***
His old friend, Hector Fawley, did not disappoint. Experimental devices from the Department of Mysteries were usually simply stored in their own archives, but Dumbledore asked him to look for something unique and useful for the Dark Wizards' work. The first thing they found was a prosthetic leg made of a rare metal, with a powerful clawed paw attached to the bottom, which allowed the wearer to move around with confidence and even run. If necessary, it could serve as a decent weapon. But the second artefact, capable of replacing an eye, was truly unique. It could see everything within human reach, even through walls and invisibility cloaks. If necessary, it could rotate 360 degrees in all directions and could be removed if needed, simply by inserting it into the eye socket without having to attach it to the nerve endings in the head. The fact that it looked frightening was because it was made at a time when beauty was not a priority for male warriors. Moreover, the ability to see through obstacles allowed the wearer to wear a completely closed helmet with only holes for breathing.
Albus did not know how many galleons had been spent on such works of art, but Foulley gave it away for free. He simply said:
"This guy will serve England well, he's a good dark wizard, even if he is a little crazy.
Dumbledore grinned into his beard and silently accepted the gift.
Moody sat on his bunk and threw a knife at a wooden shield attached to the wall. He had been throwing it for several hours, returning it with telekinesis. There was nothing else to do; everything that could be cured with Flamel's elixir had already been restored. The door opened quietly, and the knife that had been stuck in the shield was immediately in Moody's left hand, while a wand appeared in his right hand as if by magic.
Seeing Albus, he relaxed a little.
"Hello, my friend," said Dumbledore with a smile, "as I promised, I have brought the artefacts that will allow you to return to duty.
He levitated the scroll to Moody. An hour later, after some simple training with the artefacts, the Dark Wizard was already walking confidently down the hospital corridor behind Dumbledore. They did not fail to stop and say goodbye to Smetvik, who was delighted to see that Alastor was walking on two legs and generally full of optimism. Leaving St. Mungo's Hospital, Moody and Dumbledore said goodbye.
On the evening of 31 October 1981, in the Lestrange family manor, in a study on the second floor, Lord Voldemort sat in an armchair, with Peter Pettigrew kneeling before him.
"Give me your hand," commanded the Dark Lord imperiously. When Peter tremblingly held out his hand, Voldemort waved his wand, and a black mark began to appear on Pettigrew's forearm. The snake crawling out of the skull seemed to move beneath the skin of the fat man, who was drenched in sweat from fear.
"Stand up, Peter," said Voldemort grandly, "now you are one of us. Tonight you will do me an important service, you will lead me through the Fidelius to the house of your former friends," he smiled wickedly.
"Yes, my Lord," Pettigrew blurted out eagerly, "I will gladly take you to the Potters.
***
It was late in the evening, but little Harry was having trouble falling asleep tonight. He was crying, his green eyes looking at his mother with fear and anxiety. Lily first read him a story, then simply rocked his crib wearily until Harry fell asleep. James was sitting downstairs in the living room reading the latest issue of The Prophet. Today's shift had been particularly exhausting, and he was relaxing on the sofa, stretching out his legs in his soft slippers. Suddenly, the door flew open with a loud bang, and a strong gust of wind tore the newspaper out of James's hands. Potter looked in surprise at the dark figure in a hood standing in the doorway with a wand. Acting purely on instinct, the man threw himself to the floor with a cry:
"Lily, run!"
A cold voice came from the figure:
"Avada Kedavra," and the last thing James saw was a green light, then darkness.
Voldemort slowly climbed the stairs, puzzled. How could these fools have dared to stand up to him? A clumsy, recent Auror trainee, his wife a Muggle-born witch, who was now shaking on the second floor. He cautiously entered the nursery, holding a magical shield in front of him, just in case. Pettigrew was already rustling around downstairs, hoping to find something to eat. Lily was rushing around the room looking for the wand she had dropped in fright when she heard the noise downstairs and her husband's terrible scream, but when she saw Voldemort in the doorway, she stopped and froze in terror.
