Voice of the Nephilim - Sitra Ahra

Sitra Ahra

Preludium: Ruins of the Genesis

October 31, 1981

"To most wizards, the situation would have seemed hopeless. His wand lay at the other end of the Chamber, snapped in half. Salazar Slytherin's King Basilisk advanced, its exact position hard to say with eyes closed shut."

James Potter built up a minor dramatic pause before his son's wide, alert state. Silently delighting in his son's rapt attention, James continued.

"However, Godric Gryffindor was not most wizards."

Reaching behind him, James placed his hands atop his head, removing an imaginary hat and clutching it close to his chest, a hand below and above.

"With the King Basilisk bearing down upon Godric, he reached inside his hat. You see, Harry, Godric's hat was very special. It was charmed so that he could call upon his sword at anytime. When he put his hand into the hat, his fingers curled around the handle of the legendary blade."

James paused for a moment, making an exaggerated movement to mimic holding a barely concealed weapon. While James admitted to himself it didn't make a very convincing image, his son didn't seem to mind too much.

"The evil Basilisk was very quick, so Godric couldn't move until the last second. Since Godric had his eyes closed, he had to use the sound of the Basilisk's swift movements cutting through the air to figure out how close the foul creature was."

With a flourish, James withdrew the imaginary blade with a flourish, while making an exaggerated movement to the left. His eyes closed, he couldn't see his son, but clearly heard his cry of delight.

"Godric sidestepped left as the Basilisk was about to strike, bringing the Sword of Gryffindor up in a swift arc. The basilisk let out a mighty cry before it crashed to the ground, dead."

James opened his eyes as he finished the story, drinking in the sight of his son, with a smile stretching from ear to ear.

"Throughout the years, Harry, it has always fallen upon the Potters to carry Gryffindor's legacy into the future. To uphold the tradition of bravery and justice is what our family has always strove for."

Lily chose this moment to break in. "Thankfully you met someone who would be able to pass intelligence down."

James gave his wife of two years a mock glare, which turned into a smile at her saucy wink. The mocking retort on the tip of his tongue was broken by a tapping sound coming from his right. Glancing in that direction, the source of the noise was proven to be a large eagle owl.

The Potter patriarch rose to his feet slowly, stretching his arms high above him and letting out a yawn. This apparently wasn't the sort of hustle the owl was looking for, as it let out an indignant shriek.

"Quiet you" replied James, more to himself than anyone else. He leveled a cold gaze at the owl, trying to convey his displeasure with the loud noise in the vicinity of Harry. James supposed that the owl wasn't exactly terrified by his attempt at an intimidating look, as indifference was the owl's only response.

He reached the window, and opened it up. As soon as it did, the owl swooped in, dropped the letter on the table, and departed just as swiftly as it had arrived. By the time Harry fully released his amazed, gleeful cry, it was as if the owl had never been there.

"I suppose it wasn't interested in a reply." Lily mused, from her maintained position in front of the sink, causing a slight smile to tug at the corners of his mouth.

After favoring his happily drooling son with an indulgent smile, James picked up the letter. Inspecting the envelope exterior revealed not a single mark, almost unsettling in its unremarkable nature. The anonymous nature of the post, combined with unknown owner of the owl, raised the ire of James' survival instinct. There was something wrong here.

He placed the envelope on the table, and cast a detection charm on it, checking for any signs of magic. The white light washed through the yellow letter without incident, proving that it had not been tampered with. With a subtle movement of fingers, James broke the seal and reached inside to retrieve its contents. Inside was a single piece of parchment, folded in half, bereft of markings on the outside. His curiosity mounting, James opened the parchment, which appeared to have but a single sentence written upon it:

"The Potter residence can be found at Seventeen Peverell Way"

James found himself frozen for a second, his mind unable to grasp the meaning the letter implied. It was Lily's voice which partially broke him of his paralysis.

"Who's it from?"

"It's him. He's found us" replied James, his calm voice displaying that the full impact of their being compromised has not completely sunk-in.

Lily's dropped the plate she was washing. There was no mistaking who "He" was. The porcelain plate hit the floor with a crash, shards splaying across the beige floor. The breaking of the china cut through the haze like Lily's voice hadn't. They were compromised. The Dark Lord was on his way to destroy their family.

"Make sure no one comes through the back!" James yelled, as he started a sprint to the hallway, withdrawing his wand from his pocket as he moved. He caught a glimpse of Lily starting to rush to collect Harry from the kitchen table before he left the kitchen.

The pounding of James' feet on the hardwood floor sounded like hammer falls to him, his senses tuned to their utmost sensitivity.

Entering the foyer a second later, James moved into position, his back up against the wall to the right of the front door. His ears strained, trying to distinguish between the furious beatings of his heart and the imaginings of his paranoia. Only silence greeted his ears.

"Where the fuck is he?" James thought to himself. Given the Dark Lord's reported pride and self-confidence, he should have just gone through the front door. Mentally preparing himself, James inched his left hand towards the handle of the front door. His hand making contact with the cool brass, he pulled the handle down sharply, and threw the thick mahogany door open. Wand at attention, he swiftly moved into the doorway.

The front yard was awash in starlight, completely undisturbed. Turning his eyes to the road, he saw it empty, the only way in and out of his home. Eyes straining, he inspected every corner of the closely cut grass that filled the front lawn, as well as the edges of the thick forest that surrounded his home, searching for the tell-tale distortions of a disillusionment charm.

James' search turning up empty only deepened his sense of unease. Nearly oblivious to the night chill, he shut the door. He couldn't help but feel like he was animal caught in a hunter's trap. Where was the hunter though? Resigning himself to check the back yard as well, James started down the hallway. Halfway down the white-walled corridor James stopped, his instincts screaming. Had he heard something at the door just now?

Without warning, the front door was blown inward, ricocheting off the banister and landing askew against the hallway wall. The Dark Lord swiftly followed, stepping out of the darkness. James felt his insides turn to ice upon gazing at the serpentine face, the red slits of the Dark Lord's eyes narrowed, a cruel smile upon his face.