The boy who was given up

Chapter One: The Night Of Terror

The cold air of the night settled heavily in Godric's Hollow. No creature dared to make noise, almost as if they could feel the impending doom looming over one house.

A house that seemed to be filled with bursts of various colors like an array of deadly fireworks.

If you were to walk by the house, you might even say it was beautiful, but that's the thing about beauty: it often hides dark secrets. Just the same as a rose in full bloom has thorns.

Inside the walls, confusion flushed through blood-red eyes, fixated on not one small crib in the corner of the room, but two.

True, the vicious man was stumped, but he would not let either of these children defeat him one day.

Wand at the ready and venom itching to roll off his tongue, he chose one of the crying boys. The one he could feel had the strongest magical core. 

With a low rumbling mutter, the lives of both boys would never be the same again, as the green erupted from the man's wand it struck the boy square in the chest.

But something was wrong. The boy stopped crying.

He sat there, unmoving for a moment... Maybe two. 

Then looked up, the vibrant green of the killing curse seemed to trickle into his body. First his eyes, like a ripple in the water his natural green eye color swirled and mixed together. Then followed by hi aura which seemed to be pooling out of the boy like smoke flooding out of a burning building. 

 "How?" Whispered the intruding man as the green smoke slunk towards, as if in a trance he reached out for the smoke, like many, mistaking beauty for non threatening. His fingertips closed over the smoke and in that moment the smoke sharpened and stung.

Despite the calm aura of the curse, it was more potent than Voldemort could imagine and the second it touched his skin it destroyed all in its path.

Pieces of the foundation of the house lay scattered around the room like a jigsaw puzzle itching to be solved.

Even the two boys did not escape the explosion as the crying boy's crib shattered beneath him causing a gash on his cheek, almost as if it was in the shape of a V.

The other boy, whose magical core was now dangerously low, lay unmoving on the ground surrounded by the scraps of what used to be his crib.

A dark orb erupted from Voldemort's body lying deathly still on the ground. The black orb floated rapidly upward, desperately searching for the closest living thing to latch itself onto.  Unfortunately for Harry, the orb flew directly into him causing the last of his grip on the conscious world to slip.

Black ran through his veins as a scar burned itself comfortably onto his forehead. The kind of scar that could only ever appear when someone is touched with dark and powerful magic. 

Unfortunately for young Harry, this would not be the last time. 

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When Lilly came to she bolted upright, flashes of the man aiming for her children came back to her.

She ran to the boy she saw on the ground closest to the rubble. "My poor Harry." She whispered to her son.

James bolted in only a moment later and grabbed the other child on the ground surrounded by shards of his crib.

"Lilly look! On his cheek, he is the child prophesied." James exclaimed in a rush pointing at the V-shaped mark on his cheek.

She looked at him then back to the child in her arms who looked to be sleeping quietly. "Then we must see Dumbledore." She whispered, holding back tears.