"What did Snape see in her?" — a simple red-haired girl, like so many in England. — thought the Dark Lord, — well, you can't tell the heart what to do.
"Step aside, filthy mudblood," said Voldemort, and without waiting for a reply, he sent Lily flying backwards into the wall with a wave of his hand. With a dull thud, her whole body hit the children's wardrobe, and the girl slid to the floor with a groan. Voldemort stopped three metres from the cot and looked at the baby. Harry hadn't been asleep; he had woken up when he heard his mother's scream and now sat awkwardly, looking at the Dark Lord in confusion.
"And this child will be able to defeat me, how amusing," thought Voldemort. "You've sunk low, Mordred, killing children." But just as he raised his wand and uttered his favourite spell, Lily, who had been sitting silently on the floor, sprang up with a piercing scream and threw herself in front of the killing curse. Voldemort looked with disgust at the lifeless body of the mudblood lying near the child's bed and raised his wand again.
"Avada Kedavra," he said boredly for the umpteenth time that day, but suddenly the green beam of the spell that hit the boy ricocheted back at Voldemort. Unprepared for this, the Dark Lord tried to dodge, to jump back, but he was too late.
"I hate prophecies," he thought, and then everything disappeared.
Voldemort's body crumbled into grey ash, and the magic raging in the room like a dark whirlwind burst out of the house with a loud explosion. Harry was thrown to the edge of the bed and lost consciousness. Pettigrew, frightened, rushed downstairs, then climbed the stairs and timidly peeked through the door. He saw Voldemort's wand lying on the floor on top of an empty robe and grey ash swirling around the bedroom, which was gradually being washed away by the rain. The room was in chaos, a large part of the wall and roof were gone, Lily's body lay on the floor, and a small child lay face down in the cot. Shuddering, Peter grabbed the Dark Lord's wand and rushed downstairs. Someone must have heard the explosion, and he had to leave immediately. Jumping out onto the porch, Peter immediately apparated back to his home. He had to gather everything of value that was stored in the apartment and run. As soon as everyone realised that he had betrayed the Potters, the hunt for him would begin. His former friends, the Order of the Phoenix, the Dark Wizards, the Devourers. They would all want to ask him a series of questions about what had happened in the house, where Voldemort had gone, who had killed the Potters, and the dark mark on his arm would be another nail in his coffin. Everyone would come to kill him.
***
Today, Sirius Black was bored on duty. The quiet patrol of Diagon Alley made him yawn. In an instant, everything changed. His friend hadn't even had time to go into the pub to buy a couple of cups of hot coffee when Sirius felt the locket they had made with James back at Hogwarts to know that their friends were all right grow cold. Pulling it out from under his cloak, he saw that the hour hand, which indicated James's current state, had frozen mournfully opposite the symbol of death. Without waiting for his partner, Sirius jumped out from under the canopy and immediately apparated to Godric's Hollow.
As soon as he emerged from the portal, he knew that trouble had come to this house. The doors were wide open, and rain continued to pour in. Part of the wall and the roof of the second floor looked as if they had been blown up from the inside, and debris from the bricks and ceiling lay in untidy piles around the room. Pulling out his wand, Black rushed inside and was horrified to see the body of his best friend lying face up near the sofa.
"Jamie," Sirius whispered hoarsely and rushed to Potter. He lifted him by the shoulders, shook him, cried, James's head dangled limply, and his soul had long since left this world. Still in shock, Sirius carefully lifted his friend's body and laid it on the sofa, then shuffled upstairs like an old man. Upstairs, seeing Lily's body, Sirius sobbed again. Then, from the cot, which Black had not even noticed at first, came the soft cry of a baby.
"He's alive," Black thought happily, rushing to the baby. Taking Harry, who was wet from the incessant rain and blood dripping from his forehead, into his arms, Sirius threw open the wardrobe doors and gathered clothes to change the child into something dry downstairs. Harry had already lost his voice that evening, so he could only wheeze and cry silently. After changing the baby on the first floor and wiping the blood from his forehead with a blood-stopping napkin from the first-aid kit, Sirius wondered what to do next. The strange zigzag cut on the boy's forehead caught his attention for a moment, but Sirius simply couldn't think about anything else right now. The thought of Peter was racing through his mind, making him feel increasingly angry.
