Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. That is J.K. Rowling's domain.

Author's Note: It has been a very long time since this story received and update, but as we are now at Chapter 41 in Zodiac Charms, and work has begun on Chapter 42, I felt it was high time to start updating this again. From this point on, until the end of the main story, the Final Year will receive a new chapter every so often.

Chapter 2: Halloween Tradition

Bristol

A dark cloaked figure softly glided over wreckage that had once been the sitting room of a home in Bristol. Pale feet stopped at the edge of a slowly growing pool of red, an arm holding the broken remains of a wand peeking out from under the rubble.

"Such pointless resistance," a soft voice hissed from the shrouded figure. "Such a waste of magical blood. Pathetic to the last."

The shadowy figure wondered if perhaps he had been putting too much belief into the prophecy his servant had brought to him. The families he had been systematically slaughtering over the past three months had not proven challenging. The babes were defenseless, and their parents had barely the potential to prove a threat to the lowest of his followers.

He supposed he should offer his latest victims some modicum of respect. Foolish as their actions had been, at least they had attempted to fight back. They had defied his wishes. Their child in exchange for their lives, a simple trade, but one which he had been refused each and every time. Now, they were merely more names crossed off his list. Stooping to regard the pool of blood, the dark figure pondered on his next course of action. He still had two families to confront, and of all the names Rosier had provided him, they were going to be most troublesome.

The Longbottoms had spurned his generous offer early in his campaign. He had desired their skills, and they would have offered invaluable insight into the workings of the Aurors. Purebloods with a powerful position in the wizarding world, with resources that would have lofted them easily into his Inner Circle. But he had been met with defiance, and they had irked him twice more since then. His Death Eaters had murdered the matriarch's husband, but it had done little to cow Frank and Alice, and Augusta Longbottom, even in her grief, had proven more than a match for those sent to kill her. But even they paled into comparison to the other pair that remained.

The Potters. Much like the Longbottoms, he had made an especially generous offer to James and Lily Potter. He had offered them power and prestige, a place within his Inner Circle. He had even been prepared to offer an exception to his decree against Muggle-borns in regard to Lily Potter. She had been his old professor's favorite, along with Severus, and he knew her career within the Department of Mysteries may very well offer him control over that secretive sect of the Ministry. But he had been met with a most… egregious response. The pair had fought against him, and last year had successfully disrupted several of his most carefully crafted plans. The recent deaths of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter should have been a clear enough warning to them to cease their activities against their inevitable lord, but still they resisted.

A mixture of hatred and grudging respect had developed for them. Of all the enemies that followed Albus Dumbledore, they had proven the most vexing. The two pairs could very easily have produced this child he had to destroy. No one could threaten the power of Lord Voldemort and live.

The question that was now running repeatedly through his mind was both simple and perplexing. Which family would feel the wrath of Lord Voldemort first? Perhaps the Longbottoms for their annoying actions in Cornwall? No, the Potters had irked him by disrupting the ritual he designed to create an Obscurus from several Muggle-born witches and wizards. But then again, Frank and Alice had destroyed a valuable Dark artifact he had desired from ancient times.

Time… yes, time would be the ultimate deciding factor. The beginnings of an elaborate plan began to take shape within the dark reaches of his mind. He would test the pairs, in one of the greatest challenges to face this world he desired to rule. He may suffer some short term reversals, at least they would appear so to his enemies, but he would merely be positioning the pieces into his endgame. After all, what was time and lives to an immortal being such as himself? He had as much time as he desired, and pawns were easy to replace. Yes, the long game would serve him better.

Once this prophesized threat was eliminated, slaughtered before it could grow into an enemy, his ascension would be unstoppable. And then, only then, would he finally prove to Albus Dumbledore which way of magic was superior. The image of striding through the gates of Hogwarts, the old fool's hopes paraded before him, caused a smile to form on the lipless face.

He stood, moving away from the wreckage, the remains within no longer interesting him. In the hallway of the house, one of his Inner Circle stood. The Death Eater that had accompanied him on this most crucial task dropped to his knee, bowing before his Lord.

"Lucius," he whispered, the Death Eater standing at a gesture from the Dark Lord. "Summon the other members of the Inner Circle. We have preparations to make. We move to deal with the final obstacles to our new world."

"As you command, my Lord," Lucius said, bowing in deference to the Dark Lord. The Death Eater Apparated away, leaving Voldemort the sole living being within the house. The young woman was slumped against the stairs, empty eyes and a look of fear permanently etched on her pretty face. Such a pity.

Once he had determined which child to kill first, he would launch a full offensive against the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore's precious Order of the Phoenix. They would be shattered, left reeling and flailing in the dark. Most importantly, they would be unable to repel his attack on the newborns. His goal was close to completion, the last part of his plan to conquer Death once and for all. The final kill would indeed be worthy of creating his final and sixth Horcrux. Perhaps he would honor Nagini with the honor of holding a piece of his soul.

With a cold laugh, the Dark Lord flicked his wand to create his Mark above the house. The green skull and serpent exploded into the cloudy night sky, an eerie glow reminding all that he would soon rule them all.

London, Ministry of Magic

Another groan left him as another swarm of interdepartmental memos landed on his desk. With a heavy sigh, James Potter grabbed the nearest memo. Hazel eyes traveled over the parchment, his face scrunching up in disgust. The paper crumpled from his distaste, and with a flick of his wrist, the ball of parchment sailed into his waste bin. Another panicked Wizengamot member requesting protection from the Death Eaters in exchange for their continued support for the war effort. Ever since the deaths of Fleamont Potter and Archie Longbottom, the Wizengamot had gone into a panicked frenzy for protection, practically screaming for the Aurors to keep their lives safe.

