The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...
Two boys who fit the prophecy Severus had told him: the Potter boy and Longbottom boy. The Dark Lord knew either of their parents, having thrice defied him, would put up a fight. Both had Secret-Keepers though that would be a problem. Peter Pettigrew, their friend, had not even know for sure who the Potter's Secret-Keeper was, although Sirus Black was the most obvious answer by far. From everything he had heard from the Death Eaters who were at Hogwarts with him, James and Sirius were inseparable. Hunting down Black could prove difficult though as he too had defied him many times. Black should have been an easy target to lure to his side, having the pureblood ancestry that he did, but he was well known to have squandered that gift. The Dark Lord grew angry as he always did when he thought about Black. He had the shame of a Muggle father after his mother had thrown her life away for a worthless man. Black though was born pureblooded and in a noble, ancient wizarding family. That was the sort of family the Dark Lord should have been born into.
His thoughts flickered back to the Longbottom boy. Here was another pureblood. The Potter boy's blood was muddied with his Mudblood mother's blood, but Alice and Frank Longbottom both boasted pureblood roots despite being utter blood traitors.
He curled his thin lips as he thought it over. If the prophecy was being especially cruel, then the Potter boy was his equal as both came from respectable bloodlines that got muddied. But had he not risen above the wretched legacy of his Mudblood father? He was no longer merely Tom Riddle, carrying the name of a Muggle, but Lord Voldemort, the greatest Dark Wizard whose very name made wizards tremble in their robes.
"My Lord!" Lucius Malfoy called, followed by Crabbe and Goyle dragging a stupefied body between them. Malfoy was preening like a peacock as he always did. While he was a pureblood and accomplished, his sniveling ways and insistent need to be praised constantly hardly impressed the Dark Lord.
"What is it, Malfoy?" he sneered.
"We found her. The Longbottom's Secret Keeper, Augusta Longbottom," Malfoy said proudly.
"Is that so?" he said, stepping forward and lifting the unconscious woman's head. He recognized the woman as Frank Longbottom's mother. He lifted his wand to the woman's chin, bringing her back to life.
"Tell us where your grandson is," he said, his eyes narrowing.
"Never," she said angrily, spitting at him.
Uninterested in her defiance, he raised his wand again. "Crucio!"
Her steel was admirable, but he knew all he had to do was wait her out and eventually she would crack. He employed the assistance of his Death Eaters, telling them only that he was allowing them a moment of fun. It took far longer than expected, but eventually the woman went insane from the torture and strange combinations of Dark Magic being thrown at her.
"Now…I will extract the information from her," he said, knowing that her defenses were down. He entered her mind smoothly, looking for the information he so desired. Finally, he extracted it. He knew the Fidelius Charm made it impossible to extract the information by torture or mindreading, but he was did not block him from finding out who she may have told the secret to that could be easily persuaded to tell them the secret. He finally found what he was looking for. Apparently the sniveling coward Peter Pettigrew had visited the Longbottoms. "Avada kedavra!" With a flash of green light, the woman was no more, meaning anyone she told was now a Secret-Keeper as well. "Find me Peter Pettigrew."
Knowing where Peter was, the Death Eaters easily captured him as he did not put up any fight. He had been a useful pawn in the past, divulging secrets from the Order of the Phoenix when under even the least amount of pressure. "Tell me the location of the Longbottoms."
"You – you know I cannot say that, my Lord," Peter said, nervously looking around like a trapped rat. "I'm not their Secret Keeper."
"Try saying it."
"Number 10, Fortis Street," he said nervously, squeaking when he realized he had actually said it out loud.
"Excellent," he said smoothly, disappearing and leaving the pathetic traitor behind.
"Frank, your mother is worryingly late at this point," Alice called, picking up Neville in her arm. Neville had been crying again. As cold as Alice thought her mother-in-law was, she was surprisingly good at calming the baby.
"I'm sure she's fine. Most likely something came up at her place," Frank said casually.
"We should at least send an owl to check in on her since we can't go to her," Alice fretted, petting the baby's hair gently. Frank agreed, sending an owl to her, but they were surprised when the owl returned empty-handed.
"We could ask Prewett to check in on her for us," Frank suggested.
"We should. And not only for her sake. If something happened to her, then the Secret-Keeper spell would be dispersed," Alice fretted.
Frank grew more alarmed at that thought, but he knew it to be possible just as much as she did. "We need to protect Neville at any cost," he told her. "Although I hope it doesn't come to anything that drastic."
"Of course," she said, pressing her lips thinly. A flash of something on the front lawn caught her eyes. "Who's that? How'd he get past our wards?"
"Take Neville and run!" Frank shouted. "I can try cutting him off in front. Go! Run!"
After one last look at the man she loved who was likely fighting his last fight, Alice began running, now cursing the fact that they had made such a broad space be part of the Fidelius Charm, costing her precious seconds as she ran to the backdoor where the nearest border was so she could Disapparate away.
She could hear Frank shouting in the distance….then nothing.
Holding back her tears, she focused on getting out with their baby.
"Step aside, silly girl. I hate to needlessly spill such pure blood," she heard Voldemort hiss as he came around the corner. "All I need is the boy."
"Not Neville, please!" she cried out, even though she knew it was likely futile.
"This is my last warning."
Her heart skipped a beat in fear, knowing there was no chance of her getting away at this point. The border was simply too far away. She made sure her last look would be at her precious, innocent boy. She took a deep breath, remembering what her friend Lily had taught her if this should ever happen, shielding her baby boy with love. "Not Neville! Please…have mercy…have mercy… Not Neville! Not Neville! Please – I'll do anything!"
"Avada kedavra!"
A flash of green light. Then all that was left was a crying baby.