A/N: First off, this is my first go at fanfiction so give me a little leeway. I apologise for any errors, grammatical or otherwise, but hey, no one's perfect. Any constructive criticism is appreciated. You don't like my writing style? Tell me! I'll never improve otherwise.
Anyway, on with the story!
In the staff room of Hogwarts, a group of tired yet defiant faces crowded around the conference table for another meeting of The Order of the Phoenix. There was the hardened Auror Alastor Moody and the grief stricken Molly Weasley, who had recently lost both her brothers in a death eater attack on Diagon Alley, although they took 9 of them with them. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin talked quietly, the latter looking pale after his most recent attempts to persuade the werewolf packs away from Voldemort. He knew it wouldn't work, but Dumbledore told him try so he did. Then there was Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, teachers who were fighting those they taught, before they came what they were; minions of a psychopath who would do anything for power. Sat in his throne-like chair at the head of the table was Albus Dumbledore, who smiled benevolently out over his troops, as if they were not losing. The Potters and the Longbottoms looked pale and gaunt, as if they hadn't slept in weeks.
Several months before, Albus Dumbledore came to both with grim news: There had been a prophecy, foretelling a child born to those who had thrice defied him with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. There were only two children who fit that description: Neville Longbottom and Jack Potter. A servant of the Dark Lord had heard part of the prophecy and relayed it to his master, so they were in grave danger. Both families had gone into hiding immediately, the Longbottoms had faith in the wards of Longbottom Manor, while the Potters had used an obscure charm to bend reality to hide them, with the secret of their location enclosed in the soul of their Secret Keeper. It was an incredibly difficult spell, so much so that even Dumbledore needed two days rest after casting it. They had made Peter Pettigrew their Secret Keeper, although they had wanted to use Sirius Black.
Sirius was the Godfather of their oldest child Harry, who was currently 4. Sirius and Harry were as close as could be, to the extent that James would occasionally get jealous of the two of them. But then he would see the joyous look on his son's face, and he could no longer feel anything but thankfulness that his son was happy. The only person Harry was closer to was Nymphadora, who was 2 years older than him. Nymphadora Tonks was the daughter of Sirius' cousin Andromeda, and they were thick as thieves. In the days before they went into hiding, they would go running off and disappear for a few hours, and come back giggling and covered in mud. Or they would tear around the house laughing and screaming, or just make as much mess as humanly possible. Lily nearly had an aneurism whne they came back to find muddy footprints covering the floor, with all sorts of food and other unidentifiable substances covering the walls. That had been one of the hardest things for the Potters, despite their worry for their youngest soon. Harry had always been a quiet child, preferring to observe through his frighteningly intelligent emerald green eyes. But since going into hiding and being separated from his best friend he had shut himself off, only showing even a shade of his former self when Sirius was around, but with the war that wasn't all that often.
A small tap of his hand on the table had everyone's attention turned towards the head, and Dumbledore called the meeting to order, his blue eyes twinkling. The meeting seemed the same as all the others – werewolf attacks, death eater raids, Ministry officials going missing and whole families dying. It only served to reinforce the simple fact that Voldemort was winning, and they couldn't stop him. Suddenly, the two Potters suddenly went stiff, and Sirius and Remus were instantly on their feet. They already had an idea of what was going on, even if the thought of them being right filled them with dread.
As fast as it had come, the stiffness left them and both Potters were halfway through door, Sirius and Remus close behind before anyone else could react, and James yelled over his shoulder.
The wards had been broken, Peter had betrayed them. Voldemort had come. Shock induced silence filled so room for a moment, before a deafening cacophony of distressed voices arose and everyone else bolted after them. No one noticed the relieved slump in Alice Longbottom's shoulders, or the flash of victory in Dumbledore's eyes.
By the time the two Potters had made it to the edge of Hogwarts ground, Sirius and Remus had caught up, while the others were far behind. As soon as they felt the ancient wards wash over their skin as they left the wards, they twisted and felt the familiar sensation of Apparition. When they appeared in Godrics Hollow, it was to the sight of the cottage on fire as the moon shone eerily through the clouds, the once pristine white walls blackening while the fire raged. The roar of the flames was drowned out for a moment by the anguished yell that tore through the night. No one could be sure who made it. The sound of crying shook them from their agonised stupor, and Sirius and James unblinkingly sprinted into the house, leaving Remus and Lily to desperately try to put out the flames.