"He's a traitor! Peter betrayed the Potters, why did we choose him as the keeper of the Dumbledore's tombstone? Because of him, James and Lily were killed. If we don't catch him in his apartment now, he'll slip away and hide so well that it will take a long time to find him. But you can't Apparate a child, what should we do?" Suddenly remembering, Sirius, tangled in his robe, pulled a small model of a Muggle motorcycle with a sidecar out of his pocket and waved his wand. The model, thrown onto the road, began to grow rapidly in size until a rather large and brutal Harley with a sidecar appeared in front of Black. Sirius had already placed the wrapped Harry in the sidecar and secured him with a strap when the crack of apparition sounded again near the house.
Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, without looking around, darted inside with a dexterity that was hard to suspect in such a massive figure. The silence of the night was again broken by a mournful cry, first on the first floor, then on the second. Jumping down from the ruined wall, Hagrid looked around smoothly and saw Black walking towards him. He had no wand in his hands, and the half-giant calmed down a little.
"Hagrid, it's good you're here," said Black nervously. "Please keep an eye on little Harry while I find the traitor. Here are the keys to my motorbike, in case I don't get back soon. I need to hurry and catch that creature at home, and it could be dangerous with a child around. I'll find you and bring Harry back later.
"All right," Hagrid muttered, and Black, without saying goodbye, immediately apparated to London.
Peter Pettigrew gathered all his valuables into a small bag with extra space and ran out into the street. He lived in a poor neighbourhood, and at that very moment, a Muggle repair crew was fixing something on the corner of his house, which meant that there had been no gas in the entire building since morning.
"Stop, Peter! Stop, traitor!" A voice distorted by pain and anger rang out from across the street, and Pettigrew was horrified to see Black running towards him.
"Seko, Confringo, Bombarda," Peter shouted in fear and jerked away, away from Sirius. "You're the traitor, Black!" he screamed. Dodging the spells, Black responded with a standard Auror combo. In a high jump, dodging the disarming spell, miraculously dodging the secco and putting his shield up against the rest, Peter suddenly ran along the wall as if on the pavement and jumped behind the Muggles, near their emergency vehicle. The Muggles working on the corner of the house, near some kind of pipe, stared in amazement at this circus performance, not expecting such dexterity from a short, fat man.
"Bombarda Maxima," Peter yelled, waving his wand at the approaching Sirius. Sirius put up his shield, and the spell ricocheted straight into the pipe, scattering the Muggles standing in shock. Sirius was about to continue his attack when a powerful explosion rang out from the wall and fire flew in all directions, along with pieces of the wall and something soft and sticky. Despite his protection, Black hit his head quite hard on the pavement, where he was thrown by the blast wave. Peter was luckier. As soon as Pettigrew saw the swelling ball of fire that began to spread in all directions at tremendous speed, he instantly changed his body shape to that of a rat and fell into the sewer. There, Peter ran and ran and ran until he collapsed from exhaustion in some corner and began to examine himself in fear. Bringing his trembling palms closer to his face, he was horrified to discover that they were covered in blood, and that one of his fingers was missing. In the heat of the fight, he hadn't even noticed Black's cutting spell, which had caught him, severing his finger and tearing open his side. Somehow managing to apply a spell-bandage to his injured hand and treat his scraped and bleeding side, Peter limped forward through the sewer. Wild terror weighed heavily on his mind. The sewage stank horribly, and rubbish and slime constantly fell from the old brick walls onto his collar, but Peter didn't stop for a moment, fear driving him forward as surely as a whip.
Black, shaking his head mercilessly and coughing, began to get up from the pavement when there was a series of loud bangs and a rough voice shouted:
"Expelliarmus," "Petrificus Totalus," "Somnus." Black instantly fell into darkness and did not see a thick figure in a dark leather cloak limping towards his motionless body on the ground.
