October 31st, 1981 would go down in history as the happiest day in the Dark Lady's rise to power, she was sure of it. Lady Voldemort, born from a useless muggle father who abandoned her to an orphanage, and an unnoteworthy mother who she paid little heed to. Years of abuse had hardened her soul as she climbed the ranks of magical society with the silver tongue of Grindelwald, the political machinations of Dumbledore and the power of Merlin himself. For a decade her loyal death eaters fought by her side, eliminating anyone who dared to speak her name. She had studied 'the art of war', 'guerilla warfare' and 'psychological warfare' from muggle books. For all her hate of them, she at least respected their ability to harm each other, having been on the receiving end for much of her childhood. Thus she had grown stronger, and attracted followers, and oh how ironic and poetic was it for those purebloods to be kissing the hem of her feet, that of a half-blood.

But she could not afford to daddle, nor ruminate, for tonight was an opportunity that would not present itself easily. Her follower Severus Snape had told her of the prophecy, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies." This produced quite the dilemma for her, as her spies reported three possible children who fit the prophecy, no more no less. Harry James Potter, born July 31st 1978, Heather Dorea Potter, born July 31st 1980, and Neville Longbottom, born July 30th 1980. She had ruminated for days after learning of this, but had settled for the Potters. Two of the three candidates were at the same place, and the Potters had been the larger of two thorns at his side, and she had disdainful admiration of the mudblood Lily Potter. Lady Voldemort did not judge by petty things such as blood, and to an extent, she saw herself in Lily Potter, which is why thrice she had let her and James escape rather than kill them. No other non-pureblood had received such mercy, yet her offers for them to join her had been rebuffed, and now it was time to show them the price to pay!

Pettegrew, how she despised the rodent. She felt little emotion most of the time, save a bit of care for her precious inner circle-her first followers-and a bit of hatred and grudging respect to the few powerful enough to survive and defy her. But one emotion that was hatred consumed her at the thought of a traitor, and one of such severity. To be named secret keeper was a sacred honour, for the charm could not work unless the one who cast the Fidelius believed in the secret keeper completely. For a secret keeper to willingly betray one was unthinkable, and had never happened in recorded history. When she first learned of Wormtail's defection, she had been tempted to kill the man outright, yet pragmatism triumphed over emotion, and she kept him, for he held the key for her to victory.

She entered Godric's Hollow unopposed, to be met by Wormtail as expected, who bowed down immediately. "Did the plan work?" she asked curtly. Her voice was innocent and melodic, meant to lull one into a feeling of safety and comfort, but all her followers knew there was steel backing it.

"Y-y-yes my lady," he stuttered out, "the Potters have gone to defend Thimble Village as predicted, my lady, a brilliant diversion. The children are upstairs in their room now."

"You have done well, Peter. Leave and return to Malfoy manor, await Bellatrix's return from the Longbottoms and Malfoy's return from the raid. Do not do anything stupid, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes my lady," he whimpered before scampering out of the house with a bow. She watched him leave with distaste, but remembered time was short, and ascended the stairs with grace. Her cape billowed as she marched down the corridor and entered the children's room, seeing the crib where she was shocked to see a little boy holding on the ledge, staring directly at her with his emerald green eyes. For a moment, the dark lady forgot why she was here, entranced by the mesmerizing emeralds, but she quickly clamped down on her occlumency and raised her wand.

"You do not fear me," she noted curiously, sparing a glance at the little girl behind him sleeping. A part of her despised children-the very same creatures who tormented her for a decade before Hogwarts, yet this warred with her motherly nature she long thought dead.

"Why would I fear one who allows themselves to be guided by the foolish words of a prophecy, to be surrounded by traitorous men who would just as easily bed you and then dump you for another? You compensate for your hurt by building your empire, but you shall collapse, and your kingdom with you."

Lady Voldemort was shocked. She did not expect to be having any sort of conversation with a three year old, let alone an intelligent one. Even she, the great dark lady, would not know concepts such as patriarchy, prophecies, treason and statesmanship and psychology. She could not help herself, she gave a light melodic laugh that weakened even the strongest willed of men. To her surprise his eyes only hardened, radiating with fierce determination.

"My, my, you're a smart one, aren't you?" she cooed, to her own shock. "I want to see such talent nurtured, so I shall give you a choice. Step aside and allow me to kill your sister, she could just as easily be part of the prophecy as you. I could take her and leave you alive."

