11.30 PM, 31ST OCTOBER, 1981, NUMBER 12, GRIMMAULD PLACE
LILY WAS GOING to Azkaban—if not for James restraining her with his innate technique. The fury inside her burned so fiercely it left her expression unnervingly still. Every fibre of her being screamed at James to let her go, to unleash her fury upon the insufferable woman before her, to commit atrocities so monstrous even Dementors would recoil in disgust.
Molly gazed back at Lily with disdain clear in her eyes. How dare she. Lily had tolerated the woman for a long time, but this time she had gone too far.
"Molly, that was uncalled for," James said, his voice low and dangerous. Everyone else at the table was silent, shocked by Molly—even Dumbledore and Arcturus of all people. She could be meddlesome and stubborn, but she seemed harmless and chipper. No one thought she could escalate things this badly.
"She insulted me first!" Molly retorted indignantly. "Saying that I'm—"
"Oh, cut the crap, Weasley," Sirius Black shouted back, his voice dripping with contempt. "You butted in when I was giving my report—"
"Calm yourself, Sirius," Albus Dumbledore said, trying to diffuse the tension. "Molly, I believe you did not mean any harm—"
"No, she meant every word, Dumbledore," James Potter interrupted, his voice steady and measured, his gaze icy as he looked at Molly. Dumbledore went silent, surprise showing on his face. Molly was absolutely immobile, shocked by James sudden boldness.
"Lily is right," James continued. "The only thing you ever do during meetings is interfere in the proceedings. We are aware that the things that we have had to do are morally and legally questionable, but we are at war. I would have expected that you understood that when you joined this Order. Instead, you have no value. You are no soldier, have none of the expertise required to handle the war stratagems, and most definitely are no spy or smuggler. As a medic, you are mediocre at best.
"I have no idea whether it is some sort of inferiority complex that you are trying to project, but you're nothing but a pest. I've tolerated your presence here for a long time now, but this is the last straw. You're a mother of six, and you have another baby coming, but you still dare say that Lily and I are cowards for not wanting to fight on the frontlines? For wanting to be alive for our daughters? Have you ever seen the massacres on the battlefield? Have you ever even raised a wand in combat?"
"She might not be part of the Order's combatants any more, but she is probably the most versatile member we have. She has been invaluable in our operations, something you cannot claim to be. The next time you think you can—"
James abruptly fell silent, his expression shifting to one of alarm. His eyes widened as he turned to Lily, whose facial expression mirrored his. His voice full of shock, he said, "The manor is under attack."
Before anyone could process his words, a deafening crash echoed through Grimmauld Place, shaking the ground as the building began to collapse around them.
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11.30 PM, 31ST OCTOBER, 1981, POTTER MANOR
VOLDEMORT BELIEVED THAT the greatest safeguard for magical aristocratic manors was the secrecy of their location. Such noble estates are concealed in such a way that only those with specific permission could ever find them. They exist just beyond the grasp of outsiders, undetectable and inaccessible except by invitation from the Lord or Lady of the house.
Apparition or Floo were the only reliable means of entry, and even then, only if one knew the exact coordinates or had the proper clearance. Brooms, or any other conventional means of travel, would be useless. The land itself would be a maze for the uninvited, as if nature itself conspired to keep trespassers at bay.
In essence, an enemy who could not be found could not be attacked.
Even now, Voldemort could only see the famous Potter Manor due to the ace in the hole he had spent months preparing for his ascension. As he gazed at the building, the weight of its wards pressing against him. They were just like Hogwarts' wards—layered, ancient, and intricately woven, a testament to generations of careful construction.
He was, in his heart, grateful for the entity, for it broke all magical laws to instill its own, thus allowing him to scry the location of the Potters' residence.
He could feel the faint pulse of magic emanating from the sprawling grounds, a complex web of enchantments that had been designed to protect its inhabitants with meticulous care. The wards were built with the same principles as those surrounding the old school, bound by powerful bloodlines and potent primordial magic.
He could feel the way they fought against his presence, humming with arcane energy, as though the very land had been infused with the will of the Potters themselves. The force-field was strong, pulling on the magic of the surrounding earth, weaving the ancient spells into a near-perfect defense. All the same, they would not be a match for the power he was about to unleash.
