(This story has been told before. I came to discover that it was removed without my permission by my former collaborator. He never mentioned that this was a team effort by my wishes. I only managed to save the first three years, but that is quite alright as I was never fully satisfied with the end result of the following four years. I see this as an interesting opportunity to re-tell this story the way I originally intended. Purely of the Wizarding world and nothing else. There has been some re-writes based on my original ideas and I've updated the wording and flow. Please Enjoy)

Prelude

Halloween

When it comes to the recounting of horrible tales. it is often said to be a difficult and deeply unpleasant task. It is in fact in the telling of such a tale that one might discover the good that they can cause, and give one hope that their own story, should it be such as this, might just all be ok. In the end.

It would be on Halloween night, the year was 1981, and a year when a true horror would take place in the little village of Godric's Hollow. No one would ever have believed that on a night when muggle boys and muggle girls would gather together and dress up in scary costumes, go from door to door with the desire for free sweets, that a stranger would come. A strange who stood in the middle of the lane and show no sign that they were here for anything more than the festivities. After all, the stranger was dressed in a long thin robe with the hood up and their face shrouded in darkness.

No Muggle alive would have possessed the ability that might have warned them of the danger that this man posed. It certainly didn't stop a bright faced young boy by the name of Alfred Groit, who was dressed as the mummy from his favorite horror film, from approaching this dark figure without a care in the world.

"Nice costume, mister!" Said little Alfred. He peeked up at the hooded stranger through little slits in the bandages that allowed him to see and, given what he felt was his best smile. A light in the street would move just enough to reveal the face of the one within the robe. Young Alfred would see a man with skin as pale as the moon, red eyes and a funny nose which reminded the boy of a snake. Naivety would be Alfred's undoing. He naturally assumed that this was just some form of prosthetic, a mask and nothing to truly be frightened of. Little did Alfred know that he was but mere inches from death. Because this stranger was none other than, Lord Voldemort. And if Lord Voldemort had not been on urgent business this evening, he might have wiped poor Alfred from existence simply for the fun of it.

"Mustn't waste my time on the weak." Voldemort thought to himself. He was risking too much by being here. He was bringing himself too close to danger but task had to be completed by him and him alone. It had to be done by him. There was no one he could trust to ensure that the most important of missions would be seen through to the end. It took a herculean effort for the greatest Dark Lord to smile – if not rather creepily – at Alfred. Alfred giggled and ran back to his muggle mother to live another day and pleased with the result of the interaction. Voldemort watched the little boy hugging his mother, feeling nothing but the utmost loathing for their exchange.

Becoming alert to the ever ticking of an invisible clock the Dark Lord swiftly turned and followed the street, remembering the instructions given to him by the traitor. He did not stop for any soul that got in his way, no dithering old-lady or excited child would slow him tonight. And with a haste that could only be manifested by a man with truest and darkest purpose did he venture on in search of the house that would now be revealed to him at last.

The house was just where the traitor had said it would be. Which was lucky for said traitor. For if this information had proven to be useless, then he was going to regret lying to The Dark Lord. There would not be a word in English or any tongue of Wizard or Muggle that could describe the level of pain and torment that would be visited upon the traitor should they be wrong.

Voldemort stood idle at the small gate that barred his path. He had been told of the enchantment that when used, would prevent him from seeing the house. A gift from the traitor – A small piece of information allowed Voldemort to see this quiet little home and give way to the tragedy that was about to take place. The garden that was so neatly tended to, with those funny little garden gnomes that muggles liked. A cobbled path that led to the front door, and through the window, Voldemort saw the first of his targets. A man, with dashing good looks, messy black hair and green eyes. He had a happy smile on his face while he held his wand pointed upwards, shooting puffs of smoke into the air from the tip of it.

"Entertaining the child, James?" Voldemort thought with utter loathing. It would be that same child that would be on the Dark Lords mind tonight. It was the child that he had been warned about. It was the child that he, Lord Voldemort, would end the life of before the night was over. His knuckles paled as they clenched tightly to his wand. Voldemort flicked it once to unlock the gate. The gate swung open harder than the Dark Lord intended and the moment it clanged against the fence a loud hollering sounded in the air. The man known as James Potter looked towards the living room window. His eyes widened with fear when he saw in the distance who had caused the noise.

