31 October 1981
Godric's Hollow, West Country

That Halloween would always be one the James Potter would remember. When he would become old and grey, he knew he would remember how Lily—his wife!—had danced around the kitchen to some silly Muggle tune that was rattling through the radio, bobbing her head and making the comical witch's hat flop this way and that as she refilled the Halloween bowl they had been snacking from the entire night. Locked up in hiding as they were, they knew better than to think that any trick or treaters would knock on their door but it was the thought that counted. That and Harry—his son!—had taken great delight in chasing after the wayward Chocolate Frogs as fast as his stubby little one year old legs could take him, most of that afternoon.

Scrunching up his nose at the rotten egg-flavoured Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Bean in his mouth, James happily watched as Harry—dressed in an obnoxiously fluffy lion onesie—jovially bounced up and down in the Jolly Jumper (Lily had insisted on buying that blasted thing and it had taken him far longer than he would ever admit to get it right) latched to the doorframe with much enthusiasm as if he too, were dancing and occasionally shrieking with happiness when Lily pulled faces at him. On the breakfast counter next to him lay Elvendork, lazily pawing at the multicoloured empty wrappers littered about. The ugly kneazle seemed to take great delight in the crinklier wrappers that crunched beneath her claws. It was perfect…well, as perfect as life could be in the middle of a war.

In the end, the change didn't come with a boom or a bang; there was no flash of light nor a wisened old crone droning on about fate, destiny and prophecies. No, it came simply, with a knock on the door. "Did you hear that?" Lily turned towards the door, a look of confusion mirrored on his own paranoid one as the song on the radio fizzled out.

"It's probably just Bagshot" James replied, although the excuse sounded whimsy at best. Their elderly neighbour was sweet enough, if a little odd—even by their standards. Again, knocking on the door sounded, this time a little more harried than before.

Rising to his feet, James slipped his wand into his hand as he moved, silent and wary towards the front door. Behind him, Lily had pulled a giggling Harry from the Jolly Jumper and clutched tight to him as tensions in the little cottage rose, both prepared to run and fight should the need arise. In front of him the ivory panelling of their front door loomed like something from a nightmare. His mouth had gone dry and he found he had trouble swallowing around the panic in his heart. Who would he find on the other side of the door? What Death Eaters would knock? Had Peter forgotten the password again? Did Bagshot need something? Was this the end?

Sweaty palms gripped tight to 11 inches of mahogany as he spared a glance over his shoulder, telling himself that he was making sure Lily and Harry were safe. His backup came in the form of Elvendork who had gracefully leapt up into the front window, twining between the red curtains with ease and pressed her fuzzy face against the cool glass that overlooked the front garden. All was quiet as James reached for the doorknob, the coolness of the metallic seemingly hissing against his hot flesh as he heaved a deep breath and yanked the door open with much more force than necessary.

What he found made him pause a little. The girl was young, possibly only just having entered her teens, and looked like she had seen better days. The plum cable knit sweater she wore bore several holes in the body and the loose threads hug from the hems like stringy tinsel. Beneath that lay a grey hoodie, only visible by the hood pulled out the top of the sweater's neck and a pair of worn jeans that were slightly ripped in the knees. This would have been fine if the girl had not been sopping wet, either from the snow or rain which had plastered the auburn curls to her face. There was also the scent of blood on the air (a handy talent he'd picked up from his Animagus, although nowhere near Moony's calibre) that set him on edge.

All of this fluttered through his mind in an instant, the vestiges of his Auror training taking everything in at a moment's notice. "U-um…" She mumbled, physically fighting to keep her eyes open, swaying slightly. "Can—can I use your telephone?"

"What're you doing 'ere, kid?" James replied, his shoulders tense as his eyes wandered over their bushes as if someone was waiting to jump out and ambush them. "You lost?"

"C-can I use your telephone?" She repeated, shivering slightly in the cold as she shifted on his doorstep.

Behind him, he could hear Lily stepping further into the hallway, worried about what was taking so long and who the young voice he was talking to, was. A small patter and thunk pulled his attention back to the teen in front of him, both of their eyes going to the broken wand laying splintered at their feet from where it had fallen from her sleeve. James gripped tighter to his own in return, still paranoid that they were being set up. "It broke…" The girl mourned, staring down at the remains of her wand with such despair that James would've thought someone had died.