It was unfortunate that Lily and James Potter would not be here to witness him destroy the bane of his invincibility that they had created. All the same, he had scryed the location of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, where the Order would be having a general meeting of all its members. Everyone there would be captured and forced to witness their defeat as he rose to godhood.
His lips curled into a thin, serpentine smile as he turned to Severus Snape, his eyes glinting with a cold, calculated light. The man wouldn't be here to witness the murder. No, he was about to die—the power he was about to unleash would destroy him, completing the entity's end of the bargain. He would have to repay the debt, but he could deal with that once he was a deity.
With a single, almost imperceptible motion of his hand, the command was given—silent yet absolute. Severus, his face blank and emotionless, slowly raised his hand, dark magic coiling around his fingers like smoke. A low hum filled the air, growing into an oppressive resonance that seemed to vibrate through the very earth.
With a sudden surge of power, a massive beam of crackling red and black energy erupted from his hand. The blast roared forward, its destructive force reverberating like the tolling of a death knell. The beam struck the wards of the manor with devastating precision, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. The protective barriers flared to life, their intricate spellwork momentarily visible as they strained against the assault.
The force of the impact was brutal, shaking the very foundation of the manor grounds. Severus' body was already dying, splintering into corrupted red-glowing particles. The wards shimmered, their ancient enchantments holding out for a moment, but faltering under the sheer weight of the dark magic being unleashed. Then—
KRRRSSHH!
The Dark Lord's smile grew into a grin as the wards shattered, and a shockwave of red energy swept across the area as Severus was completely disintegrated. Simultaneously, the signal for his forces to launch their nationwide assault was sent. The final phase of his apotheosis was in motion.
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Tilly's heart thundered in her chest as the manor trembled violently, its very foundation quaking as if the earth had split beneath them. Panic surged through her veins, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Her terror peaked as the wards shattered with a deafening crack, the protective magic disintegrating in an instant as a red shockwave of energy swept across the property.
Desperately, Tilly shouted the command meant to activate the manor's defensive constructs. "Sanctum Invictus!"
Nothing happened.
Her breaths quickened into hyperventilation as she cried out the spell again, her voice trembling with desperation. Still, nothing. The truth struck her like ice water: all of the manor's defenses were completely down.
"No!" she gasped, clutching at her chest. Her eyes darted wildly as dread consumed her. "The young misses! Tilly must protect the young misses!"
Summoning what remained of her courage, Tilly snapped her fingers and Apparated directly to the nursery. A strange, disorienting weakness overcame her as she materialized, her knees nearly buckling. Her magic—it was faltering. Something was interfering with her power.
She forced herself to focus. In the cot before her, the two infants were awake, their tiny faces reflecting the chaos around them. Jasmine sat quietly, her sharp green eyes alert and uncharacteristically focused for her age, while Ivy clung to her sister, her blue eyes brimming with tears as her small body trembled.
"Tilly is here, darlings," she whispered, her voice soft yet strained. She assessed her situation swiftly. Her magic seemed to be acting up, and whatever was happening made her weaker. She couldn't dare Apparate with the children due to the risk of Splinching. Running, therefore, was definitely not an option—they would not make it far, not with how weak Tilly's magic currently was. She would have to hold the enemy off in the hopes of reinforcements arriving.
She quickly extended her hands, barricading the room with layers of protective magic. It wasn't much, but it would have to hold. With the children temporarily secured, Tilly Apparated to the manor's antechamber. She squared her small shoulders, her body shaking but her resolve unyielding as she faced the grand front doors of the manor. Mistress Lily trusted her to protect the young misses, and Tilly would give everything—her magic, her life—before she allowed harm to come to them.
The sudden sound of splintering wood made her jump, as the front doors exploded into jagged fragments. Tilly raised her arms instinctively, shielding herself from the flying debris. When she lowered them, her heart nearly stopped. A tall, pale figure stepped into the ruins of the doorway, his presence suffocating and his crimson eyes burning like embers in the gloom.
He froze briefly, as if taken aback, before his lips curled into a cruel smile. His laughter echoed through the shattered room, cold and mocking.
"A house elf?" the Dark Lord sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "I destroy the manor's defenses completely, yet a house elf dares try to stop me?"
