Important Author's Note: Okay, so before I go any further I Just want to say this. I know what you're thinking. You're going 'Really? This Moron is starting ANOTHER story when his other's aren't completed?'. A completely justified response. Believe me, I often feel the same when I look at this story. However, I'd like to explain a little. Sometimes, no matter how hard I try, I just can't write about what I want to write. Whether that be A Witch, A Wizard And A Mechanic, or Into The Black etc. When I get into these situations I still write though, it's just whatever I can actually persuade my brain to focus on. Now, lately this story has been bopping around in my cranium whenever I hit a roadblock with one of my other stories (Which is often).
A Couple quick things. This story is (with permission) based off of ffdrake's IATB series. So you will see some similarities. The Second thing I want to note is this. This story will mostly proceed when I find myself unable to work on my other more primary works.

Oct.31st.2000 A.D

Godric's Hollow, Wales.

The United Kingdom

Godric's Hollow, looked for all intents and purposes like one might imagine a small medieval or renaissance village in Great Britain around two to three hundred years ago. Little 'gingerbread' style wood and plaster homes lining the roads around a small square where a church sat with it's small graveyard.

It might have been described as delightfully quaint on most occasions; unfortunately tonight it was dark, as a miserable drizzle of rain fell from the sullen clouds which skulked overhead. This night may have been All Hallows Eve but people were not inclined to be out and about longer than necessary in weather such as this. The most activity one might have encountered this night up to this point was a small black cat skittering from shelter to shelter on its way home through the rain.

Unfortunately the reluctant peace of the Hollow was about to be broken, in a way the residents would never have hoped for, as a series of dull cracks heralded the appearance of five figures robed all in black.

In any other town this occurrence would have been unusual. After all, most people did not contrive to just appear from thin air on a regular basis. Although their strange outfits might have been dismissed as Halloween costumes on this night in particular, they were the normal attire for the intruders.

Godric's Hollow was a largely wizarding hamlet however, and thus people arriving in such a fashion was not particularly strange. Conversely however any in the Hollow who saw these particular figures that night could never mistake them for costume wearing hooligans celebrating a bit later than usual.

The black robes, the silver masks and the tall pale figure of their leader gave away just who these unwelcome visitors truly were. Death Eaters. Terrorists and murderers who had haunted and beleaguered Wizarding Britain for some time now. A source of terror for those they visited upon in the middle of the night.

The figures followed their leader out of the trees across the damp autumn grass to the edge of the road. Water welling about their boots as they tromped along to stare across at a line of hedges.

The leader of this group and indeed all Death Eaters, stood observing what appeared to those gathered as a mere hedge through dark red eyes with vertical slit like pupils. He waved idly to two of his cohorts who nodded before stepping back and pulling stone cylinders from their robes.

With a twist and a crack the cylinders became active and an unnaturally oppressive hush fell over this corner of the village as the wards rose. The cloaked men tossed the cylinders to the sides and rejoined their master. No one would be fleeing with the aid of magic tonight.

The one known as Voldemort stood pensively for a moment, "You are certain this is the location Wormtail? I would be most…displeased if you were to have brought me to the wrong location…" He said, his voice filled with sibilant hissing.

The shortest of the cloaked men shuffled forward nodding firmly, blinking uncertainly up at him, twitching slightly with nerves. "Yes Master, as I was saying the Potter safe-house is located at…" He began pointing but stopped, shuddering, when the Dark Lord raised a pale hand to stop him.

"Yes…indeed, I can sense the magic now. I would have missed it had I not known where to begin searching. Very clever, Dumbledore…but not clever enough I fear." Voldemort murmured.

He snapped up his wand and after a hissed word an arc of blue light lashed out across the road and slammed into something solid. A deep gonging noise filled the air and then…a crack and the world in front of them began to ripple and twist as the Dark Lord tore at the protections surrounding the house.

Finally stepping back, panting slightly, he grinned in triumph. "Hmmm, I have never shattered such a spell before." He admitted, before nodding slightly. "Powerful magic old man…" He conceded absently to his distant foe.

In the house which had just appeared, lights were flickering on and he smiled as shadows flitted about in the windows. "Ah, it seems the Potters know they have visitors. Wonderful. Let us see about what kind of hospitality they offer shall we?" He said, smiling dryly at the anticipatory way the others were shifting on their feet.

"Flint, Castagus?" He murmured negligently, pointing to the now revealed house. "Be so kind as to ring the door would you?"

