Chapter One: Prologue

It was Halloween night- 1981- and the little cottage at the end of the main road in Godric's Hollow had been decorated for the festivities. Plastic spiders hung from fake webs across the front door, and bright orange blinds had replaced the old, cream-coloured curtains Lily Evans had inherited from her parents, just for one night. Strewn across the front lawn- surrounded by old, dead leaves James Potter had yet to rake up- where around twelve small pumpkin candle-holders that the Potters had found wandering around Muggle shops in the surrounding towns a few years previously. Inside, the house was even more lavishly decorated, with fake masks and skeletons hanging from the walls, and a large bowl of sweets and caramels on the coffee table in the living room. James had even found an old costume of a Muggle's idea of a witch- pointed hat and all- and had persuaded Lily to wear it at the Halloween party they were planning on the weekend. James himself was going to be a clown, and they had found Harry a nice tiger onesie for him to wear too.

The Potters were now seated in their living room, James having just come back from work an hour or so previously. He looked tired, but at the same time relaxed as he wrapped his arms around Lily and waved his wand lazily through the air, causing colourful bubbles to drift slowly around Harry, who was playing on the floor. Harry waved his tiny fists in the air and tried to catch some of the bubbles, but they naturally popped every time he touched them. He was wearing his light blue pyjamas, and Lily remembered how they had been a present from Bathilda on Harry's first birthday. She realised with a jolt that it had been over three months ago now- it seemed like it had happened yesterday. Just a small party: with Sirius, Remus, Peter and Bathilda. Dumbledore had even paid a visit a few weeks earlier, just to check how things were going, and Harry had taken an immediate liking to the old Professor.

Of course, many things had happened since then. The McKinnons had been murdered- for one- and Lily had cried for days because she had been good friends with Marlene at Hogwarts and up until her death. She had also written to Petunia, something she did around two or three times a year, other than the usual cards she sent for Birthdays and Christmas, but there had been no reply. She wished Petunia would stop being so difficult- though she did suspect her husband Vernon had something to do with it- and let them see their son Dudley so that Harry could meet them and have a friend. It was so hard for Harry to play with children his age, as they were now in hiding all the time and had limited contact with the outside world. It wasn't easy for Lily to see them all like this, cooped up inside, with James being the only one allowed to leave the house to do work for the Order, but Lily knew it was for Harry's safety- and her's and James' too. After Dumbledore had informed them of the prophecy, and explained that Voldemort had chosen Harry and intended to track them down and kill him, life had ceased to be easy. Yes, they had been living in a war then too, and having faced Voldemort multiple times- in mortal danger anyway. But to be targeted- for their son to be targeted like this. . . Lily wished with all her heart that she could just wrap her arms around Harry and take him away from everything, where he could be safe. As much as it pained her, however, she would never wish for Voldemort to choose Alice and Frank's son- Neville- instead. She loved Alice dearly, and was just as much friends with her as she had been with Marlene, but they hadn't seen each other for over a year, not since Harry and Neville were born and the two families had gotten together to celebrate.

Lily choked back some tears and buried her head deeper into James' chest. How she loved him. Every time she looked into his deep, brown eyes she would melt into his arms like butter. Yes, he had been an idiot when he was a teenager, but then again they all had at some point- and the war had made them all grow up much faster than they would have otherwise liked.

James glanced at his old watch. It had been passed down to him by his great-grandfather and given to him as a present on his 17th birthday. He wondered if he would ever get the chance give Harry the watch, but shook the negative thought away immediately. Of course Harry would come of age, of course James would give him the watch. They would all grow up to be old and happy and he and Lily would die surrounded by grandchildren. They were perfectly safe now, no one but Dumbledore and a few other close friends knew their location. . . there was nothing yet so much to worry about at the same time. . .

The time. It was nearly midnight.

'Um. . . Lily,' he said, gently removing his arm from around her and stretching. 'Do you think Harry should go to bed now? It's getting pretty late.'

Lily smiled at him and nodded, getting up and picking Harry up off the ground, swinging him into her arms. 'I'll take him up upstairs now.'

James ruffled Harry's short tufts of messy black hair. 'See you in the morning, little man.' Harry gurgled at him and clapped his hands. He didn't look the slightest bit tired, but if James was correct- and he usually was- Harry would be dropping off to sleep the moment Lily placed him in his crib. He gave Lily a hug and they kissed- a long, deep kiss that should've lasted hours, but was interrupted by a sudden loud noise at the door. The couple froze, their lips pressed tightly together. Slowly, James pulled apart and peered at the front door. He couldn't see anything in the dark of the hallway, but he sensed the dark shadow standing just outside the door. He didn't need to think, didn't need to reason, for him to know who it was.

The Fidelius charm had broken.

'Lily,' he croaked. 'Take Harry and go. It's him. Go! Run! I'll hold him off!'

Lily was in no doubt that he was right. Weeping softly into Harry's pyjamas, she walked quickly past James and hurried up the stairs to the nursery- images of Voldemort standing in the middle of a battlefield, everyone she knew and loved dead all around her, flashing through her mind as she pushed open the nursery door and stumbled in, closing it behind her. She heard James' voice downstairs, a high cruel laugh, and a thump that sent a wracking sob through her body. James was dead- she knew it. He had died trying to protect her and Harry. . . he had died trying to protect his son. Her love, her heart- her life- was dead. It felt like the ground below her had ripped open and she had fallen into the fiery depths of hell.

But she still had Harry. Harry, the only one she had left now- the rope she could grasp and use to pull herself back up to Earth. Lily placed Harry in his crib and kissed his forehead. He still didn't realise what had happened. . . didn't understand that he would never hear his daddy's warm laughter or feel his gentle hands lifting him up into the air again.

She heard Voldemort coming up the steps and gasped. In a moment of desperation, she began piling everything she could against the closed nursery door in order to barricade it. Part of her knew it was useless- Voldemort was taking his time to come upstairs, if he believed they had a chance of escaping, he would have already reached them and been about to end their lives- but the rest of her hoped it would help, if only somewhat. She wouldn't stand around and watch as he murdered her son. She had to do something, however fruitless it seemed.

Lily pushed Harry's large, heavy chest of drawers against the door, something which she would have found impossible without magic a mere few minutes ago. But a new, fiery strength had sprung up inside her. She knew she had to protect her son, whatever the cost may be, however much she'd have to pay for her actions. She had already lost so much. . . she had already lost James. . . but she wasn't going to lose Harry. She would defend him from Voldemort until the very end.

She moved to stand next to the crib just as the door burst open. Voldemort stood in the doorway, his red eyes scanning the room. Lily screamed and flung herself in front of Harry, shielding him.

'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'

'Stand aside, you silly girl. . . stand aside, now. . .'

'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-'

'This is my last warning-'

'Not Harry! Please. . . have mercy. . . have mercy. . . not Harry! Not Harry! Please- I'll do anything!'

'Stand aside- stand aside, girl-'

Voldemort could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all. Green light flashed around the room and Lily dropped to the ground like her husband.

Harry had not cried all this time: he could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing-

Voldemort pointed his wand very carefully into the boy's face: he wanted to see it happen- the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. The child began to cry: it had seen that the strange man was not James. Voldemort did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones' whining in the orphanage-

'Avada Kedavra!'

And then he broke: he was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away. . . far away. . .