Had anyone been able to look into the house of the Potter’s in Godric’s Hollow that fateful Halloween night, no one would have ever expected that the loving family inside the Potter house would be torn apart in a matter of minutes. No one would have expected the Potter family to become nearly extinct in one foul swoop of fate. No one would have expected attacks to take place; no one would have expected any of it.

Lily Potter had been downstairs trying in vain to convince her fifteen month old son that strained peas were, contrary to popular belief not to be: shoved up the nose, placed in the diaper, thrown across the room, used as war paint, hair dye, or any form of art media. Though she was failing miserably to keep her son clean, she was succeeding in getting him to eat some of the world’s most disgusting, ground up food and like it; or at least like playing with it.

James Potter on the hand was trying, and succeeding, to convince Harry to do just what his mother was attempting to teach him was wrong. Peas were in fact the perfect consistency to throw at something and dye it a pretty puke green.

Life for the Potters couldn’t be much more peaceful. Yet, outside their humble abode the dark and stormy clouds of fate had begun to gather.

Faint pops could be heard if one was listening very hard for the sound, but no one was. No one was aware that Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters had arrived to remove yet one of two prophesy children from the world. The first probable prophesy child, Neville Longbottom, did not fit all the criteria.

No one knew that, that fateful Halloween night would mark the end of the first reign of Lord Voldemort.

“JAMES POTTER! You stop that this instant! The last thing I need in my house would be another Marauder! Harry please stop, Mummy doesn’t want to take another bath. JAMES, DON’T YOU DARE THROW THAT!” Lily Potter could be heard yelling all the way down the street. She’d finally caught a glimpse of James egging Harry’s behavior on from behind her back.

“Our son needs to learn how to eat properly! He should not be…” Lily continued on until a handful of peas, thrown by Harry, hit her on the side of the face.

“Apparently… he doesn’t… think so!” James said in between gasps and spurts of laughter while holding his side. This was at least the eighth time that night James had burst in to such laughter.

“Alright, THAT’S IT! It’s time for a bath, mister!” Lily said after cleaning the peas out of her mouth and nose. She then proceeded to wipe Harry’s face with a dish rag and pick him up out of his highchair to take him upstairs for the third bath that night. The first had been needed after a day of playing in the mud and the second after Harry had found an old set of paints.

James had, of course, had no problems what so ever with Harry getting in to trouble with either the mud or the paint.

Granted, he wasn’t the one to have to clean the child off.

“Lily, you could just Scourgify the peas off him. You are a witch you know,” James snorted, still trying to control his laughter.

Lily only shot him her patented ‘I know what I’m doing so bugger off’ glare. The glare that could easily rival any of Severus Snape’s glares in it’s intensity. Lily then proceeded to walk upstairs, trying not to get anymore covered in peas than she all ready was, to bathe her son.

After she’d gone upstairs and turned on the bath water, James finally pried himself off the floor to clean the “masterpieces” from the wall and floor. Unlike his wife, James was not above using his magic to do chores. Finishing that, he then moved to the living room to wait for Sirius’s arrival by flying motorcycle. He was supposed to arrive some time before midnight.

The sound of Lily’s childish yet angelic laugh was easily heard echoing from the upstairs bathroom as well as Harry’s far more age appropriate shrieks of happiness. A sound as splendid and peaceful could not be heard anywhere else in the world.

Lily had just finished redressing the young Potter heir when the sound of a door exploding off it’s hinges was heard throughout the house.

James reacted instantly, grabbing his wand and running towards the sound. As he passed the stairs, he saw his wife slowly coming down the stairs, Harry clutched tightly to her chest. She had a look of utter terror on her face.

“Lily, they’re here. Take Harry and run!” James yelled over the mounting noise as the back door was blown to smithereens. “I’ll hold them off.”With that, James disappeared around the corner in to the front hall.

Shouts of Avada Kedavera were heard as Lily ran to Harry’s room, the only place that was, by this time, swarming with Death Eaters.

Lily slammed the door and put Harry in his crib, so she could use her wand without the extra burden of having a child on her hip, preventing movement and spell casting. An instant death sentence, to both mother and child.

