This is a story I wrote some time ago; I had split it into three parts originally and posted it on another account. I wish to culminate all my works on this account and have removed the others from the old one. I will present this story in its entirety as three separate parts brought into one, as it was originally intended.

Enjoy.

Prelude

Halloween

Recounting a horrible tale is often difficult and unpleasant. I suppose therefore they are called horrible tales for that reason. It was on Halloween night, in the year, 1981, that a horror came to the little village Godrics Hollow. No one would ever have believed that during joy, when muggle boys and muggle girls would dress up in scary costumes, going door to door begging for food, that the stranger who stood in the middle of the village square, would be anything more than a stranger. But then, this was no ordinary stranger.

It was of no ability that muggles possessed, that could have alerted them of the danger that this man posed. It certainly didn't stop a boy by the name of Alfred Groit, who was dressed as the mummy from his favourite horror film, from attempting to speak to this man.

"Nice costume, mister!" Said little Alfred. He peeked up at the hooded man through his bandages, giving what he felt was his best smile. Through the dark hood, he would see a man with skin as pale as the moon, red eyes and a funny nose that was shaped like the slits of a snake. In his young mind he would assume they were just some form of prosthetic, a mask and nothing to really be frightened of. Little did little Alfred know, that he was but mere inches from death. Because this stranger was none other than, Lord Voldemort. And if Lord Voldemort had not needed to attend to some urgent business, he might have ended poor Alfred's existence simply for the fun of it.

"Mustn't waste my time on the weak," Voldemort thought to himself. He was risking much being here, but this task had to be accomplished by him and him alone. It had to be done by him, for there wasn't a single soul he trusted to not fail in a task of such importance. So reluctantly he smiled at little Alfred, who giggled and ran back to his muggle mother. Voldemort watched the little boy hugging his mother, feeling nothing but the utmost loathing for their exchange. So swiftly, he turned and followed the street, going on the instructions of the traitor. He did not stop for any soul that got in his way, no dithering old-lady or excited child would slow him tonight. And so, with swiftness that belonged only to a man who was desperate to be gone from this place, he arrived at his destination with haste.

The house was just where the traitor had said it would be. Which was lucky for him, if this information had proven to be useless, then he was going to regret lying to The Dark Lord. There would not be a word in the English language that would describe the pain that would be visited upon him. For a traitor was one thing, to be a lying traitor would call for a punishment far worse than death.

Voldemort stood idle at the small gate that barred his path. He had been told of the enchantment that when used, would prevent him from seeing the house. A gift from the traitor – A small piece of information, allowed Voldemort to see this quiet little home as easily as those that lived in it could. The garden that was so neatly tended to, with those funny little garden gnomes that muggles liked. A cobbled path that led to the front door, and through the window, Voldemort saw the first of his targets. A man, with dashing good looks, messy black hair and green eyes. He had a happy smile on his face while he held his wand pointed upwards, shooting puffs of smoke into the air from the tip of it.

"Entertaining the child, James?" Voldemort thought with glee. The child in question was the only true thing on Voldemort's mind tonight. It was the child that he had been warned about, it was the child that he, Lord Voldemort, would snuff out before the night was over. With wand in hand he flicked it once to unlock the gate, it swung forward and instantly a loud bell sounded. The man in the living room looked up from the child, and to his horror, saw Voldemort coming up the path towards his home.

"Lily, it's him, take Harry and run!" The man called out. A second later Lily Potter, red haired, lovely and brave, rushed into the living room. She caught sight of her doom coming towards her, then reached down to take the child into her arms. Harry must have sensed his parents' distress, for he instantly started to cry.

Voldemort reached the threshold and without pause, cast a spell at the door that sent it from the hinges. He caught a glimpse of Lily Potter, wand in one hand, baby curled in the other arm, rushing upstairs, fleeing for her life. When he stepped through the door, James Potter bravely rushed towards him, twirled his wand and sent red jets of light towards The Dark Lord. With ease and a lazy flick, Voldemort deflected the spells, each one of them firing back at the caster. James was too busy deflecting his own spells, that he did not notice the swift hand of Voldemort, sending the green blast towards him. The green blast connected with poor James' chest and he fell, limp as a dead flower to the floor.