"Lily, it's him, take Harry and run!" James called out. His voice did not match the fear in his eyes. Action took him and the arrogance that Voldemort had seen before replaced any sign of fear. James Potter took his son in one arm, clutching his wand with the other hand and dashed from the window. Voldemort lunged forward and ran up the garden path brandishing his wand and slashing through the air. A stream of purple light jetted across the night and blew the front door from its hinges. When the smoke cleared, Voldemort caught a glimpse of a red haired woman running upstairs with the boy cradled protectively in her arms.

Standing in the path of the Dark Lord, braced and bravely ready to fight, James started to unleash a torrent of red blasts from the tip of his wand. He had skill and with aid in the past had held his own against the Dark Lord. A story that had travelled through the Wizarding world with some speed. It was the type of story that gave hope to the weak-minded fools who thought they would survive a confrontation with the Dark Lord. Those jets of red light that soared fast and hard towards the destroyed door frame were nothing, however. Voldemort lazily flicked his wand casting aside each blast before it could so much as sting him.

"Pathetic!" Voldemort hissed. The Dark Lord was infuriated that James Potter was so arrogant enough that he thought he could hold back the might of the greatest sorcerer in the world.

"You will not hurt my family!" James snarled. The anger was impressive, as was the wand movement that caused the phone table to fly up at Voldemort, the flowing motion of another flick that brought the rug to life. These tricks all designed to confuse and distract Voldemort while James charged a more powerful spell, aiming it directly at Voldemort's chest. But these brave acts would be nothing more than vain desire to stop the monster that sought to destroy his family.

Voldemort was ruthless. He slashed his wand in the air to cut the table in half before it had even lifted more than an inch off the ground. He twirled his wand and the rug shrivelled into a pile of thread. James' final spell built and exploded out of the wand. Voldemort performed a strange hand movement that caught the beam of light mid-flight. He then poked his wand at it casually and the spell evaporated right in front of James Potter's eyes.

"No…UGH!" James' protest was interrupted. Voldemort hissed his dislike of the pathetic display that had taken place before him. He raised his wand up and James felt something catch in his throat. He couldn't breathe. His body lifted from the ground and his eyes widened.

"You failed." Voldemort whispered. James showed no emotion except for agony when he felt the pain surge through his body. He tried to cry out by he could not find the air or the capacity to struggle against the pain anywhere. He felt his legs break first, then his arms, his fingers, toes, his spine and then finally his neck.

It became apparent at the exact same moment that James Potter's body hit the ground, that Voldemort was now running out of time. The alarm was still blaring outside. Muggles might have been able to hear it. If not them then certainly someone somewhere will know what it truly meant and would be sending word to the Ministry or worse…the old man. Rage fuelled the Dark Lord. He stepped on James Potter's corpse and hoisted himself up the stairs as quickly as he could get himself up them. Down the hall and following the crying wails of the child that must have known death was coming for him. Voldemort's singular focus, his rage and desire to end the life of the wailing child had blinded him to all else that moved. He found the bedroom door that blocked his path. He held out his wand and made the door handle explode. The door itself swung open and…Voldemort froze.

The Dark Lord's rage and focus was cut down and replaced with a feeling of confusion and to his surprise, fear. A wand was being held but it was neither the mother or the child holding it. To Voldemort, the sight of one of his most faithful supporters holding him at wand point. Blocking his path to the boy. It was too much to fathom even for one as intelligent as him.

"Severus?" The Dark Lord whispered.

Severus Snape. The newly appointed Potions Master of Hogwarts stood in black robes with black curtain like hair, a hooked nose and skin almost as pale as the Dark Lord's himself. He showed no sign of the cowardice he once possessed. Only a calm and deadly nature that Voldemort had never seen before. "You were warned." Severus told him, the words lost under the cries from the boy. Voldemort, however, heard them.

"I will not allow you to stop me!" Voldemort snarled at him.

"You will not harm them." Severus warned, his voice cool and even.

