With another loud burst of noise, the door flew opened and Lily's lame attempt at a barrier fell to pieces. She stood, shaking, as the dark figure of Voldemort glided in. Instinctively, she dropped Harry into his crib and stood, with her arms out, in front of him.

"Not Harry!" she pleaded, barely able to see the terrible face in front of her through her tears.

"Stand aside you silly girl," he hissed. Harry began to wail, and she stood rooted to the spot. "Stand aside!"

"NOT HARRY! PLEASE! Take me instead!" she begged frantically, refusing to move from her son.

Nothing went through Lily's mind as she watched the white hand raise a wand; the motion was too quick. Perhaps a more satisfying ending to her life would have Lily Potter suddenly understand that she was betrayed; instead, she would die believing that, through the end, her friend had been loyal. In fact, at one point she even felt a small moment of panic for Peter. If she had time, she would have hoped that he hadn't suffered too much on her account.

"Avada Kedavra."

And the rest is history.