Chapitre 11: Ch11.Godric's Hollow
Streets of Godric's Hollow
Voldemort walked slowly but steadily towards his destination in the dead of night.
The night was quite wet and windy. Harry saw two children dressed up as pumpkins waddling across the square, and the shop windows were all covered in paper spiders and Hallowe'en decorations. He paid them no more attention as Voldemort went on.
Voldemort glided along towards his destiny; a sense of purpose and power filled him as he was about to triumph over even fate.
Harry walked along with him, and a sense of dread rose within him as he took each step towards where everything went wrong for him in his young life.
Along a darker street, they moved, and now their destination was in sight at last.
The cottage stood before them, no longer hidden from him by the Fidelius Charm, though Potter's did not know it yet.
Voldemort drew level with the dark hedge and stared over it.
Harry saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room.
He saw his dad for the very first time. Harry felt a little overwhelmed, delighted, and a great deal of sadness as well. They are no more after all.
Harry had always wondered what his parents looked like. After all, there were no photographs of them in the house.
Now before him stood James Potter, his dad.
He looked like a tall man with hazel eyes and messy black hair like Harry's.
James was in a world of his own, making puffs of coloured smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of little Harry in his blue pyjamas.
Baby Harry was laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in his small fist.
Everything was quite surreal for Harry.
A door opened, and his mother entered, saying words he could not hear, her long, dark-red hair falling over her face.
Now his dad scooped up the baby and handed him to his mother. James threw his wand down on the sofa and stretched, yawning.
The gate creaked a little as Voldemort pushed it open, but his dad did not hear.
An instant later, an anti-disapparition jinx washed over the house along with the surrounding areas, followed by an anti-apparition charm and a myriad of others. No help will be coming any time soon.
Harry wanted to warn his parents; he wanted to stop Tom from breaking apart his family forever, yet he could not. He stood there helpless like his parents were.
Voldemort pointed his bone-like wand at the door, which burst open.
Voldemort was over the threshold when James came sprinting into the hall. He must have felt the magic wash over the house.
Tom found it easy—way too easy; James had not even picked up his wand.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"
Harry saw his dad coming to face the most powerful and dangerous dark wizard of all time, wandless, yet he showed no fear. But his hazel eyes showed more determination than anything else.
James Potter, a duelist of the Order of the Phoenix, stood before the Dark Lord full of grim determination. After all, he was there to buy time so that his wife and son could escape the creature. He knew he wouldn't be among the living for much longer.
James wished he had his wand upon him; he knew he could have stalled Voldemort more. James looked rather content. He knew his last action would give his loved ones a chance to escape. He wished he could do more.
James looked at the creature in front of him. If Voldemort had to reach his family, he would have to go through him first.
Voldemort laughed at the helpless foe in front of him.
"Avada Kedavra!" He cursed
The green light filled the cramped hallway. It lit the pram pushed against the wall, and it made the bannisters glow like lighting rods.
James Potter fell like a puppet whose strings were cut.
He stared back with unmoving eyes. There was no more light to those hazel ones.
Harry looked at his dad; he felt rather hollow. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, but he did not look away. He wanted to hold him, yet he couldn't.
"I will avenge you." A silent whisper was heard in the hallway.
Harry walked on even though he felt as if he were being cut in two. Harry knew he may not see his dad ever again, but he would never be forgotten...never.
Harry heard his mother's desperate screams from the upper floor, trapped.
Voldemort climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in.
Harry, along with Voldemort, reached the room soon enough.
Voldemort forced the door open, cast aside the chair, and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand.
And there stood his mother, Lily Potter, with baby Harry in her arms.
At the sight of Voldemort, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead.
She had no wand upon her either... How stupid they were, and how trusting they were, thinking that their safety lay in friends and that weapons could be discarded even for moments... Voldemort wondered. It makes it all the easier for him.
But Harry knew something else was at play. A bargain has already been made. His mother will become the sacrifice and the protection that he can still feel in his vein's.
Harry felt a great deal of sadness and grief; he felt quite helpless as he watched on.
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" his mother pleaded.
"Stand aside, you silly girl... Stand aside now," said Voldemort.
"Not Harry, please no, take me; kill me instead."
"This is my last warning."
"Not Harry! Please, have mercy... Have mercy. Not Harry!
Not Harry! Please, I'll do anything."
"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!" Voldemort sounded increasingly menacing.
Yet his mother was unwavering from her stance, still trying to shield him from the creature.
Harry watched Voldemort's undoing...
In order for the ancient protection to form upon Harry, Lily must be given the option to live, but she consciously chose death. Lily must have known this; Harry knew this... Harry saw before his very eyes how much his parents loved him.
A life for a life.
Voldemort badly miscalculated.
The green light flashed around the room, and Lily dropped like James.
The child had not cried all this time. He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest.
Voldemort pointed the wand very carefully into the baby Harry's face.
He wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. His prophesied enemy would be just one of the hundreds he personally slew.
His triumph is within the moment.
The child began to cry. It had seen that he was not James. Voldemort did not like it's crying; he had never been able to stomach the small brats whining in the orphanage after all.
"Avada Kedavra!" he said with barely hidden glee at the destruction he was about to cause.
Then Voldemort broke...
His body was a ruin from the backlash. Voldemort fled in panic and terror, less than a shadow of himself.
Harry stood there in the ruined house, where the child was still trapped, screaming next to his fallen mother.
The child cried itself to exhaustion. There was silence.
Harry stood there, surrounded by his broken family.
helplessness turned to something more primal—rage—sheer and unbridled rage.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
A_JOY
A_JOY Hey people,
This is gonna be the last chapter for a while.
Hopefully I would be able to update maybe after 1 or 2 months. August 14 if anyone want a specific date.
I would be spending most of my free time volunteering near a local GP clinic..
I am not dropping this fanfic. But I truely apologise for the delay.
Thank you all for your time :)
— Un nouveau chapitre arrive bientôt — Écrire un avis
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
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