The calm of the late July evening was suddenly and violently broken by a loud crack, followed by several more cracking sounds, shattering the peace and calm of Little Whinging. Immediately after the sounds, had anyone cared to find out, they'd have found the presence of six imposing, cloaked figures who, in addition to not being there the previous moment, looked painfully out of place.

The tallest one, like all of them, wore a black cloak and white mask to hide his features. His platinum-blonde hair cascaded from the back and sides, however, and fell to around his shoulders, and he carried an intricately carved, and quite obviously expensive, black walking stick with a silver serpent head. Next to him stood one that appeared as if he were somehow directly related: the only differences in their outward appearance was that one was shorter, and the shorter one wore his hair shorter and slicked back, and carried no walking stick. They both carried them with an air of practiced grace and carefully calculated elegance, and a complete sense of superiority. To the right of the blonde-haired pair was a woman. She was slightly taller than the shorter blonde, with wild and unruly black hair, and though no one could see her face to judge her features, it could be seen by her grace, and the way she carried herself, that she was at one time a great beauty, but that was slightly diminished as she had become slightly unhinged over the years.

Next to her stood another tall man–nearly as tall as the tall blonde man–with long, greasy black hair, and who also wore a cape with his robes. He was the only one in the group to not have his wand drawn. Slightly to the side of all the rest of them, as if slightly scared of his companions, was a stout, fat, twitchy man. He was of small stature, shorter even than the woman; yet despite his short stature he had a considerable girth about him. He carried himself in a very nervous, twitchy manner, similar to someone who had been recently released from prison, or a fugitive for the better part of his life. His head was balding, but what hair remained was a quickly-greying mousy brown colour. Finally, standing slightly in front of all of the rest of them was their obvious leader: he was tall, but not as tall as the either the blonde-haired or black-haired man, slender–almost scrawny–in his physique, and extremely pale. His skin was so white it was nearly iridescent, and his eyes were the colour of blood. His nose was inhumanely flat, and his nostrils were little more than snake-like slits. Lord Voldemort, accompanied by his most trusted Death Eaters, had Apparated to the front door-step of Number Four, Privet Drive.

'Lucius, Draco, and Bellatrix, stay with me. Severus, Wormtail, find the Squib, and kill her,' he said, Severus Snape and Wormtail immediately leaving to do their Lord's bidding, before training his wand on the door and blasting it off its hinges.

As soon as Lord Voldemort had blown the door off its hinges, he entered the house along with the three Death Eaters, and ran first into the husband and son, who had both gone to investigate what the hubbub was.

'Kill the child!' He commanded without a second thought.

'Go on, Draco. Kill him' a sickeningly sweet, female voice echoed.

'Yes, Aunt Bella,' Draco Malfoy said, smirking through his mask. 'Avada Kedavra!' he cried, and Dudley Dursley fell from his position on the bottom stair, into the foyer, his body cold and his eyes lifeless.

Not wanting to waste any time with this oaf of a Muggle, Voldemort wasted no time in turning his wand on Vernon Dursely as he demanded he tell him what he wanted to know.

'Where is he?' he demanded of Vernon Dursley, who had just been released from the local prison a week and a half ago to await his trial at home.

'Y-Y-You just killed him!' Vernon stuttered.

'Not that oaf you call a boy, idiot. It's bad enough you're a muggle, but you can't be that dense, too, can you?' Voldemort taunted. 'Now, tell me, and I may just let you live: Where is the boy?' he demanded. At which point, Petunia had made her way into the foyer, and upon seeing her son's body lying dead and limp on the floor, immediately rushed to his body, crying something that sounded suspiciously like 'my baby, my baby'. After a few minutes of sobbing at her son's body, and Vernon's stuttering at wand-point, she looked up to see her son's murder and husband's assailant: a man whom she had seen once before, only briefly, the night her parents died, 17 years earlier. She looked up to see Lord Voldemort.

'YOU!' she cried. 'YOU DID THIS!' she yelled, full of righteous anger, standing up to her full height, rounding on Lord Voldemort, and raising her voice to its full timbre like she hadn't done in years. Vernon, for his part, was stunned silent, first at the appearance of wizards–wizards that were neither his nephew, nor associated with that freaky school–in his home, then at the death of his son, and now with the apparent outspokenness of his until recently demure wife; Voldemort just turned his attention to her and chuckled as she kept on raging, 'It wasn't enough to take my parents and my sister! No, you had to take my son, too!? What kind of a monster are you!?'