"Black," Moody croaked hoarsely, spitting out sticky saliva. "Okay, guys, call the Obliviators, pack this handsome guy up and search the area. Breaking the secrecy statute like this could get us locked up in Azkaban for a year or two. Pay special attention to whoever this young fool attacked. All I see here is a pile of dead Muggles.
Quickly getting down to business, the wizards efficiently repaired all the damage on the street. The DMF investigators and the Obliviators who arrived were running around, searching for clues and erasing the memories of all the Muggles in the area. Sirius was temporarily thrown into a cell in the Auror headquarters, without even bothering to revive him. Moody, having received a Patronus from Dumbledore with information that the Dark Lord had fallen, intended to hunt down the Death Eaters in the near future.
"Despite their status and position in society, no scoundrel will escape justice. Soon you will all learn what justice in action means," Moody clenched his fists tightly.
***
Severus Snape was in a panic, not knowing what to do. According to his school friend Barty Crouch Jr., everything would be decided today, and tomorrow the Lord would announce his latest victory to the world, and no one would be able to stop their party from seizing power in the country. Barty was very excited when he told him this, his eyes were burning. But inside Severus, panic was gathering momentum. Snape was afraid that Lord Voldemort would not remember his request, that Dumbledore might not make it in time to help the members of his order. Or maybe something else would happen, because bad things always happened on days like this. Finally, unable to bear his own turmoil, Snape apparated to the Potters. Despite their quarrels at school, he still wanted to maintain contact with Lily, helping her as a potions master during her pregnancy and after the birth of her son. Therefore, when the house was hidden under the Fidelius charm, Severus was one of the few people privy to the secret. Lily decided that her childhood friend was just as worthy of this as James's reckless Marauders. His wonderful potions had helped her and Harry on more than one occasion, keeping both mother and child healthy and in good condition.
Finding himself in front of the Potter house, he saw the same thing Black had noticed earlier. With growing panic, not even noticing Potter's body lying on the sofa, Severus rushed to the second floor, stumbling and jumping over the steps. Bursting into the room, he immediately saw her body lying on the floor, her arms outstretched in a gesture of despair and a futile attempt to protect herself. She seemed to be trying to shield her child from death. With a mournful cry like a wounded bird, Severus threw himself to his knees in front of her and held her tightly to his chest. Ignoring everything around him, he held her in his arms and wept. Tears streamed from his eyes and mixed with the cold rain, but Snape didn't notice. His heart felt as if it would burst with pain. With trembling hands, he stroked her calm, motionless face, whispering something and begging for forgiveness. He felt as if she would open her dazzling green eyes and say, "Hello, Sev." They would joke and laugh like in the old days, holding hands.
The cold rain mercilessly washed away all the colour from his already pale face...
Snape couldn't remember how long he had sat there in the dark. Only when he heard the sound of apparitions on the street did he jump up, carefully lower Lily to the floor and close her eyes. Spinning around, Snape transgressed straight out of the house. Once in his own home, in Spider's Alley, Severus took a bottle of cheap Muggle whisky from an old cupboard with trembling hands and began to drink it straight from the neck, like water. Lily was dead, and neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore would listen to him. One simply removed the obstacle from his path, the other hung oaths on him, but did practically nothing on his own behalf. When you chop wood, you get splinters. Only this splinter struck him in the heart. He had simply been used and cast aside like a useless thing. Why did she marry Potter? Why did they get involved in this war in the first place? Severus had no answers. Without even noticing that he had emptied the bottle of whisky, Snape fell face down on his clenched hands and passed out.
***
In Wiltshire, in the ancestral manor house, it was now late at night, and only Draco and Narcissa were asleep. Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy, father and son, sat in the living room watching the fire in the fireplace.
