Hello, this is a rewrite of "dead man tells no tales". I needed to change how the story went, hence a full rewrite. I hope to go pretty far. Enjoy reading

Chapter 1: Night revelations

An All Hallow Eve

Tonight, I remember the start of it all. Even if I do not want to. It just … keeps happening. Will it ever stop? Magic haunts me … down right to my name. I hate it so much it hurts. My body even stopped remembering ages ago the feel of that particular thrill. I convinced myself it was nothing. But the tears still flow unwaveringly, staining slowly with their watery color the sheets I sat upon.

I was told to always stand by my principles. Be proud. Be strong. Be smart. Be magic. Be family. Because this is what it means to be a Pureblood.

I shudder now when I think back on it. A mascarade. This was what it was. And I never saw it coming.

I was five when I saw death right in front of me. I remembered a fascination, a horrifying one, of the phenomenon. I kept thinking "why?". In the end, no one answered with actual words. They took me into a warm embrace and lulled me to sleep. I thought then this is what protection is like.

No. There were words said.

"Your grandfather can't hurt you anymore."

The irony. Be family they said. Be magic. Be smart. Be strong. Be proud. If this is what to be a family is like, I don't want it. I don't want to be a Pureblood.

I think I cried myself to sleep in my mother's arms that day. She was not one for hugs but she held onto me for dear life then. I guess, she had just murdered her father. Somewhere, the stark irony of what a Pureblood must be like must have echoed within her too. I wonder if she ever found fault in this thinking …

I stand up now. My head injury roars back to life and threatens to send me back on the bed. I stumble and watch as a few droplets of blood stain the white sheets. I stop to look at it for a long time I think. The red spots talk to me. My heart flutters a couple times as I remember too much blood spilling, coating streets living in my head.

I don't even start when a hand stops on my shoulder. I should have. I am not alert.

"Come, it is time."

The woman who talked leads me out of the room. We don't talk. We don't need to. We've fought together enough times to know that strange feeling that is creeping up. We don't say anything. But our hands hold onto each so hard, our joints are glaringly white from the strain. We take this time to reflect on our own memories. Each step we take, a whole lifetime seems to pass. Noise outside deafens the otherwise calm atmosphere. No. It is a sad atmosphere.

We stare back at each other right before the door leading to the outside world opens.

Because, we know.

She snaps her fingers.

This time, we won't be so lucky.

The door opens slowly.

They say fortune favors the bold.

People are there, singing loudly. Screaming even.

Well, we are not bold anymore. And war waits for no one.

The people shouts more when they see us stepping out.

How did it ever come to this?

It was a night like all others. Or at least at first. Maybe it was a bit cold for an October night. For the muggles, everything seemed as fine as it could be, children running all over the place for treats, impersonating real wizards and witches without knowing they were watching them in distaste.

The streets were crowded. But only muggle crowded. The whole of the Britain Wizarding World was at war, waiting for misery to come at their doors. Few witches were out in the night, and those that were, kept looking around them afraid of the darkness. And with reason. Dementors lurked around, sucking the soul of unsuspecting people.

The growing power of the Dark Lord could be felt all over magical Britain. The once very lively Diagon Alley was now an empty street, with a few shops opened. A bar was opened on Knockturn Alley. The only place that seemed to thrive on the ever-present fear floating throughout the alley. A yellow flame lighted the whole place up. The few passerby looked on disapprovingly. The rowdy people inside were infamous. They could only be so. No one should have been rejoicing at such a dark hour. Untrusting eyes lingered on the left arm of the rowdy people within the bar before hurrying out of sight. It was never prudent to tarry too long in one place.

A loud crack suddenly stopped the noise. An alarm for sure. The whole place emptied itself in a flash. The owner did not flinch at the sudden disappearance. He stared at a wall and pulled out a wand.

"Severus, it is done." Mumbled the man. A silvery light seeped out from his wand. The man closed his eyes. The terrifying trembling in his hand intensified, showing the man's panic.

Magical Britain, whose focus was centered in London, was the theater of many fights. The civil war it was in the middle of – for it was a civil war, wizards and witched murdered each other outright on the streets for no seeming reason other than a petty squabble – would be the stepping-stone for another one. One, much bloodier. On one side, led by the Dark Lord, Death-Eaters and other blood purists waged war on the Order of the Phoenix, an organization led by one mighty Albus Dumbledore. And in the middle of it all : the whole magical population of Great-Britain.

