He laughed before casting the curse "Avada...
He laughed before casting the curse "Avada Kedavra!" The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glow like lighting rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut He could hear her screaming from the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear He climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in She had no wand upon her either How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for momentsHe forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand and there she stood, the child in her armsAt the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib dior saddle bag behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" "Stand aside, you silly girl "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead \a150\a150" "This is my last warning \a150\a150" "Not Harry! Please Not Harry! Not Harry! Please \a150\a150 I'll do anything Stand aside, girl!" He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husbandThe child had not cried all this timeHe could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, and his mother would pop up any moment, chanel devil wears prada necklace laughing \a150\a150 He pointed the wand very carefully into the boy's face: He wanted to see it happen, the
destruction of this one, inexplicable dangerThe child began to cry: It had seen that he was not JamesHe did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage \a150\a150 "Avada Kedavra!" And then he brokeHe was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped screaming, but far away The snake rustled on the filthy, cluttered floor, and he had killed the boy, and yet he was the boy And now he stood at the broken window of Bathilda's house, immersed in memories of his greatest loss, and at his feet the great snake slithered over broken china and glassHe looked down and saw something "Harry, it's all seamaster de ville right, you're all right!" He stooped down and picked up the smashed photographThere he was, the unknown thief, the thief he was seeking "Harry, it's okay, wake up, wake up!" He was HarryHarry, not Voldemort and the thing that was rustling was not a snake "Harry," Hermione whispered"Do you feel all \a150\a150 all right?" "Yes," he liedHe was in the tent, lying on one of the lower bunks beneath a heap of blanketsHe could tell that it was almost dawn by the stillness and quality of the cold, flat light beyond the canvas ceilingHe was drenched in sweat