Had it been possible to see their faces without their masks both men would have been sporting feral grins. They tromped across the cobbled road kicking open the gate noisily on their way to the front door.

Voldemort idly examined his fingers, not even blinking as a boom split the air when his minions blasted the front door inwards. The noise had barely begun fading when they ran through the shattered frame into the house and shouts began to sound, accompanied by flashes of light which illuminated the doorway.

It didn't take long, he had suspected this would be the case when he'd ordered those particular knuckle draggers in after all. Soon enough he felt a pair of twinges through his connection to them via the magical brands on their forearms and he knew both of them had died.

The smile which twitched his lips was thoroughly disquieting to see, even for his remaining two servants. "You two, stay here would you? I'll handle this personally I think."

Voldemort took his time crossing the street, he knew that his prey could not attempt to flee with the wards he had his servants raise around the house. People could enter through the ward line while they were active, but could not leave. Not without the 'mark'. And those temporary ward stones would last more than long enough for his purposes.

The home was…disgustingly cozy he decided. Not at all in keeping with his tastes, or those of most of the elite of Wizarding Britain. A home housing the scion of an Ancient and Noble house, should not be 'cozy' or 'warm' or filled with photographs of the family within. It should reek of power and of an austere sort of tastefulness only the wealthy and influential could afford. Oh how far the Potters had fallen he thought mockingly.

Come to be in enough battles, and one developed something to a sixth sense for danger, and Voldemort had been in many battles. The creak of a floorboard, a slight shift of the shadows and he knew almost the moment he entered just where James Potter was waiting to ambush him from.

So he was less than surprised when the man darted out from the alcove under the stairs and fired a curse at him. The man hadn't shouted his curse aloud, oh no, James Potter was far too skilled a duelist for that. Nevertheless the Dark Lord was something of a connoisseur of malign magics and knew precisely what had been fired at him. Deftly sidestepping the oily yellow light of a particularly effective exploding hex.

A good choice that, it might even have injured him had it struck the house instead of rocketing out into the front yard where it sprayed dirt into the air. The next curse to come was a cutter which he blocked casually with a flick of his wrist causing a shield to briefly pop into existence between them.

Oooh, Lily has been teaching James some of Severus' secrets it seems. Very good. Sectumsempra was a wonderful cutting spell which could do a great deal of harm; if one did not know the counter the afflicted could easily die of exsanguination in short order.

Still, an entirely defensive duel was no fun the Dark Lord supposed and fired a pair of curses back, testing his opponent's skill and was gratified when they did more harm to the house than to his opponent. He did so relish the chances he got to face a truly skilled opponent. Exhilarating.

He knew he was more powerful, more knowledgeable and more skilled than his opponent, but even if James was not at his level the man was still dangerous, any duelist underestimated their foe at their own peril. It was part of what made duelling so enjoyable for him. What made defeating foes so enjoyable.

Voldemort feared death yes, and in his opinion any sane individual would, but that did not change the thrill he got at skirting close to it upon occasion. At daring it to take him even when he knew its grip held no permanent sway over him.

Oh yes, this was going to be fun.

Lily Potter's blood chilled in her veins and her heart constricted painfully as the spellfire downstairs stopped and was followed by a triumphant laugh, knowing that even as silence fell the life was likely leaving her husband's body.

Her husband, her love, the father of her child was almost certainly dead, but she could not focus on that just yet. She had other, more pressing matters which demanded her attention, namely ensuring her child survived the night.

Poor little Harry, her poor child was fussing and crying, it broke her heart to have been forced to carve that rune into his forehead. The little sowilo lightning bolt rune still bled slightly on his forehead. If there had been any other way she would have taken it, but this was the only option left for her to protect her son now.

She couldn't run, not with that ward bubble up. She'd seen it before, people attempting to make a run for it only to find themselves trapped within by their attackers. No apparition was possible, no floo worked, no portkey traveled when those infernal ward stones were active.

Even if she could have physically run her way out, it wouldn't have been advisable. Not with the Death Eaters prowling around, it would have been hard enough to escape herself without trying to carry Harry along with her.

This mad plan she found herself forced to enact was her last ditch effort to save her son and she had to work fast if she wished it to succeed. Casting a quick series of sealing charms and wards at the door before she even heard the first squeak on the stairs she turned and got to work finishing the enchantments around her son.

