Disclaimer: Anything that you recognize, I do not own.

Please be forewarned that this is something I am just writing for fun, because I love these characters and I find it so easy to lose myself in their stories, even if they're made up – so if the dates don't make sense or something doesn't seem canon, chances are it's not! I'm making it up as I go, and that's my prerogative.

Love, CAT. Enjoy.

June 30

"For the love of Merlin, Robbie would you turn that music off?" Marge shouted up the stairs with a roll of her eyes, far too used to the bass thumping from her son's bedroom just above the kitchen. Her china was beginning to rattle in the cabinets.

Robbie, however, appeared over her shoulder a second later. "It's not me," he said, confused, looking around the kitchen as things continued to shake.

Marge mirrored her son's expression. A moment later, as the rattling grew more intense, her expression shifted to one of concern, of worry, of fear. "What on Earth…" but she never got to finish her question as the china began pouring out from the cabinets, glass shattering across the kitchen floor. Chairs and tables and pots and pans all started moving through the kitchen as the entire house shook.

Marge's younger daughter darted into the kitchen looking petrified. "Mama," she cried, throwing herself into her mother's arms. Robbie joined their embrace on the floor as their home shook and crashed around them.

Days later when the ministry would begin their investigation, they would find Marge and her children buried beneath the rubble that was once their home, bodies broken and covered in dust. Their village lay in a similar state, ravaged by a horde of giants moving through the countryside. Rumours would buzz that these beasts were led by a small group of wizards… in black robes, masks hiding their faces...

July 13

Midair, her body twisted in a way that was unnatural. Her mouth was open, her face set in a scream that died somewhere in her throat, coming out as nothing more than a garbled sob that broke his heart.

Without tearing his eyes away from his wife, Scott pleaded with the masked intruders. "Please, please let her down, please." He was sobbing. "Please, I will do anything." His voice dripped with desperation, which only seemed to egg them on. Her body spun again.

One figure stepped forward and spoke from behind his mask. "Anything? You would do anything… to keep this piece of Mudblood scum safe?" He spat at Scott's feet. "You sealed her fate, and yours, the moment you decided to marry someone who wasn't like you. You have shamed your family. You have shamed the Wizarding World. And you both must pay."

"Please," Scott sobbed again, but the man was already raising his wand and with a flash of green light, it was over.

August 28

"Honey, I'm home!" he called cheerily from the doorway. He hung his coat and set down his briefcase, calling again, "Honey?" How odd that his wife had not answered, his son had not toddled into the entrance to hug his knees… even their dog, Champ, had not come out wagging his tail.

Curious, he stepped further into the house. A flash of red where it didn't belong caught his attention as he passed the living room. It was the first thing he noticed. Get out, Mudblood filth, scrawled across the wall above the fireplace.

"What the…" he started, but then his gaze moved lower and he sank to his knees. His beautiful wife, his baby boy, were huddled together on the floor. Their mouths were gagged. Their hands were bound. He could see tears in his son's big eyes. He looked to his wife and listened with deaf ears as she frantically tried to say something, eyes wide in panic…

He heard the footsteps behind him too late and before he knew it, there was a blinding pain in the back of his head. He touched the nape of his neck; his hand came away bloody and the room began to spin. As he hit the floor, he could hear his wife's muffled sobs and a chilling, mirthless laugh from above him.

September 1

King's Cross station was always busy, packed with travellers going here and there. But like every year, on the first of September, the crowds were overwhelming as Hogwarts students pushed their way through the throngs of people with their trunks and luggage and disappeared through the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

Platform 9 ¾ was abuzz with excited chatter as parents and families bade their children goodbye for the term. They waved and blew kisses and boarded the train like they did every year, but something different hung in the air. It was stifling, the silent fear of what was coming.

The train left the station, and parents watched from a distance, all telling each other the same thing. Hogwarts is the safest place on Earth. They will be safe. And despite the uncertainty that filled their bellies, no one bothered to argue.