This night is where it all started. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the most prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry, a man considered as the mightiest wizard from these last 5 decades seemed particularly las. In his eternal magenta robes and his half-moon spectacles, he was watching raptly his strange silvery trinkets making awful noises on his desk. No doubt only him could possibly know what these weird shaped objects meant. And perched on his shoulder, a beautiful phoenix was singing a macabre song. Yes, tonight, it was better not to be Albus Dumbledore.

The man stood before his desk in his school office. Talking portraits on the walls whispered swet nothings around the room, creating a lulling atmosphere. Breaking the enchantment, the door of the desk-room opened on two professors of the reknown school Hogwarts. One of them was affubled of big black capes and dark and greasy hair. The other one, a woman, a bit on the strict side, and dressed in elegant emerald robes pursed her lips upon seeing the haggard state of the headmaster.

"Why have you called us here Albus? It is late and students-

A simple gesture of the headmaster stopped the flow of words from the woman. Her nostrils almost flared at the man's gesture. The other one seemed to just wait, lost into his own world, eyes unseeing.

"Minerva, I think tonight, we will have a lot to do." Whispered the headmaster. "Listen to what Severus has to say."

All the looks veered towards the potion master named Severus. Even the portraits hung on the walls were looking at him. With a trembling voice, Severus finally uttered a word eyes still unfocused.

"I just received the information. I did not think it …" a small break happened, "The Dark Lord approaches. He … he demanded to all his Death-Eaters to attack. A small force will attack the Ministry. Another one the Longbottoms. Maybe one will go after the Potters, the Michaelsons and Smiths. Tonks are sure to be targeted with Bellatrix in the ranks." The potion master clenched his hands. "Unfortunately, I don't know where He will go. No one does. I just know the attack will begin at nine tonight. That's all I know Albus … I did not receive any orders … I must not be in his favors and-"

"To lament oneself won't help you at all Severus." Placated the man with silver hair.

"-Sorry! But … since when did you know ?" the sharp voice of the woman echoed around the room.

Another silence followed the question. Slowly a strangled noise coming from the woman was heard.

"Minerva, it is not time to despair yet. There is still a lot to do and I am sure we can do something." Assured Albus Dumbledore. His wand moved flawlessly by the man's side. Suddenly, a white bolt came from one of the wooden object of the Headmaster. "I sent a Patronus to the Order. Our sole hope is that it's not too late to act. For our future …"

And yet another silence accompanied the three wizards in the room, only this time it was overruled by the huge timepiece of Hogwarts ringing nine. Within its gears, magic roared brokenly.

The attack had just begun. And no one realized just what an important detail had just escaped their attention. To this day, in the pensive, I can hear myself screaming at them, trying to hurl objects at them. If only … if only they had realized. Maybe, all of this would not have happened. Couldn't they see it? The so powerful wizard Albus Dumbledore and the prodigious professors failed to see what they taught to dozens of children: magic. The flow of magic was being tempered with and they did notsee it. I wanted to scream.

But a bolt later and the phoenix perched on the shoulder of the Headmaster had just disappeared, and with him, the three other persons in the room.

In memories, you can go back and forth from place to place. Here is just a rag-tag put-together piece of memory. It is lucky I have this much, but those are my most prized possessions. The people it once belonged to are long gone now, and I am the only one wielding the truth of that night. Yet I don't know who to cry for: for loved ones gone, for mistakes that cost the life of around thousands of wizards or just for the misery I am about to retell you. For, don't misunderstand what I am trying to do here. This, is, the war recounted. From both sides. Unraveled to you as I understood it.

Riddle Manor was a sore sight for the eyes. It was, once, a great castle. But it lost its shiny luster. Now, it just looks like a great lump of rotting rocks put together. The garden around it looked more like a small wild forest than an actual garden. Some ravens and other black birds whirled around the mansion.

In the main room, sat hundreds of dark-masked wizards, all of them kneeling in front of one sickly white snake faced man.