'Well, well, well,' he said, still chuckling to himself. 'If it isn't Petunia Evans. I mean, Petunia Dursley,' he corrected himself. 'I guess that being a Muggle doesn't get in the way of possessing that same Gryffindor bravery your sister had,' he said, smiling wanly as he, and by extension, everyone else, moved out of the foyer and into the sitting room. 'An admirable trait, I must say. Eternally stupid, but admirable,' he said, as he trained his wand on Vernon once again, though he continued to talk to her.

'You see, Petunia, I'm here for one thing, and one thing only. And I think you know very well what that thing is,' he said, smirking at her intake of breath and hardening of her features. She would not betray Harry and his wife; she was horrible to him when he was a child, this was the least she could do for him.

'I could care less about your pathetic little Muggle family, or your life here,' he said to her. 'You and your husband don't have to die tonight, Petunia. You could give me what I came here for, and bury your son, and live out the rest of your lives in peace and anonymity' he said, a voice that was silky, seductive. Petunia was sure that he'd used that voice to get what he'd wanted many, many times throughout his life. 'But rest assured, Petunia Evans, if you don't give me what I want, you will be reunited with your pathetic, mudblood sister tonight' he said in a voice that was as hard as the other one was sweet.
'Now, I will ask you one more time before I start to lose my patience,' he said, once again in the seductive voice. 'Where is the boy?'

'I-I-I don't know,' she stuttered. 'He left. Said he was never coming back. I don't know where he went,' she said.

'Insolent, foolish, girl,' Voldemort said, raising his wand to her. 'Do you think I became the most powerful wizard in the world without being able to know when I was being lied to? Crucio!'

As she writhed on the floor, twisting and screaming out from a pain greater than she had felt ever before, Vernon Dursley got his wits about him and ran to the cup-board under the stairs, where he now kept the rifle he had bought six summers ago before Harry had started at that infernal school.

'You let her go, and leave my house this instant, or I'll shoot!' he cried at the top of his lungs, pointing the rifle at Voldemort's chest. Voldemort, however, continued to cackle as Petunia shrieked and writhed under the pain of his Cruciatus. Vernon squeezed the rifle's trigger, however, the shot missed. Voldemort, however, finally lifted the curse from Petunia and focused his attention to the overly-large muggle in front of him.

'You Muggles are so quaint. You fear magic and all it can do, yet you create such…inventive, if crude, methods of killing each other. However, I'm still rather partial to ours. Avada Kedavra!' he cried, and the other man also collapsed to the floor, much like his son, his eyes staring out dead in a silent accusation.

'VERNON!' Petunia cried out as her husband collapsed to the floor, dead. Lord Voldemort once again trained his wand on her as she looked out at the lifeless bodies of her husband and son.

'I will ask you again, you foolish girl. Where is Harry Potter?'

'I told you already, I don't know!'

'I don't believe you! Where is he?'

'I-I-I don't know! I don't know!' she cried, repeatedly, tears flowing down her usually stoic face.

'You're not doing anyone any favours, Petunia. You can walk away from this, alive and forever unharmed. All you need to do is tell me where he is,' he said, once again in his silky, seductive voice. 'You aren't protecting him this way, Petunia. At least this way, if you tell me, I will kill your nephew quickly, and as painlessly as possible. If you don't, however, and he tries to resist me, I promise you I will kill him as slowly and as painfully as possible,' he said in a voice that was deadly serious and so quiet she had to strain to hear it.

'I told you, you bastard, I don't know where he is! He left!'

'Where did he go, Petunia? He's not yet 17. He can't leave his guardian's home for an extended period of time without permission. You have to no where he went!'

'I don't! He didn't tell me!'

'He had to tell you something. Is he at the Burrow? With those blood-traitor Weasleys?'

'No! I don't know where he is!' she cried, tears streaming down her face, staining her face with running mascara. She did, however, recognise that last name, and knew he wasn't with any Weasleys. Unless you counted his wife.

'I don't believe you, Petunia Evans. Crucio!' he cried, as she once again writhed and screamed in pain, as the Death Eaters looked on gleefully.

