It was a cloudy, cold evening in the suburbs of Britain. In the neighborhood of Godric’s Hollow, somewhere in the United Kingdom, the streets were empty as a light flattering of snow fell softly and dusted the grass. The closely knit neighborhood was quiet and cozy and quite magical indeed.
A row of houses to the left were dark, but one cottage in particular was gleaming with magic and lanterns alike. The occupants of the 523 Godric’s Hollow were Billy and Jeems Potter. Billy, the father, was a rambunctious man, with a jolly voice, curly brown hair, and a stout potbelly. He was 23 years old. Jeems, the mother, was the same age as her husband. She also had a potbelly and a stooped figure.
They were both laughing with joy as they played with their 3-month son, Hawwy. Hawwy grinned malevolently in his baby crib, as his parents tickled his feet. Lowly half-breeds! He thought in his baby mind. You’ll one day bow down towards the most evil wizard in history, Hawwy Pottah! I will kill you tonight to make an example of treating me like a child.
Hawwy was an evil, rambunctious, wicked child. When he was born, the doctor slapped him to make him cry so he could breath. After that, Hawwy sunk his gums into the doctor’s hand. It didn’t cause the intended effect of painful screaming, but the intention was still there. Tonight, was going to be a bloody mess after Hawwy killed his parents.
Yesterday, Hawwy had apparated to the wand maker’s shop in Diagon Alley. He was almost 4 months, and he could already do a number of dreadful spells without a wand. Silently murdering 2 families along the way, Hawwy had toddled up to Ollivander’s shop, and demanded that the frail old man give him the most powerful wand in the inventory. Ollivander had simply laughed at the idea of a barely walking child demanding a wand and cast Hawwy aside. Hawwy did not appreciate being treated like a child. The rest is too gory and violent for us mere muggles to comprehend. Simply put, Hawwy eventually got his wand, but there was no wand maker left.
Tonight was going to be the time to execute Hawwy’s plan. After tonight, he would not be constrained to this suburban house by his parents any longer. Meanwhile, 10 miles away in the Malfoy’s Manor, Voldemort shrieked with anger. The Malfoy’s were all out, running charities for poor wizarding families.
They used their valuable wealth in Galleons to buy school supplies, wands, and clothes for the families who couldn’t support themselves.
Voldemort was playing Roblox on Draco’s brand spanking new gaming computer. It had an GT 730 the fastest graphics card in 1993, 23 kilobytes of DDR1 memory, and a wireless gaming mouse with CMYK lights. “BLAST THIS GAME!” He slammed on the stone desk as his internet lagged once more. He was frustrated so much he was sweating. The ping reached a meager 10,000, and his character died as a sweaty pro player pickaxed him to death. The Malfoy Mansion was made all of stone, and that didn’t help the 2G wireless internet by AT&T reach Draco’s computer from the router in the basement dungeon.
Voldemort’s death eater scar rung once, twice, thrice. Finally, he sighed and gave up on the game, raising his hand to his ear. “Yes? I’m in a game of Roblox, and you just made me die. Can you call later?”
It was Bellatrix, the one of the Malfoy’s charity managers, and she sounded terrified. “Master! I’ve just received news from the Ministry of Magic that Hawwy Pottah is going to murder his parents tonight!” Voldemort jumped up from the stone desk, the gaming chair with massagers falling to the ground. “WHAT!?” He shouted into his hand phone. “I’ll be there right away!” Voldemort hung up the phone, and twirled around. He apparated from the gaming room.
There was a slight pop as Voldemort appeared in the streets of Godric’s Hollow. He sprinted up the street, his black robes billowing behind, as he raced to the only house that was lit on the street. He had to be fast, before Hawwy could use the Killing Curse on his only parents! He needed to save them! Suddenly, there was a loud bang as green light flashed in the living room of the house. He banged open the door, feeling apologetic for not knocking, but the occasion was urgent. He skidded to a stop by the living room, gazing in horror at the sight of Hawwy standing over the bodies of his parents. He had already killed them in cold blood. “Hawwy! No! Stop it!” Voldemort pleaded. Hawwy turned around, his dark, beady little eyes glinting with malevolence. “You wizard half-breeds disgust me,”. He snarled.
Hawwy raised his wand, and before Voldemort could defend himself, sent a curse flying at him. Voldemort ducked, and dodged a majority of the spell, but some of it grazed his head and send him flying unconscious outside. The rest of the spell went ricocheting off of the windows, bouncing back towards Hawwy and hitting him in the head, leaving a lighting shaped scar. Hawwy would live, being able to withstand more curses, but Voldemort’s soul was removed from his body.
To be continued