He knew that eventually Minister Bagnold would order the placement of an Auror or two to fulfill the request, but until then, it could languish with all the other memos like it. The Ministry couldn't afford to have all its Aurors guarding those bags of bones on the Wizengamot. They needed every single man and woman to fight the Death Eaters. Director Crouch understood this, but even he had to occasionally bow to the pressures from the rest of the government. Hopefully, after the last Wizengamot session, the requests would slow down long enough for the Aurors to do their jobs.

James couldn't help the slight chuckle as he fondly recalled Bartemius Crouch starting off the last session by berating his colleagues on the Wizengamot. It had been a whirlwind session, and Crouch had once again demonstrated his devotion to utterly crushing what he called "an illegal rabble of seditionists." The court had passed through legislation that would allow a suspected Death Eater to be held, without trial, for an unspecified length of time. James might not have agreed with it, but he could understand the necessity. If it were not for Crouch, James seriously doubted the Ministry would have lasted as long as they had.

The Ministry rumor mill had started whispering that Crouch was positioning himself to replace Bagnold, staking his entire career on victory over Voldemort. James, seeing firsthand how Crouch had given the Aurors greater powers, including the authorization of Unforgiveable Curses against Death Eaters, was inclined to agree with the rumormongers. He had to wonder what sort of policies Crouch would be forcing through if it wasn't for his right hand woman.

Amelia Bones had been using her position as Head of the Auror Office to temper some of the more extreme legislation Crouch was presenting before the Wizengamot. That wasn't to say the woman was any easier on Death Eaters. Ever since Voldemort and the Death Eaters had devastated the Bones family, leaving only Amelia, her niece Susan, and her brother Edgar and his family alive, she had become a staunch opponent of the forces of darkness. Her skills in the field, combined with her political acumen and strategic mind, had catapulted her through the ranks and cemented a fearsome reputation. She may prefer living captives, but James had seen firsthand Amelia was not averse to dispatching an enemy.

Between Crouch and Amelia, they had no time for the political maneuverings that plagued other departments in the Ministry. They only wanted the best and brightest in any sort of leadership position. Frank Longbottom had been promoted to a Senior Auror last month, while James and Sirius were steadily working their way up the ranks because of their successes against the Death Eaters, much to the chagrin of older members, especially the Warden of Azkaban, Archibald Roberts.

Running his hands through his hair, he took a glance around his rather sparse cubicle before his eyes fell onto the newest picture on his desk. Next to an old school photo of the four founding Marauders was a photo of Lily, holding their infant son in her arms. She had been rocking him to sleep in the nursery and James couldn't resist taking the photo. She smiled up at him as he watched, and he couldn't help the grin that formed on his face. He really was one of the luckiest guys on the planet.

"Oi Prongs!" Sirius called, appearing from around the corner of James' cubicle. "Mad-Eye just sent word he caught one of the blighters."

"What?!" James said, getting out of his chair so quickly it spun and slammed to the floor. Hurriedly putting on his coat, he asked, "Who?"

"Not sure," Sirius said as the pair started to wind their way through the cubicles that made up the Auror Office. James hoped that one day they might actually make this place feel more like a place where the elite of the DMLE worked, or at least get a new sign instead of the one hanging by the lifts.

"I doubt it's anyone too high up the food chain," Sirius continued saying. "Definitely not the Lestranges or Dolohov."

"Shame, but one less we have to worry about," James replied.

The message must have traveled fast, for when their lift finally arrived in the Atrium, a throng of Ministry workers were milling around the fireplaces. Emerging from one spewing emerald green flames was a grim faced and scarred Auror with grizzled gray hair. James could already imagine Mad-Eye's normal eye narrowing in annoyance at all the attention and his namesake magical eye was whizzing around, looking for threats.

Alastor Moody was a living legend in the Ministry, holding the record for most living captures in the entire history of the Aurors. It was no exaggeration that the man was responsible for half the cells in Azkaban being filled because of him. He was also one of the most outspoken critics of Director Crouch's harsh new policies to fight fire with fire. The man always preferred to capture his enemies and drag them to Azkaban, once saying to James he smiled every time he thought of those criminal scum rotting, with only Dementors for company.

The man's long career had cost him dearly. Besides the magical eye that had zeroed in on James and Sirius, Moody had lost an entire leg in a fight with Antonin Dolohov and replaced with a clawed wooden one, and the numerous scars that plagued his face and hands hinted at other ruthless fights spanning the years. Even with all his accumulated injuries, and his disabilities, Moody remained one of the most capable Aurors and was a fiercely loyal member of the Order of the Phoenix. There were rumors that when the war ended, Crouch had plans to force Moody into either a position at the Auror Academy or early retirement. Moody started limping towards James and Sirius, and it was then James noticed the stringy bearded man being dragged behind Moody in chains.

"Potter. Black," Moody growled, flicking his wand so the captive slid across the marble floor face first. "One of you take this scum to the holding cells. I've got to let Bagnold and Crouch they can scratch Karkaroff off our list."

"Guess you won't be torturing Muggle families anymore, eh Igor?" Sirius chortled, transferring the man's chains to his wand.

"Poshel na khuy," Karkaroff snarled, spitting at Black and straining against his chains.

