I Apparated to the edge of the woods, just enough in shadow that they wouldn't be able to see me from their sitting-room window. The moon had just begun to shine, casting an eerie glow on the path leading up to their disgustingly well-kept home. I could smell the Mudblood stench emanating from the tiny cottage. It was enough to make me vomit. Let's get this done, I told myself.
A small twitch of my wand sent the door blasting open. A lanky man with jet-black hair and pale blue eyes jumped out, wand at the ready. His face paled at the sight of who was awaiting him.
"What is it, James?" came a high, sweet voice from inside the house. A woman with auburn hair and brilliant green eyes emerged, clutching a tiny, whimpering baby. Her face quickly drained of all color.
"GO INSIDE, LILY!" The man screamed, pushing her back through the doorway.
"DON'T LET HIM GET HARRY!"
"Actually, I'm here for the boy," I announced coldly. "So if you both step aside, I may just spare your lives."
James strode nervously toward me, hatred burning in his eyes. "You'll never get him," he said softly. "Not without taking us first."
"That is not a problem," I replied smoothly. "Avada Kedavra!" A jet of green light shot from my wand and hit the man squarely in the chest. He collapsed, his expression of fear, hatred and determination forever frozen on his face. What a ridiculously noble way to die, I thought, kicking his corpse impatiently aside. Anyone with sense would run and save themselves.
"James!" The woman screamed. Abandoning her position of safety, she darted toward his fallen body, still clutching her crying infant.
I calmly stepped into her path and jabbed my wand into her chest. She kicked at me angrily, like a little child angry at her parents' rules. I felt no pain.
Chuckling calmly, I explained the situation. "All I need," I repeated, somewhat impatiently, "is that revolting little piece of whimpering flesh in your arms. So surrender the boy, and you shall walk away alive."
In retrospect, I suppose that her bravery at the last moment was a bit touching—in a pathetic, repulsive way, but touching nonetheless. Willingness to die for someone—namely me, of course—is a quality that I value in my Death Eaters. Of course, it is quite a different thing to die for one you love than to die for one you fear.
Had I known then the power that her love would have on both me and the child in her arms, I might have done it differently. Stun her, perhaps, and kill the boy. But then, I was so revolted by her sudden show of defiance that I didn't even stop to think. And even if I had—how could I have known?
She turned away, shielding her child. "Don't, please," she pleaded. "Kill me. Torture me. Perform the Cruciatus curse until I die from agony . . . please, just don't kill my baby boy . . . my Harry! Don't take my Harry!"
A flick of my wand, a flash of green light, and she was gone, collapsed atop her husband's sprawled corpse, her whimpering child still clutched tightly to her chest.
I twisted my mouth into a grin. At last . . . my only enemy, lying before me, at my mercy. I was about to change the course of fate.
I raised my wand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light shot out of my wand. Then, suddenly, something went wrong. So terribly, horribly wrong. The light bounced off the baby and headed straight for its creator. The last thing I heard was the loud, long scream of the infant child before the world faded into oblivion.