Chapter 1 A Very Happy Birthday To You

"Happy birthday Charles!"

That was the only warning he received before one Hermione Granger was upon him. Charles winced, lifting a hand to push brown curls away from his face, and smiled. "Hello to you too, Hermione, Ron."

Ron was visibly stifling his laughter as Charles pried Hermione off him, offering an easy wave. "Happy birthday, mate."

"Thanks," Charles said, and saw Ginny hovering behind him. "'llo Gin."

The youngest Weasley beamed at him, about to open her mouth, before a blinding flash of light blinded them all for a moment.

Blinking stars from his vision, Charles turned around. "Daad!" he said exasperatedly.

"Drat, I missed it," James said with a huff, holding up the developing picture. Charles squinted at it, nudging his glasses up his nose. For a moment, the photo was blank, then a wave of colours washed over it, forming people-like shapes.

His dad's camera-skills were only a little above non-existence, but a magical camera greatly compensated for abysmal ability, and soon the people-like shapes resolved into actual people, talking and waving at each other.

Lily swatted James' hair lightly, then plucked the photo from his fingers just as he was about to put it into his pocket. "I'll keep a hold of it," she said, smiling fondly. "That way we can still put it in an album when we come back."

"Oi," James protested. "I do not lose stuff that easily."

"Yes you do, dad." Charles chimed, to general agreement. "Remember the Quidditch World Cup last year?"

"I am betrayed," James muttered sullenly, and perked up almost immediately afterwards. "Is everyone ready?"

Diagon Alley was its usual bustling state. If the streets were a little emptier than it used to be, or that some stores bore the signs of recent repairs and others had a change in owners, well, no one commented. Last year's flurry of Death Eater activity, beginning with the Quidditch World Cup that ended in a disaster, had left its mark on the street.

Still, there were hopeful signs of recovery. New posters had appeared, bright and colourful, proclaiming proudly that Britain was hosting the first Triwizard Tournament since the eighteenth century. Charles tore his eyes away from the mesmerising blue flames of the painted goblet to nudge Hermione.

"What's the Triwizard Tournament?"

Hermione tucked a strand of curls behind her ear and peered at the poster. "It sounds familiar," she said. "I think it was mentioned in Hogwarts: A History once or twice."

"You mean you didn't memorise that entire book?" Ron said, shrugging off Hermione's glare with a grin.

James turned around. "Did I hear someone talking about the Triwizard Tournament? Why, does anyone fancy being a champion?"

"James!" Lily said warningly, and Charles saw that her lips were pursed. She looked disapprovingly at the bright Ministry posters with a shake of her head.

"What is it about, Mr Potter?" Hermione asked.

"It's a tournament with competitors from the three largest wizarding schools in Europe; Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and of course, Hogwarts. Winners used to walk off with a great deal of money and prestige, but I dunno what's the prize they're setting for it this time." James shrugged. "The Ministry's been petitioning for Hogwarts to host it since '92 and they've got the permission for it two years ago, but the International Committee for Magical Sports and Games postponed it last year because they were concerned about You-Know-Who."

"So it's going ahead this year," Charles said. "That's why you've been so busy the past few months."

"Yep. We gotta keep the Death Eaters from showing their ugly mugs again."

"Pretty successfully, if you ask me," Ron said, looking around pointedly.

"So it means we'll be having foreign students this year?" Hermione asked, perking up. "It'll be interesting to see what education is like in other countries."

Charles and Ron exchanged exasperated glances. Ginny rolled her eyes at them. "I think it'll be very interesting too. I hear Beauxbatons students get their own rooms instead of having dorms."

Having your own room sounded nice, Charles thought. It would mean he could sleep without the snores of four other people constantly thundering through his bed curtains.

A figure caught his eye, and he squinted. "Hey, I think I see Sirius."

Everyone turned to look where he was pointing.

"Oi! Pads! Over here!"

Seated under a shade in Florean Fortescue's, Sirius turned his head at James' holler, and beamed as he saw them. He waved them over with a spoon-holding hand. "Hello Prongs, Lils, Pup, Red, Red, Hermione."

Charles grinned at the indignant look on Ron and Ginny's faces, climbing onto the stool beside Sirius. "Wait till Mrs Weasley hear you say that."

His godfather winked. "You won't tell if I'm giving you free ice-cream, no?"

Charles laughed and accepted the bowl Florean Fortescue handed him. It had all of his favourite flavours in it, piled into a small mound of swirling multicoloured goodness.

James gave Sirius' shoulder a punch as he got close. "Why is Charles 'pup'? He's mine, Padfoot."

Lily coughed.

"Ours," he amended quickly.

Sirius sniggered. "My godson. I get to call him whatever I want."