"…Get inside" James ushered the girl in with a hand on her shoulder, his bespectacled gaze suddenly far more interested in the dancing shadows across the street that were only broken by the occasional flickering street lamp.

"James? What's going on?" He heard Lily ask as the teen shuffled inside, stumbling over her own feet as he silently swept his own wand over the broken pieces, sending them zooming inside to sit on the console table in the hallway before he followed.

A small thump was heard before he could reply, something which had him jerking his head up toward the noise as he locked the door behind them, only to find the teen passed out on their floor. "Merlin!" James hissed as he rushed to the girl's side, worry coursing through him. Paranoid he may have been, heartless he was not. Gently rolling the girl over, he found her face screwed up tight like she was in pain as she clutched tight to her left wrist where a small trickle of blood was weeping through her fingers—likely the blood he'd smelt earlier. Tears trekked their way down her cheeks, dripping onto the hardwood floors and mixing with the blood that had landed there.

"James? What's going on?" Lily reiterated, standing in the doorway to living room with Harry on her arm and concerned eyes staring down at the pair.

"She—she was asking to use the fellytone" James eventually spat out, heart beating out of his chest at the thought that the Dark side was taking on children so young. The last time he'd seen this reaction was when Regulus Black had gotten his mark. The younger Black had tried and failed to hide his pain from his peers, but Lily's eyes were sharper than James' (not hard) and she'd seen through Regulus as easy as reading a book.

"The telephone?" She easily translated, shifting Harry to her hip. "Muggle then?"

"She had a wand—it's broken though"

"Muggleborn? Halfblood?" At this revelation Lily appeared far less wary of the girl on their floor, even going so far as to plop Harry on the toy broomstick Padfoot had gotten him for his birthday and knelt down next to him. "James, what are you doing?"

"We have to be sure" He replied as gently pried the cradled wrist from the teen's grip.

"I don't like this" Lily mothered, her stance rigid as she brushed away wet curls from the girl's face.

"We have to be sure" He carefully pushed up the sleeves to reveal a leather cuff with a couple of loops protruding from it; likely where her wand had been previously. A few more minutes were spent trying to finagle the cuff from her wrist without hurting her, until finally they could see what was imprinted there.

James hoped that he was wrong, that there wasn't a Dark Mark there, that they didn't have a baby Death Eater in their hallway. But he wasn't prepared for what they found instead. "James—!" Lily's choked cry sounded strangled in his own ears, despite being sat right next to her.

"I know" James swallowed thickly, disbelieving eyes running over the letters like that would make them disappear—like they weren't real. For there, written there clear as day and carved into the girl's flesh was one simple word: MUDBLOOD.

It had been a couple of hours since her sudden arrival and the evening was finally starting to calm down. Harry had gone down easily, gnawing on the ear of his beloved dog plushie (it was about thrice his size and covered in baby drool), much to the quiet relief of his parents. Bar from a few whimpered and pained mutterings, the girl had yet to properly awaken leaving the two elder Potters in the dark about most things really. What had happened to the young witch?

"How'd she even get through the wards?" Lily asked, gripping tight to her half-empty mug as the Potter parents stood in the nursery watching over the two sleeping children who lay inside.

"I dunno…" James shook his head in reply, his gaze travelling between his son who lay slumbering in his cot without a care in the world with the Quidditch mobile dancing above him. In turn, the single bed (transfigured from some ghoulish box Petunia had gifted them) which sat nestled beneath the window, bore the unknown Muggleborn dressed in one of Lily's pyjama shirts and tucked in with the Puddlemere United duvet pulled up to her chin. A damp flannel had been placed over her forehead more as a precaution to taper the fever before it reared its ugly head. Who knows how long she'd been out in the snow? Coupled with wet clothes, that often led to sickness, and James didn't need to be a Healer to know that. Her wet clothes in question were currently tumbling around in the dryer humming in the laundry downstairs (another Muggle gadget Lily had insisted on purchasing).

