𝕬 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖎𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖗𝖓 | 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 |

Chapter 65- The Point of No Return

"He wears the smell of blood and death like a perfume, there is fire in his eyes and ice in his veins, but you love him anyway. For he is a star, burning with the light of a thousand suns and your world is dark without him..."

October 31st, 1981, Godric's Hollow.

That was when and where it all ended. The town was full of laughter and good cheer, despite the looming chill of an autumn night. Kids were wandering the streets unsupervised, wearing their silly costumes, and carrying around plastic jack-o-lantern pails. They were blissfully unaware that danger was approaching from the darkness of the night and that the whole world was about to change forever. Along the outskirts of town, a tall, cloaked figure was slowly sweeping its way through the forest of trees. His pace was far too leisurely. Now, he could have flown himself directly to the residence he sought and made a dramatic, over-the-top entrance, but where was the fun in that? There was no need to be such a drama queen on such a glorious evening. The sudden appearance of Lord Voldemort invading your supposedly safeguarded home would cause fear and surprise, no matter what type of entrance he made. He had almost arrived in the town of Godric's Hollow. Almost to Lily Potter and the boy, almost to victory. He would finally be able to kill the only thing with the power to stop him, thanks to Wormtail's foolishness and betrayal. If Peter were still alive, he'd certainly be ashamed that his son sold out his best friends out of nothing but fear. Meanwhile, Ellyn would forever have to live with the shame of having raised such a traitorous and cowardly son. Voldemort had made the right decision only killing one of them. It was much more satisfying of an arrangement.

Suddenly, there was a rustling of leaves and a great unnatural gust of wind that swept the night air. Voldemort's attention was drawn instantly to a nearby tree. Something had arrived on the wind. There was another cloaked figure peering out at him from behind it, as if they actually thought that would be a sufficient hiding place. He couldn't see the figure's face, since it was dark, and he was only using his peripheries to sneak a glance. Voldemort still knew exactly who it was though. Another twenty-five years had passed between them and finally she was intending on revealing herself to him, to stop hiding behind Dumbledore like some perpetuate child. He didn't think this day would ever come. A day she showed herself of her own free will was not a conceivable thought after all she had allowed to happen. Most of her precious Gryffindor friends were now dead by his hand and not once did she come to stop him from killing them. He knew how strong-willed she was, but friendship was an obvious weak point in her character and, if he wanted to get her attention, he'd abuse the hell out of that weakness. However, Frankie hadn't let her weakness overcome her and she'd allowed them all to fall. This naturally hadn't been Voldemort's intent, but he couldn't help but be impressed by her resolve. He still considered her a strong witch and the only one he found worthy to stay by his side, however, he was growing sick and tired of waiting for her to come around of her own accord.

But, everything was different now that she was here in the flesh. Tonight, Voldemort planned on getting everything he wanted. Finally, he would have the perfect life that he deserved. Ultimate power, the Potter boy dead, victory in this war, true immortality, and her. She seemed a pitiful prize compared to all the rest, but he felt obligated to Tom to always keep Frankie in his desires no matter how much time passed between them.

"You can't hide from me. I told you that before." he stated, in her direction, removing the hood of his own cloak. He was one thing, but did she really foolishly thinking a mere cloak and a tree were enough to conceal her presence from him? Although, something told him she wasn't actually trying to hide from him for once. She had wanted to be seen. She'd put on the spectacle only for him. Frankie stepped forward, removing the hood of her cloak to reveal her long hazel hair and stolen face filled with an abnormal youth. It was just like he had heard. Not a grey hair to be seen, or wrinkle upon her cheeks. She looked exactly like the girl in his memories. The girl he had fallen pitifully in love with. However, he would not dare let that sway him, like it did last time.