Tilly screamed, her squeaky voice rising in a battle cry to steel herself as her magic came to life. She telekinetically grabbed a large rock, chucking it as hard as she could. It was slow, painfully slow, and Tilly knew that it would not meet its mark. The Dark Lord merely swept his hand as though swatting a fly, and the rock rebounded, too fast for Tilly's eyes to follow.
She barely registered the sensation of being lifted off the ground, her body weightless for a fleeting second, pain erupting through her frame like fire. The force hurled her backward with such violence that she didn't even have time to cry out. Her mind blurred, and for an agonizing moment, her senses failed her entirely.
When awareness returned, it came with a sharp, searing agony in her chest. Looking down at her chest, she realized that she was embedded in the wall, the jagged edge of the rock cruelly impaling her, her ribs crushed, her collapsed lungs burning with pain.
Blood poured from her mouth in warm, choking torrents, the metallic taste flooding her senses. She gasped weakly, her breaths shallow and rasping, each one a struggle as her vision blurred. The world seemed to tilt and spin, her strength fading rapidly. Yet, her thoughts were fixed on the nursery, on the young misses she had sworn to protect.
"Tilly… must…" she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. Blood dribbled down her chin as she fought to hold onto her consciousness, but the overwhelming darkness crept closer, threatening to engulf her entirely.
The Dark Lord looked at the dying house elf blankly for a second before deciding to put her out of her misery. "Avada Kedavra."
A bolt of green hit the house elf squarely in the head, snuffing out her life instantly. The Dark Lord then proceeded up the stairs, not sparing another thought on the dead house elf. He could feel them—the magical signatures emanating from the upper floor. Two distinct presences, pulsing faintly yet undeniably strong. A gleam of excitement sparked in his crimson eyes.
But something was off. His brow furrowed slightly as he reached the nursery door. The magical auras—one chaotic and untamed, as he expected, but the other… How could that be? It was far too controlled, too steady for a mere infant. His hand twitched slightly before he sent the door flying off its hinges with a blast of magic.
The room beyond was bathed in soft, golden light, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. His eyes immediately fell upon the cot at the center, and what he saw made him halt for a moment, his mind struggling to reconcile the sight before him. Both of the Potter children were in the cot, with the green-eyed girl levitating blocks to amuse her blue-eyed twin. She giggled softly, blissfully unaware of the danger now standing in the doorway. Her green-eyed twin, however, was the true anomaly.
The green-eyed girl's magical aura was immense—far surpassing even her sister's. Yet it was the stability of that power that gave Voldemort pause. Stable, controlled, precise—an anomaly in someone so young. She entertained her sister with quiet movements, but her gaze… that gaze. Blank yet piercing, it seemed to strip away every layer of him, as if delving into the depths of his very soul.
For a fleeting moment, Voldemort was struck by an odd sense of familiarity. Her gaze reminded him of… something, someone. He could almost hear a voice, ethereal and commanding.
Stop. Turn back. This is your final chance, Tarnished. Your final warning.
A shiver of unease crept down his spine, a sliver of fear slinking into his consciousness before he banished it with a sneer. How could a baby, a mere infant, inspire fear in him, Lord Voldemort? The thought was absurd, laughable, especially when he was on the cusp of his apotheosis.
Still, there was no denying her anomalous nature. She had to be the child of the prophecy. Yes, she would be the first to die. And once she was gone, he would eliminate the rest. None of the prophecy candidates could be allowed to live.
He gazed at the two children with something close to pity as he raised his wand, particularly the green-eyed one, unable to help but mourn what she could have become. "I am sorry, child. Maybe you could have been revolutionaries, but you need to die for me to ascend. Avada Kedavra."
You were warned.
A green jet of magic was conjured once more, bathing the room in its light as it shot forward—and for the second time that night, a powerful shockwave of magical energy was released.
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11.40 PM, 31ST OCTOBER, 1981, NUMBER 12, GRIMMAULD PLACE
PANIC AND URGENCY coursed through Lily as she fought off the attackers, spamming her innate Blood Manipulation and a series of other spells. Other Order members were also fighting as hard as they could, trying to beat the onslaught. They had all been taken by surprise in the explosion, but some of them managed to recover quickly enough to retaliate. Others were likely still trapped in the rubble.
