31 October 1981, Godric's Hollow. 8 pm

The night wet and windy, two children dressed as pumpkins waddling across the square, and the shop window covered in paper spiders, all the tawdry Muggle trapping of a world in which they did not believe. . . . And he was gliding along, that sense of purpose and power and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions. . . . Not anger. . . . that was for weaker souls than he . . . but a triumph, yes. . . . He had waited for this, he had hoped for it. . . .

"Nice costume, mister!"

He saw the small boy's smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face. Then the child turned and ran away. . . . Beneath the robe be fingered hand of his wand . . . One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother . . . but unnecessary, entirely unnecessary. . . .And along a new and darker street, he moved, and now his destination was in sight, at last, the Fidelius Charm broken, though they did not know it yet. . . . And he made less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark edge, and peered over it. . . .They had not removed the curtains; he saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall black-haired man in his glasses,

making puffs of colored smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small black-haired boy in his blue pajamas. The child was laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in his tiny fist. . . .

A door opened, and the mother entered, saying words he couldn't hear, her long dark-red hair falling over her face. Now, the father scooped up the son and handed him to the mother. He threw his wand down upon the sofa and stretched, yawning. . . .The gate creaked a little as he pushed it open, but James Potter did no hear. His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open. He was over the threshold as James came sprinting into the hall. It was easy, too easy, he had not even picked up his wand . . .

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

Hold him off, without a wand in his hand?. . . . He laughed before casting the curse. . . .

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut. . . .He could hear her screaming from the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear. . . . He climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in. . . . She had no wand either. . . . How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments. . . .He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand . . . and there she stood, the child in her arms. At the last sight of him, she dropped the toddler into the crib and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from view she hoped to be chosen instead. . . .

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl . . . stand aside now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"

"This is my last warning—"

"Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy. . . . NotHarry! Not Harry! Please—I'll do anything—"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more

prudent to finish them all. . . .The green light flashed around the room, and she dropped like

her husband. The child had not cried all this time. He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruders face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty light, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing—He pointed the wand very carefully into the boy's face. He

wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. The child began to cry. It had seen that he was not James. He did not like it calling; he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage.

"Avada Kedavra!"

And then he broke; He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away . . . faraway . . .

31 October 1981, Hogwarts, Scotland 20h

Of all the teachers, the headmaster of Hogwarts office was by far the most interesting... It was a large and beautiful circular room. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tainted wizard's hat — the Sorting hat, a hat that belonged once to one of the four founders of the school, along with another treasure, made of pure silver, its hilt set with egg-sized rubies, the gemstone commonly used to symbolize the House of Gryffindor at Hogwarts. The name "Godric Gryffindor" engraved just beneath the hilt was the sword of Godric Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat is the oldest Hogwarts artifact that magically determines which of the four school houses each new student belongs most. These four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, for centuries he full-field his task and stayed back in the office until he was solicited again. The legend says that a Gryffindor's student could find the sword in the sorting hat in he is in need, others say that only a Gryffindor student who shows bravery could, and others claim that any student, no matter what house he belongs to, could find it if he is fit to the claim.

The headmaster's office was also the home of "Fawx," the phoenix, a magnificent, swan-sized, scarlet bird with a long golden tail, beak, and talons. It has been proved that the phoenix lives to an immense age as it can be reborn from its ashes after bursting into flames. It is believed some specimens are bound to some families, coming to them in times of profound distress. The phoenix is a gentle creature that has never been known to kill and eats only herbs; it can also disappear and reappear at will and hold powerful healing properties in their tears; both qualities came in a big help in time of needs for the man who was holding two of one of the most respected positions of the British wizarding community, and had just refused to add a third one to the list.

For more than a decade now, a war was raging on the island; never in Britain's history were times as dark as they have been these past 10 years. Every day brought a new lot of deaths; among them, he recognized defeated the names of former students, old friends, people of all ages, men, and women who didn't know the existence of magic, collaterals to events they couldn't even measure the amplitude…

The headmaster is the most famous wizard since the great Merlin. He was adored by those he had taught and praised as a hero by the entire European and North American communities since he defeated the dark wizard Grindelwald. He was considered to be the most brilliant man in the world and the hope that could end the war bringing light again, so everybody could go back to their innocent daily preoccupations and forget if not those who died, the sadness that seems to have definitively polluted the air of this country… He knew perfectly well how people felt, how much they needed hope to still believe that life isn't over, to fight to keep the flame alive. That's why even if he knew how much himself harmed the world more than a century ago, that his heroic achievement was no more than a redemption attempt. To repair what still could be, every day, he wore a mask to show the world what they needed to see…Albus Dumbledore, the most brilliant wizard of the century, Headmaster of Hogwarts, chief warlock, the only wizard that Lord Voldemort and Gellert Grindelwald have ever feared.