"I'm a little rusty on my Russian, but I think he was quite impolite to you, Padfoot," James chuckled. A grin formed on Sirius's face to match James' before yanking on the chains and starting to drag Karkaroff to the lifts and the holding cells. It would be Azkaban for him, but if Crouch was in a bad mood during sentencing, it could very well end up being the Dementor's Kiss immediately.

Karkaroff struggled the entire time, and it was only when he and Sirius disappeared from view, that James allowed himself a small sigh of relief. With Karkaroff out of the picture, that was one less Death Eater that Voldemort could send after James and his family. Now, they just had to capture or kill the rest of the buggers, and keep Voldemort away from Harry until he was ready to put the tosser six feet under.

"Another spectacular victory for the Aurors," a male voice said from the crowd behind James. James had to fight the urge to grimace at the voice, and he took a moment to collect himself and school his features into a neutral mask before turning.

"Rookwood, I see you're out of the cave," James replied. "What might the occasion be?"

"I have a meeting to attend," Rookwood responded jovially, a good-natured smile plastered on his face. Augustus Rookwood was amiable enough, well as nice as an Unspeakable could be, but there was just something about the man that rubbed James the wrong way. Perhaps it was the tall man with a prominent nose and greasy hair reminded him vividly of his former school rival. That was Lily and Sirius's theory, but James was almost certain there was something else to it.

Not that he would ever get any answers from the Department of Mysteries employee. He couldn't even get answers from his own wife on what she did in the Department, not from lack of trying.

"It is fortuitous that I encountered you, Potter," Rookwood continued. "I was asked to confirm if Lily got our message. If not, I was to pass it along to you."

"And what might that be?" James asked.

"Her research team is eagerly awaiting her return, and the operation she authorized succeeded," the Unspeakable replied. James wanted to ask what operation Lily might have signed off on, but he doubted Rookwood would spill the beans and he truly did not want to be in the man's company longer than he had to be.

"Anything else?" James questioned.

"No, but I'm sure you're aware I cannot discuss sensitive Department business with non-employees," Rookwood laughed. "Ignorance is bliss after all. Rest assured, our duties are equally important, perhaps more so, than running around and locking people away. Good day, Potter."

Before James could fire off a retort at the sly insult against his colleagues to the retreating back of the Unspeakable, a scream echoed through the Atrium. The hustle and bustle of the Atrium ground to a halt as the screaming continued. James started shouldering his way through the crowd, heading towards the Fountain of Magical Brethren.

"Move!" he shouted, firing off a loud bang from his wand. The crowd quickly parted for him, revealing a man in Auror robes slumped against the edge of the fountain. Blood was pouring from the man's horrifically destroyed leg, his arm was twisted in a direction it wasn't supposed to be, and he was missing three fingers.

"Madson!" James yelled, hurriedly getting to work to try and stop the bleeding. He was no Healer though.

"Someone get me a Healer!" he shouted. "Now!"

"Pot…ter," the injured Auror mumbled, his body starting to shake. He was going into shock.

"Hold on their Jacob, save your strength," James tried to soothe the man, but his efforts to stop the profuse bleeding weren't having much effect. A pool of red was building under the Auror on the black marble.

"Rosier… Wilkes… trying to… destroy an orphanage…" Madson whispered. "Tried… to stop… them. They're… going to… kill… so… many."

"Hang on Madson, we'll get them, but you need to stay awake," James insisted.

"Wool's Orphange… got to… stop…" Madson trailed off, slumping further down. James was roughly shoved aside as the Healers arrived. The two Healers in their lime green robes started tending to the convulsing Auror. James looked up and could make out Sirius and a few other Aurors shoving their way through the stunned Ministry workers. A thump of a wooden leg announced Moody's return, and he wasn't alone. Director Crouch and Amelia Bones were with him.

Bartemius Crouch was a thin man with a narrow toothbrush mustache that was cut as if he used a slide rule to do so. The parting in his graying hair was just as neat as his mustache. He wore fashionable and expensive gray robes over a starched white button up shirt, black waistcoat, and gray slacks. Intelligent eyes glinted from within his rather gaunt face, the stress of the war evident in the lines on his face.

Amelia Bones was a square-jawed witch with close-cropped black hair. She occasionally wore a monocle, but it was currently tucked into her Auror robe's pocket. James wasn't surprised that Amelia was in full Auror regalia as she believed in leading from the front.

"Well?" Crouch asked.

"Madson was attacked by Rosier and Wilkes at an orphanage named Wool's," James explained. "We need to get there now."

"I believe that orphanage is in London," Amelia said, her brow wrinkling. "A bold strike, the first actually in London. Voldemort must have a reason."

"Indeed," Crouch said. "Moody, take a team to this orphanage. Bring Rosier and Wilkes back. Alive is preferred, but if not, it's no major loss."

"But alive is absolutely preferred," Amelia stated, shooting a quick glare at her boss. "We need new information on the Death Eater's movements."

"Consider it done," Moody growled. "Potter. Black. Taylor. Williams. You're with me."

The five Auror started moving through the crowd, the grizzled veteran in the lead. Each had a determined expression on their face as they left their bosses and their severely injured comrade behind. It was time to bring in two of their most wanted.

