The night wet and windy, two children dressed up as pumpkins waddling across the square, and the shop windows covered in paper spiders, all the tawdry Muggle trappings 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 triumph. He 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 he fingered the handle of his wand...One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother...but unnecessary, quite unnecessary...

And along a new and darker street he moved, and now his destination was in sight at last, the Fidelius Charm broke, 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 hedge, and stared over it...

They had not drawn 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 small fist.

A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not 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 the wand down upon the sofa and stretched, yawning. ..

The gate creaked a little as he pushed it open, but James Potter did not 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 halls. 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 upon her 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 sight of him, she dropped her son in the crib behind her had threw her arms wide, as if his would help, as if in shielding him from sight 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...Not Harry! 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 intruder's face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, 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 crying, 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, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away, far away...

The dream faded into black and he woke up with a start.

"Harry, are you alright?" said a girl's voice. He turned to see Hermione, staring down at him with concern. "Here are your glasses Harry." handing his glasses back to him.

Harry put his glasses back on and saw many people crowding around the bed, including Hermione, Ron, Oliver, the Twins, and the rest of the Quidditch team. Harry sat up, and pulled the covers to the side.

"How long was I out for?" said Harry, looking at them.

"Erm, around 3 hours or so. We heard you moaning in your sleep and heard some yelling too." replied Ron, "What the bloody hell was all that about?"

Harry stared at them for a moment and replied, "I had a bad dream; my parents got killed by Voldemort." A few people gasped at the name.

"And so, um what happened after I uh fell?" asked Harry.

Fred stepped forward and grinned at Harry, "So you fell to the ground, right?"

George stepped forward and continued, "You went unconscious and Hermione tried doing this Muggle thing. Think it's called CPR"

"And the Snitch popped out. Turns out you swallowed the Snitch!" said Fred, howling in laughter. Everyone joined in and they had had a good time laughing.

After 10 minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.

"We'll come and see you later, "Fred told him. "Don't beat yourself up, Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've had"

The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them.

Madam Pomfrey came over to him and asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, Madam." replied Harry. "May I leave now?"

"Yes you may leave." replied Madam Pomfrey, opening up the curtains to his bed. Harry got off the bed and gave Madam a small nod and left the infirmary.

Harry sprinted down the hallway and up the stairs and reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He entered, and noticed something wrong. There was not a single person in the Gryffindor room.

He was beginning to climb the stair before a silky voice spoke, "It's nice to see you again, Harry Potter." Harry spun around to see a man with a whirling mechanical eye. Gilles Rochefort stood in the Gryffindor common room, with a grin on his face.