A Shattered Night
It was a crisp autumn evening in Godric’s Hollow, and the Potter Cottage glowed with the warmth of the family at peace. Up in the nursery, Lily rocked her twins to sleep. At 15 months old, both were bundles of energy with their bright eyes constantly surveying the world around them. Harry’s eyes, a vivid green like their mother’s, often lit up with excitement, while Miruna’s seemed to hold a quiet wisdom far beyond her years.
Lily looked down at her children, her heart swelling with love and a hint of sadness. The threat of the war loomed large outside of their cottage and Lily knew that danger was never far. But in this moment, with her children nestled in her arms, she allowed herself a rare moment of peace.
James was in the upstairs living room, right outside the nursery door, his wand in hand as he practiced a series of defensive spells. His eyes were filled with determination and his hair, a trait that he had passed down to his children, fell into his eyes in tangled strands. He glanced over at Lily and the twins, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. “They’re getting bigger everyday,” he said, his voice filled with pride.
Lily smiled back, her eyes meeting his. “They are,” she sighed. “They’ll be so strong one day, just like us.”
Miruna stirred in her sleep, her tiny fingers reaching out to grasp the edge of her mother’s robes. Even in her dreams, she seemed to be reaching for something. Miruna was a quiet child, more introspective than her brother, but there was a spark of curiosity in her that reminded Lily of herself.
As the evening wore on, the Potters settled into their routine. James took Harry from Lily’s arms, holding him tightly as he whispered a goodnight song. Lily laid Miruna down in her crib, tucking her in with a soft blanket. The house was quiet, the only sound to be heard was the soft ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.
Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, a gentle reminder of the world beyond their door. But inside, the Potters were safe, wrapped in the love that bound them together. James and Lily exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. No matter what happened, they would protect their family with everything they had.
As the night deepened, the Potters drifted off to sleep, unaware of the darkness that was about to descend upon them.
⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙
The night of October 31st, 1981 began like any other, with the twins safely asleep in their cribs and the cottage wrapped in a blanket of tranquility. But the peace was shattered when the front door exploded inward with a deafening crash. James Potter was on his feet in an instant, his wand at the ready.
“It’s him, Lily! Take the children and go!” James shouted, his voice filled with urgency and fear.
Lily, her heart pounding in her chest, raced up the stairs to the nursery. She scooped Harry into her arms and grabbed Miruna, who had been woken by the noise and was crying. She clutched both children tightly, her heart pounding in her chest as she heard footsteps on the stairs. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking as she tried to reassure herself as much as her children.
Downstairs, James stood his ground, his wand raised as he faced the dark figure who had entered their home. Voldemort’s cold, cruel laugh echoed through the cottage, a sound that sent chills down Lily’s spine. “James Potter, you think you can save yourself,” Voldemort sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.
James didn’t hesitate. He raised his wand, but Voldemort was quicker. A flash of light filled the room, and James crumpled to the floor, motionless.
Lily’s heart broke as she heard the thud of her husband’s body hitting the floor. She turned to face the door, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Not my children,” she said, her voice strong despite her fear. “You will not harm them.”
Voldemort stepped forward; his wand pointed at Lily. “Stand aside, foolish girl,” he hissed.
“No,” Lily said firmly, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her. “You’ll have to go through me first.”
Voldemort’s lips curled into a sneer. “Very well,” he said, and with a flick of his wand, he sent a spell flying towards her, knocking her to the ground. He turned his attention to the children then, who were staring up at him with wide, green eyes. But as he raised his wand again, a sudden movement caught his eye. Miruna had managed to crawl out of her mother’s grasp, her tiny hands reaching for the crib.
With a snarl, Voldemort directed his wand at the girl, sending a powerful spell her way. The spell hit Miruna’s leg, causing a blinding flash of light. She screamed in pain as the spell spread up her leg.
Soon after, another streak of light followed the first. As it hit, everything went still, then exploded outwards. Voldemort’s form dissolved into the light coming from the small girl. With a roar of the house collapsing, everything went still once again, and Miruna lay still, unconscious from the weight of the recent attack.
⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙
Dumbledore arrived at Godric’s Hollow, the air thick with the residue of dark magic. The house, once filled with laughter and warmth, now lay in shambles. The front door hung askew, creaking slightly in the evening breeze, and the scent of singed wood and something more acrid—like burnt flesh—permeated the air.