She'd barely finished casting the last spell on her child when the door blew inwards, her ears instantly ringing from the deafening rush of noise, feeling the heat against her back the shattered remains of the door rocketed across the room to slam against the wall, she shielded her child with her body before whirling and firing a flurry of curses at the first thing to attempt to step through the door.

Most were blocked or otherwise avoided by the Dark Lord but one piercing hex slipped past his guard. Passing close enough to his face to open a small cut on his pale cheek before he disarmed her sending her staggering back against the crib.

She couldn't hear well at first over the still ringing cacophony in her ears but she could still make out the sound of poor little Harry screaming his lungs out in terror.

As her wand clattered to a halt at his feet Voldemort paused looking almost skeptical before raising a hand to touch gingerly at his cheek, drawing his fingers away to blink at the blood marring them. Before smiling a bit manically at her, a mad light dancing in his eyes.

"Well well, Lily Evans…Potter now I suppose." He corrected himself in his strange hissing baritone. His tone eerily remind her of the sound of an enraged snake or reptile as he stepped closer. The inhumanity inherent in her attacker causing a pit of revulsion to coil in her stomach as she regarded him warily going over her plan in her head.

"Do you know…just how long it has been since someone—anyone really, has managed to draw my blood?" Voldemort asked almost conversationally, a sick malicious grin twisting his features around his insane red eyes as he brought up his fingers to lick them clean.

"I see it now, why Severus is so…enamoured with you. Why he wished me to spare you. You are a spirited one to be sure." Voldemort allowed, sounding faintly amused.

She had no time to spare for thoughts of Severus Snape in that moment however, she knew his place in all this, she knew what he had and hadn't done, all of it. But that could wait for later, if she managed to somehow come out of this alive.

"It is…a shame, for Severus, that you put up a fight, he wanted you unharmed you see? But—" He sighed in a put upon matter. "I suppose alive will have to suffice for him. After all, I really must make an example of the person who managed to land a spell on me. I'll have to…play, with you a bit." He murmured, his tone turning deadly serious, the mocking almost whimsical tone of before falling away.

Lily couldn't help it, fear gripped her heart at those last words. She couldn't be certain just what he meant, but it couldn't be good. She knew that despite his vicious reputation he wasn't known for assaulting his victims sexually. His tastes lay elsewhere. He preferred to make those who defied him suffer in other ways.

However, most of all a note of panic entered her mind as a doubt began to seep in. What would happen to Harry if she didn't die? If her death did not fuel the spells she had called into being around him?

She knew what she had to do, but it didn't mean it would be easy. "I'll die before I let you hurt my son you bastard!" Lily snarled pouring every bit of disgust and vitriol she held within her for Voldemort into her voice. Her lip curling with contempt as she regarded the being across from her.

Despite her words and tone Voldemort appeared mildly amused by her continued defiance and he shrugged negligently. "If you insist. Severus will be most disappointed I'm sure, but first…"

His wand rose, the strange and all too familiar hook yew gnarled like an old bone in his hand, a dull red glow coalescing at the tip as a look akin to avarice began to light within his eyes. "Crucio!"

She barely had time to register the bolt of deep crimson light lashing out and wrapping around herself before her world dissolved in the grip of the agony which wracked her. Like liquid fire on every vein, impregnating every muscle and tearing at every nerve with ragged claws.

No doubt, Lily would have crumpled to the floor under the assault had it not been for the way one of her arms hooked, seizing against the pain, on the edge of the crib. It kept her upright despite everything she now suffered.

She screamed, and screamed, until her throat was raw and cracked from it, her torment seeming to last an eternity before he finally released the curse. She could barely see straight as he began to talk, "Are you sure you don't want to reconsider Lily Potter? I can keep this up all night I assure you." He said sounding curious in a way which seemed to her bizarrely academic. As if her response would soon be entered into the data chart for some bizarre study he was conducting.

Lily realized, as a coppery metallic taste flooded her mouth that she'd bitten her tongue in her convulsions, nevertheless she managed to swallow a ragged breath. "Go to hell!" She snarled roughly through her ravaged throat.

He almost looked delighted at her answer and he chuckled. "No thank you, I've heard it is most unpleasant there and so I've taken precautions to ensure I never have to see the place." He noted casually before raising his wand again.

This time the bolt of light which streaked out and bit into her left knee was white, a brief flash before the pain as that limb sagged, the joint no longer holding her weight. It was excruciating the way she had to shift all of her weight onto her remaining tortured limbs in order to ensure her body remained between her son and the Dark Lord. Despite her efforts a strangled shout of pain fought its way past her gritted teeth and pursed lips.