Wool's Orphanage, London

"Crucio!" he yelled, eliciting fresh screams from the old woman he was having fun with. If there was one thing Evan Rosier enjoyed more than anything else, it was the screams of tortured Muggles. Every shriek, every convulsion was just a drop of delicious revenge for the years of oppression and forced secrecy the wizarding world had to endure. And every Muggle killed only further the pride he felt in being handed this personal assignment from the Dark Lord.

His Master had deliberately picked Rosier and Wilkes because of their absolute sadism when it came to dealing with Muggles. They had been given a high honor, one usually reserved for the Lestranges, Dolohov, or Crouch, and Rosier was not going to disappoint the Dark Lord. The orders had been simple: wipe out the entire orphanage, employees and children alike. No exceptions were to be made, no mercy granted. Rosier had not even questioned why this particular orphanage had earned his Master's ire, but he was more than happy to cleanse the Muggle filth.

The only hiccup so far had been that Auror that had unfortunately been walking by when they began their attack. Rosier doubted he would live long enough to tell anyone at the Ministry what was happening. Wilkes had blown the man's leg apart, not to mention his special spell he loved to use on Aurors.

The woman's continued screams brought him back to the task at hand. The Muggles had made it laughably easy for the two Death Eaters. The brats had been talking about trick-or-treating in a few hours, excited because of the costumes they had been lent from a local theater. Well, many of the children would not get to enjoy their Halloween evening. A few of the workers and children had fled upstairs, throwing up desks and beds as shoddy barricades to impede the Death Eaters. It was absolutely pathetic. These were the beings the Wizarding World feared would discover them? They were ants to crush beneath his boots. Rosier had systematically been working his way through the upper floors, room by room, and killing anyone he came across.

He frowned as his current victim's screams had faded to just a mumble of noises. A look of disgust formed on his face. The woman's mind had already snapped. A real shame, he had hoped she would last longer.

"Avada Kedavra!" he grunted, the green light snuffing the life from the old woman. Well that was the end of the head of the orphanage. Now he needed to find another play thing, and thinking of that…

"Wilkes! How's the sport?" he called down into the lobby.

"Enjoyin' some fun," Wilkes called back. Rosier grinned sinisterly as he knew what fun Wilkes was likely having. He had another vice he liked to indulge before killing Muggles. "We've got plenty of time. That Auror is as good as dead!"

"Well don't be forgetting the fire, the Dark Lord wants this entire place gone," Rosier yelled.

"I won't! Hello poppet!"

Rosier chuckled as he heard the screams and protests of some teenage girl most likely. He was about to blast down the next door in his path when a shiver ran down his spine. It wasn't the excitement either.

"Damn it! Aurors!" Wilkes shouted. Rosier distinctly heard the crack of a spell hitting a Shield Charm. Rosier ran over to the bannister, chancing a glance down into the lobby. He was only able to catch a glimpse of Moody, Potter, Black, and two other Aurors before he was forced to dive away from the railing. Spell exploded that part of the landing, showering Rosier in pieces of wood.

"Potter, Black, you're on Wilkes," Moody growled. "Taylor, Williams, evac and protect. I'm on Rosier."

Rosier couldn't help the grin that formed as he heard Moody. Next to torturing Muggles, a good fight always got his blood pumping. And to have the chance to humiliate Moody again, oh he couldn't pass it up. He could hear the crack of spells on shields from down below, and while he had faith in Wilkes, he had to begrudgingly admit that Potter and Black were skilled as well.

He retreated down the hallway, wand out and ready for the approaching sounds of Moody coming up the stairs. As soon as he saw the top of that gray hair, he yelled, "Expulso!" The landing exploded in a flash of blue light, sending rubble crashing down into the lobby. He didn't have a chance to admire his handiwork, or even hope Moody had been caught in the blast, before a wicked purple spell came flying out of the dust cloud.

"Another dance, Moody?" Rosier cackled, deflecting the Auror's curse. The scarred Auror emerged from the dust, spells flying from his wand and his mouth open in a silent snarl. Rosier countered, sending his own attacks towards the Auror. "Thought you would have learned your lesson after I took your leg."

"You should have gone for my head," Moody growled, deflecting Rosier's curses into the walls. Holes were blown into the pastel coated hallway, splinters flying into the air. The air was practically humming with energy as the two dueled down the hallway.

"Remember that pretty little niece of yours?" Rosier taunted. "Oh I relished her look of horror, and she made a decent hostage… if you know what I mean."

Moody's normal eye narrowed and the spells leaving his wand started smashing into Rosier's shield with greater force. A flurry of powerful Stunning Spells shattered his shield, and Rosier was forced to give more ground to the advancing Auror. Several rooms had been blasted open from the spells, the plaster destroyed. Pieces of the ceiling were missing, and unfortunately, Rosier couldn't see any Muggles that could be useful.

He wouldn't last much longer under Moody's attacks. His comment, while it had riled the old man and drawn him away from his fellow Aurors downstairs, it had definitely galvanized the Auror in wanting to defeat the Death Eater. Sounds of battle continued to echo up from the lower floor.

"Crucio!" Rosier yelled. As Moody sidestepped to dodge the Cruciatus Curse, Rosier pointed his wand at the door behind him and cast another Blasting Charm. Clambering over the remains of what had once been two desks and a bed, he rolled into a room where two terrified little boys were hiding under the other bed. An older male had been thrown against the wall from the force of his spell, his neck at a crooked angle.

"Accio!" Rosier snarled, summoning one of the boys to him just as Moody vanished the debris. That magical eye whizzed between the Death Eater and the boy he was holding in front of him as shield and the one who was still under the bed whimpering.

