A cold wind howled through the trees of Godric's Hollow, shaking the last clinging leaves from their branches. The full moon cast an eerie glow over Potter Manor, its ancient stones standing firm against the approaching storm. Inside, the warmth of the hearth belied the chill that had settled in the air, and the crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the walls. The manor was filled with a sense of anticipation, as if the very walls could feel the tension that hung in the air.

Lily Potter stood by the window, her bright green eyes scanning the darkness beyond the glass. She held her infant son, Harry, close to her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against her. James was in the other room, pacing the length of the study, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. The Fidelius Charm was supposed to protect them, but unease gnawed at the edges of Lily’s thoughts. Something was wrong—she could feel it in the pit of her stomach.

Suddenly, a sound—a faint rustling, like footsteps on fallen leaves—reached her ears. Lily’s heart skipped a beat. She turned away from the window and walked quickly into the study, where James stopped pacing and looked at her, his hazel eyes filled with concern.

"James," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Someone's here."

He didn’t need to be told twice. The lighthearted smile that usually played on his lips was nowhere to be seen. He moved quickly to her side, taking Harry into his arms, his face set in grim determination.

There was a sudden, bone-chilling silence—a calm before the storm. Then, without warning, the front door exploded inward, shattered into splinters as a figure cloaked in black stepped into the entryway. The firelight caught the gleam of red eyes beneath the hood, and Lily felt a wave of dread wash over her.

Voldemort had come.