The Potter Clan's Vengeance

Chapter 1 : The Fateful Night

Chapter 1

In the dead of night, in a quiet neighbourhood in South-West England, a cloaked man, tall and pale, stood before a plain two-story cottage. He allowed himself a small, smug grin to decorate his face, his crimson eyes shone in crazed delight as he gazed upon his intended house.

The man whipped out his wand and a stream of red light sped toward his target's door, easily obliterating it. He stepped inside the house and felt a magical energy wash over him, alerting his presence to the occupants of the house. His grin became wider and more feral as he felt the three magical presences inside.

'Two children...young, no more than 2...' the cloaked man thought, '... and an adult.' His plan had worked; the Death Eaters he sent had lured the heir of House Potter and his filthy mudblood wife to Diagon Alley. They would be too busy to notice his attack on the prophesied child.

He climbed up the stairs and noticed a light coming from an open room, the door slightly ajar. The wizard blasted the door off its hinges with a powerful curse and smirked cruelly as he spotted two children and presumably Lady Potter, their grandmother.

Her raven hair seemed frazzled, but it did little to affect the intensity of her grey glare. The woman looked unfazed at his arrival. "Voldemort," the elderly woman said curtly.

"Dorea Potter Nee Black," the cloaked man – Voldemort remarked, a malicious glint in his eyes as he stared at the two children behind Dorea. "Move aside and I'll spare your life; resist and... surely there's no need for me to continue, is there?"

"Over my dead body!"

"That can be arranged." Voldemort snarled.

Her wand was out in an instant and Dorea released a dark curse at the Dark Lord; before the spell could hit, a beam of orange light bolted through the space between the two, surprising Voldemort.

Voldemort raced to the side, letting the orange energy pass him harmlessly. It was common knowledge that the Potter Lady was a healer, so it was surprising when she unleashed a dark curse on him. However, she was born of the blood of the House of Black and she was the wife of Charlus Potter; underestimating the woman was a blunder he was not to repeat.

Both adults lashed out at each other in a magical frenzy, lighting the room in an array of colours. Spells were countered and repelled one by one, and their skills seeming to be matched. Little by little, Dorea started to tire as she released curse after curse, her magical reserves depleting at an astronomical rate.

A powerful blast from Voldemort had Dorea on her knees, unable to withstand his power any longer. Voldemort chuckled, "It seems I've underestimated you, Black. If you had just moved out of the way, you may have lived just a little longer."

Dorea panicked. Fatigue rendering her unable to brandish her wand. She glared back at Voldemort in defiance, fury marring her face as she stared at the noseless bastard. "I'd rather die than let your filthy hands touch my grandchildren, you hypocritical half-blood!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light filled the room, and moments later a heavy thud could be heard as the body of Dorea Potter fell onto the floor; she had fainted, narrowly avoiding the killing curse. The sound of wailing children grabbed Voldemort's attention; he turned his head to see one of the children crying as the other held the crying child in his arms, glaring at Voldemort with his bright green irises.

This is him, he thought. Staring at the green-eyed boy, Voldemort could feel the oversized core inside the boy flowing out. It was a shame the boy was to die; he would have been a great asset with the right training. "Pity, I might've made you my apprentice if not for the prophecy."