A/N: I have decided to place my other story on Hiatus for a while.

A/N2: Been observing other fanfics for a while.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter... I would if I could but I can't so I won't!


A sleepy village was illuminated in the gloom of the moonlight. Said village was largely residential, with a few other facilities situated nearby. A church stood in a corner, in good condition for the most part except for shattered windows, courtesy of vandals. A large graveyard stood next to said church, ominous and foreboding. The cobbled path leading to it had been swept recently in anticipation for the holiday. Numerous jack o' lanterns lined both sides of the path, a few of which had distinct portions missing, courtesy of a certain starving tramp. Jackie was not particularly proud of his deeds. Once a respectable individual, although not well-off, he had recently fallen upon evil times. Unrestrained gambling had drained his financial resources and he had to resort to begging for alms.

'Gotta love Halloween,' he thought smugly as he munched on the orange delicacy that he could not afford. 'I can't afford anything, however. Bankrupt,' he thought bitterly as his mood immediately soured. Sighing, he turned his thoughts towards much better times when he had a loving wife ten years prior. Sadly, their happy marriage was not to last.

When Jackie had begun associating with a group of shady individuals, he had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Said individuals constantly wore long cloak-like clothes. They were particularly condescending to him and his family, treating them as their inferiors. Their particular ringleader, apparently, was a white-blond man, who apparently, had more than enough gold to throw around. Numerous failed attempts by his wife to persuade Jackie to leave the group's company later, the straw that broke the camel's back came.

His wife had been spat at by the white-blond whose name was Luscious or something to that effect. Needless to say, the blond had been enraged. Raising his fist in fury, he poised to punch dear Petunia when he was hastily stopped by Jackie. Jackie had grabbed the left forearm of the blond, whose death glare immediately quelled any valiant thoughts of protecting his wife.

One vicious thrashing later, his severely bruised wife had packed all her belongings and ran away. Jackie who had attempted to chase her, did not hear the many 'cracks' ensuing from his living room, nor did he see the possessor of a high and cold voice, or the horrendous punishment that left the blond writhing in tears for summoning people needlessly.

After that, it had all gone downhill. Jackie had taken to drinking with a vengeance, determined to drown his sorrows in whiskey. Sometimes, in his drunken stupors, the group sought him out for information about 'Potters', as if everyone did not know about pottery. Eventually though, seeing as he was not going to be of much use, the group had left him alone to spiral into the depths of bankruptcy.

Snapping out of his depressing thoughts, Jackie finished his pumpkin slice, before beginning on a fourth pumpkin. 'Halloween dinner,' he thought wryly.

Suddenly, a large 'crack' that even the old, dirty and slightly deaf tramp could not miss shattered the silence. To Jackie's astonishment, a dumpy and rat-like balding man appeared out of nowhere. Unfortunately, said man had trodden on the remnants of his food, which Jackie had carefully placed next to a hedge.

"Now, look here, you-" began Jackie angrily, before he trailed off in horror. A distinct sinking feeling had made itself very known in the pit of his stomach. Looking up, Jackie saw the same cloak-like clothes that were very popular with the group he used to associate with. With a ominous feeling, Jackie looked up into the face of the rat-like man. The tramp vaguely recalled that strange things had happened around the cloak-wearing folks, all of which were inexplicable and not entirely pleasant.

"Oops, sorry, sir. Wrong identity. Would you like this delicious pumpkin slice as an apology?"

Peter Pettigrew, more commonly known as Wormtail was in a very bad mood at the present. The Marauders and Lily had gotten together just yesterday to reminisce about old times. To aggravate his melancholy, it had started snowing. Peter hated snow. With a heavy heart, he had answered to the summons of the Dark Lord sullenly. Which was not particularly wise, seeing as the second most powerful Dark Lord in over a century was also a shade of paranoid and more than a little Crucio-happy.

Wincing at the wave of phantom pain that washed over him, Peter quashed all negative emotions viciously. He knew negativity would affect his performance. However, he could not restrain himself in time. Glaring at the Muggle, or non-magical person, Peter withdrew his wand slowly as if unsheathing a sword. Flicking his wand quickly, he transfigured the Muggle into a bone, which he tossed to a convenient stray dog nearby.

Humming happily at his feat, Peter took a glance at the tasty-looking pumpkin nearby.

"Well, maybe a bite wouldn't hurt..." reasoned Peter before reaching for a slice.

"Wand-wielder. You are early," whispered a silky voice into Peter's ear. Caught off guard, Peter spun around so quickly while simultaneously attempting to draw his wand that he lost his balance and landed face-first in the snow.

"Much as I imagine your eagerness to greet me must be, I must mention that your display of such agility does not instill much confidence in your abilities," smirked an amused gaunt man as two extremely pointy fangs protruded from his upper lip.

"It appears you two are acquainted," commented a feral, shabby and savage-looking man who had bounded towards them so quickly and silently that Wormtail had not been able to detect him.

"You would do well to watch your mouth, fur ball... while you still have one," sneered the Vampire Lord, Count Boris.

"Are you threatening me, pale-skinned rodent?" snarled the Alpha Werewolf Garron.

"Hold it gentlemen. First, save your animosity for those who matter. Second, milord is unlikely to be happy with such... distasteful behaviour," interrupted Wormtail tentatively. He was acutely aware of the lethal appendages available to both individuals and how inadequate he felt to be standing among the two leaders of their respective races. He felt oddly vulnerable clutching a thin piece of wood while attempting to pacify two extremely deadly specimens of Dark creatures.

A loud 'crack' snapped Wormtail out of his insecurities. Glancing around, Wormtail spotted a pale, gaunt and red-eyed wizard who was surveying their surroundings with distaste. Clad in black robes complete with hood, Lord Voldemort swished his cloak for the effect before stepping towards the unlikely trio, to varied greetings.

"My Lord... I am honoured to be of service...!" simpered Wormtail in almost-genuine ecstasy. Bending low, he reluctantly planted kisses on the hem of the Dark Lord's robes. He felt filthy. He viciously quashed a thought that countless wizards had kissed the same robes.

"Ah. The Tainted One. I am indeed pleasured to be in the entourage of such a distinguished person," said Count Boris quietly.

"However, I cannot say that I am pleased to be in the presence of someone who is lacking and an... ignoramus." he finished, while eyeing the Alpha werewolf with unrivalled loathing.

"How has your hunt been, Blood Slayer? I am proud for you to lead this hunt. However, I doubt the loyalty of certain... members of the rout," said the Alpha werewolf Garron with a look of the deepest loathing at the vampire lord.

"Enough. Let us proceed," said Voldemort while raising his wand threateningly. "I refuse to allow the plan to be foiled by petty differences. Wormtail. Now."

Wormtail squealed as he revealed the location of his friend's family. The effect was immediate. A huge manor appeared on the previously deserted plot of land, complete with lawn, pond and hedges.

The fidelius charm had fallen, and with it, the safety of the manor's inhabitants.

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A/N: I will post more at another time. Feel free to comment on this short portion.