Halloween 1981: Voldemort walked up to Godric Hallows. The wind was howling, making the night seem even more ominous with the prominently swaying trees and occasional dry crack of lightning.
Entering the house, Voldemort's first greeting is of Arabella Figg running upstairs. Following the pathetic squib, Voldemort comes to a stop before the first door. Listening, he hears the squib's empty promises of safety from him.
Smiling to himself, Voldemort blasts the door open; strolling in, he comes face-to-face with the squib standing before him. She acted as a shield between her and the first potter's crib, which coincidentally held both potters wide awake.
One had the potter black hair and surprising green eyes. While the other had the same hair with hazel eyes. The oldest, James, was crying, while the youngest, Harry, was quiet.
Raising his wand to the squib, before he casts the killing curse, she meekly says, "Their just babies..." her body unceremoniously falls in a heap before the crib.
Deciding on which to kill first, Voldemort once more raises his wand, pointing to the youngest who infuriatingly wasn't showing him fear, mutters, "Avada Kedavra."
Instead of the child's death, magical backlash occurs, blasting part of the room to bits and destroying Voldemort's body. The oldest receiving a good thump on the head by the stray glass, having left a crescent-shaped cut upon his left temple. While the other ended up with a lightning bolt on his forehead.
An hour had passed since Voldemort's entrance to the Potter home. By this time, the children's wailing had dimmed to an occasional whimper and sniffle. The moment Lily and James apparated into their living room, they knew something was wrong, and it wasn't from how their immaculate living room looked nor from the closed front door or the clean hallway. It was the silence that greeted them, embraced them.
As they moved upstairs, they started to hear whimpers and sniffles; it made their bodies lurch forward in a stumble of rushing limbs. The door was opened, and what they saw made both of their hearts simultaneously skip. Arabella was dead in front of the crib, and before her lay a familiar white wand and black robe.
Voldemort. He had come, and he had failed. It was all that the adult Potters could think of because no witch or wizard would ever abandon their wand.
After Aurors came and went, the Potter family, upon invitation, promptly left for Hogwarts. That night was one of celebrations for light Wix's in Britain. While for the Potters, it was a restless night, they had come close to losing their children; never before had their immortality reared its head with clarity.
The next morning found the whole order gathered together, minus one rat who ran, and we're waiting to hear from their leader. Some had just arrived an hour before from missions they had been sent on and weren't entirely up to date. The group watched silently as the aged man waved and weaved his wand over the Potter twins.
Once he stopped, he stared at the children; internally, he had a war going on. Externally he looked as calm as water; he wasn't sure if he should tell the truth of whom defeated Tom; the child would become a target, and he feared as well. His fear was of the soul fragment the youngest had latched onto him. If the parents had brought the twins to him earlier, then he would've been able to remove it safely, but at this point, he couldn't. Not without the risk of killing the child.
Turning to the group, he softly told them, "James Charles...is the boy-who-lived."