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These have been difficult days for Lily Potter. From the moment Professor Dumbledore had informed her and James of Voldemort's persecution of their family, the Potters' previously, though not entirely peaceful, but more or less peaceful life had been derailed.

Since the arrival of little Harry in her life, their life gradually began to improve. Now the mother of the family, decided to settle down, and finally give up the constant raids on Death Eaters, as she realized that besides James, she finally has something to lose. Thankfully, the other members of the Order of the Phoenix understood her perfectly, and supported the desire of her young mother, even if secretly regretted the loss of such a great fighter as Lily. Helping the Order, of course, she did not stop, but began to do it in a much safer, and as she thought, more useful way — brewing potions.

And although Lily could not dissuade her husband from participating in battles, but after she, after another injury to her husband, made an impressive scandal, accompanied by strong emissions of magic, which caused the house to be overhauled, at least James stopped climbing straight to the front.

But this whole, albeit rather fragile, family idyll could only be shattered by one visit from Dumbledore to their house.

She simply could not believe her ears when she heard about some prophecy to which their newborn son, as well as the son of her good friend Alice Longbottom, was a party.

«What do you mean, „and one of them must die at the hand of the other"?!» — Lily exclaimed, rapidly shifting to a more elevated tone. — «Dumbledore, no matter how many times you may be my former Headmaster and Grand Wizard, I will not allow you to drag my son into this!» — She declared angrily.

«Now, now, Lily, just be calm.» — The old man said softly. — «No one said Harry would be the child of the prophecy. Alice Longbottom's son fits the same characteristics. I'm sure you know him. And besides, even though I'm old, I'm not so out of my mind as to involve newborn babies in a war.» — He grinned. — «I am merely warning you: if I can solve this prophecy, it will be all the more easy for Voldemort. Though I'm more than confident in the privacy of our conversation with Trelawney, but who knows... Lately, even walls might have ears.» — Dumbledore said vaguely. As always, though.

That brief conversation led to dozens of sleepless nights for the former Evans. But the worst of the nightmare began when Albus did announce the start of the persecution of their family.

That's when Dumbledore proposed a concealment ritual called "Fidelius," offering Sirius as the keeper of the secret. James and Lily agreed.

Unfortunately, due to the Headmaster's extreme busyness, he was unable to perform a long enough Fidelius ritual on the same day, promising to set aside time for them from his busy schedule only two weeks later.

Since then, almost every night, Lily woke up in tears and cold sweat from another nightmare in which Voldemort kills little Harry right in front of her. These constant nightmares cost her severe daily lack of sleep, and terrible nervousness, until she began taking her own Dreamless Sleep potions.

Even then, the constant anxiety kept her going. Her imagination kept drawing a black-clad figure to almost every corner she saw. She practically stopped leaving her son's crib, sometimes even falling asleep in his bedroom, right on the sofa opposite the cradle.

On the fourth day, during a visit to the Potters' safe deposit box at the Gringotts bank, she came across a rather interesting old book in a gray velvet binding. Its edges were lined with black iron, which had not rusted even after all these years, thanks, apparently, to the runes embossed on them. What made it special was that the cover of the book was completely blank. And no, the inscription with the title was not faded, as one might think. It just wasn't there.

And though Lily rarely hid anything from her husband, but this time she decided to trust her gut, and not to tell James about the strange find. And she was right.

The spells, rituals, and practices described there could be described in one word: Darkness. It was a compendium of all the dark knowledge the Potters had accumulated since the founding of their family. And if James had seen such a book in his safe, he would have burned it in the fires of hell without a second thought. As ironic as it sounds.

And though she'd never been a fan of the dark arts, especially in light of recent events, and would have done so without hesitation (after a little reading, of course), there was still something that caught her curious eye.

The ritual of voluntary sacrifice. Blood protection.

An ancient ritual that has its roots way back before the Middle Ages, in the days before Merlin was even born. The book describes that many mothers of noble families, at the outbreak of internecine conflicts of wizarding families, performed this ritual on their child to ensure his survival until magical adulthood in the event of their death. I am not a magical person, but I am a person who is a child of a magical family. That is, on a child less than two years old.