He seemed almost impressed at that. "You are a tough little wench aren't you?" He said shaking his head in apparent wonder, before his voice dropped again and his tone became deadly once more. "Fool girl, step aside now, and I will make your death quick!" He bit out.

Lily couldn't have told another person why she did it but she gathered the blood pooling in her mouth and spat it at her tormentor. Watching in satisfaction as he wiped away the 'mud blood' spattering his face.

His eyes glinted dangerously at her before he grinned darkly at her. "No? Very well…"

The next curse, a swirling bolus of violet energy, struck her in her stomach and threw her to the floor. Agonizing pain rapidly arcing through her entire stomach and lower abdomen causing her arms to curl instinctively over the wound. Her hands brushing against torn flesh and scorched fabric as she did so.

The pain, as bad as any cruciatus though more localized had torn through her torso and into her back before fading to a somewhat more subdued roar. Had she been able to turn around she would have seen that the crib and floor behind her were sprayed with blood.

Her legs were numb, which may actually have been a mercy considering how they should have felt after falling to the floor following a crucio.

Voldemort paced, caressing his wand and tutting derisively under his breath. "Such a waste, you might have been a Mudblood, but you truly were a remarkable woman Lily Potter." He conceded, shaking his head mockingly. "To withstand so much…still. Crucio!"

It was worse this time, perhaps it was because there had been less warning of its coming this time around. The blinding pain was back and she writhed, screaming roughly as she clenched her teeth hard enough she heard a couple of them crack. Her eyes were wide and staring but she saw nothing but the flash of stars as she continued to scream. Her back arched and had anyone been able to hear it over her voice raised against the pain, they might have heard her bones groan in protest.

When the curse finally ended she slumped insensate on the floor, quivering in the small pool of her blood which was forming around her. An uncontrollable twitch had started in her and she curled in on herself against the lingering pain.

Voldemort sighed. "As pleasant a diversion as this was girl, I have other matters to attend to I believe…" He murmured stepping past her broken form towards the crib.

In her mind, Lily was screaming, railing at herself to move, to put herself between him and Harry once more, but her muscles would not obey.

Had she been able to look up she no doubt would have seen the strange look of curiosity which flitted over his face as he impassively observed the small screaming child before it melted into a smirk. "And to think, they believed a little wretch like you could ever threaten me…" He murmured absently.

She willed herself to do something, anything to draw his attention to herself one last time, to die for her child. But she couldn't; she was helpless. Her limbs, those she could currently feel, could no longer be controlled properly after the crucios she'd just endured, and her throat failed to respond to her calls.

He raised his wand pointing it between the child's eyes. "So much for prophecy…" He scoffed. "Avada Kedavra." A blinding green flash and the world faded to darkness.

South Kensington

London, England.

Sirius raced down the wet steps of Amelia's house towards the spot on the street where his motorcycle waited. Amelia hot on his heels, night coat swirling around her pyjama clad body. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his gut, he couldn't put his finger on it but he needed to check on Peter. He needed to get a feel for what was going on.

He couldn't just apparate there of course, close as it was to a few other Wizarding residences he risked drawing attention to the man's hiding place if he did so. He would be better to approach on his bike. Still he'd need to hurry.

He gripped the handlebars with his sweating palms and paused just long enough to allow Amelia to lean in and kiss him luck before kicking the engine to life. He hoped, no he prayed that it was nothing, but somehow as he roared off into the night he couldn't seem to convince himself that it was true.

Godric's Hollow

Wales, United Kingdom

Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, traitor and part time rat winced as a green glow bathed the street from the windows before they blew out showering the front lawn with glass. He was glad they had opted to stand watch down on the street as opposed to closer to the house after that. Not that he was exactly happy to be standing guard with Lucius Malfoy of all people. The man was insufferable, even now that they were on the same side.

He twitched nervously in a way which was remarkably rodent like as he considered the explosion, he should have known Lily would put up a fight he supposed. The woman always had possessed a temper. Not that it would have helped in this case…

He shifted uncomfortably in the following silence as guilt once again reared its ugly head inside him. He might have even reflected on those feelings and wallowed a bit had he not spotted something in the trees across the road. A subtle shift of black on black, the vague textural difference to the shadows beneath the trees which indicated someone or something was lurking within.

