On July thirty-first, two boys were born: the younger was christened Harry James Potter while the older was christened Richard Charlus Potter. Lily and James looked into their children's eyes lovingly.
A year later, on Hallow's Eve (Halloween), Voldemort attacked.
"Lily! Take the boys! Run!" James yelled as he stood with his wand in hand. Lily ran up the stairs, a boy in each arm. "AHH!"
Lily placed the boys in their cribs and glanced around desperately. Voldemort blew apart the barricade in less than a second.
I stepped through the door and heard James Potter screaming for his wife to run. Lazily, I sent him flying through a wall, unconscious. I would let him live…for now. I followed the path of the mudblood up the stairs. I scoffed internally at the pitiful defense she had put up. With a wave of my hand, I sent a stunner at her, saving her for Severus. Then, I glanced at the two boys. Which one?
One boy caught my attention. His core was as large as mine was when I was young. He stared at me fearlessly, not crying. For that, I decided to have mercy on him. I raised my wand.
"A quick death, young Potter," I murmured. "Avada Kedavra."
As the light left my wand, the bawling baby quieted. A blue wave of magic clashed with my spell, reflecting it. The last thing I saw was the young Potter looking at me with deep regret, mouthing a sorry, reaching out to me. The last thing I heard was the scream of the second baby.
Dumbledore arrived at the scene moments later. Ten minutes later, he revived James and Lily.
"He's safe, Lily," he soothed, holding up a child. He held Richard up, pointing at the scar on his cheek where a flying piece of debris had hit him. "May I present Richard Potter: the Boy-Who-Lived!"
"Where is Harry?" asked James urgently.
"I'm afraid he has perished," Dumbledore sadly informed them.
Eleven minutes earlier
Death smiled down at the small child, trying to comfort him in death, trying to welcome him with open arms. She swooped down, prepared to embrace Harry Potter as he died. But he glanced up at her and smiled. Smiled. He smiled brightly at Death, and Death saw the mature light and acceptance in his eyes. He mouthed 'one minute' before turning to the door. As the light shot towards him, he allowed his magic to repel in such a way that it mirrored the spell back towards the caster who had cheated Death, Tom Riddle. A moment later, another cheater had come.
"Albus Dumbledore," Death eerily called.
"I-I…" Dumbledore stuttered. He looked at the young, seemingly twenty-year-old girl. Her raven black hair drifted down to her ankles as her pale blue dress waved slightly. A hand on her hip, she surveyed the damage before turning her intimidating, azure (blue) eyes on him. "Wait!"
"I will take someone," she commanded, ignoring his exclamation. Dumbledore was thinking, Look, there's Richard with a V-shaped scar…Oh no! Not Richard, not Richard, we need the Boy-Who-Lived! Death scooped up the small Harry. "Good bye, Albus Dumbledore. You have twenty more years before I return to collect your soul or another's."
Sirius Black was let out of Azkaban a day after he had been put in. Peter Pettigrew was hunted and eventually found. The Potters grew more and more big-headed and eventually forgot completely about Harry Potter. Sirius and Remus grew distant, going on many missions and occasionally visiting, although their friendship was no longer as firm as it had once been.
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