Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards sighed. The Hallowe'en decorations festooning the Great Hall felt more and more mocking each year. How could the idea of the souls of the dead reaching back across the veil not be oppressive when there are so, so many of them. Even the students were affected. While in years past Hallowe'en was one of the most boisterous feasts in the year, now a subdued pall lay over the crowded tables, remembering family, and even friends who they would not see again.
For 11 years a quiet war had been raging. Individuals, even entire families just disappearing overnight. Individuals in positions of power bewitched or outright blackmailed to betray their fellows. Death and destruction walked the land, wearing black cloaks and white masks. At their head was a shadowy figure, a demon going by the name Lord Voldemort. Wielding the foulest magics with abandon he alone cut a swath through all opposition. Even Albus, the famed defeater of the Dark Lord, and his old friend, Grindewald had never managed more than to fight him to a standstill.
While he hated to admit it, they were losing. Year after year more brave and upstanding wizards and witches died, while the bulk of the wizarding population sank deeper into hopelessness. Meanwhile his allies and supporters tightened their grip in the political and economic arenas, capitalising on the dwindling opposition. Frankly if Voldemort walked into the Ministry of Magic today there would be a good chance of him walking out as Minister.
"Headmaster! We need to talk. Now"
The harsh whisper dragged him out of his musings. Turing around Dumbledore was faced with his newest staff member, young Severus Snape, nearly frothing in anticipation behind him. Smiling and nodding to the students he stood up and made his way into the side chamber. At Severus' pointed stare he waved the portraits lining the room to leave. As soon as the last frame was empty Severus yanked up the sleeve on his robe, showing the dark mark on his arm. Instead of jet black, the colour seemed to be visibly leaching out.
"Could this mean… Something has happened to him? It suddenly seemed to freeze, and not it feels dead, unresponsive."
"I don't know Severus. It seems something has happened tonight. We can only hope. You can't have been the only one to notice. Go now. See what you can find out from the others. Even if this is only temporary, it is an opportunity we should not let pass by."
"As you wish Headmaster."
Hurrying up to his office Dumbledore's mind whirled. The Dark Mark broken? What could have caused such a thing? Was Voldemort dead or weakened? Had the prophesied one come? Maybe one of his minions had turned traitor. Upon reaching his desk he waved his wand at a sheet of parchment, tearing off a strip. Scribble a short note and duplicating it he sent off Fawkes to gather the Order.
Now his most pressing concern was gathering more information, and getting what he did know to those who could make most use of it. Taking a handful of Floo powder and throwing them into his fireplace Dumbledore declared "Ministry of Magic".
The atrium of the Ministry was still busy, with many workers heading home for the evening. Rather than cheerful chatter as people stopped to chat with each other on the way, there was just the roar of the Floo. You never knew who was a Death Eater, or under the Imperious curse, or impersonated. Just keep your head down, and hope you will be still around to read about the next disappearance in the paper.
Knowing Barty Crouch was always one of the last to leave the office , Dumbledore headed straight there, returning greetings and deflecting questions as he went.
Stepping out of the lift into the Department of Magical Law enforcement it was obvious that Dumbledore was not the only one who knew events were in motion. In the middle of all the uproar Crouch was walking towards him, issuing a constant stream of orders.
"-Azkaban Amelia. Take Proudfoot and Shacklebolt. Also warn the wardens that if there is something in this, he dementors may decide to come home. Samson I want everyone in the office now. I don't care what excuses they make it or that it is Hallowe'en. Ah Dumbledore, I should have known you would find out. What has your source to say?" Almost sneering the last part. In Crouch's eyes anyone who had got close enough to Voldemort to have useful information was irredeemable filth by definition.
"Twenty minutes ago apparently the Dark Mark, well, went dark. Not only is it suddenly significantly faded, but the magical connection embedded into it is dead. I presume you had noticed a reaction from your prisoners?" Dumbledore replied.
"Yes, they all suddenly started wailing and crying that their lord had abandoned them. Amelia is off to Azkaban to see if anything has happened there. I need to inform the minister now. You may come along if you wish, as you are here. I have sent a runner to the Unspeakables. There Dark Mark investigation team are our best bet for a straight answer. The guard duty have orders to let them take anyone from our cells if their...subjects… aren't providing enough data."
Seeing the director of the DMLE and headmaster of Hogwarts arriving together that late in the evening made the minister's personal secretary blanche in fear.
"Oh Merlin! W-where has he attacked this time? How bad is it?"
"Keep calm my dear, nobody has been attacked. For once we may be the bearers of good news. The minister still needs to hear it urgently though. Could you show us in?" Dumbledore calmly requested.