She had no sooner laid the child down when the bedroom door exploded, sending small pieces of wooden shrapnel flying into the room. In the doorway, wand held level, was Lord Voldemort and several of his Death Eaters. All of her Auror training was instantly rendered useless as she saw the wand of the most feared man in the wizarding world pointing his wand at her son.

“No!” Lily screamed, her body instinctively moving to protect her child.

“Move, Potter,” Voldemort said, sneering.“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”

“Stand aside you, silly girl…stand aside now…”

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-”

Voldemort could only smirk as he looked at the quivering, sobbing mudblood that stood before him. Did she honestly think that her death would prevent the death of the boy?

“Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…”

One of the Death Eaters behind the Dark Lord let out a shrill laugh at the plea. What mudblood would plead to Lord Voldemort and receive their wish? If a pureblood couldn’t, there was no way a mudblood could. Voldemort didn’t become the Dark Lord by being kind and understanding.

Voldemort’s smirk only grew as he said the curse Avada Kedavera in much the same manner that one would say the time or weather. After all, he didn’t want to waste a moment before killing the Potter boy.

With Lily out of the way, Voldemort could lay claim to his prize. Pointing his wand at Harry’s forehead, Voldemort was nearly knocked off his feet as a large explosion rocked the house.

Apparently James Potter was not as dead as previously thought and was still fighting down stairs. The explosion was all the Death Eaters finally blowing up his body in an effort to get rid of him.

Falling forward, Voldemort caught his balance by grabbing Harry’s neck.

Looking straight into the toddler’s green eyes, Voldemort couldn’t help but laugh as the child gasped for air. Finally, Voldemort uttered the killing curse.

It was then that all hell broke loose.

Any Death Eater that happened to be present at the time watched in horror as the curse meant to kill the young child in front of them rebounded off Harry’s head, ripped through the Dark Lord’s wand arm, proceeded down the arm that was holding Harry’s neck, and bouncing once more, shattering Voldemort’s magical core and destroying his body.

When questioned later as to the occurrences at the Potter’s house, those who were present at the attempted murder of Harry Potter said that they could actually see the green of the curse even as it ricocheted through the body of the Dark Lord.

The magical backlash from the curse ripped through the house, setting walls aflame and destroying the house and knocking out many of the Death Eaters. Those who didn’t get knocked unconscious ran for their lives, knowing full well that if they were caught they would be arrested, placed in Azkaban, and most likely receive the kiss.

Yet, amidst the rubble, there lay the young survivor, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

It took only minutes for Aurors to arrive and discover Harry. Within the hour all newspapers had been notified of the Potter’s death and Harry’s miraculous survival.

As soon as Albus Dumbledore had heard of Harry’s survival, he sent the only available person to retrieve the child while Dumbledore handled the press and Minerva McGonnagal staked out the Dursley household to make sure of no other attacks.

The Dursleys were Harry Potter’s only living relatives, and, even though they were muggles, Harry would have to stay with them because of the blood protection that was activated by his mother when she died to save him.

During a small break in the barrage of questions that the press was throwing out, Dumbledore managed to slip away and make sure that Harry made it to the Dursley’s safely.

After removing all the lights from Privet Drive to allow Hagrid, the half giant who was in charge of transporting Harry to the Dursley household, a safe and unseen landing, all Dumbledore had to do was wait a few minutes.

As soon as Hagrid landed, Dumbledore took Harry from the half giant and began to carry the sleeping child towards his new life with the muggles.

After reaching the steps, the long bearded headmaster then produced a note from the breast pocket of his robe and pinned it to the blanket wrapped around Harry’s sleeping form. After wishing the sleeping baby the best of luck, Dumbledore turned on his heel and apparated away, remembering to turn the streetlights back on as he left.

Only an hour or so later, Harry awoke feeling very hungry, achy, and confused. His head hurt terribly, his throat was sore from where the snake-faced man had grabbed him, he was lying outside on cold, hard cement, and he wanted his mummy. Not to mention, his nappy was full, so of course, he wanted to be changed and held. So he did what every baby does best early in morning…He cried.

But cry as he might, no one could hear him; no one noticed. No one except for the snakes in the garden.

The snakes didn’t care though. They could tell that this was a young one, and they refused to help one that didn’t want to help it’s self.

Besides, they wouldn’t have been able to comfort Harry very well anyway.