Chapter 4: That Halloween Night
{Very well. You will see what I see}.
The flashes of some things around Harry and Voldemort began to flicker faster. Harry realized with a start that they were actually memories. He saw flashes of his life around the Dursleys, him weeding out Aunt Petunia's garden, him barely listening to Aunt Petunia's rant about how useless he was and how he was a bad influence on darling Duddikins, and that single memory of the kind teacher, Mrs Waters who always find time to talk to him every morning before school started, before she transferred out.
There were other memories, not his, Harry realized, playing alone with a snake in a field, reading a strange looking book, waving a stick on his (but not his) hand making some weird movements, of a dark, ominous looking cave, of a huge mansion, and what was that? A gigantic snake? People in strange masks... And someone, a man, was screaming... And then Harry realized that they were Voldemort's memories. The memories were from Voldemort's point of view. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
{This is what we're looking for}, said Voldemort. {The memories from that Halloween night}. He had singled out a memory from the masses of flickering memories and it came out to the front, like a screen in a movie. Harry watched it, mesmerized.
A wooden gate came into view. A pudgy man pushed open the wooden gate, looked back to him (to Voldemort, Harry reminded himself) and said with a halting whisper, "Master, like I've promised." Where a house shouldn't have been seen, a two-storey wooden cottage, painted with a sunny yellow paint now came into view.
{Wormtail: the two-faced traitor. There are many things I would like to ask him...} Voldemort hissed. Harry jumped; he had nearly forgotten the real Voldemort was standing near him, also watching the memories.
There was a small well-kept garden in front of the house (lilies and roses, thought Harry distractedly), and a swing at the front porch. There was a small red toy truck near the swing, on its side. It made Harry smile. It was a house full of love, full of laughter, Harry was sure. My home, thought Harry. It was about to be destroyed.
"Good. Stay here, Wormtail. Lucius, Avery, guard the perimeter."
Memory-Voldemort strode into the front garden. Without pausing, he took out four stone slabs with strange writings carved on them. He raised his wand to the stones and whispered a string of incantations. Long ribbon-like colours of blue and red light came out of the wand and contacted with the writings, making them glow with golden lights. Voldemort raised the stones and they shot into the night, to the four corners of the house. A flash of light illuminated the night and the house was encased in a dome of golden light. The dome pulsed briefly before disappearing. All these were completed in mere seconds.
With that they had announced their arrival to the Potters.
{Those were ward stones. I had erected anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards around the house}, Voldemort explained. {This means this house was sealed. Whoever's inside the house will be unable to escape by teleportation and any other magical means. They are effectively trapped inside their own safehouse.} He said this without any emotion, and Harry felt shivers run down his spine.
Memory-Voldemort blew the front door opened and Harry could see a sitting room. Harry heard a man's voice shouting from inside, "...I'll hold him off!"
Harry briefly saw a flash of silver light run through the window to the pitch black night outside and he suddenly was face-to-face with a man- his father.
"It will be too late for help, Potter."
Harry had only a moment to notice the man had the same messy jet-black hair and round glasses, just like him, before a stream of curses (for that what the lights were) flew from the man's wand towards him.
Harry yelled and ducked and the real Voldemort next to him laugh. Harry had forgotten that this was a mere memory; he cannot be hurt, he cannot participate. He was only an observer.
{Your father, James Potter was powerful wizard. He did not go down without a fight.}
But Harry could see that James was no match for Voldemort in terms of power.
It was obvious that the Memory-Voldemort was mocking his father, laughing while lazily twirling his wand to deflect the stream of curses away. He could literally see the sparks of power surrounding him, the Memory-Voldemort.
"It's a shame really. A wizard of your strength and standings will be highly valued under my command. This is my last offer, Potter. What say you?"
"You'd think I'd agree with you? After all you did? You were going to kill off my family!"
With that, James disappeared under a curtain of mist. Suddenly, three wolves came rushing from the mist towards Memory-Voldemort, snarling viciously. A flick of Voldemort's wand sent two of the wolves flying towards the couch before bursting into chunks of stones. Another one was hurled towards the ceiling but before it burst it transformed into long, sharp spikes and Voldemort banished it towards the mist, which dissipated. James was nowhere to be found.
"Wolves?" Harry asked.
{The wolves are transfigured or changed, I believe from the figurines on that mantle. Transfiguration is one of your father's favourite tricks. You can change an item at the molecular level; you can change the size, the appearance, and the structure of an item to another item.}
While the real Voldemort was talking, the view had already shifted. It seemed that Memory-Voldemort had given James enough fighting chances. With a speed that was too fast to follow, a stream of curses sweep around the sitting room. The curses blasted the couches, the coffee table, and the fireplace into pieces. One curse blasted the whole wall, and suddenly James was visible near the rubbles near the staircase. He was bleeding. He dodged the next two curses, deflected one curse away by a hastily erected shield, but the next curse shattered the shield with its sheer power. The impact hurled him towards the doorway to the kitchen and he crumpled to the floor. James slowly struggled to his feet. He refused to die laying down. His wand was clutched tightly in his bleeding hand.