The first sight Sirius and James saw was smoke, thick like an inescapable fog. Hastily casting bubblehead charms, they stepped through the hall towards the stairs, caution forgotten despite the growing flames that licked at them. The blackening stairs shifted ominously under their weight as frames holding family pictures burned, glass shattered and wood was slowly reduced to ash. James went towards Jack's room, knowing Sirius would go to Harry; He knew in Sirius' heart he was his own pup. Yanking his hand back from the searing hot door handle, Sirius kicked the door open the door, knowing a Bombarda could bring the ceiling down on top of him and, more importantly, Harry. Pinned under beam that had fallen from the rafters, Harry lay trapped, his eyes moving around frantically like a frightened animal. Carefully levitating the beam off of him, lest he cause more damage, Sirius picked Harry up and hugged him to his chest, to which Harry clung, before turning and dashing out the door just as James exited Jack's room with him in his arms. He wasn't moving, and Sirius hoped to Merlin he was okay. They made it downstairs and out the door to the sound of a dozen pops heralding the arrival of the rest of The Order, who had to duck a swiftly fired spell from Remus while Lily rushed towards them.
Now able to clearly see, Sirius and James both turned to look at the two young children in their arms. Jack was unconscious and seemingly unharmed, apart from a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. Harry on the other hand was severely burned, particularly on his hands, clearly where he had tried to push the beam off him. A glimpse of white, so out of place against the black of the soot and the smoke, showed a tip of bone protruding from Harry's leg, the occasional pulse of blood flowing in a stream down to the ground.
But still he clung to Sirius as if holding on for dear life, seemingly barely noticing his injuries, and Sirius realised then that although the psychical injuries wouldn't be hard to fix, the mental ones likely would.
As if to prove his point, Harry burrowed into his side as he loosened his grip slightly to allow James and Lily to see more clearly, a scared whimper barely escaping his throat. Waving Madam Pompfrey over as he muttered into Harry's ear to calm him, Sirius looked around and noticed that the Aurors had arrived without him noticing, and looked to be helping put out the fire. Poppy couldn't do anything here except apply numerous numbing charms; the burns would need special salves, while the broken leg would need to be vanished and regrown with Skele-gro. Just then Dumbledore came striding over, the bright blue eyes seemingly not matching his grim expression.
"Do we know what happened to Voldemort?" Dumbledore questioned, demanded really. Dumbledore always had a presence that made you do what said, a Merlin knew James would do it even if he didn't.
"I found this," James said, pulling out a familiar looking wand, "And his cloak, but no body." His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, "Why would he leave his cloak and wand behind?"
"Ah, my dear boy, I do not believe he did, I believe he was vanquished by young Jack here. He has even been marked by Voldemort, he has the scar. I believe that he came here with every intention of killing him and negating the prophecy, and yet something in young Jack stopped him. An unknown power perhaps." He said as he peered knowingly at James and then at Lily, the slight widening of their eyes showing they understood him.
"You said vanquished, not killed. Why?" Dumbledore looked momentarily smug that Sirius had caught that, the conversation was going exactly as he wanted it to.
"Voldemort has travelled further down the road of the Dark Arts than any, I am certain he has found a way to cheat death. And as James said, there was no body; He is not truly gone, and when he returns he will come after Jack. He will have to be trained." Lily's eyes flashed with a myriad of emotions then, anger and fear and sadness before she settled on acceptance.
"I don't like it but you're right Albus, I will not let my son die." The anger and ferocity in her eyes as she said this was enough to remind them all of the fearsome temper of Lily Potter. Dumbledore turned to the gathered Order members, Aurors and the few journalists who had somehow found out about the attack and spread his arms wide, his trademark grandfatherly smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes.
"Fellow witches and wizards, Voldemort has been vanquished by Jack Potter, THE BOY-WHO-LIVED!"