December 1979
In his throne room, hidden underground, the last descendant of Salazar gave audience.
"The Potters have gone into hiding, my Lord." the voice echoed from the marble walls of the throne room. "They are hiding behind a Fidelius, and I'm their Secret Keeper, my Lord."
A smile crossed the face of the seemingly young man on the throne. "Very well, Wormtail. Yet again you have proven yourself useful." A hand rubbed a shaven chin. "Now leave." The kneeling figure straightened and hastily scurried out of the room.
Wormtail quickly donned the mask a hood of his plain black robes in the antechamber, and entered the fortress body. In the corridors of the underground stronghold, Death Eaters roamed in dozens. As Wormtail went to deposit his weekly report on the actions and whereabouts of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, he saw, and worse – identified, some of the prominent Death Eaters; Lucius, the Malfoy silver snake head emblem in plain sight on his wand. Rabastan Lestrange, various bodily fluids splatters on his robes, and of course, Severus Snape, the double agent: greasy demeanour and even greasier hair. Severus Snape, the enigma. Severus: clearly smitten with a married woman, one Lily Potter. Severus: a member of Dumbledore's Order, taking unimaginable risk to spy from inside Lord Voldemort's most trusted ranks. On the other hand, Severus is a close friend with Lucius Malfoy. Severus's hatred for muggles rivals the Dark Lord himself. And Severus is a member of the Inner Circle, a position bought in blood, Unbreakable Vows, and dark rituals.
Snape's black eyes trailed over the cloaked and hooded figure of Peter Pettigrew, stopping for a moment on the mask eye holes and the blue eyes underneath. No spark of recognition flared in the dark eyes, as the two passed each other. Wormtail shuddered as he remembered the day when he told the Dark Lord of Severus's treachery. It was the same day he sold his soul, his friends, and everything he once held dear in exchange for his life and a respite from the torture.
"Ha, Wormtail" laughed the Dark Lord "Do you really think that an Inner Circle member could defy me? He doesn't know, but I am aware of his actions. You will not interact with him in any way, or dear Bella will have to make time for another session with you." Afterwards, the marking, accompanied by searing pain as Voldemort branded him with the Dark Mark.
He returned to the present as he settled in front of a desk for report and interrogation. "The Order's Headquarters are still in Hogwarts, though Dumbledore conducts meetings on various other locations..."
How I wish it will all end already.
All Hallows Eve 1981
Albus Dumbledore sat at the kitchen table at James and Lily Potter's cottage at Godric's Hollow. In front of him across the table sat James, his gaze weary.
"It was another trap." said James, his voice bitter. "Just as we got there the anti-apparition wards rose. Sirius, Moody and I supplied cover fire while Sturgis created a portkey, though I doubt we hit anything other than trees and rocks." James sagged in the chair. "Moody got hurt; he got a shrapnel blast to the face." Dumbledore looked pained and worried. "He'll heal. What troubles me more is that we keep walking into ambushes. It was, what, the forth this month? Why?" "Albus, it's easy. Severus feeds us that information. Trusting that Death Eater will get us all killed!" "No. Even I'm not such a senile old fool yet. Severus's reports are all Legilimensed by me directly. Besides, that info didn't come from him." "Well, it's either the Death Eaters are that much better than us, we are so predictable that Voldemort guesses our actions time and again, or one of us is Imperiused." Albus straighten with a gasp. "I haven't even thought about that! I am indeed getting too old. I must check it out. Farewell, and give my bests to Lily and Harry." He waved and strode to the entrance.
"Oh, Peter. Take care." mumbled Dumbledore as he passed a shaken Pettigrew at the living room. They got me. If not now, then definitely tomorrow. I have to tell the Master.
Shadows descended on Godric's Hollow as most of the village children prepared for their Trick-or-Treating night. Jack-o'-lanterns shone from many windows casting eerie lights on the neatly paved streets. The church bell rang eight times, calling out the early costumed kids.
The wizarding families in the village, however, were at their homes, behind locked doors. No magical parent will let his child run in the dimly lit streets without protection in this troubled time, especially during Summer's End.
The last two years have shaken the British wizards. They started with multiple burglaries from museums, libraries and the deep vaults within the Ministry, although no official statement of what was stolen was ever published. Later, Ministry and Wizengamot personnel, as well as muggles and muggleborns started to disappear. Most were never found again. The few that did could be fitted into a shoe box.
The Ministry accepted three times more candidates into Auror training, but since the program took three years, the additional manpower was not available in time. Meanwhile the existing Aurors were spread across the country. Spread too thin, perhaps.
A new sight was seen in the skies, the skull and serpent, the Dark Mark. It hung above crime scenes, mostly empty houses, signalling that the inhabitants will never be seen again. At the summer solstice, however, the Dark Mark shone above a setting that reminded the older wizards of the terror of Grindelwald's reign on Europe; dozens of corpses - the remnant of a ritual sacrifice - strewn in a field outside Manchester. The investigation yielded that they weren't magical, and a note, taunting Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindelwald, for his inability to guard the people from the rising "Dark Lord Voldemort".
The Ministry was caught with its pants down, and never managed to pull itself into effective action. Aurors and detectives were dispatched to track down the criminals, but none was ever found. Hushed rumours of Imperiused started spreading.
In the darkness outside Godric's Hollow, two figures appeared in a crack of apparition.
James was happy. Despite the gruelling months of dark wizard chase, coming home always soothed him, and spending a holiday with his beautiful wife and son - that made him feel content.
They sat in the living room, surrounded by Halloween decorations and small piles of candy. Transfigured from carrots, of course, or else Lily would have bat his ears off. He levitated a pumpkin, and transfigured it into a miniature wolf, that floated to lick Harry's nose. It startled him, but sent him giggling to Lily's lap. "Moe! Worf!" He demanded. "Worf!"