"Oh, right." Standing up and walking to the minister's door she knocked and slipped inside. A few moments later the door opened again and she beckoned them inside. "The minister will see you now."
Two hours later Dumbledore gratefully collapsed into an armchair in the Order headquarters. Many of his comrades were busy, watching out in case the Death Eaters took advantage of the festivities to strike, or in the case of the teachers, looking after the students. Severus would be meeting with his 'comrades' until at least tomorrow morning. Those who could make it were, like the secretary, were dreading whatever news required them to gather on such short notice.
As succinctly as he could, Dumbledore filled them in on what he knew. Simultaneously earlier in the evening all marked Death Eaters in the Ministry holding cells and Azkaban, as well as his anonymous source, experienced a sudden cold stab in their Dark Marks, before the connection to their master disappeared and the physical symbol quickly faded.
Soon after, individuals began to notify the DMLE that the Imperious curse they had been held under was broken, and they were now free. In some cases they were even able to identify the Death Eaters who had cursed them, or they had been forced to work with. The Aurors and Hit Wizards were out in force conducting raids before the targets had a chance to go to ground. Again those Dark marks discovered were faded, and the few who answered questions all agreed it happened at the same time. A few dementors had returned to Azkaban, although while evidence suggested that they had some understanding of English, nobody had ever got them to answer a question.
"Does this mean You-Know-Who is gone? He is dead?" Came the euphoric shouts.
"We can't say for certain. He seems to have lost contact with his followers, but how, and for how long remains to be seen. In any case even if he quickly shows himself we have still won great victories tonight, which he may never recover from." Dumbledore stated. "In any case, there does not seem to be anything for us to do tonight. Go home, get some sleep and who knows? Maybe tomorrow we will wake up to a whole new world."
While waiting for the Floo to be free, so he could return to his office, he was approached by Augusta Longbottom. "Albus I know it may be premature, but I feel my Frank and Alice ought to know. Sitting in hiding while their friends fight has been hard on them, so they need hope that one day it will end."
"Of course Augusta my dear. In fact I should probably also tell the Potters tomorrow morning. I would go now, but I am not as young as I was."
"Begging you pardon Professor, bit I could go. Haven't seen little Harry for ages now. He's been growin' up so fast." Interjected Hagrid from behind him.
Excellent idea Rubeus, you can go to the public Floo point in Godric's Hollow from here. Give them all my best wishes.
Sirius Black was content. He had spent the day with his best friend James doing what they could to celebrate Hallowe'en while trapped in the cottage. Trying to throw sweets into James' mouth, over the lit Jack o'Lantern on the coffee table they could nearly forget the war and forced isolation. After Harry began to sick up all the chocolate Sirius had given him, he decided discretion was the better part of valor, and beat a retreat from a wand waving Lily.
If he was honest with himself he was already too drunk to apparate. He then flew his bike to one of his favourite haunts, near a few Muggle student accommodation blocks in the nearest city. He had put a lot of effort into his vampire costume thank you very much, even had strawberry jam blood for the fangs, and was going to put it to work. Later that evening he had nearly refilled his bag of sweets. More importantly some of those Muggle 'witch' costumes were works of art. If they had been the uniform for the last couple of years at Hogwarts he would never have been able to study for a single NEWT.
Now he promised James he would come back to split the bounty. Was it worth going home afterwards? Probably not, it was late, he could just crash on the couch again. The cottage was pretty much his second home by that point, he kept a spare toothbrush in the bathroom for Merlin's sake!
He approached the village from the other side to the Potters, and had to go through on the road so as not to attract attention from the Muggles. So it wasn't until he rounded the corner that he first realised something was wrong. The pretty little cottage was mutilated. Two of the walls and half of the ceiling over Harry's room were gone, and the front door was hanging from its hinges.
With an agonised cry, stumbling forwards, bag of sweets lying forgotten on the road, discarding bits of his costume as he went. Staggering through the doorway, he stopped still at the sight of James lying on the floor. Still. Dead. Not a mark on him, looking almost peaceful, the killing curse. Where was his wand? Over there, by the sofa. He didn't even get a chance to fight back.
James, his friend, his brother, more than Regulus ever was, had been murdered. How had this happened? They were meant to be safe. A thin, desperate cry tore him out of his reverie. Harry! Harry was still alive. And Lily too, where was she?
Up the stairs. Harry's bedroom, again the door broken down. Lily, discarded on the floor by her son's cot, left knee shattered by a fallen roof beam. Bright green eyes now dull and lifeless. Never to light up again.
