POTTER MANOR
31st October 1981
The autumn air was set across London, the copper and gold leaves flowing on the pavement, falling from the trees just outside the quaint residence of the Potter household. It was far smaller than they could afford, but they were not the material type. James Potter was a tall, gangly man with rowdy, untameable black hair and spectacles so round they rivaled the earth itself. Lily, on the other hand, was a plump, short woman with striking green eyes, greener than any emerald you could find, long ginger hair that had a slight curl like waves in the sea.
Holiday lights illuminated every window, colors of orange and purple and even some green. Pumpkins lined their paveway, carved into jack o lanterns, as James insisted upon. It was a perfectly normal night for a perfectly normal family. Or, well, what appeared to be normal. What you will see is that the Potter family was no ordinary family, by classical standards. Specifically due to the wand James carried in his pocket. You see, they in fact were quite irregular indeed, for magic is not a thing you see daily, or is it? Well, perhaps we’ll discuss that later.
The fire was crackling, the chimney filling with smoke and exiting out the top. The quiet of the house was peaceful, quite the contrary to their day to day life. Lily sat herself on the sofa, running her hands through her hair. She watched as James lifted his wand once again, casting out all sorts of light spells.
The figure worked closer and closer to the door, unbeknownst to them. The hood fell onto his shoulders, revealing a skull-like face, almost resembling a snake, a most repulsive one, at that. No one had seen his face. Only heard his name. His body was as pale as stone, his eyes as red as blood, slits for pupils, resembling that of a feline or reptile. He raised his boney hand, his wand clutched in his scaly palm.
He pounded on the door. Once, twice…
James stood, taking his wand and placing it in his pocket. The latch clicked, the door creaked open slowly. He couldn’t see his face in the dark of the night, but when he could, it was all too clear what he was here to do. He slammed the door shut, latching every lock. At least it would slow him down. Even if just for a small moment. A small moment was all the time he needed. “Lily!” He cried “Take Harry and go!”
Perhaps you would call such a thing fate or destiny or maybe you would simply suggest it's just how things happen. You can decide that. The clock struck midnight as Lily raced up the stairs, her infant son in clutch.
James raised his wand, his eyes struck with fear, but he wouldn't let it show. His heart raced, but it wouldn’t do so for much longer.
The figure crept his way into the home. James subconsciously stepped back.
“Step aside,” the figure said, terrifyingly calm.
He shook his head defiantly, staying still as a stone. “Step aside,” he repeated. “And I may spare your life.” James just…stood. He wasn't entirely there.
All at once, they both spoke.
“Avada Kedavra-”
“Protego!”
They say fate can’t be altered or erased, but James hoped it could be for just a moment. The butterfly effect is a powerful thing. The smallest thing can make the biggest impact.
They clashed. James smiled victoriously. However, his pride would be his downfall. You see, however powerful, however brave, however victorious. James Potter was also foolishly noble. And James Potter was ruined from the beginning, doomed by the narrative, or whatever you’d like to call it. Maybe his fate was pending, but it was very real.
The green light came crashing toward him. Whoever said your life flashes before your eyes as you die was correct. You see, there’s a biological reasoning for this. For evolutionary purposes, when your body is harmed or put in danger, your brain searches your memories for times you’ve been in this situation or similar situations before, because you knew how to save yourself. You always had. But, what your brain can’t save you this time, so it searches hopelessly through your entire life, only to discover it's a lost cause.
Lily, standing just below the top of the staircase covered her own mouth to silence her sobs. She flung open the nursery door, placing Harry in his cot and searching every drawer, every corner, every nook and cranny. Her last hope, she couldn’t save herself, but she could save Harry just yet. Now, wandless magic was no easy feat, but Lily Evans was also no ordinary woman. She didn't have much time.
Oh, how terrifying, having something to lose.
He rushed up the stairs. No time at all now. His thin face shone in the light of the moon, his wand raised, his eyes more horrifying than anything she had yet to see.
She kept her face stone cold. Fear. Such a strange feeling.
“I hope for your own sake, you're smarter than your foolish husband.” he said, coldly.
“Maybe I’m not,” she replied. “But I will not stand down just to avoid the risk.” she gripped the sides of the cot like it was the last ditch effort to save her own life, although she knew it was fruitless. Nothing could save her now.
Pure darkness.