"Pathetic," Voldemort thought, as without a second glance at his dead foe, he instantly ascended the stairs. Time was running short and others would know what was going on here, it had to be done now before it was too late. In a rush Voldemort glided through the tiny hallway of the Potter's house. The cries of Harry Potter led The Dark Lord straight to him. A swift turn and he found the bedroom door locked, anger flooded Voldemort, he raised his wand, blew the door off its hinges and just as he stepped through, he found a wand pointing straight at his forehead.

Confusion and horror cut through Voldemort's rage like a knife through butter. Held still by the sight of one of his most faithful, standing firm, wand at the ready, and aiming straight for him.

"Severus?" Voldemort said, unable to truly understand the arrival of The Potions Master. His spy, the one who had told him of the prophecy. Why was he here? Why now? Why was he threatening his lord?

"You, will, not, harm, them," Severus told Voldemort in a dangerous voice. Severus knew that The Dark Lord would not yield to him. He knew that there was only one way to stop Voldemort from attacking Lily and Harry Potter, he knew there was only one true way to stop The Dark Lord from causing more devastation here tonight.

"Out of my way!" Spat Voldemort. He took one step forward and without hesitation, and murder in his thoughts, he lunged for Lily and Harry, not registering how quickly Severus had moved to stop him.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Severus Snape cast down the greatest dark lord of all time. The power of the spell must have been so strong, that Voldemort's body burned to ash long before it hit the ground. A strange, unearthly wind burst through the room and the window smashed, causing Harry to cry louder. Lily clutched her son closer to her chest, knowing her husband was gone. She met the eyes of Severus Snape, who was watching the smashed window with a curious stare. It was but a few moments later, others could be heard arriving. Severus turned on the spot, apparating away from the room leaving Lily and young Harry alone.

"Lily?!" Remus Lupin called out, with his wand in hand when he appeared at the bedroom door, dishevelled and scarred, his complexion looking most unhealthy, he stepped over the threshold to take Lily into his arms, searching for any signs that she and Harry were hurt.

"Oh, thank goodness!" A voice called in relief. Lily looked up from the comfort of Remus' arms to see Peter Pettigrew standing in the door way. The fat little man with large front teeth, messy hair and a most unpleasant sheen of sweat over his strangely yellow complexion. "But, but James," He stuttered, his voice filling with emotion.

"We must get Lily and Harry away from this place," Remus told Peter, his voice shaken with supressed anguish. He who had been one of James' closest friends, knew only that the lives of Lily and Harry were most important to him.

"Right, yes, I shall stay, Dumbledore is sending someone," Peter said bravely. Though brave was hardly what someone would call Peter, he was shaking from head to toe, fear pouring from every part of him.

"I'll take them to Bathilda Bagshots and return," Remus told Peter, only getting a few nervous nods from his little round friend.

After a grumble and moan that turned to cries of worry from old Bathilda, a great old lady who loved the Potter family dearly. Lily and Harry were ushered inside to the small living room by Remus. He sat Lily down and checked on Harry, who in the stress of it all, had fallen asleep in the comfort of his mother's arms. As he stood, Lily grabbed his hand and asked, "Who Remus, who has done this to us?"

Remus had barely enough emotional strength to say the words, but he knew above all else, that Lily would want to know who betrayed them. "Sirius," Remus said, his voice filled with venom for his former best friend. "They caught him, not long after we found out what was going on here, we have Peter to thank for that," and as if unable to speak any more than Lily could, Remus left to attend to his best friend's body.

Strength can come from the strangest of places and it comes in all shapes and sizes. For Lily Potter, her strength came in the shape of the small boy that slept soundly in her arms. She knew that without Harry, she might not have had the strength to continue alone, but then, she knew she wouldn't be. She would have found time to mourn her husband's death at the proper time, but for now, all her strength and love would be for that small boy.

Harry Potter.

Harry Potter; The Tales of The Past

Year One