"My Lord, I beg of you, what are your ord-"

The person kneeling forefront in front of the marble throne never got to finish his sentence. A green bolt had just hit him square in the chest. In the huge ball room where sat the sickly man with red eyes, everybody tensed. He-whose-Name-Must-Not-Be-Pronounced was lifting his wand. The Dark Lord snarled angrily.

"No one talks. Wait for my signal."

The anxiety, which ruled supreme in the huge room, increased even more. The eyes of everyone riveted on their comrade's corpse.

"Everyone's got their specific orders. Bella, I won't accept any failures. Do you hear me ?"

"Yes master."

The voice of Bellatrix Lestrange seemed oddly subdued. Under the threat, a smile played on the lips of the deranged witch.

"I am one with magic." Whispered the witch with such fondness, wizards around her shifted. The white of her eyes had slowly changed color to match her dark hair. Any competent witch or wizard could tell she was building her magic insanely. If fear gripped the surrounding people around Bellatrix after her discreet show of power, it did not show. A good thing for she was particularly known for her crucio-happy wand casting.

Lord Voldemort did not say anything else. He smiled, once, twice, before laughing like a child before lifting yet another time his wand. A strong light came forth and then no one was there. All of them gone with a loud bang. All but the corpse of that one Death-Eater.

The attack had just begun, and already bolts of all colors smeared the sky above London. In Riddle Manor, the corpse of an unknown death-eater waited for a snake to come.

Maybe you have seen for yourself such atrocities. Maybe you were out that night, to defend or attack, who cares at this point? So much worse was unleashed after that. But that night was a night for terrible acts. Here is what happened at the Ministry, there is what happened at the Longbottoms and over there you will find the terrible fate of the Potters. Some leagues away, this metamorphmagus child is dying. His name was Fergus Michaelson. He was six. That particular memory echoed strangely within me. I don't know why.

At the Ministry of Magic, things went south real fast. Usually, night was a time for sour Aurors (the equivalent of muggle police) to spit against society. Tonight though, was all-Hallow-Eve. So despite the rather gloomy atmosphere of the whole day really, voices were booming loudly.

"-Ah Perfect ! Potter, Black ! With me !"

A deep voice, more grunting than welcoming was heard above the hall of chimney. A man with a wooden leg and more scars than a man should ever have stopped himself in front of two wizards. The two wizards, Black and Potter, watched the scared man with caution.

"-not time to laugh you Flobberworm band. We're going to hunt Death-Eaters tonight, t's going to rain this pest. So"

"Constant vigilance" said the two other men

"We're with you Moody" snapped the man sporting glasses.

"You don't have a choice Potter. Black, not a word from you. Every Auror is requisitioned. Tonight will be a downright massacre, so no false notes." Moody fidgeted with his magical eye. "That thing has been acting up since yesterday." He mumbled before turning it in his socket. Several witches and wizards looked on in disgust. "Better now. Hurry, I have news from the Order." He grunted a few times to signal a couple witches to move out his way, both Potter and Black following him. A few Aurors they recognized tried to stop them to engage in a talk. Moody practically assaulted them. "We don't have the time."

Sirius Black gripped his wand, nodding slowly at Moody. He leaned over his long time best-friend James Potter as Moody led the two men throughout the many hallways of the ministry. People were all running from one place to another, as was any busy day within the Ministry. Some colorful mist sprayed a couple halls with varying flashing colors, which Moody looked on disapprovingly. His permanent scowl was practically etched on his face.

"Think he's still mad at us for Polyjuice ?" mouthed uncertainly Sirius.

"I don't think he knows it was our doing."

"Not so sure … I had intensive training for two weeks after that small prank. "

"Well … mate, you were the one who gave him the potion."

"He should be ashamed to have drank it. And how in hell did he expect me to know he would take the appearance of Servilus ? Which, by the way, makes me think – shut up Potter, yes I think – how did you take a sample of his hair without having your hand rotting ? And the smell dude … the smell and grease … Ahh, don't you touch me ever again ! And I am so telling Lily for that one"

"Mate! I put on some gloves. Have some faith !"

The silent begging of one James Potter did nothing to stop Sirius from cackling loudly. Ignoring completely the grunts of Moody Mad Eye.

