Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.

"speech"

'thoughts'

-parseltongue-

October 31st, 1981 found Albus Dumbledore fiddling with the ends of his beard as he sat in his office. It was a nervous tick of his, one that subtly displayed his anxiety and distress.

He knew something terrible would happen tonight - something involving Tom Riddle, who now called himself Lord Voldemort. Albus could feel it in the air; an uneasy chill that promised pain and danger.

The warning could even be coming from spirits of the afterlife - Halloween was the day that the barrier between the dead and living was the weakest after all. It was also a powerful day for the darkest of Dark Arts, and Tom, knowing his twisted mind, would take it as a good omen for whatever evil deed he was planning.

Albus thought of the prophecy, the main factor that would surely drive Tom's hand. It spoke of a child that he would mark as his equal in power, and thus become a threat to the dark empire he was on his way to building. But would it be little Harry, born to James and Lilly Potter, or Frank and Alice Longbottom's son Neville? Both fit the qualifications mentioned in the rest of the prophecy, but which would Tom choose as his equal? Albus had placed both families under secure wards, but even that didn't calm his troubled mind.

But he had no more time to think - the wards around the Longbottom house had fallen, signaled by the beeping of a silver gadget on his desk.

'So Tom has chosen,' was his last solemn thought before he activated one of the many portkeys hidden in his robes. The portkey deposited him in front of Longbottom Manor, and into mild chaos. It seemed he had already missed the majority of the action, and was now witnessing the shocked reactions now that things had calmed down.

Albus walked quickly to the front door, past a group of Aurors that were surrounding restrained wizards; 'Death Eaters' as Tom called his followers. The loud cackle of crazed laughter followed him into the building - it must have been Bellatrix Lestrange among the arrested - where he met Augusta Longbottom.
She was holding a sniffling toddler in her arms, and her face had dust and tear-tracks on it.

"Neville?" He asked while looking at the young boy.

"He wasn't harmed," she answered stiffly. "I ran to grab him as soon as I heard them break down the door."

"Frank and Alice?" He continued after a pause. Her face twitched before it settled again into a stiff mask.

"They've both gone to St. Mungo's. The healers suspect torture using the Cruciatus..." Her voice trailed off into grieving silence.

Albus sighed softly. Those were two more people who's lives were ruined by Tom's mad hunger for power. Not to mention Augusta who had lost her only son and daughter-in-law, and poor little Neville who only had his grandmother now.

"Well at least Tom did not hurt Neville tonight," he said, to console himself and the Longbottom matriarch.

"Well it's good he didn't show up, else Merlin only knows how much more damage there would have been," she muttered angrily.

He was surprised by her answer, and started to respond when the ring on his left pinky started to glow. They both stared at the ring before Albus turned and rushed back out of the manor. Bellatrix was being hoisted to her feet as he passed, and she smiled widely at him.

"You're already too late Dumbledore!" She jeered, ignoring the aurors that were trying to quiet her. "By the time you arrive my Lord will have already destroyed the Potters! We may have failed here but my Lord will be victorious!" She laughed loudly, and the sound seemed to follow him through the portkey, and still echoed softly behind him as he landed in front of what was left of the Potter cottage.

Grimly Albus raised his wand as he approached the entrance to the house - the door had been smashed off of its hinges providing a glimpse of the destroyed living room.

He instantly shot a Stupefy at the figure standing by the fireplace, who quickly turned and blocked the spell. It was Tom, and Albus saw with rising panic that he had little Harry in his arms. The baby seemed to be under a sleeping spell, since he wasn't moving aside from the rising of his chest. Unlike the snake-like appearance he had the last time Albus had seen him, Tom had regained the beauty he had since childhood, and was handsome and charismatic. Tom smiled nastily at Albus' pale face, and gestured around the destroyed room they were standing in.

"Do you like what I've done with the place, Dumbledore?" he asked mockingly. "I thought it needed a little...redecoration."

Albus gave the room a quick look around, taking in the shredded couch, the burned drapes, and the smashed picture frames scattered over the floor.

And there was James, lying two feet away from him with his wand hanging out of his limp hand and his glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling. Next to him was Lily, her face forever frozen in a look of horror and her body stretched as if she was reaching for something. Both had cuts all over their bodies, implying they'd suffered injuries from Tom's wand before being killed.

'Poor Lily and James, they never had a chance,' Albus thought sadly. But now was not the time to mourn - Albus straightened and griped his wand tighter.

"Let Harry go," Ablus demanded.

Tom just watched him, his grin widening. "I think not, old man! I won't kill him now, but I'll make it impossible for him to kill me later."

Turning quickly, he threw some floo powder into the fire. Albus shot another Stupefy at the other man, which was blocked once again. Tom smirked as he jumped into the fireplace, but didn't notice the wandless pinching spell Albus sent to him at the last minute. He gasped when the pinch registered on his arm as his body flew through space, causing his arms to loosen for a second. In that moment Harry slipped from his arms and disappeared. Tom arrived a moment later alone in front of his own fireplace, with nothing show for the night's effort except for several followers behind bars. His scream of rage echoed through his manor.

Back at the Potter Cottage, Albus continued watching the now dark fireplace, contemplating the possible future that would result from both his and Tom's actions. He knew the spell had registered. The only question now was where Harry was.

"And thus the race begins to find the Chosen One," he murmured, then turned away. He would think about his next steps later; now he would morn the loss of four close friends, and try to console those that remained.

Mykrew was on his way upstairs to bed when he heard the sound of someone arriving through the floo. Turning curiously, he slowly made his way back down and to the living room, stopping in the entrance to stare at his unexpected guest. A baby was sitting in front of the fire, throwing soot over the floor and giggling.

He stared, shocked, before pulling his wand from his pocket. First, he cleaned the mess the child was making, bringing a small pout to the boy's face. Next the child was brought into his arms, gurgling happily as he flew through the air.

Mykrew held him gently as if he feared he might hurt the boy – he'd never held a baby before. Looking the boy over, he took in the plain white t-shirt, under dark blue overalls that had a small lion stitched on the chest in gold thread. Under the lion also in gold was the name 'Harry'.

"Well Harry, let's get you settled in," Mykrew hummed to the baby, deciding instantly to keep him. After all, no one would suspect he was the well-known wandmaker Mykrew Gregorovitch if he had a baby with him. They would assume, rightly so, that he was a retired old man, taking care of a young boy he had adopted or some such story.

With a nod of his head, he returned to the stairs, thinking that the empty third bedroom would make a nice nursery for Harry. He ignored the door to the second bedroom, and the little clench in his heart as he passed it. The boy was already settling down in his arms, a sleepy expression on his face and his thumb in his mouth. Smiling gently for what seemed the first time in a long while, Mykrew made plans for the future with his young charge, and was for once happy while thinking of something other than wands.