"One more step, and the boy dies," Rosier gloated.

"Coward," Moody snarled. "Needing a hostage to fight."

A cry of savage rage and pain from below distracted both men, and the sound of battle had ended. Rosier scowled as that could only mean Wilkes had been defeated by Potter and Black. His Master would be most unamused.

"All's fair in war, Moody," Rosier said, digging the tip of his wand into the boy's neck.

"Drop the kid and face me like a man," Moody barked. "It's over, Rosier."

"And what incentive would I possibly have for that?" Rosier laughed. Quick as a flash, his wand left the child's neck and he shouted, "Deformo!" A sickly white spell raced at Moody, striking him in the face. The Auror roared in pain, blood pouring from the numerous cuts Rosier's Disfigurement Curse. The Death Eater took great satisfaction as the Auror slumped to the floor, part of his nose completely missing. Rosier contemplated killing the boy, but he no longer had the time. Throwing the kid to the other side of the room, he sprinted past the incapacitated Auror and back down the hallway.

His Master would be displeased that only half of the children had died, and there was still a staff member left, and the building still stood. But if could capture Potter or Black… he would surely be forgiven. They would still be downstairs. If he rushed down, surprised one, he could activate his emergency Portkey and they would be before the Dark Lord in moments. He could see Potter in the lower foyer, helping a teenage girl. His back was to the upper landing… perfect.

The Stunning Spell was on the tip of his tongue, his wand pointing at the black haired Auror…

"Repulso!" Moody's voice grunted. Rosier turned, his expression one of shock as he had never known anyone to still have the ability to fight after being hit with a Disfigurement Curse. He had no time to shield himself. The spell connected, throwing him from the landing into the foyer below.

Moody, fighting through the near blinding pain coursing through his face, blood still flowing from his wounds, stumped over to the wrecked landing. Peering down, he grimly smiled. Rosier had landed in the large debris pile in the foyer, a large chunk of wood protruding from his chest. The Death Eater was looking up at Moody, a pleading look in his eyes. Trickles of blood were escaping from the sides of his mouth, rivers flowing from underneath the Death Eater to stain the debris red. Moody held no pity for the murderer, and he kept staring at the Death Eater until the light left Rosier's eyes. His opponent dead, Moody collapsed with a grunt.

"Alastor!"

"I'll be fine," Moody weakly rumbled, waving off James and Sirius as they approached. The darkness was eating away at the edge of his vision, and he felt oddly weak and cold. But he would be damned if he didn't get a full report. "Wilkes?"

"Dead, tried some sort of curse and it backfired," Sirius replied.

"Alastor, you need to get those wounds looked at," James insisted.

"Bah, what about the Muggles?" Moody grunted.

"Half of the children are still alive, and one of the workers. Taylor and Williams are modifying their memories, but we'll need a full team for the rest," Sirius answered.

"Good," Moody muttered. "Good…" His eyes rolled up into his head as finally fell unconscious.

Erison Flat, Manchester

"Has Harry been fussy?" Mary asked, stirring her tea. She, Lily, and Cassie were all at the Erisons' flat in Manchester for afternoon tea. The flat itself was what one would consider sparse, but if one knew the owners, they would understand why. Aaron and Cassie traveled extensively, and they had eschewed having too many worldly goods. A few scattered knickknacks from those travels were on shelves, but most had the look of souvenirs that had not been touched since the day they were placed.

The smell of freshly dried paint lingered from the light cream colored walls, mixing with the smells of pumpkin seeds baking in the oven. The kitchen was spotless and devoid of the signs of long term occupation, except for the newly carved jack-o-lanterns and discarded carving kit on the wooden table.

The small kitchen opened into an equally small living room, where the three women were seated watching two babies play on the rich red carpets. The furniture was sparse, nothing more than a loveseat, a few plush armchairs, a table with a lamp, and a Muggle television sitting on a smaller end table. A narrow hallway led to a bedroom, the door of which was cracked open enough to reveal the front of a light blue crib sitting in front of a bed, and an office that was firmly closed.

The main indicator that anyone lived in the flat were the books. There were piles of books on every free surface, scrolls tucked into nooks and crannies for safe keeping. A quick glance would reveal books on almost any subject one could think of. From mundane Muggle history to tomes Lily swore were on the Old Religion, to rare and exotic works from around the world, the Erisons spared no expense on their library. Lily had to fight the urge to rummage through the piles every time she came over to the flat.

"Not at all," Lily answered. "He's been very quiet. Mum thinks he takes after me rather than James."

"I'm sure James will try his utmost to make your son into a Marauder," Cassie laughed. "He'll be riding brooms before he can walk, and playing pranks before he can talk."

"I'm sure he and Sirius already have plans," Mary chuckled, taking a drink of her tea.

"Speaking of plans with Sirius…" Lily began, smiling as her best friend blanched.

"Cassie, how has Abigail been?" Mary stuttered, not daring to meet Lily's gaze as her face reddened.

"Hello subject, lovely time of year," Lily laughed, Cassie joining her as Mary glared at the two.

"Abygail definitely takes after her father," Cassie answered. "She most certainly thinks she needs to be the loudest in the room. Very exuberant, isn't that right my little ember?" The little girl cooed and smiled toothlessly at her mother before returning to the difficult task of gnawing on her rattler. Lily smiled as Harry noticed her, her baby boy shaking the small stuffed Kneazle in his hand.

