"The Serpent's Teeth''
(A Tom Riddle love story)

Death at Godric's Hollow
31st October 1981
Saturday

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

The- in a black cloak wrapped person paced restlessly through the room, the muttering to himself over and over again.
"...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord..."

"...born to those who have thrice defied him..."
He reached the small table on the opposite wall of the window, and paced bag once more.
"... born as the seventh month dies..."
He suddenly remained standing in the middle of the room.
The handsome Tom Marvolo Riddle- who would kill anyone who dared to even think of his given name, hissed angrily in Parseltongue and pulled his cloak close to his body.
It had been about one year since Severus Snape had informed him of the prophecy, which he had overheard, but Voldemort still wasn't completely sure who exactly was meant with; "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord."

He wasn't entirely sure, but he suspected two families, there were only two people, who fulfilled the terms of the prophecy.
Only two people whose parents had opposed him three times and were born at the end of July.
Only two people: The son of Alice and Frank Longbottom and the son of Lily and James Potter.

The fact that he wasn't entirely sure which of the two the prophecy was meant for wouldn't have been too bad by itself, he could easily kill both, and eliminate their parents as revenge for escaping three times.
But finding the two families turned out to be more difficult than he had thought.

A half hiss half sigh escaped his lips and he resumed his pacing through the room once more.

Two Steps to the window. Four back to the table.
Then again to the window.
And to table.
Window.
Table.
Window.
Table.
Windo- suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"What is it Avery?", Voldemort snapped.
With an awful creaking sound Charles Avery opened the door and entered the room.
He fumbled nervously at the collar of his - former snow white, now rather thunderstorm clouds gray Shirt around, while he said," My Lord, a man named Peter Pettigrew has come to us. He says that he will tell us where the Potters live."
Voldemort abruptly raised his head and looked at Avery with his blood- red eyes. He could hear his own heart beating from excitement.

At last.

"What are you waiting for then, bring him here!", he hissed at his already nervous assistant.
"That won't be necessary, my lord" stammered Avery, "He is already here."
At those words, Avery took a step aside and behind him stood a short, round lump of a man, with thin brownish hair.
Peter Pettigrew suddenly stood stiff as a board, as he caught sight of the tall slender figure who stood in the middle of the small room.
At once Pettigrew dropped to his knees and bowed repeatedly, while he stammered excitedly, "Lord Voldemort, Sir, what an honor, what an honor!"

Lord Voldemort, yes, that was his new name.
A good name, an impressive one.
He liked it when people spoke his name with an anxious tremor in their voice.
He had stopped using his old name years ago, as more and more people joined him, they had the same goals as him: to rid the wizarding community from the unworthy Muggle blood.

More and more people had joined his once small group of Death Eaters and he had become their Lord.
He had always despised his old name; there were so many Toms, they were nothing special, nothing unique.

Pettigrew looked back up from the ground and looked at The Dark Lord with his murky blue eyes.
"My Lord, I-I have some informations for you," he stammered excitedly, "I was - am the Potters secret keeper, my lord, I can tell you where to find them!"
Voldemort's lips curled slightly at the sight of the man who was kneeling on the cracked wooden floor in front of him.
For some reason Pettigrew disgusted him, reminded him of a low creature, a rat who writhed on the ground, false and deceitful, a filthy vermin.
But he tried not to let his disgust show as he simply ordered: "Speak."
And Pettigrew spoke.
A few seconds later Voldemort had vanished from the dark room.
****
Cold wind danced through the narrow road on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow, one of the villages where wizards lived together with Muggles.

Voldemort's cloak billowed up, like a wave flowing on to the shore, and fell back into itself.
With his long fingers he grabbed his black cloak and pulled it tighter around himself, before he took the first step in this foreign environment.

Pettigrew had given him the street name and house number.
House number 15th

A typical English family house stood right in front of him. Voldemort took another crunching step towards it, and was now close enough to read the name tag to the right of the gates.
Pettigrew had not lied: the name "Potter" could be read on it.
A cruel smile spread across Voldemort's face.
****
The gate made no sound, as he opened it.
It swung open gently letting the tall handsome man enter the garden without resistance. The graveled path crunched under his feet as he approached the house.

Warm light shone from the windows of the upper floor, as well as muffled voices.

They seemed happy- cheerful even.

Voldemort snorted briefly as he broke the lock of the door apart with a sweep of his wand.
The now terrified screams from above drang outside.

Voldemort stepped into the hallway.
He crossed the wooden corridor floor with slow, soft steps.
A certain anticipation filled him, his eyes shone with a newfound determination.