Tonight was October the 31 of 1981, his attention wasn't drawled by Fawx, the sorting hat, the sword, or the portrait of all the former headmasters that the school has known; no, his attention was on the cloak that was laying on his desk, an invisibility cloak that he borrowed the day before from a young wizard that wasn't going to need it for the time being. An object that made his mind travel to a time where he knew everything but the important. When he had everyone, but felt alone, a time when he made his biggest mistake, one mistake that would hunt haunt him until the day he dies… To that day, shame and regret, the twins that will torment his hearth, from whom he will never get loose. An invisibility cloak is a magical garment which renders whomever or whatever it covers invisible. Invisibility cloaks are exceptionally rare and valuable within the wizarding world. Invisibility cloaks may be woven from the hair of a Demiguise, a magical creature whose coat allows it to become invisible. Invisibility cloaks can also be produced by enchanting an ordinary traveling cloak with a powerful Disillusionment Charm or Bedazzling Hex. Most invisibility cloaks wear out over time, eventually becoming visible. Besides, cloaks were vulnerable to damage from spells. But this cloak wasn't an ordinary one; this was with no doubt the one made centuries ago buy Ignotus Peverell, one of the three legendary brothers; this invisibility cloak was the only known one that would not fade with age and would provide lasting protection to the wearer, something no usual invisibility cloak could provide. As such, it was the only Hallow known to have been successfully passed down from generation to generation since Ignotus' time, until it found its way through history to James Potter, who was hidden with his wife and son.

Albus rubbed his face, yawned and stood up, walked to the small balcony that gave one of the beautiful views of the lake, smiled when he saw that neither the snow nor the cold night had stopped some of the seventh students to venture outside the castle before curfew, not even the war that was raging outside the school's grounds. He stood there looking the horizon, he noticed that more students were coming outside; some were singing, dancing, or at least it seemed that it was dancing. That wasn't common at Hogwarts since James Potter and Sirius Black graduated. Then, he saw a terse man running in their direction. Recognized in him the head of Ravenclaw house, the professor Flitwick. It was way past curfew now, and he approved that someone was to stop this improvised festivities; a moment later, his jaw dropped open when he saw another professor, much more prominent and larger, join the charm master witch what looked like a bottle of fire whiskey, both men jumping into the lake sending fireworks from their wands, that was enough he had to go down and call for an order.

- Where in the hell is Minerva? He asked himself- he didn't wait long for an answer. He made to reach the doorknob of his office than the same door busted open; he found himself face to face with his deputy headmistress, tears filling her eyes, sweat on her front, Professor Dummmmbldore, I ran from the great Hall…Is it true?... Something hap.. the students are saying… The Potters."

31 October 1981, Chesterfield, England.

Steven Blakeley recently returned to his hometown for the week. Chesterfield, a market town in Derbyshire, England, where he gained some local notoriety after appearing on various television programs and in a variety of theatre plays, enough to be invited as a guest of honor at the football match which was due to start in almost half an hour and, as usual, he was running late. The town was very proud of its local football team, which made him very amused after getting used to the high expectations of the teams who were playing in the Premier League. Even though they had managed to get blown away in all their away games last season, they were somehow leading the national league (5th division, as the shittiest football division in England) and playing against Grimsby at home. Steven was aware of the slight rivalry that existed between the two teams, which had intensified with several heated encounters over the years. Fans of both clubs were often used to causing disturbances during the match, which made the game become a slight grudge. So it was no surprise that all the attention was turned towards Whittington Moor's Proact Stadium, in support of the team... Walking alone on his way to the deserted church when he stopped for a moment to admire the old church, which was the pride of Chesterfield. St Mary's and All Saints is the largest parish church in the Diocese of Derby and was locally and internationally famous for its twisted spire, attracting visitors worldwide. What visitors from all over the world didn't know is that the tower was also where a group of teenagers chose many years ago as HQ. Breaking the lock and climbing it was very appealing, but he was expected, so he turned his back on the building which held many memories of his teenage years and walked to the car parking lot where he had parked his car earlier in the afternoon, where he spotted a white 1959 Triumph 650 T 120 Bonneville. He approached it, inspected it for a short moment before a noise startled him. His eyes landed on a tiny man behind him, standing lower than a thirteen-year-old. He had untidy brown hair and a bald spot, something in his eyes frightened Steven. The man's eyes went from him to the motorbike, a moment of silence followed, and then the last thing he saw was a green light.

A large black German Shepherd Dog who appeared out of nowhere was running like wildfire down Beetwell Street. The dog stopped at the front door of a small house locally known to be uninhabited for several years. The dog barked twice and waited a moment before standing on his back legs and slowly took the shape of a tall, well built, darkly handsome man with fair skin, long glossy black hair, striking grey eyes, and an air of "casual elegance." This vestige of aristocratic beauty, an attribute passed on by his family.