'My Lord,' Bellatrix Lestrange offered, quietly, so as not to anger him into lifting the curse from Petunia and putting it on herself, instead.

'What is it, Bella?'

'Maybe he is under the Fidelius? Perhaps she literally can't tell you where the Potter brat is…'

'Perhaps you are right, Bellatrix,' Voldemort said, thoughtfully, over the screams of Petunia Dursley, before continuing. 'No matter. I will get the information I need out of her, one way or another,' he added, as he lifted the curse from Petunia. 'Go ahead and reward yourself, Bella. Take your brother-in-law and your nephew and play with the Muggles. There are plenty about; I'm sure you can find some way to entertain yourself, I'm sure,' he added, smirking evilly at Petunia's prone form as she panted from the exertion of being placed under the Cruciatus.

'Thank you, My Lord,' Bellatrix said, gleefully, before leading the way back out of Number Four and down Privet Drive.

'As for you, Petunia, you will tell me what I want to know. Where is the Potter chit?'

'I told you already! I don't know!'

'Well, maybe. We'll see what you do know, then, shall we?' he asked in a sickeningly sweet voice before cursing her again for a few moments. 'Now, what do you remember? Surely he told you something about where he was going?'

'I'll never tell you!'

'Oh, I'm sure that you think that. But eventually, you'll tell me. Believe me, they all do' he said. 'Now, what did he tell you? Where is Potter?'

'Piss off!'

'Well, well, is the posh Londoner finally showing her roots? You know what they say: you can take the girl out of the Brum, but you can never take the Brummy out of the girl,' he said, clicking his tongue and lips together, softly making a scolding sound. 'Tell me where he is, and I'll let you live!'

'You'll have to kill me, because I'll never tell you'

'Oh, fear not, Petunia. I intend to kill you. But I need you to tell me what I need to know first. IMPERIO!' he cried. Petunia was overwhelmed by an overwhelming sense of contentedness, warmth, and comfort. All her pain was gone. For some reason the recent deaths of her husband and son, and the fact that this man was plying her for information about her wizard nephew seemed so far away, and nearly irrelevant. She was overcome with a desire to help the man in front of her, to tell him what he needed to know. Yes, that was it. She would help the nice man, and then she would take a nap, she thought.

'Where is Harry Potter?' he asked.

'I don't know. London, I think. Somewhere in London, I think. He left a few weeks ago. Said he was going to move in with his godfather, but he didn't say anything beyond that. Said he couldn't tell me any more. I'm sorry I couldn't help you any more, sir,' she said, in a dreamy voice that would make Luna Lovegood jealous.

'And he moved in with his godfather?'

'That's what he said'

'But Sirius Black is dead'

'Then I don't know what to tell you. That's what he told me. That's all I know' she said, in a still-dreamy voice, though she was steadily gaining her wits back about her.

'Oh, don't worry about that, Petunia. You have been ever so helpful,' he said, leveling his wand at her prone body. 'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

As soon as the sickly green light hit her prone body, everything went black.

* * * * * * * * *

Severus Snape was furious that Wormtail had been included in the mission. He would ruin everything. Despite his clumsiness, sluggishness, and overall lack of any reasonable skills necessary to function in modern society, he was quite adept at the darkest of curses, and was intensely loyal to the Dark Lord. If he hadn't been such a worthless, penniless human being, Severus thought, he would have no doubt that he would be one of the Dark Lord's most chosen followers. As it was, he would ruin everything if Severus tried to avoid actually killing the squib. Now, he was between a rock and a hard place, he fumed, as he led the well-practiced way to Arabella Figg's home. He either had to kill her, or watch as Wormtail killed her, or reveal his true loyalties. He had no choice, he thought glumly, but let Wormtail kill the woman. Today was not turning out to be a good day for Severus Snape.

When they got to Arabella Figg's, Wormtail didn't even wait for him to unlock the door magically before he blasted it off it's hinges. Crossing over the threshold of what used to be a pristinely kept, if slightly oddly coloured, front door as the dust settled, Severus and Wormtail immediately set to work looking for the old squib. They found her in the kitchen. By the looks of things, she had been just sitting down to her evening meal when they blasted the door off its hinges, and pell mell into her front room. At which point, he gathered, she left her meal unattended as she dashed to her mantel to grab for a vase which, he assumed, must have held floo powder. She was in the process of hurriedly trying to start a fire in the grate so she could floo for help when they found her. She barely had time to turn around and register the fact that her life was over before Wormtail gleefully cackled, 'AVADA KEDAVRA!' and she fell to the floor, dead, the vase of floo powder shattering as it made contact with her linoleum floors.