At some point whilst they had been cleaning up, Elvendork had sauntered into the room and situated herself atop the teen's chest; looking pleased as punch when a hand had subconsciously risen from the depths of the blanket and threaded their fingers into her fur. "That—that scar…" Lily choked on the word, still slightly pale from the discovery of the cursed scar. "It's not fresh"

"Do—do you know how old?" James was almost afraid to ask. As a Healer-in-training, he knew that Lily would at least know a bit more about the art than him. He could kind of remember her complaining about having to identify scars on pigs…or had she been calling him a pig?

"A couple of years at least"

"Merlin…"

"Yeah…"

The two sat in relative silence for most of the night, neither really wanting to leave the nursery despite the knowledge that it was likely the safest room in the house. But both James and Lily were far too wired to sleep, or at least James thought so. At one point he'd glanced over at Lily who had slumped over in the rocking chair in the corner of the room between the two beds, fast asleep. Rising from the stool he'd claimed, James placed a hand knitted quilt (courtesy of the Prewett's sister following Harry's birth) over her before snatching the empty mugs from the dresser and quietly making his way downstairs.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" James sighed into his hands as he leant against the kitchen bench; the weight of the evening finally hitting him now that the adrenaline had dissipated.

"Talking to yourself again, Prongsie?" Sirius' muffled voice sounded above him. Grinning despite himself, James reached up to pluck the shard of glass from where it was tucked between the recipe books and turned it over to find the unmistakable voluminous locks of one of his best mates staring back at him. "Sign of madness, that is"

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you Paddy?" James replied, just as jokingly. He missed these easy-going bickering between his mates far more than he would ever admit.

"So what's going on in Disneyland?"

"Oh, y'know the usual" James laughed sarcastically as he turned to lean against the sink. "Harry chased Chocolate Frogs, Lils danced, Elvendork shat in my shoes and a Muggleborn collapsed on my doorstep. What 'bout you?"

"…Run that by me again?"

"S'at Jimmy?" Came the sleepily slurred voice of Remus as sandy locks and freckled cheeks peeked into frame.

"Yeah" Sirius replied, his tone deadpan. "And 'pparently they've picked up some bird from their doorstep"

"That's nice…" Remus nodded, flopping back into bed. James grinned as he watched his canine friend then shoot upwards, startling Sirius who fumbled with the magical mirror shard for a minute or two in surprise. "WHAT?! AND YOU JUST LET 'ER IN?! HOW THICK ARE YOU?!"

"She's just a kid, Moony" James replied solemnly, running a hand through his messy locks. "Muggleborn"

"How'd you know?" Sirius asked this time, brows furrowed and way too close to the magical item. It reminded him of when he'd tried to teach his grandparents how to use a camera.

"She's got a…brand" He hesitated on the last word, bitterly rolling it around in his mouth as it left a sour taste on his tongue.

"YOU LET A BABY DEATH EATER INTO YOUR HOUSE?!"

"They carved 'MUDBLOOD' into her arm, you dingus!"

"…Oh"

"Yeah…"

"You gonna tell Dumbledore?"

"We haven't gotten that far yet—haven't even got a name. Kid passed out soon as she came inside"

"Shit man, you—"

"—What was that?" Remus interrupted, his tone sharp as hazel eyes searched over James' shoulder, watching something he hadn't noticed.

"What was what?" James asked, suddenly tense.

"You sure you're alone, Prongs?"

"Moony—what is it?" James spun to look out the kitchen window—the one that overlooked the overgrown back garden—to find flickering shadows dancing just beyond the boundary of the porch light.

"There's someone there!" Remus' voice had lowered as if that would help matters and a quick glance down at the mirror shard showed two pairs of canine eyes staring back at him—one the golden eyes of a werewolf, the other the grey eyes of an animagus.

Palming his wand once more, James peered through the kitchen window once more; this time the earth-shattering crunch of snow underfoot was enough to alert him to the person hidden there. Hazel eyes watched the unwavering dark as the footsteps made their way around to the front of the house, snow crunching underfoot and blood rushing through his ears. If they (the mysterious intruder) had been watching the house since the girl had arrived, then they knew this to be the only way inside—the only weakness in the wards placed on the house. James didn't even make it to the stairwell before the door was blasted off of its hinges and the hooded figure made their way inside.