"Pafoo'" squealed Harry.
Wait! Harry was still alive? How? Was it some sort of cruel joke by the Death Eaters? Even if he had not been targeted how had he survived the destruction of the room? Doesn't matter now. Nearly tripping over a robe on the carpet, Sirius swept Harry up in his arms and held him close. He may have failed his friends by not being there when he was needed, but he would damn well look after their son.
Checking Harry over he seemed to be unharmed by all the carnage, except for the scar on his forehead. An attempted healing charm did nothing, but then healing was never his strong point. Harry's renewed crying, and the interesting odor gave Sirius purpose for a while. But all too soon Harry was cleaned and changed and rocked to sleep Sirius was left sat at the kitchen table contemplating the futility of existence.
He had never felt more alone in his life. His birth family had disowned him and his chosen family was dead in the next room. Yes there are Peter and Remus, but Pete had been drifting away to live his own life pretty much straight out of school and even if Remus hadn't spent much of the last few years spying in the packs on the continent, without James to be the heart of the Marauders, Sirius didn't think he was strong enough to pull the werewolf out of his self-loathing alone.
How had this happened? The Fidelius charm was supposed to be impregnable. You could have lived somewhere all your life and still would only know where it was if…if...oh Wormtail you bastard! You handed them over didn't you. Killed your best mate for 30 pieces of silver and a pat on the head from your new master did you. Well you made one great mistake, you didn't deal with Sirius Black first, vengeance shall be hand delivered.
But however much his heart burned with the need to go after Peter right now, his head remembered that he couldn't leave Harry. These warring duties consumed Sirius so utterly that he barely registered the shocked cry and heavy footfalls approaching the cottage.
"Oh Merlin! James!"
Sirius stood up and opened the door to greet the arrival
"Hagrid! James is-" he gestured despairingly to the body. "Lily as well upstairs… they left Harry alive for some reason."
Sirius went back into the kitchen and brought Harry out in his carrier basket.
"What's goin' to happen to 'im now?" Hagrid enquired. "James ain't any family left that I remember."
"No idea, James' next closest family might be me, or cousin Bella." Sirius laughed bitterly. "Lily has a sister, Petunia. Jealous to the tips of her bleached hair. But Lils still warded her place after what happened to her parents. Privet Drive, Little Whining, Surry I think."
"Given 'im here and can I borrow yer bike?" Hagrid suggested.
"Sure, sure" Sirius mumbled, handing Harry over. After all if you couldn't trust the gentle giant with a baby who could you trust? Not his old friend that's for sure. With his dilemma solved he drew his wand to apparate with iron hard purpose. "I have a rat to catch."
As Hagrid made his way to Sirius' bike abandoned on the road he met confused residents suddenly able to remember where the Potters had lived, and noticing the house was half ruined. Recognising one from when he was at Hogwarts, Hagrid called out "Hey Septimus. Tell the Headmaster urgent. Lily and James were attacked, and I am taking little Harry to his aunt."
Albus was just changing into his night clothes, when he heard the alarm on the Floo chime. Groaning and stood up and made his way over to the fireplace. It was probably some Order member who had not made it to the meeting panicking. He would tell them to wait until morning, then disable the Floo for tonight, he would not be able to do anything tomorrow if he was kept up answering everyone individually. Allowing the call to come through, Dumbledore was surprised to see it was not someone in the order, but just an old student. What was his name? Mockridge, that was it, Septimus Mockridge.
"Septimus," Dumledore chuckled, "what brings you to call me at this late hour?"
"Hagrid asked me to, Headmaster. It is the Potters, they have been attacked. A massive hole blown in the side of the cottage and everything. He said to tell you James and Lily are dead, and he is taking Harry to his aunt, whoever she is. Terrible I tell you, just terrible. Right in the middle of the village, nobody is safe" the man babbled, obviously shaken to the core. It was one thing to read about disappearances in the paper, quite another to see the result of such an attack just down the street from your family.
"The Potters? Dead?" Albus was shocked. How? Why? But baby Harry was still alive. Had that blasted prophecy actually got them killed. While he was technically eligible, according to Severus Voldemort had fixated on the baby as his nemesis. But expecting a child to defeat an experienced Dark Lord was just absurd, and who knew how many enemies Voldemort had left behind in his life, who could come back to haunt him. He needed to go and investigate for himself, out of respect for his deceased friends if nothing else.
"I'll be right through. Thank you for informing me."
