The Potters’ Last Stand in Vermont
Life was quieter now. A small cabin, nestled in the woods of Vermont. Far from the war. For a brief moment, it felt like peace.
Lily rocked gently in her chair by the fire, Marlene nestled in her arms. Harry toddled up to her, his chubby arms reaching up.
“Don’t worry, Harry,” Lily whispered, kissing Marlene’s forehead as she thought of her friend Marlene McKinnon. “We’ve made it this far. Sirius is watching over us. And Peter…” She paused, shuddering at the thought of their betrayer. “We’ll fight for them. For you. For Marlene.”
That night, as the wind howled against the cabin, Sirius arrived. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear.
“He knows,” he breathed, voice shaking. “Peter told him. He’s coming.”
Lily’s heart sank. “We can’t run again,” she said, her voice steely with resolve. They would fight this time.
“We will,” Sirius promised. “This time, we make sure he doesn’t leave.”
The front door crashed open, the storm outside spilling in with a swirl of snow and smoke. Voldemort entered, his figure a terrifying shadow.
“Sirius Black,” Voldemort hissed.
Sirius raised his wand, ready to fight.
But Voldemort’s gaze was cold. “You see, Black,” he sneered, “I’m not going to kill you tonight. Consider it mercy. Your brother—my loyal servant—begged for your life. How fortunate for you.”
Sirius threw up a shield charm, but it was no match for Voldemort’s power. The curse hit, and Sirius crumpled to the floor.
Lily froze as the thud echoed up the stairs. She squeezed her children to her chest. She barely had time to react before Voldemort was at the door.
“Stay away from my children,” she said, raising her wand.
“Stand aside, girl,” Voldemort sneered, “I only want the boy.”
“No,” Lily’s voice cracked with fury and grief. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
Voldemort sighed, his patience fraying. “I offer you mercy,” he said, as though speaking to a child. “Step aside. Let me have what I want.”
Lily shook her head. “Take me instead.”
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. He had no mercy to give.
With a flick of his wand, he cast the Killing Curse.
“Avada Kedavra!”
A burst of green light.
Lily collapsed, her body crumpling in front of her children. But as she fell, something extraordinary happened.
The room fell silent. The shield, born from Lily’s sacrifice, sprang into existence. Voldemort’s eyes widened as the curse backfired.
“Avada Kedavra!”
The curse rebounded, striking Voldemort himself. A piercing shriek filled the room, and his body disintegrated into nothingness.
Sirius stumbled to his feet, dazed, still feeling the sting of the battle. His heart hammered in his chest as he took in the scene—the shattered crib, the lifeless form of Lily, and Harry’s wailing cries.
Marlene stirred beside him. She looked up at him, her tiny hand reaching for his.
“I swear,” he whispered, his voice breaking, “I’ll keep you safe.”
And somehow, despite the grief, the destruction, the loss, he knew they’d carry on. For Harry. For Marlene.
For the Potters.