"CONSTANT VIGILIANCE! Bumbling idiots ! Stop waving your wands around before you hurt yourself !" screamed the old Auror at some poor witch strolling with a stack of paper following her. A black fog whirled around her feet. Moody frowned at the witch before turning around towards Potter and Black. "You two ! Stop fooling around. We're taking the portkey ! Hurry ! Come on ! "

"Where to ?"

"Not here!" was the rough reply. Moddy eyed once again with distrust the scurrying witch with the papers and black fog around her feet. Once she was gone from sight, he pulled out a tiny rope from within his robes. "Hold onto it." He barked. The two men executed the order without any complaint.

Just in time, the three men disappeared. They dodged the green bolts too. With that, strangled cries from wizards came into focus.

"DEATH-EATERS IN THE MINISTRY!"

Soon, the Ministry was no more than a battle of all colors fighting for life.

The ministry did not suffer long lasting damages. This was a point of honor for the government. I don't think those bumbling fools actually realized that it was the Death-Eaters within the ministry that saved the place. Officially, Death-Eaters raided the place. But from what I heard, the Dark Lord had a vested interest in keeping that place far from the fires. The plan was to freeze the Ministry and hamper Aurors from rushing out to fight outside. Death-Eaters were stationed outside the Ministry. Not inside. But not only did this not happen, but the fires started inside the well protected hall of chimneys, supposedly by Death-Eaters.

I don't believe any of that crap.

Nor should you.

Did you see it? The magic Dumbledore did not see from his high place? Did you see what Moody missed on his way out?

I can't say I would have had I been there. But when you know what to look out for … it is obvious.

We all were outplayed.

Longbottoms residence was a rather lonely mansion on the side of a park. Let it be not be said that Pureblooded Wizards had no tastes thought. The mansion was absolutely gorgeous. The small alley leading to the mansion, though, was completely useless and well, full of dirt. And this is where the three aurors that disappeared from the Ministry – or escaped appeared. All of their wands up in their hands.

"What are we doing here?" Sirius Black asked, immediately recognizing the grounds.

"We secure the area, rough up some death-eater baby and we go on our separate ways." The three men treaded lightly on the path, waiting for some kind of ambush. "They might already be here, be careful." Mumbled Moody, his magical eye whizzing madly.

James stopped and showed eight with his fingers.

The message was passed down. There were eight intruders. The Secret Keeper of the Longbottoms that should have hidden the location of the manor to any intruders was either dead or a Death-Eater. Possibly both.

James then flaunted his invisibility cloak and went slowly toward the great doors of the mansion. No words needed, James was the only one who knew the mansion that much, even Frank Longbottom admitted as much after some party. Sirius just waited next to Moody Mad eye, a disillusion spell already in place to disguise both their presence.

The battle went sourly. The eight intruders, recognized as Death-Eaters from their black cloak, strove hard against the wards of the Mansion, unable yet to disable them. Moody surprised the first one after James failed to answer. Just as his spell found his mark on the back of an unsuspecting Death-Eater, Moody rolled away. Immediately the eight wizards regrouped to protect themselves and fight against their assailants. Sirius entered the fray, putting out of commission one man. Bolts of all colors went back and forth, with a fair share of green spells but few found their original targets. Fortunately for the Aurors, they were agile enough to keep dodging.

It quickly dawned on both fighting Auror something was wrong.

"They are not here for the wards of the mansion!" shouted Sirius. "They want to keep us out!"

With two flicks of his wand, three Death-Eaters collapsed. With a huff, Sirius kept on moving, escaping an orange spell by a few. He heard Moody shouting some obscure threats at an enemy – Sirius actually pitied for a second the poor dude.

"Sectumsempra"

The purple spell touched Moody dead on his left eye. An actual scream escaped the lips of the old Auror before a yellow spell went hurling at a frightening speed toward the Death-Eater who cast it. He never woke up. Sirius, try as he might, could only stop the unstoppable. Moody was down and Sirius would not be able to be a match for three fully trained Death-Eater that remained standing. Then as quick as ever, a spell touched him. Sirius stopped moving altogether.

"NOOOO! Padfoot!"

