Prologue (1): Samhain 1981

October 31st, 1981, Godric's Hollow

(Lily Potter POV)

Even if she was in the middle of a war, Lily Potter would say that she was blessed. If she was honest with herself, the magical world wasn’t the fairy tale land that she imagined when she first realized that she had magic all those years ago. The bigotry, the corruption, and the genocidal Dark Lord were more than enough reasons for her to forget about her magic – as horrible as that might be – and hide back in the muggle world.

And yet, she doesn’t regret staying in this cursed place. She might be fighting a war with the headmaster, but she had found a good husband that adores her, finally having grown up from being a prat during their early Hogwarts years, and she loves in return, but he paled in comparison to her love for her children.

The twins were the light of her life. The eldest, Jasmine, had jet-black hair and emerald eyes that almost seemed to glow. She was somewhat more aware than her brother, judging by her rapid growth in both speech and movement. Oh, her little girl was going to be a small genius. She’ll be both smart and beautiful.

Nathan, on the other hand, was practically a small clone of James, but his facial structure was more delicate, which came from her. He was a bit of a troublemaker, that one, constantly trying to touch and feel everything, and he was constantly moving, if he wasn’t crying out all the time. Many times, Lily wondered how a calm child such as Jasmine could have such a hyperactive one, like Nathan. But in these rare moments, Lily reminded herself how lucky she is to have such healthy and intelligent children.

Her musings were interrupted by a familiar voice, “Lily, we’re going to be late.”
“I’m coming,” she replied. It was her husband, James Potter. It was baffling how much he matured from his prankster days, even if they sometimes returned when Sirius was around. Lily tucked the two kids in, giving them a kiss each, and walked down to the living room. She was already late for the Order meeting, which made up the main resistance to Voldemort’s reign of terror, led by Albus Dumbledore himself.

Although, the man had given her some very troublesome news, especially concerning the current Dark Lord. Apparently, her children were possible candidates to a prophecy involving him, but she didn’t know the details. She could understand the need for secrecy with traitors being discovered every day. But right now, Dumbledore’s spies claimed that her family and the Longbottoms were being actively targeted by Lord Voldemort.

Which brings them to the fact that they were practically prisoners in their own homes, right now, only leaving their cottage to go to Order meetings, which, to someone as physically active as James, became a breath of fresh air, compared to the cottage.
Lily didn’t want her children to have anything to do with Voldemort at all. It was why she’s been fighting in the first place, to provide them with a safe place to grow up in, a place without conflict, a place without bigotry, a place without constant deaths.

A place that, currently, was made up of just the cottage, which was protected by the Fidelius charm, practically separating them from the rest of the world. It was an old spell before Merlin himself was even born. The spell wasn’t even technically a spell, more of a ritual, really. No one knew how the spell worked, but there were many theories. As for now, only powerful and skilled wizards could cast the spell by following the steps highlighted in the ritual, and any attempts at modifying it had caused the magic to fail immensely.

Nevertheless, it was a powerful spell. Somehow it transforms a secret into a person’s soul, and that person can only say the secret willingly, with the intent of revealing the secret, without there being anything forcing them to say anything, even if they’re just threatened and no magic is being used. It was so impressive that if someone had unleashed Fiendfyre on their front lawn, they would still be untouched. After all, the house only exists for the people who know the secret.

As Lily arrived at the living room, James was practically jumping up and down, eager to leave the house. The man really was cooped up in here, “Alright let’s go, let’s go.”
The redhead sighed in exasperation; James was still a child at heart, “Fine, but please don’t prank anyone. Molly keeps trying to talk to me about what she did to punish her brothers when they caused any mischief, and it ends up with her giving me tips about how to raise my children. I swear, I once almost punched her in the face.”

James grimaced, “Yeah, she can be overbearing, sometimes. I still don’t understand why she’s even a part of the order. She is a pregnant housewife with six children; she doesn’t do anything in meetings other than try to interfere in people’s business and agree mindlessly with the headmaster.”

Lily nodded, “Yeah, I know. But we can’t do anything about it now. Dumbledore is our best bet to protect the children.”

James nodded. Truthfully, the moment they realized that Lily was pregnant, they decided to stop being part of the order, or at least, stop taking part in any active missions. Both Lily and James had lost their parents in this cursed war, and they didn’t want their children to grow up as orphans. And yet, Dumbledore’s prophecy put them and their children back into the spotlight, endangering them and their children even further.

Lily’s thoughts were interrupted by a whoosh, from the fireplace. Remus, Sirius and Peter, the rest of the infamous Marauders had arrived. Lily ignored their usual antics. James needed some time with his friends to relax for a bit, and Lily was more than happy to let him do it.
Peter who had agreed to babysit the kids while they were away spoke up suddenly, “Don’t you guys have to go? You’re already late for the meeting.”

Looking at the clock they panicked. McGonagall was attending this meeting and they didn’t need to be lectured about being punctual again. The members of the order ran towards the fireplace and one by one travelled to Hogwarts, where the meeting was taking place.
For some reason, Lily felt worried about her children, but they were protected by a Fidelius charm, and Peter was there to protect them, being as harmless as they came. No, it was probably nothing. And they’re going to be back in a few hours. What could go wrong?