Apparently Lucius hadn't noticed that however in the wake of the little explosion because he chuckled, an amused smirk twisting his lips. "Oh dear, it sounds like Missus Potter rather made a mess, do you suppose—"

Peter wasn't paying attention to that however, his eyes still fixated on the growing patch of asynchronous black beneath the trees. "Shhshh!"

Raising a hand which got his compatriot's attention even more than his audacity at shushing him, Peter nodded towards the trees. "Do you see that?"

Lucius raised a quizzical brow. "See what?" He asked staring at the trees now himself.

This likely would have devolved into an argument about whether or not anything was actually there had a figure not chosen that moment to detach itself from the shadows and begin a slow stroll towards them.

Cloaked in black, bearing a silver mask upon their head, it might have been possible to mistake them for a Death Eater. In fact Peter nearly did before his eyes fixated on the little differences.

First and most striking was the more angular and stylized form of the silver mask upon their face. Death Eater masks tended to resemble human faces in one fashion or another. This one did not. Then was the dark armour beneath the robe which he noticed fixed to the distinctly feminine form approaching them.

No Death Eater wore armour that he knew of, least of all one of the few women in their ranks. Armour implied fear of injury, and Death Eaters feared nothing. Or so they liked to claim amongst themselves.

Last and certainly not least was the way the ward bubble collapsed with an audible crack as she raised a gauntleted hand into contact with it, the woman's form flaring briefly as they resisted for a moment and then the ward stones shattered.

"Er—Lucius, I don't think she's one of ours." He managed pulling his wand clumsily.

The derisive snort which came from the other Death Eater was answer enough, "No, you don't think?" Lucius drawled sarcastically raising his wand to fire a bolt of sickly green at the approaching woman.

It was then that things went pear shaped for the Dark Lord's servants. The killing curse, lashed out as expected and was promptly batted aside by a gauntleted hand. Had he been looking closely Peter would have seen the bolt never actually succeeded in making contact with the gauntlet before changing directions sharply and earthing itself in the cobblestones near her feet.

They both stared at her dumbly as she rolled to a stop across from them. She cocked her head curiously and spoke, her tone almost conversational as she planted one hand on her hip. "naʊ wɒz ðæt ˈɛni weɪ tuː griːt ə ˈleɪdi? aɪ θɪŋk aɪm ɪnˈsʌltɪd!"*

The increasingly unnerved pair of Death Eaters of course had no idea what that meant exactly but it sounded mocking even to them. Now, Peter may have been a tad slow all things being equal, but there had been a small scrappy rodent like part of his brain which had perked up the moment she had appeared from the shadow. And even before she'd started to speak it had been screeching about approaching danger. So as her hand began to rise towards them he reacted the only way his pathetic rodent like soul knew how.

Peter was already shifting and shrinking, transforming into a rat, as the first bolts of white energy crackled off her fingers and rushed towards them. His increasingly smaller animal form just barely missing them as they streaked through the space he'd just occupied.

Lucius wasn't nearly so fortunate, catching a great deal of the lightning in the chest, not that Peter noticed this as the moment he hit the ground he was running as fast as his pudgy little rodent legs would carry him. Had he been human he'd have been screaming in terror as the world around him exploded, bolts of lightning launched from the woman's fingers lashing around him as her hands tracked his progress across the street.

The last thing he heard before he made good his escape into a sewer grate was her cursing in a tongue he couldn't understand.

Lucius Malfoy was still writhing on the ground, stray bits of eldritch power still crackling across his form, as the woman finally moved back to stand beside him. He'd have sworn whatever the woman said was a curse judging by the vitriol in her voice when she spoke, but he couldn't be certain. Not that he really cared at that moment in time, what with his limbs feeling as though they were on fire and all.

He did however spend more than a little energy mentally cursing that dratted rat as his erstwhile compatriot ran for the hills. He tried, he really did, to focus enough of his shattered wits to get his aching fingers around his wand but an armoured boot pressed down painfully on his hand before he felt its twin make contact with his side causing his ribs to wail in protest.

Lucius was not well accustomed to pain and thus likely would have screamed in protest had the woman not then proceeded to kick his wand away before moving to kneel on his chest bringing her masked face forward to regard his own.

There was a moment's pause as she once again cocked her head and muttered something he couldn't quite hear under her breath. bringing a gauntleted hand up to her face she fiddled with the mask for a moment before she then drew it away.