The conditions are simple, but at the same time very complicated. From the beginning of the full moon, it is required to feed the child a drop of your blood every day, and so until the enemy comes to your house. Under no circumstances should you skip this process, otherwise you will have to start all over again.

The most difficult part is to make your enemy promise, in any way, not to destroy the life of the child by taking himself instead.

In part, it is from this ritual that the ancient tradition of taking the offspring of one's enemies into one's home to raise them as one's own children came. To avoid, so to speak.

The ritual lost its popularity precisely because of its notoriety. Almost everyone knew their way around the last point, which was simply not to make any promises to their enemies.

With the start of the next full moon, which was just three days away, Lily promptly began the ancient ritual by mixing a drop of her blood into the milk she had squeezed into a Muggle feeding bottle beforehand.

But this did not calm Lily down completely, and she decided to perform the ritual herself, without waiting for Dumbledore to arrive.

Though it was rather difficult, and with the completion of the ritual she collapsed without strength in slight magical exhaustion, but with the support of her husband, as well as Sirius and Peter, her skills were quite sufficient for such a difficult ritual.

Also, in her growing paranoia, Lily at the last moment suggested changing the keeper to Peter Peddigrew, noting that, though not having gone through the necessary pureblood rituals, the boy's godfather would still be too obvious a choice for the keeper of Fidelius's secret.

Sirius himself, either because of the possibility of not having to take on another responsibility, or because he really saw the rationale behind the proposal, willingly supported Lily's initiative. James, though less willingly, nevertheless agreed to the decision of his dear wife.

Later, on the assurances of the same Lily, all participants in the ritual promised not to reveal the true nature of the guardian of the secret. Not even Dumbledore and Lupin.

Although Sirius and James were resolutely against keeping their best friend in the spotlight at first, Lily's far from fake tears still convinced them of the need for such a conspiracy. Albeit, not for security reasons, but for the sake of the young mother's peace of mind.

And so, October thirty-first, exactly a year and a half from the day of Harry's birth. A pre-winter chill hovered through the night streets of Godric's Hollow, sometimes chilling the occasional passerby to the bone with its chill. The dusky sky was brightly lit by the high, bright moon, which on this night unfolded in its full glory, giving wayfarers who walked beneath it an understanding of the approximate time of day.

While in the neighboring dwellings, All Saints' Day festivities were just gaining momentum, a quiet atmosphere of family warmth and comfort reigned in the young Potter family home.

For a month now there had been no sign of any activity on the part of the Death Eaters. Though the Order was tense from such a long silence, understanding the imminence of the coming storm, but the Potter family, and especially Lily, breathed a sigh of relief.

It had been a month since she'd had to worry about James's watch. No ambushes, no raids, no battles. Just the calming doldrums she needed so badly, after a year and a half of constant tension. During a month's rest for her nerves, even some of the wrinkles and early gray hair that had been gradually accumulating all those year and a half — had managed to come off.

She may have understood that the war was not over, and the danger was not going anywhere, but for Lily Potter this break was vital, because even occlusion, from the gradual deprivation of the mind — did not help much.

And now, sitting on the couch, in the arms of her dear husband, the only thing she could think of was prolonging this moment of silence for the rest of her life. And how right she was.

Suddenly, there was a loud, rhythmic knock on the door throughout the estate.

Abruptly rushing out of bed, glancing at the floor pendulum clock, which was counting down the last minutes to midnight, Lily asked her husband worriedly:

— «James, did you invite someone?» — In a slightly trembling voice, she asked.

After frowning for a second, James immediately calmed down, showing his spouse a slight rimmed smile.

— «Relax, Lils. Padfoot promised to stop by in the morning. He said he was going to show me a new modification for his flying motorcycle. Didn't say what kind.» — Relaxed, he exhorted.

Slightly relaxed, after a moment, Lily asked the question again, frowning her eyebrows slightly:

— «And why does he come in late at night, even though it's a holiday?» — She asked a reasonable question. — «And anyway, why didn't you tell me about it? You know what time it is!» — She pointed accusingly.