"James!" Lily reprimanded, "You'll make him another you!"
"Was that a complaint? I recall quite a few compliments, though."
"Pff. You're incorrigible."
James froze, as he heard a semi-familiar voice through the wards. "Hold them in."
He was puzzled. Hold who in? For the briefest of moments he thought the stranger was referring to his family, but immediately relaxed as he remembered the Fidelius charm hiding all entrances to the house and its location inside Peter's soul.
Nothing could stop the cold shiver down his spine when Wormtail's voice started chanting a complex Anti-Apparition jinx.
His face turned deathly pale. "Wormtail betrayed. It's Him! Take Harry and go! I'll hold him off!"
After but a moment of hesitation, Lily took Harry and raced out of the room.
James stood, wand in hand, watching the wards fall around him. He was no fool. He was an Auror, a Marauder, and given a few months, a Master in Transfiguration, but he knew that this man who calls himself Dark Lord is the most dangerous man he have ever met. He let a silent prayer to Circe while quaffing the emergency Felix Felicis and transfiguring a few beasts out of furniture. Just as he finished the second lion, the door burst in revealing Lord Voldemort.
He and Lily have seen him once before on an Order mission. Not across wands, thankfully, but they did managed to save a few people from being captured – or worse – by the man. He was occupied back then due to Dumbledore's spellfire, but now there was nothing between the two of them but a few transfigured obstacles.
Voldemort walked in, a silvery shield surrounding him, spotting James. "Valiant, pawn, but I have a message to deliver. Omnes vorax flamma."
Cursed fire leapt from the man's wand, briefly taking forms of dragons and chimeras as it ate through the pouncing lions. James didn't waste a heartbeat as he started cursing, alternating between piercers, cutters, animal transfigurations. True to his training, never wasting time to shield, but relying on his agility and liquid luck to dodge. Every curse flew true, only to hit the shield, every lion charged, only to be consumed by the ravenous flames, every eagle took a killing curse that was aimed at his master. He even managed to stay away from the fire, or that was that the will of the dark enemy?
James never fought more fiercely in his life, every flick of his wand was responded by the sound of a gong as it hit. Feats that required concentration and energy flowed out like water, but still, the man never changed course, never faltered.
But even with all the luck in the world, James could not stop the Dark Lord. As he paused chanting to inhale, a wave of force from Voldemort's offhand drove him to his knees.
"It's a shame, really, but that fool Dumbledore must know that no one can hide from me. Avada kedavra."
Lily heard the battle from downstairs, and smelled the putrid stench of Fiendfyre. She held Harry, desperately clawing at the wards preventing her from fleeing. As James' - her beloved - voice grew hoarse and the ward still held, dark desperation engulfed her. She can't save Harry. She can't face the horror downstairs and prevail. These wards were too tight to send even the shortest message, she won't be able to call Dumbledore, and she won't be able to notify the Order about the coward rat. They might still think Sirius is the Secret Keeper!
Then, in a rush of epiphany, understanding dawned in her. It was just a sliver of hope, a spark of light in the dark of night, but she might, just might, save Harry. That spark of hope shone brighter than a thousand suns.
Lily Potter was no slouch. She could not have won James with looks only, but when she heard footsteps on the stairs her guts clenched and twisted and knotted she was unable to breath.
The door opened, revealing the young man, his every movement, every step elegant, charming, and mortifying. He entered the room, looking straight at her face, not noticing the empty vials and open book near her. She put herself between her son and the monster. "You can't have him!" she shouted as he raised his wand. "Avada kedavra!" Harry, Live!
Sickly green light filled the room, and her body hit the floor with a thump, a silver dagger clattered on the floor beside her, dripping a last droplet of her blood.
A wand was pointed at a baby, in the second floor of the house in Godric's Hollow, where two murders were committed moments before. A freezing wind rushed around the house, carrying the smell of ice which never belonged at Summer's End. A hunched figure outside chanting for dear life straightened and screamed as the spell it was holding was ripped to shreds by ice-cold magic.
Inside the house, Tom Riddle Jr. was caught by surprise. What is happening? No one knew about the strike at the Potters. No one could have been warned. He took care of that. Besides, no so called 'light' wizard would torture Wormtail to draw that scream. It didn't make any sense. He contemplated to go to the window and see, but as the Anti-Interference ward Wormtail held fell, he concluded to kill the boy and be on with it. It would only take a moment.
He looked at the baby, only to see the ghostly forms of the Potters appear in front of him, shining brightly; too bright for ghosts, actually. Ghosts were usually pearly white and translucent, but these two glowed silver, illuminating the room. James (was it James?) lounged at him, and of all the impossible things, managed to hold his throat. A ghost. Holding. His throat.
Lily clawed at him, but as painful as it was, James was clearly top priority. Instinctively, he used the most efficient curse. "Avada kedavra!" Green light battled silver, and hit James squarely in the chest. It didn't kill him. He was already a ghost, what was he thinking? But it did manage to throw him backwards, still holding Voldemort's throat.
Searing pain shot through his entire being as he watched his body collapse behind him. Black tendrils of ectoplasm writhed as his soul was ripped from his body and was sent flying along with James towards the infant on his cot. Panicked, he tried to pull something, anything, to get away. From far away he could sense Wormtail, and he latched onto him and pulled. With a loud tearing sound, he changed course, and flew through a wall and out of the building.
Blood Curse, on All Hallows Eve. Damnable mudblood, who's the blood traitor who taught you this? How could I have not been prepared?
Inside the house, Harry cried in pain as shards of his parents and their killer's souls hit him.