Prologue
The sky roared with thunder over Godric's Hollow on the night of 31st October 1981. Lord Voldemort stood before the dead body of his latest victim, James Potter and sneered in triumph, at the possibility of finally getting his hands on the Child of Prophecy.
He gazed into the eyes of the dead and a thrill went through his bones. Oh how he loved the feeling whenever he used the Killing Curse. It was madness, dark and twisted. It was ecstatic and euphoric. It was one of the few things that made him feel alive.
He breathed in, relishing in the dark power that coursed through his body as he felt the aftereffects of using a dark curse.
His head whipped towards the top of the stairs as a baby cried. A soft hush of a woman's voice was its only reply. A wicked grin formed onto the Dark Lord's lips, showing all of twisted and crooked teeth. He slowly made his way to the nursery where he would surely find his target.
The young Harry Potter.
The boy's mother was kneeling before the crib, cooing to her baby as her son continued to cry. The sight made him laugh. He wondered how the mother would feel after he killed the son right before her eyes?
Would she wail as a piece of her soul tore apart from her? Or would she become a shell of a person like there was no light in the world anymore?
Of course there wasn't going to be light anywhere after tonight when he'd emerge victorious when the child of prophecy was dead before his feet. But he still wondered.
He had promised to spare the woman's life. A gift for his loyal servant. People like him were not easily found, so he would grant his servant his wish. He'd spare the woman.
Now the woman was pleading before him to save her son.
'Anything but them! Please! Have mercy! Have mercy... Please! Oh...'
The sound was music to his ears. The tortured expression on her face, the shrill tone of her voice... He relished in that. He felt such triumph, such delight that he almost didn't hear the woman's pleading words.
Them...?
He looked over the woman's shoulder and found not one but two babies.
How's this possible? There weren't supposed to be two babies.
He peered carefully at their faces. Twins! They weren't identical but still hard to distinguish if both were boys or not.
Oh well. Might as well kill them both just to be safe. He thought nonchalantly.
"Step aside, girl."
Lily Potter did not move. She shook her head ferociously as she continued to plead. Lord Voldemort was growing tired of this grovelling now.
He readied his wand and pointed at the twins. Just as the words left his mouth and the green light flashed before his eyes, Lily Potter had jumped to her feet, throwing her body in front of his wand and the full force of the curse hit her body. Her heavy, dead body thumped to the floor, her eyes wide open with horror.
Voldemort nudged her with his foot. She did not stir.
Pity.
He turned his attention to the children in the crib. One was crying and the other just stared at him. The green eyes met red. The look in the child's eyes held something. It unnerved him.
The Dark Lord had killed and tortured numerous wizards, witches and Muggles. He felt nothing but a shiver of delight as he had done so. But here he was, feeling disturbed.
He clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on his ebony wand. He pointed the wand first at the one who was crying.
Let's see how you would feel when your twin dies! He thought, laughing viciously.
Avada Kadavera!
But the green light hit him instead. He flew back and hit the door, breaking it. He felt himself growing weak. Like the very life itself was being sucked out of him.
No! Impossible!
It cannot be... The curse rebounded... Impossible. He thought, and for the first time in decades he felt something like dread and horror. Fear for his life. He had to get out of here quickly. He stumbled out, tripping over the man's body on the stairs. He gasped out for air but his lungs felt heavy.
Raising his arm, so thin as if there was nothing but just the bones over the skin, he clung to life. It was such a pathetic sight, the great Dark Lord gasping for life, but he couldn't do anything to stop it. The Dark Lord lost his strength at that fateful night in Godric's Hollow, because of some mere children he couldn't kill.
As He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named closed his eyes, all he could see was the flashes of green light and the green eyes of the child, hauntingly staring back at him.