For Muggle and wizarding families alike, Halloween was a time for celebration, filled with magic, mischief, and of course, candy. But on this particular Halloween night, people would be celebrating for an entirely different reason; October 31st, 1981 would soon go down in history as a day of triumph, the day an evil man met his end. Unfortunately, like all victories, this victory came with a great cost; the ones who defeated him, a pair of infant twins, were orphaned.

The Halloween festivities in Godric's Hollow had long since ended by now. Almost all of the houses in the neighborhood had turned their lights off, as it was almost ten o'clock at night. Rain poured down hard from the skies above, and simultaneously, the wind began to pick up, creating a sense of foreboding in the air. A hooded figure, dressed all in black, was making his way through the streets, that sense of purpose and power and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions...Not anger...that was for weaker souls than he...but triumph, yes...He had waited for this, he had hoped for it...

Gathered in the living room of their house, blissfully unaware of the imminent danger soon to strike, were the Potter family. James, a tall man with messy black hair and hazel eyes that shone with mischief behind round glasses, made puffs of colored smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of his children. They were laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in their small fists...

Just over a year ago, James' wife Lily had given birth to twins, one boy and one girl. The boy was named Harry James Potter, and the girl was named Cassia Helena Potter. When choosing her daughter's name, Lily drew inspiration from Rowena Ravenclaw - the founder of Ravenclaw house had had a daughter whom she named Helena, but was more commonly referred to as the Grey Lady.

Lily entered the room and leaned against the doorway, smiling as she watched her husband entertain the twins. Her dark red hair, which had previously been tied up into a messy bun, now fell past her shoulders; the scarlet hue contrasted greatly with her emerald-green eyes. "I swear, James, you and Sirius spoil those two rotten," she remarked, accidentally scaring James.

James jumped in surprise, the wand slipping from his hand and dropping to the floor. This sudden action caused the twins to giggle. He sighed in relief once he turned around and saw his wife was behind him.

"Sorry," Lily apologized, covering her mouth to stifle her own laughter.

Playfully shaking his head at her, James picked his wand up and placed it on the couch, before picking up his daughter and cradling her in his arms, while Lily scooped Harry up and rocked him back and forth. Harry looked almost exactly like James, except for the color of his eyes. Similarly, Cassia was almost a splitting image of Lily, but unlike Lily, Cassia had her father's dark hair. As most fathers do, James loved to boast about his daughter's beauty, and often said she would grow up to be as beautiful as her mother.

Lily cleared her throat with her free hand. "All jokes aside, I think it's bedtime for these two." A yawn from Harry confirmed her words.

"Yeah, you're probably right," James reluctantly agreed. He followed his wife as she climbed the stairs and entered the nursery, where they each placed a kiss on the tops of Harry and Cassia's heads, and then placed them into the crib. No sooner had they done so than a creaking noise could be heard from outside.

Lily was both curious and startled by the sudden creaking. "What was that?" she wondered.

"I'm not sure," James replied, having also been alerted to the noise. "Stay here. I'll go check it out." He left the nursery and descended the stairs. As much as Lily wanted to argue, she knew it was futile. James was only looking out for her and their family.

As James came down the stairs, the front door burst open. He paled once he saw the hooded figure that had entered the house. "Lily, take Harry and Cassia and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" he called up to Lily.

Hold him off, without a wand in his hand!...The hooded figure laughed before casting the curse...

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut...

Lily knew she was trapped. Her husband was dead, meaning it was far too late for her to try Apparating out of the cottage. Even worse, she didn't have her wand on her. Thinking quickly, she created a makeshift barricade using a chair and several filled-up boxes and pushed them against the door. She then knelt in front of the crib, facing her children for what she knew would be the last time she ever saw them.

"Harry, Cassia, you are so loved. So loved. Mama loves you, Dada loves you," she whispered. "Be safe, my darlings." She put a hand up to the bars. "Be strong. Protect each other."

The murderer forced the door open, cast aside the chairs and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand...and there she stood, her arms thrown wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding the twins from sight she hoped to be chosen instead...

"Not Harry and Cassia, not them, please not them!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside, now."

"Not them, please no, take me, kill me instead -"

"This is my last warning -"

"Not them! Please...have mercy...have mercy...Not my children! Please - I'll do anything -"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all...

The green light flashed around the room and with a final, bloodcurdling scream, she dropped like her husband. The children had not cried all this time: the boy could stand, clutching the bars of the crib, and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was their father who hid behind the cloak, making more pretty lights, and their mother would pop up any moment, laughing -

He pointed the wand very carefully into the children's faces: He wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. The little girl remained sitting as she stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.

Her brother began to cry: He had seen that the man in front of them was not James. He scooted as close to his sister as possible. Tears brimmed in Cassia's eyes as she reached a tiny arm out, taking Harry's hand and holding it tightly.

The man did not like either of them crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage -

"Avada Kedavra!"

And then he broke: He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the children were trapped and screaming, but far away...far away...

Late at night, in the town of Little Whinging, a grey tabby was perched up on the wall, showing no signs of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something.

