They ran through the woods; the pale light of the moon and the softly falling snow a stark contrast to the terror on the faces of the man and woman as they followed their friend into the night.
Behind them, the sound of shattered timber, of energy lashing out violently as dark figures roared incantations. The man ducked; a particularly vicious cutting spell coming dangerously close to taking off the top of his head.
"Down!" their friend barked, spinning on the ball of his right foot; unholstering a gun, and taking aim as he lowered into a crouch. The couple dropped, the woman rolling so as to not harm her precious cargo, as the gunslinger fired; the forest illuminating, as though briefly home to a star. The deafening roar of the pistol only barely hid the sound of men and women screaming in agony.
The gunslinger grabbed the man's shoulder, growling, "Move!"; forcing the pair to their feet.
They ran. Deep into the forests of the West Country, James and Lily Potter ran; the tall, lanky form of their friend guiding them deeper into the night.
Then, Lily tripped; twisting her ankle on a tree root. She shrieked in pain, as James grabbed the bundle in her arms.
The American pulled up her pant leg; grimacing at what obviously was a near-break. No way they could keep the same pace, and those bastards were getting closer.
James handed the bundle to the American, then drew his wand. "Take her, Michael. Get her out of here."
Michael Sinclair glowered at his young friend; his youthful features giving no indication of his true age. "Don't ask me that! Don't you fuckin' dare...!"
James grabbed his shoulder, shaking him. "She can't walk; much less run! And I won't leave her here for that bastard's 'mercy'!"
The American growled; a low, savage sound more at home in a wolf or rabid dog. "Goddamnit, James...!"
Lily grabbed his arm, her face a mask of grief and pain at what she knew had to be said. "Please, Michael...! Don't let her die here...!"
Another spell lashed out, catching a tree behind Michael's back. A voice that set the trio's hackles on edge called out, "There's nowhere for you to hide the child from me! Surrender, and I will make your deaths quick!"
Michael pulled a shotgun; unloading both barrels of the sawed-off into the face of a dark Magi who leapt at them. The man's head and upper torso vanished in a splattering of gore. Michael roared out at the approaching crowd and their leader as he reloaded. "You feel lucky enough to try, Riddle, you come try and make good on that! I got more than enough firepower to get the job done!"
A snort of derision. "You are an ant, playing in the affairs of a god, muggle! I will make you suffer for not knowing to bow to your betters!"
A snap-clink sounded, and a small object rolled into view in front of the hunting party. Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr. - the self-styled "Lord Voldemort" - recognized the grenade; cursing as he leapt aside to avoid the blast. Three of his subordinates were not so lucky; the one who still lived made a gurgling sound as he stared at the ruin of his waist, before expiring.
"Some god!", came the retort. "You were born, you can bleed; means you can die."
Riddle screamed in insane rage, firing his signature attack wildly; green light illuminating the grove to near-blinding intensity.
James grabbed a rock, transfiguring it into a facsimile of the infant. "Go!", he hissed, thrusting his infant daughter into the American's arms. When Michael made to protest, James held out his hand for the grenade belt. "Please."
Face bunched up in impotent rage, Michael hugged them both, then got up; aiming his pistol with his free hand into the enemy ranks, firing wildly as he fled into the night.
James and Lily held each other as the Death Eaters encircled them; Riddle looking unholy in his satisfaction. "Finally...!", he rasped, sounding like the snake that followed him everywhere; the tone of his voice almost orgasmic in his assumed victory. "Die, knowing that your ends have made me eternal...!"
If anyone happened to be within range of that firefight on the night of October 30th, 1991, they would have heard a man scream the two words that had come to represent the single greatest terror in the world of Magi, and would have seen a flash of green.
They also would have been witness to an explosion; the result of eight fragmentation grenades going off in the same place.