Lily couldn't care less what happened in terms of collateral damage. There was only one priority in her mind—getting back to her daughters. Her thoughts flashed to them, vulnerable and alone, as she fought through wave after wave of attackers. The wards surrounding Potter Manor had shattered, and she had felt the ominous ripple in their family Crest—just as James had.
The matter was clear as day: this was a coordinated assault, and Voldemort was likely at their home. How this was happening, Lily was unaware, but she had to get to her children quickly.
Apparition, she had realized, was useless. Some strange anomaly was preventing it. They couldn't reach the manor that way, and that thought sent a fresh wave of panic crashing over her. Floo was the only other fast option. Sirius told her the grim news earlier—most of Grimmauld Place had already been reduced to rubble. As Lord of the house, he had seen it all first-hand.
The family room was the only remaining place with a usable fireplace. With no time to waste, Lily and James pushed forward through the rubble, their path leading them to the family room, tucked in the basement—an odd place for it to be—but it was protected by thick stone walls, and they'd been in this house enough times to know where to go. They had no time to question its placement now.
Vaporising the neck of yet another Death Eater with a well-placed Detonating Blood as James mercilessly crushed another with debris, they advanced. Running on pure parental dread, rage, and adrenaline, they were tearing enemies apart one after the other, powering through the carnage to the family room.
Suddenly, a spell streaked toward Lily. With practiced agility, she dodged it gracefully, her body already twisting toward the direction it came from before the projectile had fully passed her. Her eyes burned with a deadly focus as she locked in on her would-be assailant. Ah, her. Even with the Death Eater mask on, Lily could recognise those wild psychotic eyes anywhere.
"Bellatrix," Lily hissed, her grip on her wand tightening. The demented woman giggled like a crazy schoolgirl.
"That's me~," Bellatrix said, her voice carrying a sing-song wail. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"
"Keep her busy!" James shouted, deflecting another curse as more Death Eaters closed in from the sides. He moved with agility to meet their offensive, his spells fluid and relentless as he forced the attackers back, creating space for Lily.
She didn't need to be told twice, facing Bellatrix head-on. Bellatrix attacked with wild abandon, her laughter echoing like nails on glass. Lily went on the defensive, her wand a blur as she blocked, deflected, and dodged Bellatrix's relentless onslaught. The sheer ferocity of her attacks was enough to leave the walls shaking, the air thick with raw power, but not one spell reached Lily.
"Impressive," Bellatrix sneered, her voice dripping with venomous delight. "But you'll have to try harder than that to win this, dear Lily!"
Lily said nothing, her mind racing as she analysed the situation. This wasn't about trading words—it was about ending this fight swiftly and getting back to her daughters. As the barrage went on, she tried to look for an opening. Then Bellatrix made the single greatest mistake of her life.
"As much as you are fun to play with," she mocked, the intensity of her onslaught reducing in her arrogance, "I'd rather listen to your little brats screaming in agony. Master is probably torturing them right now, and I'd love to hear all the cries of pain."
The words cut deep, and Lily's fury went cold, a frigid calm washing over her as her face became an impassive mask as Bellatrix unleashed a Bombarda Maxima. The spell erupted a violent blast of magic that ripped through the floor, sending debris flying in every direction. The explosion's heat surged toward Lily, but she was already in motion.
She leapt into the air, the heat of the explosion grazing past her as she moved with graceful precision. In mid-air, her wand vanished into the sleeve of her sweater, her hands coming together in a sharp ringing clap. From her fingertips, blood surged forth, coalescing in an instant as it formed a razor-thin deadly jet of crimson, tearing through the air, aimed at Bellatrix's heart.
Bellatrix's eyes widened, her instincts kicking in as she barely managed to twist out of the way. The attack grazed her side deeply, slicing through her robes and flesh as if they were paper, crashing into the wall behind her with lethal momentum. A crimson streak splattered across the floor behind her, and she stumbled back, clutching her side, her grin faltering from the shock of the speed of the attack.
Lily did not give her a second to relax as she dashed towards her, her wand appearing in her hand with a flick of her wrist, sending a wordless Cutting spell for Bellatrix's head. Bellatrix barely dodged, the spell grazing her, leaving a thin bleeding cut on her cheek. Lily followed up with a perfectly executed kick, her foot crashing into Bellatrix's temple, the Death Eater mask flying off of her face.
