Heart of Stone
The Dark Lord, as his followers called him, glided down the land searching for the right house in the dim light of the lamp posts. He never did understand why she choose to live side by side with muggles, but then again he didn't understand a great many of things she did. He spotted the house, nestled snuggly between two houses on either side, he walked slowly up to the door taking his time before knocking. The time had finally come to eliminate her, she had outlived her usefulness, she had recently gotten too close to the Order, and he had never been one to take chances.
Dumbledore would say something about the power of forgiveness, but Dumbledore was weak, afraid to take power for himself. In this way, along with many others, Dumbledore differed from the man standing at the door, Voldemort. Voldemort considered it no coincidence that he, himself had all the power, and he was also the one who scorned love, and did not forgive.
Some might say Voldemort had feelings for the woman who was walking down the stairs on her was to the door, but he felt nothing for her. If he ever did have any feeling for her, they were gone now, along with anything else he might have once cared about
The woman came to the door, her dark blonde hair drifting around her. She was clutching a bundle of clothes-the Dark Lord wondered in the back of his mind if she'd been doing laundry.
"I thought you might come," she said calmly, for some reason this made Voldemort insanely angry, why wasn't she afraid of him-she must know he was about to kill her! "I was hoping it wouldn't be the case, but…." She let her words trail off. She sighed, her brown eyes looked resigned to her fate, "But before you kill me, I want you to know, she's your daughter." She trust the pile of clothing at him, and Voldemort saw it was not a bundle of clothes, but a baby girl wrapped in a green blanket.
The Dark Lord knew a daughter was just as much of a weakness as the woman before him, and just as easily taken care of.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort screamed, a green flash of light lit up the night, and the woman collapsed. Voldemort instinctively reached out to catch the baby. He turned his wand towards the child, about to dispose of it too, when it giggled, "Ava Kadva."
Some feeling the Dark Lord wasn't familiar with welled up inside of him and made him lower his wand. Could this be the thing Dumbledore praised so highly, the thing Dumbledore said concurred all? Could this be love? Voldemort shoved this thought away, love was for fools. Love was the greatest of all weaknesses-but he wouldn't kill the child. He would wait to see how she turned out- or at least that was what he told himself, as he tucked the child under his cloak and dissaperated.
A little over a year later, Voldemort was gone, no one knew what happened to him, but they all knew the child, Harry Potter, was responsible.
Authors Note: Okay I realize this is a little short (most of my fan-fics are) but this is a prologue. So, yes, please R&R, I'd love to hear what you think (except if you think it's too short-I don't want to hear that although if you really really really really NEED to tell me you can :) )