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the tabby cat sitting on the brick wall near number 4 Privet Drive. If anyone looked out the window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. As Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak, the cat let out a meow, attracting his attention. "I should have known that you would be here, Professor McGonagall," he said, making eye contact with the feline.

The cat moved to stand up on all fours, and leapt off the wall. Within seconds, it had gone. In its place was a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," she greeted.

"I'm afraid so, Professor," Dumbledore replied in a grave tone. "The good, and the bad."

"And the children? How are they getting here?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry and Cassia underneath it.

"Hagrid is bringing them."

"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"Ah, Professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of thin air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard his most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding two bundles of blankets, but instead of the typical blue and pink, the blankets were red and yellow.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got 'em, sir."

"No problems, I trust?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got 'em out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. Little tykes fell asleep just as we were flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the two bundles of blankets. Inside, just visible, were a baby boy and girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet black hair over the boy's forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. An identical cut, not obstructed by her hair, marked the forehead of the baby girl.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "They'll have those scars forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to them, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and Cassia and gave them each what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, taking Cassia in her own arms, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' their poor little children split up-"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm before briskly walking to catch up to Dumbledore as he walked to the front door. "Albus, do you really think it's safe, separating them and leaving the boy with these people? I've watched them all day. They're the worst sort of Muggles imaginable. They really are."

"It would be ideal to have Cassia remain with Harry, since their aunt and uncle are the only family they have left, but she was born with very rare and powerful magic, magic coveted by many dark wizards, including Voldemort himself. For both her brother's safety and her own, she must be moved somewhere else."

"But who will take her in? Remus has refused because of his condition, and Sirius' whereabouts are unknown."

"Edward and Andromeda. I have already informed them of the circumstances, and they have graciously agreed to become her legal guardians."

"These children will be famous! There won't be a child in our world who doesn't know their names," said Professor McGonagall.

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "They're far better off growing up away from all of that, and each other...until they are ready."

Hagrid sniffled, fighting back tears as he watched Harry be set down gently on the doorstep, and when Professor McGonagall handed Cassia to Dumbledore.

"There, there, Hagrid," said Dumbledore, "It's not really goodbye, after all." He took a letter out of his cloak and placed it atop Harry's blankets.

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine to life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of red blankets on the step of number four. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay still and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing that he was special, not knowing that he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley...or that he would grow up not remembering that he had a twin sister.

With a small cracking sound, Dumbledore reappeared in front of the Tonks' house, situated on the coast of Ramsgate; a picturesque, seaside town in the district of Thanet, in east Kent - far away from Little Whinging. The house, painted a dark shade of blue, was two stories high. Both the front door and window shutters were completely white. An ornate, circular knocker rested on the door. Dumbledore approached the house and knocked on the door three times.

Ted - a fair-haired, big-bellied man - rushed down the stairs and opened the door. He gave a sad smile as he saw Dumbledore had arrived with baby Cassia. His hair color changed to a deep blue, indicating that he was a Metamorphagus; a witch or wizard with the ability to change their appearance whenever they pleased.

His wife, Andromeda, appeared behind him. Once a member of the Black family, Andromeda was disowned and burned off the family tapestry for marrying Ted, the sole reason being that Ted was Muggle-born. She bore a strong resemblance to her older sister Bellatrix, the evil Lord Voldemort's second-in-command, but her hair was a light soft brown, and her eyes were wider and kinder.

"I sincerely apologize for telling you on such short notice, Andromeda," said Dumbledore, "but her godfather is missing and Remus Lupin has refused to take her in."

Andromeda shook her head, reaching out and gently taking Cassia from him.

"Don't worry about it, Headmaster," Ted piped up. "There's room enough in here. Besides, I think our daughter would enjoy having a little sister."

Dumbledore nodded, smiling as he did. "Yes, I think so." His voice became serious again. "You haven't forgotten about the details of our agreement, I hope?"

"No, we haven't," said Andromeda. The agreement was that, when Andromeda and her husband took Cassia into their care, they were to raise her as if she were their own, but they could not tell her about her parents' death or Harry until her eleventh birthday.

Dumbledore nodded again. "Well, then, that's that. I may as well go and enjoy the celebrations. Andromeda, Edward, goodnight. I trust I will see Cassia soon." He shook hands with them and walked away from the house.

"Goodnight," Ted and Andromeda each called out to him.

Andromeda closed the door and, accompanied by her husband, journeyed back up the stairs and entered their daughter Nymphadora's room, which would now also serve as a nursery. There, they placed her into a white-painted crib, kissed her on the forehead, and left her to sleep.

Dumbledore stopped in the middle of the town and turned his eyes first to the horizon, and then back toward the Tonks' house. "Good luck, Harry and Cassia Potter," he murmured. With that, he turned on his heel once more and vanished into the night.

Cassia would also grow up unaware that she was special. What magic did she possess that made her a target for dark wizards? She would never know...for the time being, at least.

They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry and Cassia Potter - the children who lived!"