Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, unfortunately, and this is my first story so be nice and review. I would also like to thank my beta Halo of Darkness for all the help she gave me, so enjoy.

Prologue:

The clouds cascaded through the midnight sky as the wind picked up, showing the moon's rays every so often. The wind's fury rushed through the streets making shutters clash against the houses and making signs creak back and forth.

He turned a corner and set off down the street of a little village. Keeping his eyes cast down, he steadily trudged through the street. People passed him whispering things he could hear and pointing at him.

Some called him a murderer. Others called him a hero. He didn't care what everyone thought. He knew what he was and what he did.

Rumors spread through each city he came across like wildfire. It wasn't because he was seen. It was just the way the way people found things he left laying around.

He paused in the middle of the street sensing something out of place. Swiftly turning around, his wand ready, he looked behind him. Nothing? His heartbeat quickened by the second. Something was wrong.

He continued down the street, this time, his wand in his hand. But, one thing he didn't notice was a pair of eyes watching him from a window.

"He's here," a hoarse voice whispered, his eyes still locked on the lone figure.

"What! How did he find us?" the other voice half-yelled, panicked. He started pacing the room, his breathing becoming erratic. "You would think he would give up by now," he paused. "She's not going to be happy with this."

"No, she won't, but the best we can do is try." He backed away from the window and declared, "It's time."

The man stopped his pacing and looked at his brother. He knew they were going to die and his brother knew, as well.

Picking up his cloak from the chair beside him, he opened the door and walked down the stairs to the front door of the house. Two bodies littered the area from when they killed the owners of the house earlier that evening.

Stepping over the bodies, he grabbed the front door his muscles flexing and yanked it open.

Another gust of wind blew through the streets of the village making the sound of the door, disappear.

The two men walked into the street, their cloaks billowing behind them.

Pulling out their wands, they saw the back of the one person that was hunting them. "Avada Kedavra!" they both yelled into the night air.