"But deers aren't pups,"James complained. "They're…"

He trailed off and paused.

Sirius looked at James expectantly. "Yes?"

"Lily my darling–"

"Fawn."

"They're fawns." James continued, as if he hadn't completely forgotten what the term was.

Sirius gave an airy wave of his hand. "Fawn is a horrible name. Pup is much better. 'Sides, it's applicable enough to both me and Moony. Outnumbered, Prongs."

James made a face. "But rats don–"

He cut off abruptly. The cheerful atmosphere of before died a sudden death. Charles winced, sparing a quick look at his mum, who suddenly looked a lot older. James' face grew ashen and weary. Ron fidgeted uncomfortably beside him.

Hermione straightened suddenly, a curious look on her face. "Who's that?"

The sombre silence broke, and all turned to look where she pointed. A lone figure wandered down the street from the direction they came, weaving through the small groups of witches and wizards with ease. The figure wasn't particularly tall, but he managed to stand out against the other shoppers with his hood and black robes. Nowadays Death Eaters seemed to be the only ones wearing black. The figure's colour drew more attention and whispers as he sauntered. Charles tried to catch a glimpse of his face as he passed, but the hood over his head cast a very dark shadow over his features.

A feeling of apprehension filled the air. The skin on his arm prickled. Sirius was standing up with his wand half drawn, spoon abandoned. James placed an arm around Lily's back.

"GET DOWN!"

The table exploded. Splinters flew. Charles threw himself down onto the wooden floor, breathing harshly. Sharp pain shot up his arm and shoulder. Through his skewed glasses, he could see pieces of wood sticking from the back of his hand. Blood trickled. He felt sick.

There was silence.

And then the screams started. Cracks of apparating wizards filled the Alley. Somewhere, glass shattered.

"Lily go! Get the children home!"

A hand grabbed his. Charles tried not to cry out from the sudden pain as the wood embedded in his forearm shifted. He stumbled upright, drawing his wand and staggering behind his mum. With her other hand, she held onto Hermione, who turned her head to look back with horror on her face. Ron was semi-supporting Ginny, struggling to get them both upright. Blood trickled down the side of her face and she was deathly pale.

Shouts and screams sounded behind him. Charles looked to the street. Sirius and his dad was duelling two wizards with skeletal masks—Death Eaters. All along the Alley, people were battling, fleeing. Spellfire flew, bright and deadly. Chunks of wall fell where they hit. A witch fell to a brilliant green spell.

Bile rose in his throat.

"Hurry!" Lily tugged at his hand.

Charles stumbled, nearly tripping over a overturned chair, and forced his legs to be steady.

They gathered behind a wall in Fortescue's shop. The spot was already occupied by a witch and her bawling child. Lily turned to face them, her expression grim and pale. "Is everyone alright?"

"Ginny got caught by the table, Mrs Potter," Ron answered, the strain of keeping Ginny upright showing on his face. "I'm okay."

"I'm fine." It was Hermione. Her voice trembled ever so slightly.

"I'm fine too," Charles said, surprised to hear his voice so small.

Hurried footsteps came to them. Charles felt his heart rate increasing frantically, and he moved his wand up slowly. Lily was faster, whirling around and thrusting her wand under the chin of the new arrival before he could even raise his wand beyond his waist.

It was Fortescue. He halted abruptly, raising his hands up in peace. "Stop! It's me."

Lily shifted her wand away without lowering it. "Fortescue?"

"Use my Floo network," he said quickly, turning his head every now and then to watch the battle outside the shop. "The fireplace is upstairs. Powder is in the box on mantelpiece."

"Thank you, thank you," the other witch whispered, and she grabbed her son—still crying—and ran up the steps.

"Will you be alright?" Lily asked, unmoving, even though Charles felt like bolting up the stairs behind the other witch.

"Don't worry about me," Fortescue said, though his quivering moustache betrayed his nervousness. "There'll always be a Fortescue Ice-Cream Parlour in Diagon Alley. Go, before they come!"

Lily stared at him for a moment longer, despite Charles' tugging, before nodding and turning. She helped Ron half-drag, half-pull Ginny up the stairs, leaving Charles and Hermione to flounder up behind.

Hermione was silent and Charles didn't feel much like talking either. He didn't know if he could open his mouth without being sick.

Someone used the Killing Curse in Diagon Alley. Someone died from it.

They came to the room upstairs. True to Fortescue's words, there was a fireplace, with a red tin box on the mantelpiece. Some Floo powder was spilled on the mantelpiece and the floor.

"I'll go with Ginny," Lily said. "I can start attending to her."

Ron reluctantly released his hold on his sister, and Lily carried her into the fireplace.