"OUT OF MY WAY!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The force of Severus Snape's spell struck the Dark Lord with such a force that Voldemort barely had time to scream in agony before his whole being was destroyed. The flash of green light that accompanied the killing curse was gone in a second. For a moment there was silence except for the cries of young Harry as he clung to his mother. A second later an unearthly wind filled the room blowing furniture and debris in all directions. Harry cried louder while his mother held her to him, protecting him from the flying objects. The wind gathered and a pillar of black smoke took form in the shape of a spectre and flew, howling through the window, sending glass in all directions.

Severus had followed the dark shape as it made the dramatic escape. He walked slowly towards the window and gazed beyond, seeing nothing but the darkness of night beyond the frame.

Lily continued to hold onto her son as tightly as she could without hurting him. She felt her knees buckled and she came to the floor, kneeling in the middle of the destroyed bedroom. Harry cried for a few short minutes before eventually, exhaustion took him. His eyes drifted closed unaware that his father was dead. Not knowing that he narrowly missed death. Lily found the strength to look up at her rescuer. Her face was red and puffy, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't begin to fathom everything that had happened in just a few short moments. Her husband was dead. Voldemort was dead. Severus was the one who killed him. Who saved her. Severus met her gaze and looked as though he might say something, but he was interrupted before he could speak any words of comfort.

"Lily?!" It was the voice of Remus Lupin who called out in panic.

Severus turned on the spot and vanished before Lily's eyes. A second later two sets of footsteps came charging up the stairs. Remus Lupin, his clothing shabby, scars on his face, a sickly complexion and an expression of terror upon him was the first to enter the room. He showed no relief as he knelt down to check if either Lily or Harry had been hurt. When he was sure, he met Lily's frantic stare. Her fear and trauma appeared to subside the moment she saw her friend. Purpose started to fill the pain and the both she and Remus quickly came to an understanding that would remain unspoken.

"Oh, thank goodness!" A squeaky voice said, in relief. Lily looked up from Remus to see Peter Pettigrew standing in the door way. He was a fat little man with beady eyes, large front teeth and wearing a pinstripe suit. "Remus, Lily, I…but James."

"We must get Lily and Harry away from this place." Remus told Peter. His voice was riddled with supressed anguish. There would be a time for mourning later on. For now, it was his duty to protect the family of his fallen best friend. He said nothing else as he helped Lily up from the floor. Just like Severus had done so moments ago, Remus looked to the broken window. Lily noticed the cold shiver than ran through Remus' body and knew instantly what he was sensing. It was the same thing she herself sensed but was too weak to act on right now.

"Right, yes, I shall stay, Dumbledore is sending someone," Peter said bravely. Though brave was hardly what someone would call Peter, he was shaking from head to toe, fear pouring from every part of him. Lilly might have appreciated the effort more had she not been so focused on the child in her arms.

"I'll take them to Bathilda's and return," Remus told Peter, only getting a few nervous nods from his friend.

After a grumble and moan that turned to cries of worry from old Bathilda, a great old lady who loved the Potter family dearly. Lily and Harry were ushered inside to the small living room by Remus. He sat Lily down and checked on Harry, who continued to sleep in the comfort of his mother's arms. As he stood, Lily grabbed Remus by the hand and asked, "Who Remus, who has done this to us?"

Remus had barely the strength to answer her. He feared what the answer might do to Lily now, but he knew above all else, Lily would want to know who betrayed them.

"Sirius," Remus told her his voice filled with venom the like he never knew himself to possess. "They caught him, not long after we found out what was going on here, we have Peter to thank for that." Remus let the words permeate the deepest parts of Lily's mind. "I will be right back. I need to make sure the Order knows what has happened." And with that, he left Lily and Harry in the safety of old Bathilda Bagshot.

Tales are often told and some, can on occasion, be filled with horrors. Hope, however, hope and most of all love can bring strength in times of horror. For Lily Potter, her strength came in the form of the small boy that cradled and slept soundly in her arms. For the boy in her arms, though he didn't know it. Would have a tale of his own to tell soon enough.

Harry Potter: Tales of The Past