"And turn my back on family, never. Do you think so lowly of me?" he scoffed, and the Dark Lady felt her respect for this boy go up. He was clearly more powerful one, and her logical side screamed for her to eliminate this threat. The practiced killer raised her wand, though not without slight tremble and hesitation.

"Step aside, this is your final warning. I can either kill you both, or just your sister, it would be a waste for you to die too," the dark lady mused. Of course she would not spare the boy, it was too risky, but she was curious to see how he would react. A part of her would feel strangely proud while the rest respectful for what he said next. He was wise beyond his years, smarter than many men she was burdened to lead.

"You lie. You would never let me live, and I shall not play your games." His eyes burned and she was at risk of being mesmerized again. "Take me, my blood for my life, my life for my honour, my honour for my family!"

The dark lady resisted the urge to clap, she would not mock the child who so clearly deserved at least some measure of respect. Here before her was someone with the potential to be a true enemy, and a part of her screamed for her to take the child and allow him to grow up, to see what he would become. But she knew this could not be, she was selfish and she knew it. He had to die.

"You have read the works of Artemis Grey, I am impressed. But unfortunately for you I can read your mind, and I know that you are trying to stall for the desperate hope that your parents will return. How I yearn for someone to be as devoted to me as you your family!"

Boy and Woman stared at each other for several moments, both understanding what would happen next. There was respect in both their eyes, from him because of her power, and from her because of his loyalty.

"I shall greet death as a friend," he said emotionlessly. "I shall rejoin you, grandfather!" She watched him give her a nod, as though to say he was ready, and she felt her hand tremble as she raised it. A part of her knew he nodded precisely to say that, resigned to death. The bravest of men had been reduced to tears, begging her to spare them, offering money, political power, family members or anything they had, but here before her was a mere three year old who would put them all to shame.

She gave a nod as well as he stared at her defiantly, blocking her view of his sister. "Goodbye, young one. Avada Kedavra!"

The green bolt of death shot out of her wand, headed straight for his head. She watched him continue to meet her gaze, lifting his hands to his side so he looked like a cross, head still facing her as he stared death in the eye.

She watched as the bolt shot towards his head, but all of a sudden it stopped. She watched as his concentrated gazed focused on the green bolt of energy, and her mind screamed at the impossibility of the situation in front of her as the killing curse hovered just centimeters from his head. He brought his hands together in a clap, and the impossible happened-the killing curse rebounded. So enthralled by this display, the Dark Lady did not have the time to dodge before the curse impacted her full on, and her body vainly tried to hold itself together. Decades of rituals that stretched her still youthful body beyond its limits had taken its toll, and her body imploded in a violent burst of magic as she screamed in agony.

A black wisp of smoke shot towards Harry, and he was helpless to stop it as it latched onto his forehead, forming (though he did not know it at the time) a lightning bolt, the norse symbol of power. Then he was blasted off his feet as the magic had finally condensed enough to achieve critical mass, and lashed out at the entire room. His forehead twitched in pain and he concentrated on his magic, pushing all of himself against the lightning bolt scar that was a horcrux, and unknowingly assimilated all of its knowledge and memories into himself, as well as part of the dark lady's power.

HPFC

"Where's Peter? Oh merlin, James, do you think?" Both adults did not hesitate to charge up the stairs to find their children. If Peter had left, it could only mean that he had betrayed them to the dark lord. "Harry! Heather!" Lily Potter's desperate screams echoed in the house as the two bounded up the steps three at a time, wands drawn as they entered the room, past the door blasted apart to see a scene of complete destruction.

Nursery books were strewn about, the bookshelf with a crater in it that extended to the wall while pages were burning into ash. The carpet was obliterated from existence, only a few patches of the fabric remaining. A chair was knocked off its feet, with half of it missing.

"My babies!" Lily cried out relieved as they saw Harry sitting cross legged with Heather in his lap, a large black snake symbol on her forehead. "Heather! My baby! Mummy's here!" she squealed as she rushed to take her off his lap. He merely sat there dazedly, and after she gave him a glance to see no observable damage, she turned all of her attention on her youngest, who now had a terrible scar on her forehead. She was still sleeping peacefully, and Lily began rocking her gently while James watched on fondly.

A long white bearded man stepped through the door, wand in hand as he paused to survey the scene. Reluctantly, he lowered it and stepped towards Lily, eyes focused on her forehead. He walked over to Harry without a word, lifting his hair and staring at him before letting out a hum and walking back to Lily, standing near the door.

"James, Lily, I think that it is safe to say, that Heather Dorea Potter is the chosen one, she is the girl-who-lived," he said with a grandfatherly smile. "She has saved us all."