âLily, take Harry and go! Itâs him! Go! Run! Iâll hold him off!â Â Â Â
Hold him off, without a wand in his hand!⌠He laughed before casting the curse⌠Â
âAvada Kedavra!â Â Â Â
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⌠  Â
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 moments⌠  Â
He 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 arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen insteadâŚ
âNot Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!â Â Â Â
âStand aside, you silly girl⌠stand aside, now.â   Â
âNot Harry, please no, take me, kill me insteadââ Â Â Â
âThis is my last warningââ Â Â Â
âNot Harry! Please⌠have mercy⌠have mercy⌠Not Harry! Not Harry! PleaseâIâll do anythingâŚâ   Â
âStand aside. Stand aside, girl!â Â Â Â
He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all⌠  Â
The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The child had not cried all this time. He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruderâs 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, laughingâ Â Â Â
He pointed the wand very carefully into the boyâs face: He wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. The child began to cry: It had seen that he was not James. He did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanageâ Â Â Â
âAvada Kedavra!â Â Â Â
And then he broke. He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror.
- Godricâs Hollow, October 31, 1981
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