Without pausing in his flurry of spells, Voldemort cried out "Avada Kedavra": the killing curse. A jet of green light impacted James's chest and he fell down again, unmoving. His eyes were still opened as if surprised, mouth still forming words of spells.
It was over. Harry dropped to his knees; he simply could not believe it. It was too quick; the fight had taken less than ten minutes and his father was now dead. Harry began to sob. It was only a memory but it was still too real.
Memory-Voldemort walked over to the staircase. Apparently he had somehow deduced that the rest of the family was hiding upstairs. When he was about to take the first step on the stairs, the air in front of him suddenly exploded.
"Interesting. Intent-based? And yet, it is futile."
And then Harry almost yelled.
The ceiling was rushing towards him – the Memory-Voldemort had flown upwards to the second floor instead of bothering to take down whatever traps that (Harry presumed) James had wasted precious minutes preparing.
"You can fly!"
{Yes. And no, normal wizards cannot fly. And watch this closely Harry, this is what I needed to understand. What happened that night? What did you mother do? She obviously used the time I was distracted fighting your father to prepare something. A last resort, as she had realized that there was no way out of this.}
Memory-Voldemort now casted a wide-area spell around the second floor landing. A door glowed, and revealed the room's occupants: a woman, kneeling in front of a crib, and a baby lying inside the crib. He strode to the door, and burst it open with another spell. He had laughed, knowing full well that the occupants were trapped inside.
And then Harry saw his mother for the first time: she had flowing red hair, a kind face and a pair of startlingly green eyes. Like mine, thought Harry.
{Lily Potter, the Ministry Unspeakable. I had underestimated her that night.}
Lily Potter was standing defiantly in front of the crib. There were tear-streaks running down her cheeks; she had known that James was already dead, trying to protect them. She was holding her wand in front of her with both hands like a sword. Her hand was trembling but her stand did not waver.
"Please, not Harry! Please – I'll do anything," his mother was pleading, not for her own life, but for his. Harry's life.
Harry closed his eyes, feeling another fresh stream of tears coming.
"Stand aside – stand aside, you silly girl!" the Memory-Voldemort was now facing Lily. He brandished his wand, motioning her to get out of the way so he can get at the Baby-Harry.
Harry was surprised. Did Voldemort wanted to spare his mother? He had thought Voldemort were after his parents.
"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead," Lily pleaded, trying to appeal to the monster in front of her. She still had not moved an inch, fully shielding Baby-Harry with her own body.
"You should be proud; your little boy shall be an important part of the Dark Lord's conquer of Death."
Did this meant Voldemort was after him all along? Harry felt his blood turned cold.
Memory-Voldemort had taken out glowing rune stones from his robes. Lily's eyes went wide when she saw the stones started to float towards Baby-Harry in the crib.
"Not Harry! Please … have mercy... have mercy..."
The memory-Voldemort let out a cruel laugh as he ignored Lily's pleas. Well, he did give the girl a choice, a chance to live, didn't he? He cried out 'Avada Kedavra' for the second time that night.
Lily let out a scream as the dreaded green light of the killing curse hit her and she crumpled to the floor.
Harry let out a cry; he felt that his heart was ripped for the second time that night.
Memory-Voldemort laughed. It was a victorious night for him. He had just eliminated a pair of Dumbledore's strongest fighters in one night. Everything went according to plan.
{Yes, it was a costly mistake that I made. I did not stop to wonder why Lily Potter, a strong and powerful fighter like her would go down without a fight. I thought victory was mine that day. I was too confident.}
"Now, the boy: 'the one who had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord'. Well, that would not happen now would it?" Memory-Voldemort had looked down at Baby-Harry who was now standing inside the crib. Baby-Harry started crying when he saw the stranger – the monster in front of him. Where did his mother go?
Memory-Voldemort took out something else from his robe and held it on his left hand: a golden brooch with an intricate design of a winged lion. The most outstanding feature was the blood-red stone in the clasp of the winged lion claws. The brooch floated towards the crib, pulled by strands of glowing green lights from the rune stones. The stones circled Baby-Harry and the brooch hovered directly above his head. Baby-Harry stopped crying, he was mesmerized by the brooch and the stones and raised his arms, trying to catch them.
Raising his wand, Memory-Voldemort uttered the killing curse for the third and last time.
{Watch.}
The green light of the killing curse left Memory-Voldemort's wand. But instead of impacting Baby-Harry's chest, the curse hit a golden light that had suddenly appeared around him, reverberating with a gong-like sound. It rebounded right back towards the caster: the Memory-Voldemort. He was caught completely by surprise; there was no time to evade the curse, no time to conjure a barrier. It was the first time that someone survive the killing curse, much less bounded back the curse. The curse hit him and the Memory-Voldemort screamed. Everything turned black.
The memory had ended.
A/N:
I always thought Lily Potter deserved more recognition. She did cause Voldemort's destruction that night after all... So what do you think of the fights?