Chapter 2: Night revelations - part 2

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All Hallow Eve of 1985 was a downright disaster. For the Dark Lord. For the Order of Phoenix. For magical Britain as a whole. Nothing went according to plan, and dear ones were lost forever fueling a cycle of never-ending hatred.

I walk amidst the crowd and the witch who led me out of the room pushes me a little.

Time is ticking, that much I know. Familiar faces stare back at me unbelievingly.

What do I tell them? What can I tell them? I am ashamed. I look down.

"Don't be."

Her voice pulls me back to the realm of the living. I look at her. I stare. A kind smile can be seen on her face, as fleeting as it is. I am struck by how she once must have been beautiful. Now, worry mares her face, among other scars I do not want to see. I look away. People again.

"Stop reading my mind." I admonish lightly.

She does not listen.

She never does.

"Be proud of you are." She says.

I don't want to hear the rest. I trick myself into thinking that I don't care for the rest.

Wrong.

I do.

I hate it.

So I busy myself into thinking of the past. I hope it will soothe my fraying nerves.

Her hand presses against mine a little bit more.

She knows what I'm thinking again.

She always does.

Diagon Alley had been targeted by the Death-Eaters. The black clad wizards and witches were wreaking havoc and breaking glass. The spells hit everywhere in a messy brawl. To the untrained eye, this was an attack. The the trained one, this was a would be attack sabotaged. The Death-Eaters were hitting themselves as much as they were hitting the shops of the Alley.

With all the chaos created and the fear the black people created, no one reported this strange behavior. They should have.

Even if Diagon Alley was badly damaged, goblins and wizards alike lying on the ground, Fabian and Gideon Prewett were there to fight back. Some meagre defense was created. The spirit to fight back perhaps began there before it spread wildly.

London that night became a string of small explosions. These cut the floo travel transportations within the country. It took weeks for the channels to be repaired.

They said Death-Eaters caused this.

I don't think so.

For me, something went wrong within the confines of the Ministry. Something that caused the floo to go all wrong. Something the Ministry desperately needed to cover up.

People thought this was the Death-Eaters doing because that event had the same consequences as what the Death-Eaters were aiming for. But hampering Aurors and ministry officials from leaving the ground was an altogether different thing than nuking the entire floo system of Great-Britain.

Besides, Death-Eaters had been busy in the other villages. In London, there should not have been many of the Dark Lord's followers.

My frown does not go unnoticed. She sees it and rolls her eyes. She lets me be though.

Villages with strong magical communities were targeted. The hatred had been building for long enough that it took almost everywhere a small altercation to create a full on battle. Something was at hand instigating and increasing the hatred. Losses were strong on each camp, screams went unheard over the general clamor. Families were torn apart. It was a terrible night. And Death-Eaters, for those who could recognize the commanding officers, were fighting as if they were winning. For the Order of the Phoenix, the worst news had to come from the lack of appearance of the Dark Lord.

The attack had everything a coordinated one should have.

And yet, the strongest mage was not on the battlefield.

And now, a blaring alarm was indicating how the floo system had been disabled. Panic soon started to overtake both sides.

The Longbottom's safe house was just a normal magic house. It was not that much warded either. The safe house belonged to some very old wizard named Alfred Rottingpot. He had once a very flourishing career in the Ministry but now was in a magic retirement. Working was not a part of his life anymore. Now, he could just rest in his house and look up at the sky at night. Or just babysit some baby. As it was, when Alice Longbottom came tumbling out of the fireplace, he had no other choice but to help her. After all, he had known her for the better part of his life. Well, he had known her parents, but that was just a very small detail. Out she came, and she was holding in her arms a small five-year-old Neville. The poor boy seemed completely terrorized and utterly spent. Alice did not seem to hold it in better than her son was.

"Death Eaters at the Mansion. From the insane laugh, I would wager Bellatrix Lestrange was there leading this attack. Not sure though, she kept her mask on. I must hurry Al."

With a swish of his wand, Alfred took some potions to heal the small cuts on Alice's arm and then took Neville from her arms.

"Don't you worry about your little tyke. I have him. He is in good hands. Hurry up and help them."

More than ever, Alfred knew what it meant. As terrible as it could be, he just knew a terrible fate could befall him, Neville or Alice. Somehow, he was just tired. He found himself staring at the window while Alice went out, Neville already sleeping on the couch upstairs after having been fad a calming draught. For a long while, in silence, Alfred looked outside. It was, the only thing keeping up to date with the news. In state of wars, he had naturally warded his house against intruders. Just the bare minimum, but it was enough to keep at bay his old friends, if ever they were still alive. The clouds above kept on looking more and more sinister. Each and every bolt coming from one wand was reflected on the once white clouds. The civil war could be seen in the very sky itself. As the night grew darker by the minutes, the landscape seemed … dying. Collapsing on itself. The beautiful land barren of any human soul.