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(Tom Riddle POV)

It was 10 o'clock when Tom Riddle, widely known as Lord Voldemort, apparated in Godric’s Hollows. He was being summoned to an empty street by one of his followers, the cowardly Wormtail. Truly, a name fitting for the worm in front of him.

Peter Pettigrew was a pathetic man without a single ounce of dignity or loyalty. He followed the strong, like an animal, hoping that they would provide him with protection. He did it with the Marauders when he was in Hogwarts, but in the outside world, where his ‘friends’ were nothing more than children playing war, he turned to the strongest entity he could find, Voldemort himself. He didn’t even need to convince the worm to spy on the order for him; he did it of his own volition. It was disgusting, even for one who had done unspeakable things like him.
Pettigrew was whimpering on the ground without him even doing anything. Torturing him wouldn’t even give him any pleasure. It would be like torturing a cockroach, it would just be boring. For some reason, Wormtail hesitated before speaking, “The Potters Cottage is in Godric’s Hollow.”

Suddenly, a small cottage appeared in front of him. The Fidelius charm truly was a remarkable spell. He’ll need to check it out further in the future if it could even fool him, for a time.
The snivelling man in front of the Dark Lord just bowed further, “C-Can... can I go now, master? Surely my job is done?”

Voldemort sneered at the coward. How did that thing in front of him get sorted in Gryffindor of all places, he had no idea, “Leave!”

The man let out a squeak and apparated away, leaving the Dark Lord with his charges. The worm wouldn’t survive for long, anyway. Any man that would betray his closest friends so, would do the same to him without blinking. Even if his Animagus form was useful, it wasn’t enough to counteract the risk he presented.

The Dark Lord entered the unprotected cottage and walked up the stairs with purpose. The prophecy would not be fulfilled, no matter what. Once the children were dead, he would do the same to the Longbottom boy, and with it, his immortality would be assured. He would never enter Death’s realm.

Voldemort couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of Death. He had met her once, when he was younger, hearing rumours of a prophecy of a man who would defeat death, conquer it, and achieve true immortality. He was certain that it was him, it was his fate. He tracked it down and tried to summon it to defeat it, but he ended up being smacked around like he was barely more than an ant opposing a god.

He still remembered the words that haunt him still, “You are not the one who will become my Master. You are nothing more than a child running from what is inevitable. In the end, everything and everyone enters my realm."

Ever since that day, Tom Riddle did his best to prove Death wrong. He travelled the world and tried to learn magics lost to time, in a hope of being strong enough to defeat death and become its master.

Even now, he was trying to the Potter children to secure his ascension. If Death would have no sway over him, then Fate will not either. He will break that prophecy, and he will live forever.
When he arrived at the children’s room, he was shocked. The eldest, the girl, was levitating blocs around to amuse her giggling brother. It was impossible; no one could do any type of controlled magic until at least the seventh birthday when their magic stabilizes somewhat. It was a universal rule, one that applied to even Voldemort himself when he was younger. Curious, he spread his senses to see the two children’s potential. It was a curious technique, sort of a handshake between two magics and he had to say. People tended to avoid it since mixing magics could cause one to unknowingly influence the other’s magics, which could cause them to inherit magical traits from the user of the spell since it was primarily a soul-based one. It was an easy way for someone to lose their inheritance, not that Voldemort cared. The twins were going to die, after all.

What he saw, surprised him immensely. The boy’s magic, while impressive for his age, was as chaotic as a child’s should be. The boy will grow up to challenge him and Dumbledore in power, if he applies himself and develops his magic properly, that is. The girl, for some reason, had her magic completely under control. It was even more controlled than his was, and that’s not to mention the fact that her raw power was very concerning. It was odd, as if the girl’s magic was being influenced somehow, made smoother, more controlled while growing in power abnormally.

This must be the child of the prophecy, not that he wouldn’t kill the other candidates as well. But he might as well start with her. He pointed his wand at her, and she looked at him with a surprisingly intelligent glint in her eyes. He couldn’t help but mourn the witch that she could have become, “I’m sorry, child. Only I can live forever. Avada Kedavra”

As usual, a beam of green light raced towards his target, hitting her in the forehead. The girl fell down, dead. Except a second later, she was glowing from her chest and a veritable shockwave of energy derived from his own killing curse was released from her chest, vaporizing everything in front of her, which unfortunately includes him as well.

The wave continued and blasted a hole through the corner of the room where Voldemort had stood, opening the room to the night sky. The blast seemed to have harmed the Potter boy as well, since he now had a large scar on his left cheek, all the way down to his neck, which looked somewhat like roaring flames.

The Dark Lord’s spirit was blasted out of the cottage and flew the scene, his Horcruxes allowing him to survive the blast, although he was now little more than a spirit. As for Jasmine Potter, she was unconscious, with a thin almost invisible lightning bolt scar on her forehead, which glowed ominously for a few seconds before almost fading away.