He would have recoiled, had he been able to, upon first seeing her face revealed in the faint light cast by the street lamps, but she restrained him with a shockingly powerful grip on his throat forcing his eyes to stare into her own charcoal grey ones.

He felt her blow past his mind's defences like they were so much tissue, and his brain seared with pain as she began to rifle through his mind. Quickly prying his knowledge of English and his mission that night from his brain before retreating.

Her gaze as she rose stepping back and off him was filled with contempt in the short period before her mask was once again fixed in place.

She pondered him a moment before drawing a strange cylinder from her belt and began twirling it in her hand. Something about that device screamed weapon to him and his eyes stayed fixed to it as she pondered his predicament.

The cylinder was mostly comprised of a matte black material wrapped around a dully glowing white glass or crystalline core which ran up its centre.

Finally she seemed to reach a decision and gripped the cylinder firmly in her armoured fist. There was a snap hiss and the cylinder lit as a burning blue-white light erupted from its tip forming an azure blade of energy.

He barely had time for his eyes to widen before the blade was descending towards him. And soon Lucius Malfoy, was no more.

Peter Pettigrew's Bolthole

Lancaster, United Kingdom

If Sirius had been worried before, he was in a full blown panic mode now. Peter's apartment had been stripped bare of everything which had once adorned it.

Peter had chosen to run, the question now which plague his mind now was why? Why, would Peter choose to run or move locations without telling any of his friends…?

Sirius' eyes widened in shock as the answer settled with certainty in his mind, a dozen puzzle pieces which had been plaguing the Order for months falling into place all at once.

"Oh no…Peter no, you didn't!" He cursed before rushing once more off into the night.

Godric's Hollow, Wales.

The United Kingdom

Consciousness was harder to maintain than Lily wished it would be given the situation. Her vision would periodically fade to black before slowly returning with each fresh surge of pain. She was in a great deal of pain, agony really. Everything hurt, her muscles felt torn and bruised, her bones felt like each one of them had been attacked with sandpaper and her nerves prickled unpleasantly with the slightest movement.

Part of her, which Lily was trying very hard to ignore in that moment was afraid she was dying. That she was going to pass away and leave her son alone.

Her son, that at least filled her with a fair degree of dark satisfaction as she leaned up against the side of the crib. Who would blame her given the circumstances? Voldemort was dead, his ruined body lying across from her and judging by the little hand which now pawed and grasped at her face and hair, from between the bars of the crib Harry was still alive to boot.

It hadn't been easy regaining enough control to manage even a sitting position but she'd managed it. Albeit earning a pounding headache along the way.

Lily knew she was in bad shape, though she couldn't be certain just how much damage had been done. There was definitely a great deal of pain afflicting her stomach and chest. Somewhat mercifully she still couldn't feel her legs and they clearly weren't responding well to commands judging by what she was seeing through her blurred vision.

Voldemort's still smoking and clearly charred corpse had fetched up against the far wall, the backlash of the shields added to the reflected killing curse had apparently torched the former Dark Lord. You didn't get much deader than that. A victory she supposed.

Although maybe she'd thought that too soon, as she stiffened upon hearing the creak of the stairs down the hall. She found herself praying it wasn't Death Eaters come to assist or otherwise check on their now deceased master. She was certainly in no condition to fight and they would doubtless be…displeased, at their master's demise.

For a moment her fears seemed realized as the dark figure stepped into the room, for a moment greatly resembling a Death Eater in their black robe and silver mask. However even in her fogged state Lily's sharp mind began picking out discrepancies in the woman's appearance. Red trim on the robes, a more angular mask, armour…and a strange glowing cylinder gripped tightly in her hand.

Somewhat predictably the figure was brought up short by the sight of the smoking body belonging to the fallen Dark Lord against the wall and she looked at it a moment before turning her attention to Lily.

"Your work I take it? Very nice…" The woman noted, her tone ringing with dry amusement as she paced towards her.

Lily struggled to get enough moisture into her mouth to speak. "W-who are you?" She rasped past parched lips.

The woman cocked her head at her, clearly considering, as she knelt on one knee beside her. "That can wait I believe. You are Lily of House Potter if that odious man's memories are anything to go by…and it appears you are in very rough shape."

