The Girl Who Loved

It was nightfall and the streets were eerily quiet, the occasional laugh of a passing child ringing through the air. It was their child’s first Halloween and they should be out, celebrating it with their friends but they could not leave their home. Not unless they wanted to die and have their child dead.

Nothing was going to stop the Dark Lord from killing their child. Not even their pleas.

Small Elena Jean Clairmont was only a year old and nestled in her crib. Her mother, Isabella sat in the chair away from the window while her father, Thomas held her hand.

Lately, the expressions of anxiety and fear were the only things on their faces. How could they not be? The prophecy was specific.

Two children, a boy and a girl from different parents, born at the end of July, will be the downfall of the Dark Lord. That applied to their child, who was born on the 30th of July. The day before Harry James Potter was born.

At first, the Potters’ and the Clairmonts planned to hide away together and protect their children together but the planning was thrown away the moment that their friend, Peter Pettigrew told them how quickly the Dark Lord would be searching for them. When he suggested they go into hiding immediately, the Potters’ and Clairmonts did not hesitate or ask questions.

He was both their secret-keeper, of course. Along with James Potter, Lily Potter, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, he was their best friend, their family.

It was near midnight when they first heard the noise. It was deafening and tale-telling.

The Dark Lord was here and he knew where they were.

The small home rattled softly and Elena woke from her sleep, watching as her parents began to tremble with ever-lasting fear.

Isabella Clairmont took out her wand as she kissed her husband for what would be the last time. Her hands shook and her body was riddled to the bone with fear but Merlin’s beard, she would die for her husband and her beautiful girl if it was the last thing she did. Isabella turned to the white crib against the wall as Elena sat up and rubbed her eye with her small clenched fist.

Seeing her child nearly made Isabella sob out loud but she had to be strong. She would be strong. If she could hold off the Dark Lord long enough, her husband and child could run and live.

“My beautiful girl,” She cooed, reaching into the crib and picking up the infant. “Mama loves you so much. You will do great things, Elena Jean, I know it. You are strong. You are loved, my darling.” Thomas took their child in his arms as Isabella’s voice broke into a hushed whisper at the sound of a cracking yell.

“Where are you hiding, dear old Isabella?” A woman so psychotic that it was a wonder on how she was able to separate reality from her mind, yelled through the house. The door had been broken down by the Dark Lord and his most loyal death-eater to ever live, Bellatrix Lestrange.

For Bellatrix to be here, it had to be bad.

Isabella shivered and her face turned into an expression of cold rage that only a mother could wear. For the last time, she looked into the marvelous green eyes of her husband and nodded, soaking in the colors swirling together. She turned away from her family and left the room, closing the door and the lock behind her.

Thomas shut his eyes and said a silent prayer for his wife, his best friend. He had to go.

The familiar sound of a duel came from the lower floor of the house. Isabella was cornered in her den by Bellatrix and the hooded figure of Lord Voldemort. She was exceptional at dueling but it took all of her power to hold off two people. Two powerful wizards.

She gasped in exhaustion. She never lowered her wand, creating hexes and defense spells, along with a few curses.

Isabella Clairmont would not yield.

Not for the dark wizards who wanted her daughter. Bellatrix cast a curse so horrible that Isabella had to scream.

“Crucio!” The red light left Bellatrix’s wand and hit Isabella Clairmont. The mother screamed and withered in pain as Bellatrix became amused, increasing the pain with each breath. Isabella cried out, wanting to call out for her husband, for God if they existed. Her mind was splitting, nerve by nerve, cell by cell. Her body was breaking. And then, nothing.

“Where’s your daughter?” Asked Lord Voldemort, baring his pointed teeth. Isabella was barely breathing. She gasped her air, for the pain to subside but her body was not hers anymore.

She shook her head, gritting her teeth to keep her from crying. From spitting on the Dark Lord.

“Do what you must, Bellatrix.” He sneered, raising himself and gliding towards the stairs. Isabella wanted to scream, to run after him and kill him. But she couldn’t move because Bellatrix began once more.

“Crucio!” Isabella yelled in pain, her body thrashing as the death-eater moved around her, not breaking the spell. Isabella screeched and screamed but no release from the pain.