Sirius Black was intrigued by the fact that his friend didn't answer to their code. He knew perfectly well that he was coming to visit him that evening as he did once a week for a year and that he was supposed to let him enter in his dog form before he could take back his human form out of sight. Sirius struck again without a result. The wards he had placed himself were still active, but something was wrong... He took his knife out of his pocket and went inside the house. He called his friend, looking for him all over the place - Common Peter; this is no time for jokes, not now! - Before he took out his wand and whispered: Homenio revelio. A silver-blue screen unfurled in the house, and he concluded that he was alone in there. He stood still for a second before reaching his leather jacket's inside pocket and grabbed his mirror. Looking at the mirror, he called out:

"JAMES ...JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMES ..."

James was never away from his mirror; he was forced to remain confined in Godrics Hollow for a year, which drove him crazy. James loved his wife and son, he would endure hell for them, but he was also a man of action, who needed to be involved, included, and above all, informed. On missions for the order, Sirius always asked his opinion before making a move, gave him a report before even telling Dumbledore of his return from a mission, he used the mirror to say good night to his nephew; Lily even surprised him singing a lullaby to him... He had known him for a decade, whether he was in detention or in a tunnel somewhere in Scotland, James always answered when Sirius called... Then it hit him, felt his blood freeze, his bones melt a cold sensation in his back as his eyes scanned the empty room. He began to think very fast, going back over the last two years that had passed, and then he realized. He got tricked; the rat outsmarted him.

He ran away from the house, his feet barely touching the asphalt; he fell several times, getting a few bruises along the way, as soon as he was a reasonable distance away from the protections that were supposed to if they were still working, prevent anyone from approaching the house, he apparated in the supermarket parking where he had left his motorbike.

He ignored the drunkard who passed out in his piss next to his bike; he jumped on it and flew away into the night; he didn't care about the crowd coming back to celebrate the victory of the local team or the fight that broke out between two groups of hooligans, all that mattered at that moment was to get to Godric Hollow before it was too much.

He doesn't know for sure how long it took him to reach his destination. However, he remembered the cold wind that sliced his face, his heart was beating like never before, he remembers the fight he had had with one of his best friends a few months back, the words they had said to each other put an end to their friendship. After years, they stood side by side, kept each other's secrets, defied the hypocrisy of their world, and proved that the four of them who were supposed to hate each other because of their origins and nature, ended up building a family of their own. Sirius knew that someone was betraying his family, he didn't want to believe the old man, but when substantial evidence was put before him, he had to admit that someone close to them was informing the Dark Lord of his best friend's entire movement, three times they had to move, three times they almost died in the last two years. He really wanted to believe that the old man was wrong, that the dark lord had other ways of tracking down his targets, but the old man stood his ground, his spy who, according to him, had Voldemort's ear. The same man informed them of the danger hanging over the Potters and pushed them to go underground, strongly argued that for the past two years, a close friend of the family had been spying on them, giving information that only a few knew, that the murder of Edgar Bones and his children was committed with his help, that he was the one who led the Prewett brothers to the cottage where they met a cruel end... Yes, someone was betraying their camp, someone he hugged, protected, supported, and for years proudly called a brother.

All his life, he was proud to call himself the "white" sheep of the Black family. The Black family is one of the oldest and most noble families in Britain's wizarding world, "always pure" are their words and creed, a powerful family of pure blood respected by all. The Black family, like other old families such as the Malfoys, the Notts, or the Lestrange, considered themselves as superiors because of their "pure blood," regarded themselves as gods for those who were muggle-born or half-bloods, that there were the only ones who were pure enough to practice magic. As long as he can remember, Sirius never bought the crap his mother managed to carve into his younger brother's mind. He refused to live and think like his family. He never missed an opportunity to challenge them in private and in public, receiving numerous punishments from his loving mother, enough that by the age of sixteen, he had to give in and admit that his tattoos would not cover all the scars that were engraved in his skin for the rest of his life.

As soon as he was placed in Gryffindor's house, he became increasingly rebellious, displaying his belonging to the house and his contempt for his family's pure-blooded values, until his relationship with his mother and his cousins became particularly strained. He never missed an opportunity to laugh loudly at the way he slammed the door after his sixteenth birthday and left the family home. At the way he turned his back on that same family, his parents' faces when he announced his departure at an important event attended by the most important figures of the Ministry of Magic and the heirs of other pure-blooded families, and how, in the middle of the night, he found refuge at his best friend's house. In contrast, he didn't even attend his brother's funeral, how he was adopted by the Potters, and how it infuriated his blood relatives. ..

Flying now as fast as his motorbike could, he realized that he wasn't very different from the other blacks he used to spit on, was only rebellious in words, that when it was time to point the finger at someone, he followed the same old stereotypes and invented bullshit ideology from which he spent his whole life distancing himself... Now that his eyes fell on the horrific scene of the house ruins where his soul took up residence, were those who accepted him as one of them and entrusted him with their life and their most precious treasure, only then did he realize the unbearable truth, the man he was, the consequence of his mistakes, was not the man he thought ... Sirius was a traitor, a coward and he was the only one to blame for destroying his world ...