As if answering an unsung plea, the weather, on his own accord, began acting.

"It's gonna rain … And the Wizarding world is at war right now … What a waste."

On this last thought, Alfred moved from his window panel. He went to the kitchen to drink a cold Firewhiskey. And right when the drink was at his lips did he hear a sound on his door. Somebody was knocking.

"Dad! Open, it's me!" a cry said.

Holding in a whisper at the thought of his idiot son who kept on forgetting the spare keys, Alfred opened the door a tad bit angry.

"You could have paid attention and kept your keys with y-"

As many other wizards that night, Alfred Rottingpot did not finish his sentence. Lord Voldemort had just made an apparition. An awful smile gracing his face.

"Perfect, Bella. Perfect."

Slowly, he discarded the corpse that was Alfred and cast a quick homenum revelio. That particular spell pointed him then where the last living being of the house was. As slowly as ever, knowing his plan was about to be complete, Lord Voldemort went upstairs. Walking like family might do on burial event.

"Such a disaster … a house like this, home of some pureblood wizard."

A sneer escaped his lips, and as undignified it might have been for him, Lord Voldemort stopped a moment to stare at some odd painting.

"Traitor to their own blood. They don't have a place in society anymore."

The painting went down in ashes. Lord Voldemort kept on walking. After an entirely too long time, he finally came to the room that would held the boy. The red eyes of the wizard became alert. He sleeps. For some odd reason, Lord Voldemort found that fact funny. Here, the fearsome wizard took time to take in the scene. No need to hurry when wizards were at each other's throats. Such beauty. Such craftsmanship. And only his mind could potentially realize how great, how terribly ingenious his plan was. There, just at the back of the great mage, black clouds were forming. Lifting his hand, his eyes redder, about to commit yet another crime, his wand came down

"-Avada Kedavra"

The spell is what ended Lord Voldemort. In this time, in this era, it was his end. This night, Lord Voldemort went down, killed by his own trap. His soul scattered to the four winds, a scar left on the small Neville and some dark robes at the end of the bed.

The small room was not even in disorder. And that is how the Longbottoms found their son, sound asleep with no care in the world people had died in front of him.

In another part of the country, at Godric's Hollow more exactly, war had yet to come. But as small as the village could be, it was a well known wizard village. Death-Eaters were bound to come at some time. But the only sound that disturbed the tranquility of the village was the loud crack of apparition. James, Sirius and Remus appeared a bit confused but overall in great shape. The three men went down the alley to Potter cottage.

"The village does not seem to have been attacked. What a lucky night for you James." Observed Remus nursing a sore arm. A grunt answered him.

"Whatever. Lily would have slaughtered them anyways."

A smile appeared on the three men faces. No doubt Lily could knock out all the Death Eater.

"Finally home. Come on guys."

James led the way to a small cottage. And when he opened the door, instead of being welcome by the warmness of his home or the charming wand of his wife, James was met with a wall of mud before being taken down by some force.

"Ah!"

Neither Sirius nor Remus helped him, apparently scared through their wits by some lady behind him.

"Dad! You're home!"

"Prongslet that thing was your doing?" asked Sirius poking with his wand the mud wall. An angry shout, also known as Lily, urged them inside.

"Uncle Padfoot! Moony! You're all right!" screamed a small dark haired boy.

"Of course I'm fine." Huffed Sirius. James and Remus sent pointed glares that Sirius tried to ignore.

"Harry James Potter! How many times do I have to tell you to come to bed! Immediately!"

Laugher followed her statement.

"Why are you all laughing? Harry, bed, now."

"Yes mum. Da, you coming too?"

"Sure, come up, I'll be right behind you."

Harry went up the stairs leaving the adults in the hall. Remus took the chair while Sirius went in the kitchen to eat some left-overs. Lily, looking at James like she had never seen him, finally said.

"Well, you are coming late. I heard some terrible news from …" she snapped her eyes shut for a while. No one tried to contradict her. Changing the topic as soon as possible, Lily glared at Sirius. "By the way, what have you been teaching Harry? You have the worst influence on him."

"Me! What have I done again?! Why not James! I feel injustice here!"

A wand met with Sirius face. The poor lad then tried to hide behind James.

"Alright. I'll admit it. Everything is my fault. I am to blame for all your troubles. So I apologize for the cat, the holes in your wall, the broken vase and the cake in your kitchen. And for your hair. Especially your hair. Pink hair was never your thing."