"I've been having a problem of Aaron waking her up from naps accidentally," Cassie continued. "I've had to resort to Silencing Charms when I'm trying to do research when he's home."

"And a Monitoring Charm in case he starts trying to teach her how to backflip?" Lily joked.

"Of course," Cassie answered daintily, sipping her tea. "I want to be present and involved in those lessons."

"Should I be concerned about tonight then?" Lily asked.

"No, Baby Harry here will be perfectly safe with us," Cassie replied. "I'm surprised you wanted us to babysit for the meeting tonight and not your parents, Lily."

"They have plans tonight with Petunia and Vernon," Lily said. A look of disgust passed over Mary's face at the mention of Petunia's husband. It had been three months since she had even last seen her sister, let alone talked with her. Not for lack of trying, but all of her attempts had been met with silence. She wanted her son and Dudley to be friends, but she suspected that Vernon would just keep pushing her sister and his son down a nasty path. Hopefully, her mother could wear Tuney down.

Normally, her parents would be thrilled to watch Harry, but with Vernon there, Lily had asked Cassie and Aaron to avoid an awkward situation. Neither was going to the Order meeting that night, although they hadn't mentioned why.

"How's your Auror training coming along?" Cassie asked Mary.

"Tough as ever," Mary replied. "Scrimgeour had us run through a three-mile-long obstacle course, in under half an hour. He even had some of the more experienced Aurors there to attack us with hexes along the way."

"Good thing you took gymnastics with me," Lily laughed.

"Those lessons have saved my bum more than once during training," Mary admitted. "I even signed up for more just last week. I think it gives me an edge over the other trainees. I swear two of them were thinking about dropping out and just joining the Hit Wizards."

"I'm sure extra lessons with Sirius haven't hurt," Lily added slyly.

"So what are you researching?" Mary asked Cassie, hurriedly shifting subjects again. "Must be important if you're skipping the meeting."

"Oh it's just some old stories, not even sure if they have merit yet," Cassie replied offhandedly. "Britain has an absolutely fascinating history with magic. I just can't seem to read enough of it."

That Britain certainly did, and Lily couldn't even mention that it was probably far more than Cassie would ever know. None of the books would mention what her subject of research at the Department of Mysteries was. She was itching to get back to it, especially after the message she received before coming to Manchester.

The raid she had signed off on had proven to be invaluable. Stopping that man's horrific experiments had given the Department a massive amount of data to comb through. It was nothing short of a major coup for her division. She was also very thankful they had rescued those children that were kidnapped and they could be safely sent back to their home countries. The Department would assign someone to watch them though, just in case.

She would be busy trying to refine the research, make it more humane. Holme may have been a monster, and she was looking forward to hearing the full debrief on his death, but his data would go on to be used for the good of all. And if the old stories actually held true…

"When do you go back into the office, Lils?" Mary asked.

"Monday," Lily replied. "I need to review what my team has been up to, but I was granted leave to work from home to care for Harry. If I'm desperately needed, I know I can rely on you and my parents to look after him."

"If only there wasn't a madman after your son," Cassie muttered. All three women looked over to where Harry was enthusiastically pulling on the nose of the stuffed Knzeale. Voldemort had made it quite clear he was not above killing an infant if it meant ending a threat to his power. The Order had learned that every family except the Potters and Longbottoms on that list had been killed personally by Voldemort. The three women were stirred from their thoughts when a stag Patronus floated into the living room.

"Death Eaters attacked a Muggle orphanage. We got them, but Alastor was injured. Sirius and I are fine. See you at the meeting Lils," James' voice said. The Patronus dissipated into silver mist, and Lily felt some relief that James was safe. And anger, absolute anger, that the Death Eaters would attack a defenseless Muggle orphanage.

"Seems like a bit of a random target," Cassie mused aloud. "Why attack an orphanage? It's not a strategic target."

"The sport?" Lily muttered darkly.

"Do Death Eaters need a legitimate reason to attack Muggles?" Mary asked, rolling her eyes.

"No, but I think there is something more to the story there," Cassie said. "Perhaps Voldemort is trying to hide something and the orphanage held a secret he didn't want anyone finding. No one really knows anything about him, except maybe Dumbledore."

"I hope there were survivors," Lily said. "Those poor children, and on Halloween too. Monsters."

"We'll find out I'm sure," Mary reassured.

Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow

A few hours later, a group of wizards and witches had gathered in the Potters' cottage in Godric's Hollow. The night of Halloween in Godric's Hollow was an excellent time for a meeting. Children running around in costume, decorations and jack-o-lanterns giving the village a cheery, but spooky vibe. From the sitting room window, the guests of the Potters could easily watch as families went from cottage to cottage in all manner of dress. None of the Muggles outside were even aware that a meeting to coordinate the opposition in a shadowy war that the Muggles only saw as disasters on the six o'clock news was taking place.

To accommodate the number of guests, looking for all the world like the Potters were hosting a costume party, the sitting room and the table had been magically expanded. A selection of Lily's cooking was in the center of the table, scattered among various pieces of parchment and plans that the Order of Phoenix had brought with them.

The group, founded by Dumbledore to fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, was an eclectic organization to say the least. Besides herself and the other Marauders, Dumbledore had chosen and recruited wizards and witches from every walk of life. Mundungus Fletcher, the Order's invaluable connection to the criminal underworld, was seated next to Dumbledore himself, tapping his pipe against his leg. Benjy Fenwick, the dark haired and bearded man seated next to Fletcher, was the Order's resident Potions Master, although Lily had to admit she wished Slughorn was instead.