Her mind was slipping away to an unrecognizable state, something that had been done to Alice and Frank Longbottom, whose child, Neville, had also been born at the end of July. Isabella did not want to go insane. She did not want to die.

She did not yield.

Upstairs and listening to the deafening screams and gasps of his wife, Thomas Clairmont was standing ready with his wand at the door. He had placed himself in front of the crib, where his crying daughter sat.

Surprisingly, she was silent as tears streamed down her cheeks as if she understood she had to be silent. Thomas crouched in front of the crib and his daughter, holding her hand through the wooden bars.

Someone, anyone, had to find them any moment and save them. Maybe Peter, maybe Sirius or maybe Remus, just anyone. He had to say goodbye, just in case.

“Elena, daddy loves you. Mama loves you,” Another scream of pain and Thomas’s heart broke into another piece. “We love you forever. You are brave, so brave for this. I need you to be brave just a little while longer. Uncle Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail will find you. They will save you, my love. You are so strong. You are stronger than I ever could be.” The steps of Voldemort were growing closer.

Elena, you will do great things. Do not yield, ever. You are your mother’s daughter. Strong and beautiful. Daddy loves you so much, darling. Be brave. Be kind. Be strong. We will always be with you-” The wooden door shattered open and Thomas shouted as he stood his ground and stood in front of his daughter.

The screams of his wife had gone into heaving sobs. Finally, the last piece of his heart that belonged to Isabella, fell away. She was slipping away.

Standing there, in the doorway of Elena’s nursery, was Lord Voldemort. He removed his black hood and had his wand pointed at Thomas. Thomas reached for his wand but the moment it was pulled, Voldemort disarmed him. Facing death in the face, Thomas held his head high.

He would not yield.

“Move aside and be spared.” The Dark Lord’s voice rang through the air with a chill. The same chill that rang through that entire night.

Thomas did not move. He moved closer to his child instead.

“Do not be foolish, boy. Move aside.” Thomas shook his head, swallowing tears.

“Spare her. Do what you must to me but do not harm her. She is only a child.” Thomas pleaded Death. A broken sound which he presumed to be a laugh from the Dark Lord made him flinch.

With another thought, another breath, the Dark Lord raised his wand and bellowed, “Avada Kedavra!”

The green light flooded the room as Thomas Clairmont screamed and then fell to the floor next to the crib. He lay motionless, his hand outstretched to his daughter and a single tear coming from his eye. Elena began to scream, her ragged sobs filling the room.

“Avada Kedavra!” Lord Voldemort repeated as Elena cried. The green light flashed again and Elena screamed loud as a searing pain hit her forehead, branding her with a lightning scar, the same scar which would bound her to Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. Only this time, something went wrong.

Elena Jean Clairmont was still crying as Lord Voldemort felt a searing and emptying pain flood his body. Something was being ripped away from him and it felt the same as when he had created his horcruxes. A piece of his soul was ripping away and was flying towards Elena. The infant was lifting for a moment and then released by the dark magic. She too, was now a horcrux.

The Dark Lord starred in disgust and bewilderment as Elena simply was crying silently, focusing on the body of her deceased father. But she was alive. Although weak, the Dark Lord was whisked away by Bellatrix who had blood- Isabella Clairmont’s blood- across her face.

A mile away in Godric’s Hollow, Lily and James Potter would suffer a fate similar to Thomas Clairmont's. Harry James Potter would suffer the same fate as Elena Jean Clairmont who sat in her crib, wondering when her mother would come up the stairs. She patiently cried and waited for her father to wake up.

Alone, Elena Jean Clairmont sat in her crib with no idea that her mother had been mutilated, tortured to the brink of insanity and killed. She had no idea that her father had been murdered. She crawled in her crib towards the small stuffed animals on the edge.

A stag, a dog, a wolf, a rat and a lion.

Her chubby fingers clawed at them all and she held them in her lap. She laid back down and cried to herself in her destroyed home until she fell asleep, dreaming of her parents.

From that night on, wizards and witches of all ages and places, would quietly raise their glasses in a toast and whisper, “To Elena Clairmont and Harry Potter, the children who lived.”