An orange bolt cut through the air and finished the Death-Eater who had touched Sirius. James came through the foliage, all bruised up but overall in good shape. Following him, was one Frank Longbottom, another Auror, sporting the same magenta robes that Sirius Black and James Potter had. Even through rage and tears the two Aurors ended the two last Death-Eater in mere seconds.

"Hurry, we must take them inside" screamed Frank. His nose was bleeding and his left arm formed an angle it should not have. James had only eye for Sirius.

"Hurry, everything is not lost yet. He was not hit by an avada. He is still breathing."

The two Aurors levitated the two bodies and took them straight through the doors. There, waiting for them was Augusta Longbottom, the mother of Frank, in her eternal eagle-hat. Sha was definitely irritated.

"-How dare they!? How did that sneaky little serpent dared! By my own Secret Keeper too! This, … this means war!"

The old witch tried a few choice words that made Frank go an exquisite green color. The old witch stopped when she saw James.

"Eh, got all banged up, uh not so much of pretty face anymore."

Without so much as an another word, potions floated towards them and went down on the nearest table.

"Move idiot. Put him there. And Frank, go look for the magic eye your grandfather left. It should be in one of the shelve. We need to replace that antiquity on Moody's face." Augusta Longbottom sneered. "I told that fool to get rid of it last week anyway."

No questioning why a magic eye would be there, Frank went straight through the shelves.

The old witch turned toward James Potter with a no-nonsense look.

"Enough James. Sirius is just stunned. He should be up and about with a good Ennervate. But Moody … well … Frank?! The eye!"

The eye asked for came tumbling down. Not really paying attention to the gory details, Augusta took it in her hand and plucked it in the socket left in Moody's face.

"It will have to do for now. He'd better rest or a couple hours."

Only a few moments later did the talking begin.

"They came all at once. At nine exactly, they were at the doors. And Bellatrix Lestrange was there. She managed to infiltrate the Mansion and she found us. It was just me, Alice and small Neville. Fortunately Mom was there too. She managed to stop Bellatrix in her folly and bought us enough time for Alice to take Neville in a safe-house."

"She stopped Bellatrix?" repeated James unsure, "That's crazy." He watched as teared down wall was repairing itself, under Augusta Longbottom orders.

Frank raised his shoulders.

"I imagine she did not expect mom's hat to come to life" he mumbled all the while holding a finger to his lips, signifying to never repeat what he had said. "Alice should be back any time now, with some reinforcements." Frank took a swing of Butterbeer, "But Bellatrix was not alone. Her husband was there too. Rodolphus. I think Rabastan might have been somewhere too. He is never too far from his brother. Anyway. I engaged Rodolphus in a duel. But things went rather downhill. He could have killed me had James not come through. We then succeeded in putting him off, but he escaped. That must have been when Rabastan helped. I did not understand why too. Bellatrix did the same. It must have been a ploy to get us here but ?... well there is nothing to do anymore."

"Hmm. Yes. That little devil, Bellatrix did something with her magic and left as soon as Neville and Alice had escaped." Augusta frowned as she levitated a few empty bottles, sniffing repulsively at some broken vials. "She was drunk on her own magic I dare say. She overpowered some old spells protecting the mansion in matter of seconds. Whatever she came looking for, she found it."

Sirius stared at wall where a spell impact could be seen.

"My cousin never knew restraint." He mumbled, "Her eyes." He asked suddenly, "what color were they?"

Frank eyed Sirius warily.

"What else would they be but Black." He answered angrily, pacing in front of the fireplace.

Sirius was uneasy.

"If this is true, she will have a hard time coming back to reality." Sirius waved at James, "Black family magic is a curse. Power for insanity. The trade is hardly fair."

"Is that what it does? I always thought your family magic had something to do with illusions." Whispered James. Family magic was old spells taught exclusively to few members of one family. It was powerful and rare. A secret jealously guarded. Frank had probably divulged something precious by saying his mother's hat had come to life.

Sirius pursed his lips.

"I don't know. My father never deemed me ready to learn it." The bitterness cut through the halls.

"Enough about that!" raged Frank. He lowered his volume after his mother glared at him. "That crazy hag almost teared down my manor. She wanted my son for that Prophecy!" He taped at his watch. "Damn it, Alice should be back by now."

A pregnant silence cut the room. The green flames flared to life and let Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin and Alice Longbottom walk through.