Godric's Hollow
He was upon his Victory, he could almost grasp it. Yes after tonight could he finally reap upon the Decades of work, because tonight the last hope of the Wizarding Isles would be silenced, oh how he relished in the thought.
So Lord Voldemort mused as he walked down the Roads of Godric’s Hollow. His destination the heavily warded Potter Residence. The War would be over, after tonight all would be over.
And there was his Destination, a small House, in an small Village, in the middle of nowhere.
Oh how he wanted to just destroy it, but yet there was one finale obstacle to his hunt, the Ward.
Raising his Wand like an Artist would raise his Paintbrush he began to mutter Wardbreaker Incarnation after Wardbreaker Incarnation, his Wands tip pulsing in an soft yellow glow, illuminating the dark Night.
The Ward crumbled slowly but yet stood for the time firmly. It annoyed Voldemort greatly for how dare the Ward stood in his Way, it did not matter that it was beyond Ancient, it did not matter that it was infused whit the Magic of countless Generations of Potters for he was the Dark Lord and it was his Power that eclipsed them all.
As he was forced to wait for his Magic to overwhelm the ancient Bastion so did his thoughts wander. How far was Bellatrix along whit her Assignment? Her alongside the Lestrange Brothers and Crouch departed long since for the Longbottom Hideout. Surely the Boy was killed? Though for the Parents Lord Voldemort could not know, oh how his Bella loved to play whit her Victims before they died. It was an Quality he could find alluring.
Just then did the Ward finally decent from the House, softly white it began to glow in the Night before rupturing and tearing before it withdrew to allow the Dark Lord passage.
Swiftly he closed in on the old House, soon enough it would become an Tomb, a Monument to remind all that dare to stand against the Dark Lord would be met whit same fate.
The Dark Lord had to stop only a few Steps away from the backdoor entrance for it was to sweet of am Situation. A crazed laughter escaping his Lips as he thought about all that brought him here, to this House, at this Night.
There was Serverus Snape, a pathetic young Boy coming to him out of jealousy for another had taken his love away from him. How readily he wished to join, how readily he gave his service all because the World was not nice to him, because he hoped by exposing the Prophecy to his Lord would he become more then he was ever destined for. It was grand to see the Boy throw away his love for the Chance of falling in his Lords good grace.
Then another Boy, Petter Pettigrew. Oh he was the most amusing for he did not betray out of a sense of being wronged, nor for believing in the Dark Lords cause. No he came to the Dark Lord out of fear, he came to him out of disgusting weakness and the faintest hope of living to an old Age. That he ensured the Death of the once most dear to him was quickly forgotten by him.
Yet the Dark Lord had to stop his wandering thoughts it was not the time to muse for he would have long enough once the Potter Lineage was cut short. And just as the Dark Lord wanted to step closer to the House so did a harsh Wind stop him in his tracks. The cold and menacing Wind cutting against the Robes of Voldemort lasting unnaturally long before dieing down. It was as if Nature itself tried in vain to stop what was to come. But Lord Voldemort knew better then to belive such, for what was Nature in comparison to him? Was he not the one who defeated Nature in its most absolute Law? Was he not the one to defeat Death itself?
Stepping in towards the dimly lit backdoor he levelled his Wand to the Lock. Yet again where his Robes assaulted by an cold breeze, though much weaker this time. A last warning he mused sarcastically.
Alohomora, the Dark Lord thought absently, he was aboth vocalizing such rudiment Spells. The Door sprang open a Second later as if to proof him correct but did it so whit an low creaking no doubt alarming the hiding Potters. Step after Step did he enter the Kitchen the coldness and darkness seemingly following into the warmth and light of the House, an Omen of what was to come.
The faintest Noise was coming from aboth, he could hear the sharp and shallow Breaths of his Victims, could smell there fear on his Tongue.
“wait here” was faintly heard coming threw the Halls, no doubt would it have gone unheard by the Dark Lord was it not for all the Rituals he made himself endure, cleansing himself of all the human weakness lingering in his Body.
Unbothered if he now made noise he paced further into the little Cottage, down a short Corridor and then up the first few Steps of the Staircase. It was here that he faced his first Opponent of the Night. James Potter.
“Lily, take Harry and go!”, he screamed, a harsh blue Spell leaving the dead Men’s Wand. It was by all means a futile Attempts at slowing the inevitable.
“It’s him! I’ll hold him off-”, Avada Kedavra, in was only the thud of the Body of the Men opposing him that was heard in the silence of the House, the Halls briefly filled whit toxic green light.
And just like that did the Men lay atop the Stairs, a cold and heartless Laughter rumbling from Voldemorts lips. Oh, how foolish was the Men to assume he could hold himself against the dark Lord for even a Second. The Idea itself was humorous, the Act warranted his Death nonetheless.
More noise, the Mother rushing away and into an Room further down the Hall and locking the Door behind her.
Manic laugher escaped his Lips yet again, yes tonight proofed to be a humorous one indeed. A muggle lock holding him back? Laughable, truly for his amusement did the Girl earn herself a Chance for her live, and did Severus not want to keep her anyways? Yes...yes, the Potions Master did want her, she shall live then he decided for was the Dark Lord not most gracious?