Lily wasn't sure why that mattered in that moment, but that might have been the shock or blood loss muddying the waters. Her mind latched onto something else rather than try and make sense of that statement. "James? Is James…"

The woman paused a moment, before shaking her head fiddling at her waist with a pocket, the strange faintly glowing cylinder laid on the floor beside her now. "That would be your mate yes?" The woman asked her tone stoic.

Lily nodded agreement.

A pause before the figure sighed. "I am sorry Lily of House Potter, but he is gone. He managed to take two foes with him before falling in battle."

She had known that she supposed, James would never have let Voldemort pass while he still breathed. Still it filled her heart with a searing ache and she felt tears sting her eyes as that reality settled over her once again.

"I am going to see to administering first-aid Lily of House Potter. Hold still…" The woman instructed as she raised a hand which held a small syringe.

Lily chuckled causing the woman to pause. "That won't do any good. Curse wounds…" Was all she managed to get past her gritted teeth as another wave of pain swelled.

The woman paused, her head canting quizzically for a moment, before she raised a hand and held it a couple inches away from the wound in her stomach. "Hmmm, yes..I think I can remove most of the influences on this wound but you'll bleed like a stuck mynock." the woman paused, apparently considering her course of action. "I'll stick you with this as soon as I've drawn off the curse then. Please hold still."

Lily nodded fuzzily, not entirely grasping the implications of that. The pain flared and her vision tunnelled providing only fleeting glimpses of nimbuses of purple light gathering around the woman's hand before fading out for a bit.

The next time she clawed her way towards consciousness the woman was withdrawing a syringe from her neck and placing it beside two others which lay empty on the floor and picking up the glowing tube and fixing it to her belt. Once she was certain Lily was with her enough to respond she spoke. "Lily of House Potter, our time runs short I feel. I can help you, I can help your son and protect you both. But I will not take you from here without your permission. Will you let me aid you?"

The brief foray into the land of the unconscious had actually allowed her mind to focus again, at least a bit. And she seized upon the most important part of that offer. That the woman would protect her son. Soon after feeling the notion that staying here would do neither her nor Harry any good, she nodded tiredly. "Yes."

The woman seemed satisfied with that and nodded. "Very well, here's what we're going to do…" She muttered, and Lily got the sense from her absent tone that was more intended for herself than Lily. She did note however that the woman's mask produced an odd mechanical muffling to the woman's voice which left her curious, wizards after all were not known for their use of the mechanical.

Soon enough Lily found herself laid out on the floor and she watched calmly while the woman gently lifted Harry from his crib and offered him to the wounded mother where she lay on the ground. "Here, take him, I need you to hold him in your arms so you don't drop him okay?"

Lily did so, curling her arms around her baby in such a way as to ensure they would not easily shift and drop him should she lose consciousness again, staring down while smiling gently into Harry's little tear stained face. Her entire world taken up by the presence of her child.

She was therefore taken somewhat by surprise when she felt herself rising, distantly realizing that the woman had picked her up in her arms and was carrying her bridal style towards the door. Harry resting in his mother's arms on her chest.

Her vision was tunnelling once again, and she focused what she could on looking to Harry's bright green eyes allowing her head to loll against the woman's shoulder as she carried them through the house.

She smiled slightly at the soothing feel of fresh air playing against her face as her vision finally faded out entirely.

Godric's Hollow finally descended into silence once again as the trio vanished into the trees. Only to be broken briefly twice more that night in any significant way. First by a sound any muggle or muggle-born would have compared with with a low flying jet passing overhead. Not long after that a man garbed in black was seen hurrying to the shattered house before soon returning back outside and disappearing with a crack.

The second time the silence was broken, being when a flying motorcycle descended over the town and came to rest in the street. The man who dismounted from it hurrying towards the house where he remained, until close to an hour later, men and women in red robes began to appear.

Translation for Galactic Basic above:

*Now was that any way to greet a lady? I think I'm insulted.

Author's End Note: Just a quick thing before I leave you today. I now have a P-A-T RE ON account. Pledges are not, I repeat NOT a requirement of further work on my part, they are to make my life a little easier, a little less stressful if you are feeling like helping me out in that way. The goals I have set are Very modest. As in maybe buy one or two chocolate bars this month kind of modest...So don't worry it's not like I'm trying to milk you for my electrical bill. :)

I was wondering if any of you guys/gals are really good with spelling, grammar, punctuation and alternative phrasing and such.

Otherwise? Please rate, review, comment and ask questions! courteously presented constructive criticism is welcome, however flames, trolling and general insulting behaviour are not and will be reported as such.