'Well, that was easy, wasn't it, Severus?' Wormtail said, as he sat down at Arabella Figg's dining table, and helping himself to her still-warm chicken.

'I should think it would be, killing an elderly squib. After all, she could hardly defend herself against you, could she?' he quipped in return.

Taking this remark as a complement, Wormtail laughed jovially and smiled broadly before greedily tucking in to the meal. He spoke rapidly between bites, of which Severus was able to make out, 'No one will be a match for us much longer, Severus, once the Dark Lord gets rid of the Potter brat once and for all'

Severus responded with a non-committal shrug and a guttural noise that he hoped convey the same idea, as he sat down, disgusted, as he watched his slob of a companion devour the meal set upon the table. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of spellfire and the cackling of Bellatrix LeStrange, and the posh voice of Lucius Malfoy egging her on, as they waited to be summoned back to their masters' side.

* * * * * * * * * *

Doctor and Mrs Watson were sitting down to a quiet night of summer telly while their dinner simmered on the stove, when their lives were changed forever. After Ellie had decided to move back to London with Harry and Ginny to live with Harry's godfather while they brought her up to speed on her education, things had more or less settled back to normal; no more talk of magic, and wands, and potions around the dinner table, no strange visitors parading through their home, and no strange owls showing up at all hours of the night and day delivering post. It felt strange, almost, to go back to a perfectly normal life. Of course, things weren't normal. Their daughter was living in London in a house with magical protections to make it impossible to find, with the neighbour-boy and his wife–his wife!–and his godfather, all of whom just happened to be able to do magic. She was away from them, away from home, for more than a couple of days, for the first time in her life, and in this new place, she would be learning to do magic as well. But, in the calm of the late July evening, even that seemed so very far away, and even normal, as they sat, relaxed, watching telly and enjoying the English summer weather.

With a flash of white light and loud cracking sound, however, that all changed. In a matter of moments three cloaked strangers stormed into their house through the wreckage that was their front door only moments before. Wands drawn, they rounded on the Watsons, and the two blondes and the woman seemed to pause for a moment, contemplating them, before going berserk. Spells began flying everywhere, as if they were trying to destroy everything of value in the house before them: the telly, shutters, a welsh dresser with all sorts of nick-knacks, the good china, a grandfather clock that stood in the corner, everything. Then, in the blink of an eye, their wands were trained on the Watsons themselves. Steeling himself, and finding all his courage, Doctor Watson stood up from the place he had been taking shelter, and stepped forward, ready to confront the magical intruders, to demand they explain themselves.

'Now, you see here…' he began, but he was immediately grabbed by some unseen power, and flipped upside down, and dangling in front of his assailants, all of whom were cackling with glee. 'YOU PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!' he demanded, as if a simple scolding would somehow get the to behave properly.

'And why ever should I do that?' an arrogant, drawling voice asked. It was coming from the taller blonde man. 'In fact, you're lucky I don't just kill you outright this very instant, you insignificant Muggle trash'

'You put me down, and put your wands away!' John Watson cried. 'No one ever told me about this violence when I let Ellie go to that school of yours!' he screamed, furious, as he waved his hands about in a futile attempt to fight back. Rather than be released, he felt, for a short time, the most searing pain he had ever in his life experienced. It was so painful, he felt that he physically couldn't cry out in pain; he thought it was the most physically painful and exhausting thing he had ever experienced. When the pain dissipated, he was panting in exhaustion.

'That was the Cruciatus Curse,' a sickly sweet, feminine voice cooed from the side of the tall blonde man. 'Its sole purpose it to torture nice people like you. I rather enjoy using it; its one of my favourites,' she said, giggling in a slightly unhinged fashion, before she continued. 'You are going to tell my nephew and brother-in-law what exactly you meant by what you just said, or I'm going to have to put you under again, and for longer this time'

'What are you talking about? I've been dealing with your kind for weeks. That Professor Dumbledore or whatever his name is. Came to the door and said my daughter was a witch,' he said, gasping for breath between words. 'If I'd have known you were going to come and destroy my home and torture me after she'd gone, I'd never have agreed to let her attend' he said.