The redheaded Prewitt brothers, Fabian and Gideon, while practical jokers, were also two of the most accomplished duelists in the Order that were not Aurors or part of the Ministry. It was their job to maintain security at the various safehouses the Order maintained. James and Sirius were next to them, while Remus and Peter were across from them.

Dedalus Diggle, owner of one of the finest hat shops in Diagon Alley, was chatting with Elphias Doge, a fiercely loyal friend of Dumbledore who was one of the Order's liaisons with foreign groups and a representative on the Wizengamot. Marlene McKinnon, a magical Zoologist that specialized in aquatic creatures, was chatting excitedly with Edgar Bones. Next to Edgar was the empty chair Moody would have been sitting, conspicuous in his absence. She hoped they had news from St. Mungo's on his condition.

Frank and Alice Longbottom were talking with Sturgis Podmore and Emmeline Vance, while Hagrid was chortling at something Hestia Jones had said. Arabelle Figg was crocheting while Dorcas Meadowes asked her questions about the Muggle practice. Everyone was at ease, enjoying the party before the meeting began. And yet… Lily, even when she got up to pass out candy to the Muggle children, could not shake an ominous foreboding.

"I hope everyone is having a good evening," Dumbledore finally said. The individual conversations died away as he brought the meeting to a formal open. "I would like to first extend my thanks to Lily and James for hosting this gathering."

"We were happy to," James replied.

"Many of you have heard of the attack that took place this afternoon in London," Dumbledore continued. "It is my solemn task to report that of the eighty-seven children and twelve staff members at Wool's Orphanage, thirty-nine children and all but one of the staff lost their lives to the Death Eaters. The survivors are currently with the Obliviators, having their memories modified while the belongings of the deceased are removed."

Lily could feel her blood boiling, one of her, as her mother called them, redhead rages threatening to burst forth. She hoped that Wilkes and Rosier were being tormented in the lowest circle of Hell for what they did.

"Thankfully, I can report that Alastor Moody and Auror Jacob Madson will make a full recovery. Alastor was awake when I visited St. Mungo's and the Healers assured me he will be free to leave in two weeks. However, Auror Madson will likely be bedridden for months."

"A pity we didn't capture Wilkes and Rosier," Fabian grumbled. "We could have used information."

"Better off dead in my opinion," Dorcas replied. "Bastards can rot for what they did."

"I'm more concerned about what this attack could mean," Remus said. "This is the first mass casualty attack the Death Eaters have launched in the past three months."

"I share your concern, Remus," Dumbledore replied. "I fear Voldemort is up to something besides hunting down every child born in July. He has been far too quiet, perhaps to lure the Ministry into a false sense of security."

"If that's the plan, it's only made Crouch and Madam Bones more paranoid," Sirius mentioned. "In light of the attack, they've begun drawing up new security protocols."

"Do we know what these new measures might be?" Elphias asked.

"Aurors are going to have their addresses delisted from Ministry records," James answered. "Aurors will also have their Floo connections password protected. Amelia wants to place anti-Apparation wards around key spots in Muggle London. Warden Roberts of Azkaban wants to overhaul the cell designs, make them more secure. Crouch already directed him to reach out to the goblins for advice."

"Do you believe these will be of any help?" Edgar Bones asked.

"It's difficult to say," Sirius responded. "It will depend on what Minister Bagnold ultimately wants. I know Crouch is planning to introduce new legislation to Wizengamot in the coming month, but we're not privy to those details."

"Nothing has been placed on the docket yet," Elphias replied.

"Keep us informed of what other changes we might expect," Dumbledore said, getting nods from James and Sirius. "Remus, what is the latest movements in the werewolf community?"

"It's evenly split now," Remus replied. "Fenrir Greyback has amassed a large enough following he is likely to challenge the current alpha. If he succeeds, the Order and Ministry won't just be dealing with Greyback's fanatics. He'll have control over every werewolf in Britain."

"Has a challenge been issued yet?" Benjy Fenwick asked.

"There are certain traditions that need to be observed first that even Greyback can't go against," Remus answered. "The challenge has to be at a full moon, so the soonest would be November 22nd."

"What would you place as the odds of the current alpha winning?" Sirius asked.

"Torlin Blackclaw has been alpha for twenty years," Remus replied. "But… he's growing old and Greyback is perhaps the most savage werewolf alive. I would recommend that the Werewolf Capture Unit at the Ministry will need to be expanded and new containment procedures made."

"I shall be sure to mention it to Bartemius next week," Dumbledore said. "Fabian, Gideon, how are our safehouses?"

"As protected as we could legally make them," Fabian replied.

"We may have bended some statutes too," Gideon chuckled.

"As resident Aurors, Sirius and I can overlook your transgressions," James laughed, earning a couple of chortles around the table.

"Our supply situation is about as well as can be expected," Benjy said. "Between myself, Mundungus, and Arabella, we've set up several supply caches we can make use of. Potion ingredients, ready-made potions, some rare materials we might be able to use for protective robes."

"I was even able to acquire a few ward stones," Mundungus drawled. "For a nice song."

"What about extra wands and wand making materials?" Edgar questioned.

"Ollivander has been reluctant to sell a wand that hasn't chosen someone," Arabella Figg grumbled. "We have some wood, but the cores are hard to come by. Mundungus, you said you might have a lead on that?"

