::: ::: :::

"Frank, Alice, I believe that the two of you need to chose a Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm. Neville is in grave danger from Voldemort due to the prophecy. You are much too vulnerable without absolute secrecy." Dumbledore stood in the kitchen of the Longbottom household in late October, holding a small slip of parchment in his hand.

Alice glanced fearfully to her husband. "What are you talking about? Is this why no one has seen Lily and James in months?"

"I'm afraid so. I fear for the safety of both families, of course, but you must pay heed to the prophecy. I am now positive that Neville is the one." He handed them the slip of parchment, which held the contents of the prophecy. Frank glared down at it before turning his gaze to Dumbledore.

"How long have you had this?"

Dumbledore sighed. "The prophecy has been in my possession for little more than a year, but that is not the point! You must protect the safety of yourself and your child. Pick a Secret Keeper! Remember, it must be someone you trust with your life."

Frank ran a hand through his hair. "Well, Dorcas is your best friend, Alice. We can trust her."

"Yes... Wouldn't she be a little obvious though? Besides, she's still shaken about her Death Eater abduction in May. What about Peter Pettigrew? He's engaged to Dorcas, so we can surely trust him too!" Alice smiled hopefully up at her husband."

He grinned at her. "That's a wonderful idea, sweetheart! We'll perform the charm in the morning, isn't that right, Albus?"

Nodding, Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. "I'll inform Peter of your recommendation immediately. I'm sure he'll be pleased."


Bellatrix grinned triumphantly as she circled James, who stood suspended in air, staring reproachfully down at her. "How does it feel, little Auror, to know that our Lord is upstairs with your wife and your little baby girl, doing whatever he wants with them?"

"You and Voldemort are disgusting," he spat in her face.

The back of her hand connected with his face, followed by the sound of her whispering angrily, "How dare you speak the Dark Lord's name? A filthy blood-traitor like you!"

"Voldemort is no better than we are! Voldemort is the scum of the Earth," James continued defiantly.

Bellatrix laughed insanely as she backed away from him. "You have no idea what you're talking about, ickle James Potter. So naive." She held out her wand. "I'll teach you who the real scum is. Cruc--!" And an agonized scream rang merrily through her ears. Her eyes widened fearfully as she stared at the silent James. "What did that little wench of yours do?"

"Avada Kedavra!" she finished maliciously without a second thought to torturing him and ran upstairs to her Lord. The Dark Lord was nowhere to be found in the little room, but Lily Potter remained curled protectively around her little girl, a little girl with a lightning bolt scar on her forehead. Bellatrix raised her wand to the little girl, but she knew the fate her Lord had suffered. She lowered her wand and fled from the Potters' household.


Petunia Dursley yawned greatly as she opened the door on that Monday morning. As she stepped out onto her doorstep, she stretched, and then looked down peculiarly at her feet. Petunia gazed at the little girl lying on her doorstep, wrapped in a bundle of blankets with a small letter attached to it. From Albus Dumbledore to Petunia Dursley, she read, and her good mood turned immediately soured.