Finally it was time, at last he was able to prevent the prophecy.
After this had been dealt with he would take his rightful place at the top of the wizarding society, and in years to come Hazel would join him as his dark lady.

It was so easy, so easy to prevent the prophecy.
Why had he ever worried about it?
He was Voldemort, he could not be defeated.

As he entered the first floor on the, a man rushed out of one of the doors.
The man's black hair was stood up from all directions, the lights of the lamps reflected in his glaces.

It was James Potter.

For a few seconds the two men stood facing each other motionless, as if they were waiting for the other to make the first move.
But Potter was not even armed, he had left his wand somewhere.

"No matter what happens," he gasped, eyes wide with fear as he turned into a kind of battle position.

"No matter what happens, I will not let you into this room. You will not harm Lily and Harry!"

Did Potter really think that he could win against him?
Without even having a wand?
It was too easy.
Too simple.

It took him only a murmured ;
"Avada Kedavra" and Potter was thrown back by a green light, and slumped lifeless on to the wooden floor.
Without batting an eye Voldemort stepped over Potter to the door, that he had come out of.

Meanwhile it was closed again and the Dark Lord could hear noise coming from the room, heavy objects were being pushed over the wooden floor.

Was she seriously trying to block the door with furniture?

A little angry and somewhat amused, Voldemort swung his wand lightly once again, so that the door was blown open and the furniture flew aside.

A high pitched scream rang through the air.
It came from a red-haired woman, a panicked look plastered on her face, as she held on to the wooden baby cradle behind her.

A few broken wood chips snapped under Voldemort's steps as he walked closer to them.
He now saw, what was behind the woman inside the cradle.

Two large green eyes stared at him through the wooden bars, waiting, interested.

It had to be him.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord...

"Don't!" Sobbed the woman and moved in front of the child. A few tears ran down her face, which had now assumed a pleading expression.

"No! Not Harry!"

Voldemort was about to raise his wand and speak the most unforgivable of the Unforgivable Curses, as he remembered a promise that he had given one of his most faithful Death Eaters.

Severus Snape, though only half-blood but highly capable and one of his more useful Death Eaters, had asked him to spare Lily Potter. The Dark Lord was not the kind of man who responded to the pleas of his subordinates, yet he hesitated.

And before he knew it he hissed at her:
"Get out of the way. Move, then maybe might spare you!"
He had tried it.
Given her a chance.

However, despite his offer she didn't step aside, she clung only further to the bars of her son's crib, shaking her head in silence.

As the green flash of the Unforgivable Curse hit her, Lily Potter's body hit the wooden floor with a thud, her eyes were closed.

She had known what awaited her.

He stepped over the body of the woman.
The wooden floor creaked as Tom took another step.

At the same moment it began to rain.

One, two, three drops hit against the sloping roof window.

He slowly raised his arm, the bittersweet taste of triumph was burning on his tongue.

Tom looked at the child with cold, glassy eyes.
His lips twisted into a cruel smile.

"Farewell, Harry Potter," he whispered.
Then he took a deep breath, and spoke;
„AVADA KEDAVRA!"

He saw the green eyes in front of him, which slowly filled with tears, and then he saw nothing.

He could only feel the pain, every pore of his body hurt, as the curse rebounded on him.
He had never experienced anything like this; he had already made acquaintance with the Cruciatus, but that was nothing compared to this.
It was... as if all the physical pain he had ever suffered in his life, multiplied a trillion times and bombarded him.

And then it was over.

Tom Riddle watched his own body dissolve into thin air, Harry lay inside his crib, crying with all his might, while the walls of the house started to crumble under the weight of the curse.

His body was lost, but it seems that the Horcruxes were tying him to this world.
He felt a pull, much like when traveling by Portkey, and left the small house, the garden, Godric's Hollow, he simply let himself float away.
****

Little Harry who had now ceased to scream, looked at the spot where the strange man stood just a moment ago in wonder.

"Moma! Dada!" The child cried for his parents.

Harry wanted to be taken in his mothers arms, his head ached terribly, and he couldn't see anything trough his tears.

"Mo-" Lightning, a deafening noise and a light impact, were needed to hush the small, recently orphan Harry Potter.

If anyone would have entered the destroyed nursery at this very moment, then they would probably have ran away from fright.
Then there in in the- by lightening iluminated room, Harry James Potter's eyes shone deep red.

_____________
A/N:

Everything that happens after the Potter's death happens exactly as the amazing J.K Rowling has written it, except that in this story Severus Snape manages to find love in Haylee Rosier, and the two escape to America for a while.
They do however return to England after learning that Voldemort has been defeated, and the Potter's have died.

The next chapter will be in Hazels point of view (:

Much love
Jamz