Bellatrix careened into the wall behind her, spinning in a daze, blood flying out of her mouth. Not letting up in the slightest, Lily drove her boot into Bellatrix's face with vicious force, the impact snapping Bellatrix's head to the side and leaving another streak of blood across the wall. Bellatrix coughed and gasped, her earlier manic bravado gone, replaced only by dread.
How the hell did she move so fast? Bellatrix thought in disbelief, eyes wide, but before she could process the question, that train of thought was violently cut short.
Without hesitation, Lily stepped forward, her boot coming down with merciless force onto Bellatrix's neck. The sickening crunch of bone and cartilage filled the air as the force crushed Bellatrix's windpipe. A gurgled rasp escaped her throat, her body jerking in a final spasm before going completely still. Lily twisted her boot eyes blank, face impassive.
She didn't pause to reflect—no time for that. Her daughters were still needed her. Without a second glance at Bellatrix's lifeless body, Lily turned on her heel and sprinted toward the family room, the thick dust and debris from the explosion clouding her path. Every step was driven by the raw urgency that flooded her veins.
As she rounded a corner, a sudden rush of heavy footfalls echoed through the air. Her instincts kicked in immediately. Spinning around, her wand raised and ready, her sharp gaze fixed on the source of the sound. But then, through the haze of dust, she saw a familiar face emerge.
James.
His clothes were splattered with blood, his breath ragged but controlled. He moved with the same intense focus, wand held high, but as their eyes met, they both relaxed slightly.
"You good?" James asked, his voice low but steady.
Lily nodded, her expression taut. "Let's go."
Without hesitation, they fell into step with each other, moving swiftly but cautiously, laser-focused on their objective, ready to face whatever threats might arise. However, for the moment, they were unimpeded. They reached the entrance to the basement in record time, but it was blocked, the doorway obscured by the debris of collapsed walls and shattered furniture.
With no time to waste, James cleared the area of debris with his innate Boundless Reach. The path now unobstructed, they moved in quickly. The air in the basement was cooler, the stone walls thick and dense, offering some small semblance of security amidst the ruin of the rest of the house. They didn't pause for breath, didn't exchange words. The only goal was that fireplace.
As they moved, the lanterns that hung along the basement walls flickered to life, glowing faintly with a soft magical hum, their light casting shadows that seemed to stretch across the stone. Reaching the bottom of the stairwell, the narrow corridor split into two directions. To the left lay the storage room. To the right was the family room, and the familiar sight of its door loomed ahead, untouched—a beacon of hope in the midst of the devastation.
Lily didn't hesitate. She turned instinctively toward the family room, sprinting as James followed. Barging through the door, the chandelier lights that hung within the room flickered to life, casting a warm glow across the familiar space. She immediately looked to the hearth. There it was, dark and unlit, but Lily had never been so happy to see a fireplace.
She continued her steady run towards it as she fired off an Incendio, golden flames igniting in the fireplace as soon as the spell took effect. James, already a step ahead, was already reaching for the vessel beside the hearth. His hand plunged in, grasping a handful of Floo Powder, flinging it into the flames. Green sparks erupted, filling the room with a verdant glow as the magic took hold.
"POTTER MANOR!" they shouted in unison as they jumped into the flames immediately.
******
Author here.
Sorry it took so long to put out an update. I had crazy writer's block for this chapter because of how much was supposed to go on in such little time. Anyway, I hope this is satisfactory. I'll try to be more consistent with my upload schedule.
Also, I made some changes to the story.
In part 2 of the prologue, I changed the name of the Potters' second inherent technique, so if you could check that out, it'd be great. It was originally Cursed Domination and Nullification, but now it is Cursed Manifestation and Nullification. More on that in future chapters.
Also, about Bellatrix. She doesn't use a cursed technique in her battle with Lily because she doesn't have one. It is mentioned in part 2 of the prologue that's part of the changes I've made—but the details will be explored in coming chapters.
Furthermore, due to the changes, part 3 of the prologue now contains a critical plot point that significantly impacts the entire story. Therefore, the updated version is essential for understanding the events and context of this chapter.
Anyway, with no other business to address, have a nice day. Ciao! (:P)