November 1, 1981

It was well past midnight, and the world was drowning in darkness. The starless night was still, cold, and foreboding, disturbed only here and there by the distant call of a nightingale or the dry rustle of a fox moving through the weeds.

Horrible things had taken place that night, things no one wanted to talk about - not out in the open anyway. The night had been alive with patronuses and owl messages, each relaying the same bittersweet tale over again to loved ones, friends, family, in the sweet shelter of home.

But in the village of Heronby Hill, one home was not bothering with subterfuge in the slightest. The stately Calverdon Manor, long regarded by the other Heronby Hill residents as a "castle" of sorts and resting at the top of a grassy, sloping hill, was obviously awake, with light streaming from open windows and doors still unlocked. Anyone with the sense to question it was already asleep, however, and their choices went unnoticed.

Inside the manor, three adults were hunched over the long dining table, two women and a man, their heads bent forward in an earnest attempt to keep their voices down. A young boy, no more than 9 years old, was sprawled out on the floor nearby, fast asleep and swathed in blankets, while a nearby baby girl mumbled happily in her crib, oblivious to the adults' dark and urgent conversation.

"So, you are certain, then?" the dark-haired woman asked, her youthful eyes round. "He is, truly…"

"Gone," the lone man confirmed grimly, and the woman gasped.

"So he is dead?" the second woman, who was the polar opposite of the other with her blonde hair and luminescent eyes, looked reverent and fearful all at once.

"We do not think so," The man adjusted his collar, his fingers nervously traversing the slick surface of the table. "He has lost power, for sure, but few on the inside believe that the Dark Lord is dead. I have been receiving messages all day; the Lestranges, the Malfoys, the Montagues…they all think he is still alive somewhere."

"I can't understand it," the blonde woman said hoarsely. "What could possibly destroy the Dark Lord?" Her eyes traveled nervously to the window, then to the girl in the crib, who was now fascinated with her puffy pink feet. Her hands tightened around her wand.

"We don't know. He went to Godric's Hollow, to kill the Potters, and he did. But, when he came to the child, the curse…rebounded. The child survives, with only a scar, while our lord…is powerless."

"How?" The question was like a slapshot, louder than expected and startling the drowsy children out of fatigue. The dark-haired woman looked about desperately, her face etched with anger and paranoia. "How can a mere child escape the Dark Lord, while he has succeeded to kill all others in his past? I refuse to believe-"

"If I knew, I would tell you, Esta," the man replied, rubbing his eyes wearily. "All we know is that he is gone, the child survives, and most Death Eaters have gone into hiding."

"Frederick, do you deem it wise…?" the blonde woman asked tentatively, her body tensed as if ready to flee into the night at a moment's notice, but the man shook his head slowly.

"I do not, Daphne. We have succeeded in staying under cover thus far, and even in this time have kept our stance a moderate secret."

"I have told you a thousand times, keeping your allegiances undercover will only lead to harm when the Dark Lord rises again!" Esta snapped, her fist colliding with the table. "Or does your precious place in society mean more to you than everlasting safety in the care of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"We have always been faithful to the Dark Lord!" Daphne moaned, her eyes quite bloodshot by now. She ran a hand through her hair and cleared her throat loudly. "We are Calverdons, descendants of Slytherin himself! How dare you accuse-"

"She has the right to accuse," Frederick interrupted suddenly. "We have left too many questions unanswered, questions even the Dark Lord has been asking. But we are always faithful." His gaze shifted towards Esta. "We are not well known, not by any means. Our lives have only just begun. We have not firmly attained careers. For all of us to re-emerge into society as if nothing happened is not only, in my mind, the right thing to do, but necessary."

The boy on the floor stirred, drawing the attention of all 3 adults.

"There is another reason," Daphne hissed. "Caius will be going to school in a few years. The little one, when she is old enough, too. We must think of the children."

"Think of the ones you have killed! The enemies you have made! Your children will be going to school with their children, they will be bound to know, bound to find out the truth!" Esta was standing now, her face taut with anxiety.

"Obviously, when the Dark Lord returns, they will join him, Esta," Frederick replied smoothly. "We all will. They are too young to know now."

Esta stiffened, her hand resting on the back of her chair and her back arched at an angle so that she looked almost petrified.

"We will, of course, raise them in the ways of our family past," Daphne said confidently, her desperate manner all but falling from her slight frame. "We are, Dark Lord or not, Calverdons, and we shall act like it always."

"Fine." Esta reached for her long, black traveling cloak off the back of her chair and fastened it around her throat. "It's late. We should all be asleep by now. Lock your doors tonight, for Merlin's sake, and make sure no one gets in or out for the next few days, at least. I'll send word in the morning if I hear anything has changed."

"Of course, sister," Daphne said sweetly, her eyes flecked with petulance as Esta made for the back door. "You treat us as if we were incompetent, stupid young people with no idea for safety. Surely you don't doubt our security?"

Esta raised a mocking eyebrow and smiled with equal venom. "Surely not." She turned back to face the night and vanished, leaving behind her a trail of pure black vapor.

Daphne turned back to her husband and sighed. "We had best go to bed," She murmured halfheartedly, rising from her chair and going over to her daughter's crib. "No sense leaving the lights on, and you have an interview at the ministry tomorrow morning."

"If the ministry's even open tomorrow," Frederick rubbed his face briskly. "Everyone will probably be out, celebrating, making a show of themselves…" He watched blearily as his wife scooped up the baby from her crib and bounced her on her hip.

"I can't believe it," Daphne went on, now patting the baby's back gently. "He was so powerful, unstoppable, it seemed like nothing could harm him, and yet…suddenly, that child…"

"Harry Potter." Frederick ejected the name as if it were sour wine.

"Yes, Harry Potter. How could he destroy the Dark Lord?"

Frederick rose to join his wife, and they both looked down at their daughter's small, cherubic face, her blue eyes staring up at them in infantile wonder.

"Time will only tell, my dear, but for now, there is nothing we can do." he said grimly, his eyes wandering once again to the cold, still night. "All we can do is wait."

A/N: And so we begin…Thanks to all who have taken interst in this story and have encouraged me to write it! Chapter 1 is on its way! Oh, yeah, and review, too!