A Moment in Time

1

The scene in the sleepy little village was cold, dark and foreboding. There were icicles hanging from the roofs of the thatched cottages. The air was icy with the only person in the streets shallow breaths. The sky was black and starless. The skull in the sky had an eerie green coloured glow, it cast a pale green light over the entire street. The houses were bathed in shadows as the dark clouds moved across the moon. One house stood out against the dark skyline, one house stood out against the perfectly straight row of beautiful old thatched cottages. It stood out because it was in a state of demolition; it looked like a perfect ruin as it stood in the eerie green light. There was an air of mystery about the scene, it was clear that strange and mysterious things had happened there. The roof of the house was half blown off and what was left was swaying in the high, whistling winds which roared as they ripped through the house, reaching every crevice and leaving it open to the elements.

The street was silent, not an owl hooted nor a soul seemed to stir. No one had heard the noises, not the bang, nor the shouts, nor the screams, nor the yell of despair. No one had yet been alerted to the disaster; to everyone else this was a perfectly ordinary night. Yet one man was there before anyone else, one man who had tried all that he could to stop it, yet he had failed.

As the man, considered by everyone within the country to be dead, made his way into the house at a snail's pace he could feel his heart beating quickly. He had died himself, he knew death well and he smelled death the moment he stepped into the house. His blood froze in his veins. He knew he was too late as he made his way up the stairs, inhaling sharply when he saw the cold, dead body of James Potter lying there. His breathing quickened as he reached the landing and saw the green light at the end of the hall shining into what he realised must be the baby's room. He knew what to expect already, he had known the moment he apparated into the street but he had prayed and hoped all the same that he was wrong. His sense of dread furthered as he got closer to the blasted apart doorway and when he eventually mustered the strength to push himself through it into the room his knees buckled underneath him causing him to crash helplessly onto his knees on the floor.

Lily Potter was dead just like her husband. The green sky outside lit up with a flash of lightning and the skull loomed overhead, it lit up the room and the look of fear on Lily's face became evident. She had died because he had failed. He had not gotten to the house fast enough; he had been unable to do any good as seemed to be the usual for him as of late. He had done all he could but 'all he could' never seemed to be good enough, three innocents had lost their lives tonight to prove that.

A scream of fear, a wail almost, pulled the man from his horror-stricken daze and for the first time he saw the little boy in the cot in the corner of the room. He was old enough to stand and was holding onto the bars of the cot as if for dear life as he stared at his dead mother with his large green eyes. At first the man breathed a sigh of relief, he had not failed completely. If he could save the child then he could say that he had at least done something. However, his relief was soon overcome with a feeling of horror. The wailing boy had seen everything. He had witnessed his Mother die at the hands of Lord Voldemort, he had probably heard his Father's last moments too. This small infant who could barely be more than one year of age had witnessed horrors before he was old enough to walk.

He was not sure what prompted him. Perhaps it was an affinity with a child who had seen horrors that the man himself had seen. He rose to his feet, walked to the cot and looked down at the boy. When he got to the cot the boy stopped crying and looked inquisitively at the man before raising his arms as if asking to be lifted. Unsure of himself, the man reached down and lifted the boy up, allowing him to bury his head into his chest. He stood in the ruined nursery with shaky legs, holding a terrified child who had been orphaned because he hadn't been fast enough. Yet, he felt that he had a purpose here, he had a feeling that somehow he was meant to be here in this moment.

A scrabbling sound made him spin around and he saw a rat scurrying out of the ruins below. The man frowned and threw a spell downwards, testing his own curiosity. A shriek followed and the rat became a man, the figure holding the child knew the man to be Peter Pettigrew. He threw a curse downwards as the scurrying man tried to escape, it stunned him and bound him to the gate post of the house.

The man wondered whether he should stay and explain to the authorities. He then heard the first crack, the sound of Wizards apparating into the street below, the first screams of sorrow and shouts of shock, anger and despair. He heard loud voices asking why this man was chained here, he heard a familiar voice shout that this man was the Potters secret keeper, that he had given them up.

The man holding the child decided to sweep him away from all of this until such a time when it was safer for him to be out in the open. He closed his eyes, spun and left the scene. The noise of his disapparation was covered by the sounds on the street below him.

The mystical figure who had swept in to save the child was known to most as Regulus Arcturus Black.

TBC.

A/N: This is a complete re-write of a story I had up on here before called 'Eyes Open'. I started writing Eyes Open years ago when I still used to ship Severus x Lily like crazy, but when I came back to try and finish it I found I really struggled to identify with the ship and I just couldn't write it.

I didn't want to throw the story away, so I kept the same basic plot but rejigged everything else, including the main character so it's pretty unrecognisable compared to the original story.

All the same, I hope someone will enjoy it!