Kill Harry

Have you ever wondered how Voldemort felt about the whole prophecy ordeal? But then, you might ask if he can feel at all. Behind the scenes: the murder of the Boy Who Lived is plotted… again.

Prologue: The First attempt.

The wind picked up that October night. The old barricade that had been set up long ago creaked endlessly as the dirt and dead leaves flew in the midnight air. A battered lamppost cast a ghostly light over the abandoned wasteland; trash littered the wilderness that had claimed the property as their own.

But then, who would want this bit of land for their own? The neighbourhood was not recommended as friendly either, plus, after the previous year's floods, there was now way you could construct anything with walls on it…

There came muffled squeak from the darkness, the rustling of claws against a metal pipe.

It was not any ordinary rat… No, this one was rather plump, and stupid. Owls are always lurking at this time of night, searching for a late supper, and unknown to this rodent, he had just become potential prey.

Peter Pettigrew paused, only inches from the circle of light the lamppost offered, the whiskers on his little nose trembling as he sniffed the air. When he lifted his head, trying to make out some movement in the darkness that surrounded the place, two small sharp teeth gleamed slightly.

Darkness picked him up by the tail. The rat squealed shrilling, wiggling and trashing as much as he could, trying desperately to escape the horrible fate of death.

Something hissed in the night. 'Stop twitching, it's me- OUCH! You Rotten rat!'

Peter fell with another squeak on his back onto the hard pavement, his paws raised in the most primal defensive manner, his small black beady eyes clenched shut, feigning death. Realising that he was still alive, after have waited a couple of more seconds for an expected blow, he opened, ever so slightly, one single eye.

Something more darker that the night itself towered over the rat, something more sinister than… more frightening than… The fact is, here stood the most evil of Dark Lords the world had ever encountered, Lord Voldemort.

Seeing the black shiny boot tapping impatiently against the concrete pavement, Peter transformed.

There sat, on his large backside, the human form of Peter Pettigrew. Peter had never been known for his daring, neither his courage, and yet, he'd been marked as a Gryffindor in his early years, bravery was meant to be his largest quality.

But at that moment, all you could see here was the lack of it.

'Master!' he called, grovelling on the ground, his head bowed. 'You came… You…"

'Will you shut up! Now, give it me.'

Peter, slowly pulled out a small peace of folded parchment out of his ragged coat, his hand trembling like a leaf. His gaze didn't leave the paper as he handed it to his master.

Voldemort snatched the paper from Peter's filthy hands, grasped between two skeleton like fingers.

"Finally… The time as come."

Lightning shot through the sky, illuminating the neighbourhood for just a second, spitting out from a large black cloud. More than an omen, it was fate.

Voldemort opened the parchment and read the words: "Godric's Hollow."

The night couldn't have been any darker, the thunder growling across the sky more threatening, and the light spilling out of the large window of the house of the Potters more… pleasant and warm.

Godric's Hollow had appeared out of no where, grown in a second, the walls emerging out from the earth… like magic. A roof had become visible, ivy climbed the red brick wall in sinuous curves. And at the centre, stood an oak door, a 'Welcome' mat set upon the threshold. The wasteland was no where to be seen.

"Welcome indeed."

Screams echoed throughout the house, green light emerged from the first floor window…

There would be no witness to the atrocities of that Halloween night… none except a one year old boy, who would not remember the incident for many years to come. That night, Harry Potter became The Boy Who Lived, a scar, shaped like a lightning bolt, drawn across his forehead for everyone to see.

And from that moment on, Voldemort knew he had to kill Harry, whatever the cost.

It's meant to be funny, but turned out over-dramatic. Hmm… However, something important about the scar…

This little piece of fanfiction will be dedicated to the many attempts of Voldemort to kill Harry, (think Kill Bill… I suppose) in imaginative and grotesque ways (my usual dumb sense of humour)! Of course, Harry is more than a resourceful kid, so no one can expect it to be easy for poor Voldie.

Oh well, why don't you Review? Tell me what you think