'CRUCIO!' the woman cried.

'What do you mean, she left? Hogwarts term doesn't start until September the First. Where is she now?' she questioned.

'What do you mean, where is she now? She went to London a few weeks ago with the Potters! Your people arranged it! Some Order of something or other! Now put me down!'

'CRUCIO!' She cried again, this time leaving him under the curse for quite a few long minutes, all the while, Mrs. Watson was restrained and silenced, so her protestations fell silent. 'CRUCIO!' She again cried, this time putting Mrs. Watson under the curses effects, forcing her husband to watch as she writhed and screamed silent screams of agony.

'What are you doing? You monsters! Leave her be!' John Watson cried, trying to get his wife free from the torturous magic.

'I have a secret to tell you, Muggle,' the woman said, leaning really closely to whisper in his ear, after she had finished subjecting him and his wife to the most recent round of the Cruciatus Curse. 'Not all wizards are nice to your kind, like that Muggle-loving do-gooder, Albus Dumbledore. There is a war coming to our world, and Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Flaming Chicken are going to lose,' she said, noting with satisfaction how his eyes widened in shock and fear. 'And I am personally going to find this daughter of yours, and I am going to kill her,' she said, smiling broadly and cackling madly at the tears pouring from the man's face. 'And there's nothing you can do to stop me. Goodbye, Muggle. AVADA KEDAVRA!' she shouted, and, after she released her levitation charm, he fell to the floor, lifeless. At the same time, two identical shouts of Avada Kedavra and two identical green lights shot out of the wands of the other two, towards the silenced, bound and tortured Elizabeth Watson, and she, too fell to the floor, dead. At that moment, Bellatrix LeStrange's dark mark began to get unpleasantly warm; her Lord was summoning her. Their victory was at hand.

'Lucius, Draco, come on! We must get back! I do believe we are being summoned' she said, and with that, the three of them quickly left the premises of the Watson residence and made their way quickly back to Number Four, Privet Drive.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Bellatrix, Draco and Lucius had arrived back at Number Four, it was quite apparent that something had gone quite wrong. Nearly the entire house was destroyed. All except for the front façade, and what looked to be a small part of what was once the upper floor to the house was completely gone, and even the small portion of the house that was still intact seemed to only be so due to being held together by the tiniest thread of very powerful magic. What was left of the roof was caving in dangerously, and there was little left of the actual house beyond the front room. They met Severus and Wormtail just inside the now long-gone door. There were three bodies lying prone and motionless on the ground: the child, the husband and the wife. There was no sign of their Master. He was not well, this much was clear. Something had gone wrong; but they couldn't even find a body. Something had gone horribly wrong, that much was certain. It was much too similar to that fateful Halloween night during the first war, when their Master had gone missing for over a decade. It was Lucius who had gotten his wits about him first, and he who took control. After one final search for their Master, he said in a quick, harsh voice that would brook no argument,

'We need to leave. No doubt the Muggle authorities, and the Order will be here soon. We need to get out of here, now. Everyone go back to your homes and lie low for a few weeks. We will regroup at headquarters in three weeks' time' and with that, he grabbed his son by the elbow, and apparated from the spot. His action was quickly followed by Bellatrix, Wormtail and Severus Snape.

Severus Snape apparated immediately to his home in Spinner's End, and from there flooed directly to Albus Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.

'Severus!' Albus cried, only slightly surprised at his intrusion, as he exited the fireplace. 'Sit down, Severus, you're white as a sheet. What's happened?' he asked, as he guided Severus to a plus armchair across from his desk and poured his potions master a cup of tea. Gratefully accepting the proffered drink, Severus took a sip and then haltingly told the headmaster all that happened in the course of the evening.

'Well, this is very serious, indeed, Severus. Call an emergency Order meeting for later this evening. I will check the remains of Number Four, and will meet everyone at Headquarters. I'll have to break the news of his relatives' demise to Harry, as well,' he said, a visible sense of dread creeping over his normally jolly features. No, Severus thought, he did not envy the headmaster at that moment. In fact, on the whole, he thought bitterly, today had been a very bad day.