"If it weren't for the mark blocker your friend from Africa sent me, I'd already be foaming at the mouth and gnawing on the family shields in rage," Abraxas said grimly. His hands trembled slightly as he poured himself a glass of old Ogden. Lucius looked at his father with pity; he seemed to have suddenly aged thirty years, transforming from a tall, strong man into a trembling old man. Chibuzo Inu was right after all when he said that this mark sucked the life and magic out of its owners. How fortunate that he had escaped this trap himself. At least his father had not started to lose his mind like many others. Some were already frantically searching all over England for the Lord, while others were panicking, trying to get their capital and relatives out of the country and hide in some corner.
"Father, you must flee England immediately. The portal has long been prepared, the estate on the coast in France has been reopened, and the house spirits are putting things in order there," Lucius said confidently. "You need to restore your strength and magic.
"You see, son, I feel that he is not completely dead. I don't know what really happened there, but the mark continues to try to drain my strength.
Lucius's face darkened. Voldemort's return would be dangerous for the Malfoy family. If they now presented themselves as victims of the Dark Lord, when he returned, they would no longer be trusted. On the other hand, being sent to Azkaban while their children were still young would weaken, and possibly destroy, their family, which was completely unacceptable. All that remained was to play their part, manoeuvring between the victors and the vanquished. And they would have to start right now.
When he turned his head towards his companion, despite his weary appearance, the old lord's wand did not tremble at all.
"Imperio," said Abraxas. "Remember, son, both I and the Lord have cast this spell on you many times. 'Finite.'"
Lucius shook his head. "Mordred, what a horrible feeling. Try again."
"Imperio," repeated the elder Malfoy. "Finite."
"Enough. Traces of the unforgivable spell will definitely remain in your aura, and no one will be able to prove that you were not under a spell of obedience. Especially since the mark is no longer on you. Even under the truth serum, you will only say that Imperio was used on you repeatedly. In the eyes of the authorities, you will be a victim, or even a hero, if you pay, of course," Abraxas smiled. "That's it, son, let's say goodbye. I'm unlikely to be able to visit England in the next few years, but when I'm feeling better, I'll pay a visit to Cassius. With all these problems, it's unlikely that you'll be able to visit him anytime soon.
On the lawn near the mansion, they hugged each other tightly, and Abraxas Malfoy disappeared in a flash of an international portal.
***
Dumbledore walked down Yew Tree Way in the town of Little Whinging, absentmindedly clicking his deluminator, and the lights it emitted lit up the street lamps behind him. Albus's thoughts revolved around what had happened. The artefacts in the headmaster's office, long since tuned to track such things, had told him that Riddle was not dead. That meant that even if Tom had been disembodied, sooner or later he would return.
Hagrid arrived at Hogwarts on Black's motorcycle with young Harry in a cradle. Since the Potter's son was somehow connected to all this, he might come in handy in the future for the final resting place of his former student. It was not advisable to leave the boy in the magical world in the current situation; it was too unclear which of the Potter's relatives would remain free and which would be sent to Azkaban. There is no point in burdening his comrades with this either. Especially since even his godfather, Sirius Black, turned out to be a traitor, so the child cannot be trusted to anyone at this point.
Of course, there are still the Longbottoms, but for that, he would first have to talk to Augusta to see if she would agree to take another child into the family. Of course, Alice Longbottom is Harry's godmother, but the decision will still be made by Frank's mother, the head of the Longbottom family. Therefore, for now, the best outcome for the baby was to leave him with his sister Lily. She has a child of her own, who is just as young, which means she will be able to cope with her nephew as well.
Albus himself now has a lot of work to do. He must catch all of Tom's friends, provide decent conditions for the families of his fallen comrades, and break or divert all the financial and political channels of the Death Eaters' organisation.
He needs to check the Ministry employees for Imperius curses and keep Crouch in check. His old acquaintance has been too eager for power in recent years and dreams of becoming minister. Of course, as a wartime leader, he would be good. But now there are peaceful years ahead, when a steady hand in government is more important than military force. We need to see how the Wizengamot meetings go and decide on the best course of action. There's no way we can keep an eye on the Potter offspring.
Reaching the end of the street and turning back onto it, Dumbledore silently apparated to Hogwarts.
***
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