— «Come on, Lily, it's okay! You know how he is. Probably drunk with joy, and after enduring it, came to show off his new clothes.» — He asserted. But when he saw that the dissatisfaction on his wife's face hadn't diminished a facet of it, he began to apologize. — «Well,» — he exhaled, — «I'm sorry I didn't warn you. It slipped my mind. It's just that we haven't had a good day like this in a long time.» — He smiled. — «I can't remember a time when we've had such a relaxing evening. I'm always on duty, or you're always at the repair shop. We only see each other in the morning. — «I promise,» — he whispered, coming up behind Lily: — «As soon as the war is over, we'll go around the world. You, me, and Harry. For a year. Or even more.» — He assured me.

Smiling softly, Lily pecked her husband on the lips, and walked over to the stair railing and said:

— «Okay, just don't make too much noise. I'll go check on Harry.»

Hearing the repetition of knocking, James, with high spirits came to the front door, and looking through the peephole, asked in surprise:

— «Wormtail?»

Without thinking, James began to open the door. But immediately he stopped when he saw behind Peter the familiar grim figure he'd only seen three times in his life.

— «Lily, take Harry and run!» — He shouted loudly, pulling out his mahogany wand.

But before he could cast a single spell, James flew to the opposite side of the living room with his chest ripped wide open.

If Lily had seen that picture, she definitely would have thrown up on the floor, even though she'd seen far worse deaths in her time with the Order. But it's one thing to see a stranger die, but it's quite another to see someone close to your heart die in front of your eyes.

But luckily, after a loud warning from her husband, Lily immediately rushed straight to the nursery without turning back, checking her port-key-enchanted engagement ring.

Lily heard the Dark Lord's light footsteps quickly behind her, which made her realize that James hadn't survived the fight after all.

With tears in her eyes, Lily resolutely stood in front of the cradle of her now only loved one, as she realized that the last remaining exit in the form of the teleportation key had been blocked.

She saw a dark figure, far from the lack of light, walk slowly through the covered doorjamb, which she had not prematurely locked, realizing the futility of the act, which would only take precious seconds of her time.

She saw the cold stare of the bright red eyes fall directly on Harry, who had been awakened by the noise, and who, like any newborn in such a situation, began to cry loudly.

Voldemort, seeing the obstacle in his way, and recognizing in it the girl, which his faithful servant begged for mercy, loudly declared:

— «Give me the child, and so be it, you shall have my mercy.» — Arrogantly he declared.

— «Take me, but don't hurt Harry!» — Lily cried out with confidence, keeping her gaze fixed on his bestial eyes.

She met his gaze on the girl, who was exaggeratedly cheeky to him, and hissed with cold fury:

— «So be it. Avada Kedavra!»

From Voldemort's snow-white wand, as if from a geyser, a bright pale green light streamed out, which Lily boldly took on her chest, falling like a circumcised puppet.

After glancing briefly at the corpse beneath her feet, a spark of respect for the filthy girl's courage flashed in the ruthless, arrogant Dark Lord's eyes for a second, then quickly laughed in a torrent of contempt for her origins.

As he approached the desperately sobbing infant, who seemed to understand what was happening in front of him, Voldemort stood a few feet in front of his future enemy and pointed his pointed wand directly at the little boy's head.

— «If you were not a half-blood, perhaps I would have given you to Bellatrix to raise you as my most faithful servant.» — Slowly he stretched out. — «But the inner circle barely tolerates Snape's presence in their ranks as it is, so... Avada Kedavra!»

The familiar feeling of euphoria flooded the Dark Lord's mind, arising with every use of any Unforgivable. His eyes, mutated by the constant rituals, acquired a property of rapid perception, watched intently as the killing curse swiftly flew.

But suddenly, when the arrow of the Unforgivable Curse was halfway to its target, the space in front of the cradle distorted in a bizarre, apparatus-like vortex, and Voldemort's entire view was obscured by a black mist.

The only thing he saw was his own curse flying toward him, from which he could neither dodge, due to the very short distance, nor even apparate, due to the powerful anti-apparatus shields he had set up beforehand, which even he would have taken some time to penetrate.

The last thing he saw before he died were two red lights staring straight into his soul, so similar yet so radically different from his own eyes.