Quickly transfiguring his nightgown into something more appropriate, and casting a couple of warming charms to stave off the night chill, Dumbledore once more that night reached for the Floo powder. Assuming that the Potter's Floo connection may have been cut or damaged during the fight, he travelled first to his old childhood home, and walked from there. Even if he hadn't been a regular visitor to the cottage over the last year, he could not have missed it. Already a large crowd, both magical and Muggle by the look of the clothes, was gathered around the front gate.
The Fidelius charm didn't technically hide the building, it just protected information. Everyone knew the house was there and occupied. However, it was literally impossible, without being told the secret, to comprehend that the Potters lived there. Even if they knew they were often seen in the area, shopped in the local shops and walked into the house often, that last logical leap was magically blocked. With James and Lily dead though, the secret was no longer relevant, as they didn't live there anymore, so the charm had collapsed, exposing the wreckage to all passers by.
Enough of the spectators were magical to recognise Dumbledore and let him walk through. He drew his wand and began to cast detection charms as he approached. Just a basic blasting curse to open the door. Unfortunately there had been no opportunity, and in his hubris thought no need, to place protective wards around the property. They hadn't even placed an alert charm on the front gate. The first the inhabitants would have known of the attack would have been the destruction of the door. If only they had taken more precautions. But if there was one thing that he had learned in his long life, it was that the past could not be undone. All that was left was to look forward and carry on.
How had they been found anyway? Surely Sirius hadn't betrayed them? Albus would be the first to admit that he made mistakes, but he considered himself a good judge of character after lifetime guiding children into adulthood. Quite apart from his exceptional bravery and loyalty Dumbledore doubted he would have given up James and Lily. In the same way that he was confident that Lupin was loyal despite the whispers about werewolf sympathies, the Marauders were Sirius' life. Having run away from home years ago, and completely rejected the social circle he was brought up in, he simply she nothing to betray them for. No. He must have been tricked, or captured and broken, or maybe Voldemort had found a way around the Fidelius. After all, there was more magic in the world than even he knew of, and the Fidelius was still poorly understood.
The lack of debris, or strong magical residue suggested that, at least downstairs, no major fight had been put up. James' body still lay sprawled at the foot of the stairs, his eyes still staring, vacant. No marks, as if he had merely been shocked to death. The killing curse.
Walking upstairs Dumbledore found another door blasted open. Harry's room if he remembered correctly. Stepping over the threshold he immediately stopped in shock. Through both necessity due to his innate power, and the requirements of his research, Dumbledore was far more attuned to the magic of the world around him than most Wizards, and he had been straining to detect whatever clues he could. The suffocating miasma of the foulest magic hit him like a physical blow. The thread of intent running through was clear, to selfishly protect oneself at the cost of innocents. Lily's body, like her husband's, was crumpled on the floor next to the cot. There was a cloak lying on the ground, one horrifying familiar from when he had faced its owner. Midnight black velvet with metal plates sewn in inscribed with protective enchantments.
The empty cloak, the magical residue, the damage to the room, Harry's survival, the lack of a Dark Mark overhead all suggested the same thing. Lord Voldemort had come himself to deal with the nemesis he believed the prophecy had named. With his typical arrogance he had decided to make use of the opportunity to carry out a dark ritual with the murder of the babe to prevent himself from dying. Fortunately this seemed to have backfired somehow. Such rituals extract a steep price for any mistakes, he had list his powers to the point that he was ripped away from his followers' marks. However, Dumbledore could not say if he was actually dead. The results of such a backfire could never be predicted, and that is before taking into account that this may well have not been the first such ritual Voldemort had undertaken, and how much protection a prior success had given him.
There was nothing else for him to do here now. Wait for the Aurors and Unspeakables to investigate and see if they could glean any further insights. He had better catch up with Hagrid and decide how to protect young Harry. He had vague memories of Lily talking about her sister before, something about how magic had driven them apart. It may not be best to ask her to take in a magical child. On the other hand he was still a young child and family, she wouldn't love him any less because of some sort with his mother. Anyway he might not have much choice. The laws of the Wizarding world stated that an orphan should be raised by their closest adult relative, if known. If he claimed that Lily's sister may be unsuitable then the pureblood faction in the ministry could claim that he should be raised by the Lestranges or the Malfoys as his next living family. They would undoubtedly blame Harry for the defeat of their Lord, and he would be lucky to survive a week.
Going into the master bedroom he summoned Lily's address book to find where her sister lived. Petunia Dursley it was. He had better go ahead and see what protections he could put up. Sending off a patronus to Minerva to let her know what he was doing he then spun on the spot and apparated away. How was Hagrid travelling there anyway?