Suddenly, Harry found that everyone around him had vanished.
"Vivi?" he called uncertainly, "Cassandra? Pabi? Little Sirius?"
In response, only prolonged silence greeted him.
At that moment, his scar suddenly began to burn intensely.
The pain was so severe that his vision started to blur.
The surrounding environment grew darker, even the light was completely consumed.
A dizzy sensation came over him suddenly, a feeling quite familiar, just like being in a Meditation Basin.
Before long, Harry suddenly felt his feet touch solid ground, and his surroundings were no longer pitch black.
A crescent moon hung in the distant sky, stars scattered across the sky, flickering uncertainly with light.
A cold wind blew through, and Harry felt a chill unlike anything felt when viewing others' memories.
Logically speaking, within someone else's memory, one shouldn't perceive ambient temperature.
Could it be that this isn't a memory?
Just then, Harry saw a figure cloaked in black.
The person's face beneath the cloak was obscured, but Harry could vaguely make out those crimson eyes.
Those were not eyes any human could possess, they seemed like those of a bloodthirsty beast, eerie and terrifying.
It's Voldemort, Harry would never forget that figure until the day he died.
Suddenly, Voldemort moved, his cloak sweeping over the frosty grass, as pale fingers caressed the Purple Fir Wand.
Purple Fir, Phoenix Tail Feather, 13.5 inches long.
Harry remembered the style of Voldemort's wand, something Mr. Olivander had unwittingly told him.
In front of Voldemort was a three-story cottage.
Memories rushed over Harry, and he was completely certain that this three-story cottage was where his parents lived.
Could it be...
This is October 31, 1981?
It was on this day that Voldemort broke into Godric's Hollow, killing Harry's parents, James Potter, and Lily Potter.
Harry instinctively extended his fingers, a streak of ghastly green light shot out, piercing through Voldemort's body.
No reaction, that body seemed like a phantom.
Could it be... this is a memory?
Yet the surrounding cold didn't seem feigned, Harry was puzzled but still carefully watching Voldemort's figure.
Voldemort walked steadily, step by step, to the front door.
He extended his wand, pointing it at the door lock.
The door lock shattered into fragments under the sibilant whisper of Serpent Tongue, the protective copper bell in the entrance didn't even have time to issue a warning before being melted into a dark green liquid by Voldemort's Magic Spell.
When Harry followed Voldemort to the staircase, he happened to see his father, James Potter, rushing to the staircase. Despite having no wand in hand, he still cast a Stupefied on Voldemort.
Without the wand's assistance, the magic spell's accuracy wasn't great, Voldemort merely hissed a laugh and deflected James's spell.
He seemed to enjoy this feeling, relishing the sight of others showing despair.
Yet he was disappointed, James not only didn't show fear but rather, like a warrior ready to die, cast another Stunning Spell at him.
"Run! Lily! Take Harry and run!"
"Dad?"
Harry looked at his father in shock, he cast several spells at Voldemort, all in vain.
"Hehe..." Voldemort hissed a strange laugh, "What a touching love, but today will be the end..."
With that, he snapped his fingers, a black whirlwind rushed towards James.
James indeed lived up to being the backbone of the Phoenix Society, even without a wand, he wasn't completely defenseless.
In front of him, transparent ripples flickered, it was the Iron Armor Spell, Armor Protection.
"I will savor this irony..."
Voldemort's wand tip glowed with ghastly green light, as the green light exploded, James's final expression froze in shock and unwillingness.
He fell backward with a thud.
"Dad!"
Harry shouted in anger, yet he could do nothing, only watch helplessly as Voldemort entered his nursery.
As he walked past James's corpse, he took one last look at the father he'd only seen in others' memories.
Just as Little Sirius said, everyone's image is a circle, not just black or white.
His father was a hero who resisted Voldemort.
In the nursery, Lily had just placed Harry in the cradle.
She bit her fingertip, drawing a few symbols representing Ancient Magic on the ground.
As she finished the Ancient Magic Spell, a sibilant laugh echoed from the doorway.
Just hearing this sound was enough to send chills down one's spine.
After all, the master of Serpent Tongue was the renowned Dark Demon King.
When Lily turned to face that skeletal figure looming from the shadows, the roses on the dressing table suddenly wilted, their petals turning to blackened ash before hitting the ground.
"Lily Potter..." Voldemort hissed, "Let me guess—you must desperately want to beg me to spare your son now, don't you?"
Harry could see no trace of fear in Lily's green eyes, only unwavering determination.
"Let us have a Wizard Duel, Voldemort." she said word by word.
"What a touching maternal love," Voldemort hissed, coldly laughing, "but I have other things to do, step aside—"