"What are you talking about?! Pink ha-"

The smiles on the three Marauders were priceless and just what Lily needed to understand the situation.

"Alright. You win. But James, your son is one ugly little monster."

The smiles did not dampen one bit.

"I'll have you known he redecorated his room. With Gryffindor colors too."

"Of course, my champion will be a lion!"

"… He transfigured wandlessly the blue rug into a lion plush eating a rat."

"He is a gifted youngster!" shouted still behind James, Sirius, "Only five and can already understand magic laws!"

"…"

"…"

"You taught him to do that, did you not?"

"Look at it on the good side, Lily flower, He knows some advanced transfiguration."

"James! He is barely five! Between this and the broom-toy … He almost killed the cat! I thought it had a heart attack! And when it went into his room the lion roared."

"Lily, you worry more about the cat than Harry. That is worrysome."

"By my beard, my eyes must be failing me!"

"Diantre!"

"BY Morgana! What an horror!"

"Enough!" screamed Lily to stop tha antics of Sirius and James, "Harry's doing it on purpose. He likes to scare the cat."

"Me too! He just take a bit of wisdom from us! And in a few years he will be able to scare Minnie too."

After some shouting and some wand casting, the four adults stopped talking for a while, all utterly tired. Lily's hair finally took the right shade of red after a flick of her wand.

Sirius walked to the window.

"Something's happening outside. Those are not bonfires …" he mumbled.

The adults all looked at each other. A small explosion was heard, starting all the wizards in motion.

"James, hurry up to the children. They need to be safely tucked at a safe-house. Hurry."

But it was a lost cause. The moment the words escaped Lily's lips, the door of the small cottage went down. In its wake, some Death-Eaters. And just in the middle, the shortest one said.

"I'm sorry Prongs."

"Wormtail!" whispered shocked James.

"YOU TRAITOR!" barked Sirius, wand at the ready.

The battle began and very quickly it was a race against time. The spells were fired in all directions and Lily's charming abilities proved very effective. But the Death Eaters were far too many.

"Quickly upstairs I have a portkey with me" shouted Lily. Her left hand held some brush.

"Expulso!" Peter Pettigrew spell soared through the house and knocked the portkey out of Lily's hand. Sirius dived out of scuffle with the three Death-Eaters in front of him to help the witch. He trusted Remus and James to beat the others.

However the noise had awakened the two Potter children. They pressed against each other when the door was broken. A Death Eater came in and pointed his wand at the children. Maureen wept with all her might and Harry tried to attack the legs of the Death Eater. But faster than the Death Eater's lightning bolt, James arrived and grabbed his two children. He disappeared with them, hoping against all odds that his wife and friends had managed to apparate out of here in time. He splinched himself, forgetting his right foot in the hurry.

When he came back to his senses, James Potter managed to ignore the blinding pain in his leg to look for his children. His intense cry stemed from both the pain and the confusing realisation only his daughter was there. Harry Potter, his eldest son, was nowhere to be seen. A couple loud cracks alerted the Auror that both Lily and Sirius had come. Lily sobbed at once at seeing her husband form. Sirius was paler than usual. He took Maureen in his arms to hide from her the gruesome sight of James missing foot.

"Marin" rasped Sirius. A house elf appeared in front of him. "Healing potions. Now." He barked.

Bellatrix Lestrange was fuming. While she had succeeded in her mission - to bring the little Longbottom to Rottingpot - and to destroy in her wake some wizard villages here and there, she could not help shouting with rage.

She had not been able to lay hands on the renegades of her family. Between her sister, and dared-she-say, her niece, and her good-for-nothing cousin, she felt like a disgrace. Yet, she knew her renegade sister lived in that wretched village she was currently in. This was why she had come after all.

She hesitated before continuing. She doubted the other Death-Eaters could take her down. Blood traitor or not, Andromeda had once been a proud Black family member. She was a force to be reckoned with. A screaming Death-Eater at her feet alerted her that the wizard had probably fell into one of the many traps Andromeda was fond of. It certainly reeked of her scheming hand.

Bellatrix almost smirked at the ruthless death of the Death-Eater.

The trap had been well thought out.

Immersing in her memories as she foraged through a deserted alleyway, Bellatrix remembered how her once sister had talked to her about buying a house there. Before she had ran away with the mudblood.

Bellatrix hated that she clung to details of a lost relationship to avenge her unsated anger.

Her sister had been bright and smart. Very much so. She could have been Minister for magic for herself. She certainly never lacked the ambition. Bellatrix hacked away some wooden structure. It was in her way. She clutched tightly her wand. The house she knew her sister owned was right there before her. Only wards, very powerful ones, were separating her from her goal.

Andromeda had left.