"Potter Residence!" She cried, disappearing in a flash of green flames.

There was a shout downstairs. It sounded like Fortescue. The floor trembled.

"Ron, Hermione! Go!" Charles stumbled to grab a fistful of powder.

Footsteps pounded on the stairs.

"But–"

He shoved them into the fireplace and threw the powder. "Potter Residence!"

They vanished in a flash of flames. Charles reached for the powder again, staggering into the fireplace.

"Avada kedavra!"

He ducked. The curse hit the box of Floo Powder, and it fell from the mantelpiece. Grey powder spilled onto the floor.

"Protego!" He shouted, praying for precious seconds, and threw the Floo powder at his feet. "Potter Residence!"

His last glimpse of the room before green flames roared was a sickly yellow spell and the grinning visage of a skull laughing at him.

Adrian surveyed his surroundings absently. Voldemort had declared that his mission was not about deaths; rather, it was a message—an announcement, if one would. In his experience, the bigger the destruction, the louder the announcement would be heard. Currently, the Dark Lord's message of return, of war, was still a whisper on a passing breeze. That would not do.

He examined the shops before him for a moment. Amanuensis Quills and Madam Malkin's were side by side, separated by a thick wall. Both shops were wide, open rooms. If he just…

Adrian moved to a better angle and flicked his wand from side to side. "Reducto."

The wall collapsed, blown into fine debris. For a moment longer the charms on the building strained to keep it upright, but without the wall to bear a portion of weight their capacities were overloaded.

The shophouse crashed down.

"Impressive work, my lord."

"Thank you, Lucius."

The wizard flicked his wand disdainfully, and the dust that was blown towards them vanished. A stray curse sped towards them, only to dissipate harmlessly on Adrian's shield charm.

"I will deal with those still in the shops," said Lucius said with a bow, and turned away.

Adrian watched him go, seemingly completely unaffected by the debris on the street. He turned into an apothecary and disappeared from view.

A stray spell from a fierce duel ahead brushed past his shoulder, and Adrian watched it splash against a wall with little visible effects. Curiosity peaked, he approached. It was a brown-haired wizard, with a face that roused a vague sense of familiarity in Adrian.

"Death Eater scum," the man shouted, dodging an orange curse.

"I've heard worse," Rabastan Lestrange said airily, sending two curses off in quick succession and raised a wooden plank to absorb the other's returning spell. "Surely you lot. Have more creativity. Than that."

"Rabastan."

The word was enough to give the Death Eater pause. "Ah. Right. Sorry. My lord."

With a sudden bout of viciousness, Rabastan began duelling in proper, linking curses in short chains of twos and threes.

The man avoided the first two, but the third hit him. At once he began to scream, wand falling from limp fingers. The skin on his face and neck cackled like burning paper, peeling off to reveal human anatomy in all its bloody glory. Adrian wrinkled his nose in distaste, raising his wand. The wizard lifted his hands to claw at his face, only for bared bones to touch bloody muscles. Before he could come to a proper realisation, Adrian separated the man's horrified face from his body with a murmured spell. It was not a good death, but it was quick.

Rabastan turned as soon as his opponent fell to the ground.

"Don't toy with these civilians," Adrian said disapprovingly. "Save it for the Aurors."

"Yes. Sorry. My lord."

Adrian lifted an eyebrow, though the action went unseen. He could tell Rabastan was grinning behind his mask. "You are not."

"I am," Rabastan protested. "I am entirely sincere."

A pause.

"My lord."

Adrian shook his head. "I shall leave you to your devices."

He ignored Rabastan's call of "Yes. My lord" and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Much of the stores around them had been brought crashing down, and he caught a faint smell of smoke in the air. He checked the time. Aurors should be arriving in a minute now—it had been fourteen since he fired the blasting curse.

"Bellatrix!"

The witch spun around, barely concealed glee on her face. "Yes, my lord?"

"Inform our warder that the ministry is not to override our anti-Disapparition wards until we're leaving. Get Rodolphus to protect him, if you please. We're getting short on good warders."

Bellatrix bowed and skipped away in search of her husband.

There was a crack as the first of the Aurors arrived.

He fell in a spray of blood, and Adrian quickly raised his shield.

"Sorry! My lord!" Rabastan shouted cheerfully, bounding forward to engage two Aurors in a fierce duel.

Adrian scoffed and pressed a hand to his mask. It sat firmly on his face, and he allowed a grin. Finally, he could test his speed augments in battle.

Hello and welcome to my first non-crossover HP fic! This started because I lost inspiration for my main crossover HP fic (under a different name) and thought I'd give an attempt at tackling a fairly big trope in the HP fandom.

I like to hear from y'all, so please do leave a review, thank you!