"I might have a few acquaintances that could acquire what we need… for the right price," the thief stated.

"Money is no object," Dumbledore said. "I'll be sure you have funds to work with."

"Much obliged," Mundungus grinned.

"Now, we need to discuss…"

And the meeting continued in the same vein for the next few hours, the members of the Order of the Phoenix reporting on things they had heard or situations that would need attention. The one thing that was lacking, something Lily had heard James and Sirius privately grumble about, was information from within the Death Eaters' ranks. Without a spy in Voldemort's Inner Circle, the Order could only react to rumors and hearsay. Sometimes that worked out, but sometimes they had been left empty handed.

Plans were drawn up for establishing three more safehouses in Scotland, one of which was the original house James wanted to live while Harry grew up. Lily heard the doorbell and excused herself while half of the table, led by Dorcas Meadowes, argued with the other half, led by her husband, over plans to raid a supplier of Borgin and Burkes. She was thankful towards the two children dressed like pirates at the door as it gave her a blessed break from the arguing. Giving a smile to the parent of the children, she closed the door and took a few moments to herself.

Returning to the meeting room, it seemed a consensus had been reached to launch the raid in a week. When the meeting finally adjourned, Remus, Mary, and Sirius lingered in the sitting room, a new bottle of wine opened between the friends. Peter had left with the other members of the Order, saying he intended to visit his mother for the rest of the evening. Nursing a glass in her hand, Lily was looking out the window. Candles were being extinguished in jack-o-lanterns now, lights being shuttered. The gradual darkening outside did nothing to ease her mind.

"Something wrong, Lils?" her husband asked from the sofa.

"I'm… not sure," she answered. "I just… I just feel something dreadful is about to happen. I can't explain it beyond just a feeling."

"Whatever may come, we'll all face it together," Mary said.

Somewhere off the coast of Scotland

An unnatural fog had settled over the coast and village of Cruden Bay. Those living in the small coastal community had watched the fog spread throughout the day, the sun refusing to banish the gloom. The citizens had confined themselves to their homes, for fear of getting lost in the thick fog. A few brave souls had gone out into the cloying cloud, but they hadn't been seen since. The superstitious among the villagers said a storm was coming, one they said only appeared once before in their lifetimes. The children had been unhappy as they couldn't partake in trick-or-treating, but the adults were concerned for their safety. A feeling of intense melancholy had seeped into every cottage, but no one could say why.

If the majority of the villagers had strayed from their homes, they would have discovered the soulless husks of those that tried to leave. The feelings of despair oozing into the town was caused by the ghastly figures lurking within and creating the fog. Dementors, invisible to Muggles, had filled the town, floating over the coastline and among the buildings of the townlet. Over a hundred of the creatures had been ordered to the area, and those orders required them to stay put. They wanted nothing more than to feed on the souls of the villagers in their homes, but Voldemort had requested they put off their urges for the time being, promising them more souls to consume than the paltry village.

A full moon hung overhead, obscured by the heavy mists. The water was still, wisps of frost rolling up from the places closest to the dementors. Barely any waves disturbed the surface, the night still. The dementors stirred from their vigil as a collection of emotions, rage, hatred, hunger… the feelings far more primal than humans. Within the fog, the prow of an enormous longboat cut through the water, disturbing the stillness with its massive oars. Different skulls and crude markers decorated the dark boat, a sun-bleached and salt encrusted human skull resting on top of the prow. And holding onto the front of the ship was the largest giant of the modern age.

Covered from head to toe in dragon bone armor, a massive mace made from the tail of the creature he had killed hung across his back. Various other bones hung from the armor, each a trophy of a creature or person he had dispatched in single combat. On his large brow was the skull of a giant that had dared try to take the title Gurg of Gurgs from him. Standing thirty-seven feet tall, he stood head and shoulders above the other giants. He was Hrungnir, named for the mythical giant of lore.

The wizard Voldemort had promised the Gurg of Gurgs land for his people, places where they could rebuild their race. Glory had also been promised, the wizard claimed that destroying his enemies would only enhance the Gurg of Gurgs' status, and those of his people, among legend. But it had been his third promise that had stirred the Gurg of Gurgs to ally himself and his people with the snake-faced wizard. Magic had been assured, the wizard stating he could give the Gurg of Gurgs magic. With that, he could reclaim all of their previous lands and more, pushing the hated humans from the mountains and valleys that had once been theirs.

"Min kärlek, vi nära," a female voice muttered.

He had known they were nearing, he could smell it on the sea. Land was near. Hrungnir turned, gazing upon his mate. Fridwulfa had been by his side for nigh on thirty years, and while the son she had gifted him was small and weak, she was not. The perfect specimen of a giantess at thirty-three feet, leather strung between the plates of her bone armor, war paint highlighting her dark eyes. Others had muttered she was unworthy of her place as his mate, but she had crushed their skulls. Even more others had muttered about her relations with a wizard, and she had reduced those giants to corpses rotting in the earth.

Nodding to her, he stepped down to look over the assembled giants at the oars. In the gloom behind them, seventeen other longboats had halted in place. They were all waiting; they knew how close they were. Seven hundred giants waited for the Chieftain to speak, to give them the orders to kill the humans and claim the land as their own.

"Ära! Krig! Död!" he roared. An answering roar rose up, the sound of fists bashing against armor, of the fervor of his people. His blood was pounding in his ears with each repeat of his cry, the need to kill growing. The invasion of the giants had begun.