She had blamed it on family.

She had blamed it on their stupid laws.

But Bellatrix blamed it on her. She should have seized her chance to change the world for herself if she thought it was so rotten.

She never should have left her kind for them.

Those mudbloods never deserved her.

"Avada kedavra" uttered the witch, watching as a golem like creature fell to her feet. She spat on the ground. She never liked those creatures. She watched as a figure in the garden of the house she stood in front of detached itself from the treeline.

Andromeda stared right back at her. They could have been twins. Back in the days, many people used to say they looked like each other. They had loved the attention then. Now, she did not know which one of the two of them hated that fact more.

Bellatrix scoffed. Her sister's eyes were just as black as hers were. And she was just as high on magic as she herself was. Bellatrix wondered just who was the most powerful between the two of them. The Dark Lord had trained her, but seeing her sister there reminded her that brute force was not always the deciding factor of a battle. Cunning was. And right now, Andromeda was the most cunning one. The barrier keeping her out of the property house said as much.

"For all your hatred at us, you still are a Pureblood." Began Bellatrix walking slowly toward her sister.

Andromeda stared at her unwaveringly. Her wand was at her side.

"What have you really come here for?"

Bellatrix clenched her teeth. Only the thin but powerful magic barrier separated the two of them. She put her hand lightly against the barrier. Small bolts attempted to keep her out. She knew better. Those things were trying to sap her own magic to fuel the barrier. Smart. But expected.

"I hate you, you know. You ruined our whole name just by … doing you." Andromeda approached her. They could stare at each other in the eyes.

"Bella"

"Father is dead." Bellatrix interrupted. "His last words were about you." A hard look entered her eyes. "he knew beforehand that you were planning on leaving. And he did not stop you." She accused. That had happened almost a decade ago. The wound was still fresh. It felt now as if both her sister and father had betrayed her. It clawed at her heart.

Andromeda pursed her lips.

"You won't talk I presume." Bellatrix stroke against the barrier. It did not een waver. Again, another testament to Andromeda's skill, if needed."You never do. The funerals were held a week ago. And you weren't missed." Bellatrix watched as a hurt look entered her sister's eyes. "As the eldest of the family, I had, by law, to tell you face to face." She spat the words. It burnt at the very back of her throat. She hoped it hurt her sister dearly. She wanted to hurt her just as her sister had hurt her and precious Cissy.

"And you waited today of all day to tell me this." Andromeda whispered.

"Should you walk out, I will come after you. You, your mudblood of a husband and that thing you call a daughter. Father is not there anymore to protect whatever remnant of your honor as he called it."

Bellatrix saw it then. The rage. The hurt. Deep in her eyes. She smirked just to irritate her sister more. But she had not come for empty threats.

"That's what I would have told you had I not discovered about Aries." Bellatrix saw the second she had hit a nerve. In a fleeting second, her sister had lost her countenance. Curious. Andromeda had once been close to Aries. Right before she left. So she was right in her assumption. "He had something to do with your leaving. And I will find out why."

"Get lost Bella." She bristled, "You are chasing after ghosts." Andromeda raised her wand arm. "And I don't have anything to tell you. I left willingly with Ted in order to raise my daughter. How difficult is it to get it through you thick head?" Bellatrix saw her sister hesitate, "Aries had nothing to do with it." She whispered.

"You lie, and I know it. I just wanted you to know I don't believe that plate of lies father fed everyone about you. You obviously rehearsed it together."

"What a hypocrite you make. He had to die for you to come here and tell me this."

Bellatrix's wand flared.

"Because he controlled everything about you! He coveted information like a dragon hoards gold. You weren't there, you don't know what it was like."

As if snapping out of dream, a sharp pain in her left arm made itself known. She barely heard her sister cry for her – how odd, she thought Andromeda did not care for her anymore. She guessed they were both horrible hypocrites then. She apparated out immediately.

The pain in her left arm was a telltale sign. She knew what it meant. Her heart beat too loudly in her chest. She sat down on the lawn she had apparated. Her thoughts were beginning to be hazy. Magic was troubling her now. How ironic. She lurched forward.

Her Dark Lord had just died. Defeated. By a simple kid. It had to be. The Longbottom plan, the one her master had not wanted her to be a part of, had failed. Yes, Bellatrix was really foaming with rage. She immediately called to order the other Death Eaters.

As she returned to the Lord's mansion, all the Death Eaters Apparated with her. Besides the corpse of the Death Eater half-eaten by Lord Voldemort's serpent, Bellatrix began to pace. With the help of the strong heads of the "Death Eater's Council" they agreed to wait for the terrible return of the Dark Lord. But all knew that this evening, he would not come back.