to its very foundations. And he, Voldemort, would be at their center.