James was the first to be found, crumpled on the floor of the living room. His body was splayed awkwardly, one arm reaching out as if in a final, desperate attempt to protect his family. The echoes of his last stand were still palpable in the air, the room heavy with the silence of death.
Dumbledore stepped over the threshold, his eyes narrowed as they swept across the destruction. He moved with a deliberate calm, masking the urgency that simmered beneath the surface. With a flick of his wand, he revived James, watching as the young man gasped, eyes wild with terror and confusion.
“Lily… Miruna… Harry…” James rasped, trying to push himself up, but his limbs trembled under the strain.
“Easy, James,” Dumbledore said, his voice a soft, reassuring murmur. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. Stay still; there is nothing more you can do here.”
But there was much Dumbledore needed to do, decisions to make before anyone else arrived. He had already surmised much from the wards, from the magic still lingering in the air. The curse that had struck Miruna—he could feel its remnants, dark and vile, still gnawing at the fabric of reality.
He ascended the stairs, the creaking floorboards echoing in the silence. Lily was found in the nursery, slumped against the wall, her breathing ragged but alive. She had thrown herself between the curse and her children, her body bearing the brunt of the dark magic. Harry lay in her arms, unscathed except for the thin lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, while Miruna was crumpled in the corner, her tiny body wracked with pain, her leg twisted unnaturally.
“Lily…” Dumbledore knelt beside her, his expression a mask of concern. “You’ve done well, Lily. You’ve saved them.”
Lily’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused. “Harry… Miruna… are they…?”
“Harry is fine, Lily,” Dumbledore assured her, his voice gentle as he took the child from her arms. “A miracle, really. The boy who lived.”
He glanced over at Miruna, whose small frame trembled under the curse’s weight. Her condition was dire, but his mind was already calculating. Harry’s survival was unprecedented, miraculous. But the girl—Miruna—she was another story. A tragedy, yes, but in the grand scheme, her plight would be overshadowed by her brother’s triumph.
The medic who had accompanied him, a stern-faced witch whose name he hadn’t bothered to remember, stepped forward. “We need to act now if we’re to save her.”
Dumbledore nodded, his expression grave. “Do what you must.”
As the medic worked, sealing off the curse by amputating Miruna’s leg, Dumbledore’s mind was spinning the narrative, the story that would shape the future.
The world needs a symbol, a beacon of hope, he thought, watching as the medic completed her work. Harry is that symbol. The boy who lived. And as for Miruna… she will have her own role, in time, but not now. Not yet.
Lily stirred, her gaze shifting to Miruna, panic flooding her voice. “What… what’s happening to her?”
“Lily, she’s strong,” Dumbledore said, his voice warm, reassuring. “Miruna will survive this. But Harry… Harry’s survival is nothing short of a miracle. We must protect him at all costs.”
James stumbled into the nursery, his eyes frantic as they landed on Lily, then on their children. “Lily… oh, thank Merlin…”
He dropped to his knees beside her, wrapping her in a tight embrace, his body trembling with relief. “Harry… Miruna…”
“They’re alive,” Lily whispered, tears streaming down her face as she clutched James. “We’re all alive.”
Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on James’ shoulder, his voice dripping with grandfatherly concern. “James, Lily, you’ve done more than anyone could have asked. Harry and Miruna need you now more than ever.”
James’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears, his grief and relief overwhelming. “Harry… he survived… how?”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, though the emotion behind them was carefully concealed. “It is a miracle, James. A miracle that we must protect at all costs. Harry is special—remarkably so. The world will look to him now.”
The world will need a hero, and I will give them one. As for the girl… she will have her place, though it will be a quieter one. Perhaps that is for the best.
As Dumbledore consoled the Potters, the medic stood, her work done. Miruna was unconscious, her small body still trembling slightly as the curse was sealed off. There was no twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he looked at her, only a cold calculation masked by the warmth of his voice.
“She will need care,” the medic said, her tone flat.
“Of course,” Dumbledore replied, his voice soft, gentle, as he laid a hand on Miruna’s forehead. “We will see to it that she is looked after.”
But not too much care, he added silently, already planning the narrative that would follow. The world needs a savior, not a tragedy. The girl will survive—she is a Potter, after all—but Harry… Harry will be the one they remember.