The wet windy night, two children dressed as pumpkins waddling crossed the square, and the windows of stores covered paper spiders, all cheap and kitsch ornaments Muggle symbolizing a world where they did not believe ... and he went sliding , that sense of purpose and power and correction ever experienced on these occasions ... not anger ... that was for weaker souls than he ... but triumph, yes ... expecting it, wanted it.

- Beautiful fantasy, boy!

He saw the boy's smile falter when close enough to peek under the hood of her cloak, saw the fear cloud painted face: then the child turned around and ran away ... under the robe, he stroked the handle wand ... a simple movement and the child would never reach his mother ... but unnecessary. Very unnecessary.

And, along a dark street, he walked, and now his fate was finally in sight, the broken fidelius spell, although residents still did not know, and he made less noise than the dead leaves that fluttered down the sidewalk when paired with the dark hedge and peered over.

They had not closed the curtain, saw them clearly in the small living room, the tall man with black hair and glasses, making puffs of colored smoke come out of his wand to amuse the two children in a playpen. The child of auburn hair, the youngest, was laughing and trying to catch the smoke, hold it in your closed hand. The eldest seemed to call his father's antics, her eyes swept every corner of the room to stop at a specific point, I looked through the window directly to where he was hiding.

And then his attention was diverted when a door opened and the mother entered with a small baby in her arms, saying words he could not hear, her long auburn hair falling over his face. The father lifted the younger man and cradled her in his arms, giving a hand to the other boy he took eagerly followed his father down the stairs, but not before launching one last look out the window, directly where the Dark Lord was.

A sneer adorned the whitened lips of the man in the hedge when the parents who had put the children to bed, down the stairs and front prostrated to the fireplace. When the flames died and the two adults left the house, the man in the hedge approached the gate and pushed, producing a faint creak. His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door burst open. I had gone through the door when the cry of the children echoed through the empty corridors of the house. He pointed his wand at the fireplace that parents used to leave the house and laughed before casting the spell.

- BOMBARDA! - The red glow filled the cramped hallway, lit the basket baby against the wall, made the banisters of the stairs lampejarem like lightning and the fire was reduced to powder, ending the chances of parents to return home using the floo.

He heard the cries of children on the second floor, trapped ... He went up the stairs, following the cry that grew most as it neared its destination. Confidence. That was a word that the Lord of Darkness unknown. In all his fifty years of life, the Dark Lord never found someone worthy of your trust. Not even Bellatrix Lestrange, his most loyal follower. His order was governed by fear, aggression and manipulation. Lilian and James Potter were blinded by false confidence. They trusted Peter and Dumbledore to protect her two children. And now their children would pay the price for the wrong choice they made. With a flick of his wand, he opened the door of the room where the children were. Two cots were at the opposite end of the room window a small gap separating the two berths and standing in front of this gap was Augusta Longbottom, all confident clinging to his wand and trying in vain to hide the boy four years behind itself.

- Well, well, well ... That's what Dumbledore left to protect the boys of prophecy? - His voice reverberated through the now silent room. The two children in the cradle had stopped crying and, as the boy behind the Ausgusta skirt, watched the duel. Voldemort was momentarily surprised by the presence of Longbottom matron, she had deduced that the children were alone while their parents marked presence at the ball of the Ministry.

- Get out of here, Voldemort. You will not touch any hair these children. - Bravely replied, pointing his wand at the Dark Lord. I was trembling slightly, fear threatened to take control of every little fiber of his being, but at the last moment she exhaled deeply and puffed out his chest, making a promise to herself that protect those three children who she loved strongly as if they were their own.

- AVADA KEDRAVA. - Shouted the Dark Lord, pointing his wand directly into the woman's chest. The green flash lit the small room, lit cots in the corner of the wall and the two children who had started crying again when they saw the only one that protected them from death fall to the ground like a marionette whose cords had been cut.

- Neville Longbottom and Charles Potter ... born at the end of the seventh month ... the children of prophecy. - She whispered, approaching the berth where the children were. But his path was intercepted by older boy that once was after Augusta. Bravely the boy carried the wand Longbottom late and fell down on the road between babies and Voldemort.

- Leave my brother and Nevi alone! - He shouted angrily, feeling the tears fall down her cheek. The five-year - old boy was afraid of the man who had broken into his house, he was afraid of the man who had killed his "grandmother" was afraid of the man who threatened his brother and his cousin. But he was angry. When he saw his grandmother being slaughtered by man something snapped inside him. He did not know what it was, did not understand. But it was as if he could feel every grain of Augusta magic being passed to his body, he could hear her voice distant echoing in his mind saying numerous times "you are strong, Harry. You'll be able to protect them. I'm with you now and always." - ABRACADABRA!

To the surprise of the Dark Lord, a green light beam out of the wand and flew in his meeting. Skillfully, the Dark Lord raised his wand and conjured a shield that acted quite effectively against the spell of the boy. Silently the Dark Lord released a expelliarmus against Harry and disarmed him.

- Crucio! - Harry's screams reverberated through the room, overlapping the crying Neville and Charles. For several seconds the Dark Lord held the spell against the five-year - old boy who was almost verging on unconsciousness. Her throat was burning from screaming and had no more strength to hold back the tears falling freely and wildly down her cheeks.

- Who are you, boy? - Questioned after cancel the spell. Staring at the boy with an absolute fascination, the power that was rolling it was something that impressed the Dark Lord.

- Harry Potter. - Harry's voice was just a simple, painful whisper. He put on his feet again, using his last reserves of strength.

- You will now, Harry Potter, as I will kill his brother and the boy Longbottom. And after that ... I'll kill you. - Turning his back on Harry, the Dark Lord pointed his wand at Charles and called the curse of death.

- AVADA KEDAVRA! - And the second time that night, a green glow filled the small quartou and the beam was meeting with his next victim. At the last second, Harry threw himself in front of Charles and absorbed the curse of death, his body produced a light golden glow that was visible out of Augusta body as well. What happened next was something no one could explain. The curse of death that slammed into Harry turned to the Dark Lord and turned into simple dust. The only battle of the signal in that room was the lifeless body of Augusta Longbottom, the mantle of the Dark Lord, Harry's body lying beneath the crib with a cut in the lightning bolt in the middle of his chest where the curse had hit. Neville and Charles still crying, both carried a similar scar on his forehead, a line formed by the cradle of the piece that had been released and flown directly to them. A scar that would be there permanently and the same scar that originate the biggest mistake of Albus Dumbledore.

HOURS LATER.

Potter and Longbottom waited for the news that Dumbledore was checking children for over half an hour. Tears streamed down the faces of mothers desperate who wanted to know the status of their children. The party had just recently and only when they got home, through Apparition, were informed of the battle that had been there. The two babies were highly crying when they arrived, Harry's body was still rested under the crib and Lilian feared he had lost his eldest son. What proved wrong when Dumbledore woke up and wondered what had happened there.

- I do not know, sir. Just remember the grandmother pointing his wand at me and the rest became dark. I slept. - He answered simply, his voice oddly forced.

- The prophecy was fulfilled ...- Dumbledore muttered, scratching his long beard and staring Potter and Longbottom over his glasses. - I present to you, Neville Longbottom and Charles Potter, the boys of prophecy, the boys who defeated the Dark Lord.

The four adults turned pale and looked at each other, trying to understand what all this meant for the future of their children. And in the corner of the room, Harry silently wept for the death of his grandmother and the future that awaited him.