Whit loud steps did he close in on the Door and before he could raise his Wand so did he hear the muffled Voice of her again,”mommy loves you harry. mommy loves you so much.”
Love? Did she truly belive that a feeble Concept as love could protect her Child? Voldemort could only feel a vague hatred towards the Mother, but he could not decipher as to why? Was it because she underestimated his Power so greatly… or was it something more? The not knowing itself only further enraged him.
Snapping his Wand towards the barricading Door, as if he needed to aim, he conceptualized a Spell in his Mind Reducto.
The Door flew of its hinges as the bright explosion tore it to a thousand Splinters.
He strolled into the Doorway and whit an mock interest took in the Scene before him.
There stood the Girl before the Crib of the Child, her Hands raised to her sides, shielding the Child from what was to come. Oh and how she shook, how she feared the smell so sweet on his Tongue.
A mocking smile crossed his Lips at her feeble attempt to protect the Child behind her.
“Not Harry,” the Girl pleaded whit him, her voice breaking, “not Harry. Please not my Children.”
He did not listen, did not pick on at how she spoke in the plural, all he could hear is useless begging.
“Stand aside Girl, stand aside,” he sneered, “stand aside an you shall live.”
It was the most gracious offer Lord Voldemort would ever make he knew so, she knew so as well but still she began to beg yet again.
“Not Harry,” she repeated, ugly tears streaming down her Face, desperation filling her Voice, “take me instead! Just please not my Children!”
Lord Voldemort scolded at her manic attempts to safe her Child when it was that he came exactly because of the Child. Growing irritated whit her and patients degrading whit her pathetic display he took a step forward, the Step was final, a gesture that her defiance end or he would end it. Her Body shook, she was filled whit desperation and fear… and yet her Eyes where filled whit defiance. So it was decided.
“Please, not Harry. Have Mercy,” she begged, her Voice but a faint whisper,”…have mercy:”
Voldemort raised his Wand suddenly, hatred having taken the worse of him. Wordlessly brining the toxic green Light upon her. A pathetic thud and the crumbled form of the defiant Girl was all that was left of her.
The wailing Sound of the Child behind her was music to his Ears, however so was there another Sound that came to him.
Slowly turning his Head to the right so did he see second Crib to thee farside of the Room.
Another Child? It was most rare when the Dark Lord was surprised and still there was another Child in the Room. Did the Rat try to withhold the second Child? Did the hope his Lord would miss her? No… no that could not be it, he was to much of a coward for such. But then who threatened the Rat to stay silent? Who could hope to gain from the second Child?
Could it be…? No, it couldn’t...Severus.
Manic laughter filled the Nursery, silencing both crying Children.
Severus, yes he was the only one to know anything of the Potters besides the Rat, was the only one whit an incentive to safe a Child of the Mudblood… but then again why? What made Severus decide to hide a Child from his Lord? It did not matter, Voldemort decided. He would know soon enough anyway. Severus would pay for it. That is after he killed both Children that is.
Lord Voldemorts attention came back to Harry, he took anther Step towards the Crib, then another and another, ignoring the Body of the Mother as he step over her before soon enough he was directly in front of the Crib.
The young Boy looked up at the dark Figure whit silent Tears escaping from his Eyes, the Monster before the Child only grinned in delight at the fear of the Boy.
Such an overwhelming feeling of Power! He had killed them all, all that stood in his Way! All that tried to defy him! And here he was, here at last would he destroy this last obstacle to his ultimate Success!
Whit psychotic Glee and an rush of Power did he level his Wand against the Child's Face, the feeling of ultimate Success made him drunk as he raised his Wand harshly aboth his own Head and brining it down whit force, screaming out in his Triumph, “Avada Kedavra!”
The Room was filled whit bright green Light, however it did not die down but lingered for far to long. The spelling roaring against his ears. In his glee, drunk on success did he not notice how the Spell came back towards him.
Only in the last Second came the realization of what was to happen to him.
And then and only then could he feel fear coursing threw him.
Then he was no more, reduced to ashes.
---
The Nursery of the Twins was dark and silent at last, filled only whit the soft cries and whimpers of both Infants. They did not know what happened, would not know for Years to come.
One Child, Harry, was marked whit a thin cut upon his Forehead shaped as a lighting Bolt. But was it so much more then just a simple Mark, more then just the Mark of the killing Curse. It was a Mark of his Mothers unending love and devotion for him, a Shield that would forever Protect him from the evil that had come for him this Night.
The other Child, Azalea, was left untouched but because of that, because she was not marked whit the dying love of there Mother was she left exposed, did not know the protection her Brother knew. She wailed softly, so much like her Brother, seeking the warmth of her Parents, not knowing they would never feel it again.
But then there was also a third Soul lingering, it was just an shattered Piece of one whole, its time rapidly running out as Death sought to claim the first Piece of a Soul which so readily defied him. In its desperation it descended upon the Children both. As an dark Mist did it seek out the Infants, one marked and shielded, the other untouched and exposed for the dark Corruption.
The Soul Shard forced itself into the Child, the young Girl screaming in unbearable pain as the dark Cloud descended on her, seeping threw her Skin and infesting what was most precious in her, her Heart.