The Road to Godric's Hollow

5 August 1980

0030 GMT

Carnage.

Bartemius Crouch, Sr., could think of no other word to describe the scene before him. The corpse of an elderly man lay on the living room floor, his blood staining the plush white carpet. He could see various hex marks on the man's bare torso, and even some charred skin on the man's side. His cold hand held on to a battered wand. Propped up on the couch, an aged woman appeared, at first glance, to merely be asleep. Her ashen face and blue lips proved otherwise. At her feet lay the frozen body of a German shepherd, probably killed while defending its masters. From the looks of it, the perpetrators were more merciful to the dog, granting it a faster death.

"Sir, we've found the body of a house-elf in the kitchen," somebody spoke up from behind him.

Bartemius turned around to face Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Give it to the Department for Care and Control of Magical Creatures for disposal," he told the young Auror.

The stench inside the house was overpowering, making it hard for him to think. Rather than casting the Bubble-Head Charm on himself (something he forbade the Aurors to do, as it hindered the senses and jeopardized any investigation), he instead opted to go outside the house for some fresh air. A green glow surrounded the house, and upon looking up, he saw the menacing image of a skull with a serpent in its mouth floating above the house.

"Dawlish!"

A wiry-haired wizard went up to him.

"Sir?"

"Why hasn't that damn Mark been removed? Is everyone in my Department utterly incompetent and stupid that not a single Auror has even bothered to remove that monstrosity?" he bellowed into the nervous-looking Auror.

"Can I quote you on that, sir?" a woman's voice called out.

"Who are you and what in blazes do you think you're doing here?" Bartemius asked the heavy-jawed blonde woman who stood by the open gate.

She gave a toothy smile and walked up to him, offering him her hand. "Rita Skeeter of the Daily Prophet, I -"

Damn journalists. "I'm sorry, Miss Skeeter, but you are not allowed here. Dawlish, kindly escort her out of -"

She brushed off the Auror's attempts at guiding her away. "Sir, can I just have one statement from your Department regarding the massacres?"

He scoffed at her words. "Massacres? I think you are highly exaggerating, miss. Now, if you would excuse us, we -"

"Three families were brutally murdered last night. The corpses of Edward Toke, grandson of Tilly Toke, his Muggle-born wife Glenda, and their teenage daughter were discovered before midnight, when neighbours reported seeing a strange image floating above their house. In Rye, John Graham, a Muggle-born, his wife Alessandria, also a Muggle-born, and their twin boys were discovered barely an hour ago. Same procedure, Muggles report a strange apparition, blah blah blah. And before us, if I'm not mistaken, inside this house are the corpses of Andrew and Marie Pinkstone, parents of Carlotta Pinkstone," the woman said in a rush.

He suddenly felt very hot, and fingered the collar of his robes. "Miss Skeeter, we are currently conducting an investigation inside this premises, and I respectfully ask you to please vacate the area. A press conference will be held in the morning, and -"

The woman smirked. "Tell me, sir. Three families, two relatives of prominent, Order of Merlin First Class recipients, were brutally murdered. Is this any reflection of your Department's incompetence, rather, ability to protect the Wizarding Community?"

"Rest assured that these crimes would not go unpunished."

"Just like the dozens of murdered Muggle-borns and Muggles?"

He fought the urge to hex the woman. "My Department will use all, any, means available to ensure that justice is served. And you can quote me on that."

***

0100 GMT

Peter Pettigrew sat down on the curb, exhausted after a week's worth of work in just one night. He closed his eyes and rested his head on his drawn-up knees. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep in his lumpy bed. Being an Obliviator was tougher than he expected. The Tokes lived in a well-populated, suburban neighbourhood, and quite a number of Muggles saw the Dark Mark. Being typical, foolhardy Muggles, a few of the neighbours curiously entered the house and saw the family.

"Hello, Peter. Are you okay?" someone asked him.

He glanced up, and saw Cornelius Fudge sit next to him. "I think so, sir. Just tired. And you?"

"Same here." The junior minister glanced around the street. "The Tokes have quite a number of neighbours. How many did you have to Obliviate?"

"I stopped counting after the twenty-fifth Muggle."

"Were you the only Obliviator here?"

Peter nodded. "Yes. Thomas and MacDougal were sent to Rye. The Grahams lived in the city. The others were sent to London, to the Pinkstones. They thought that more Obliviators were needed there."

"These are dark days, aren't they?" Cornelius asked Peter softly.

He looked at the portly man beside him. "Indeed. One can hardly know whom to trust, when your friend might suddenly turn on you and stab you from behind."

Cornelius nodded. "Quite right, quite right." He suddenly looked at Peter. "Aren't you friends with that Black fellow?"

"Sirius? Yes, why?"

"That whole family's bad news, Dark wizards, the whole lot of them. His brother was one of those Death Eaters, wasn't he?"

"Yes, Regulus was. But Sirius isn't one of them; he's a good guy. Was even thrown out and disowned by his mother, after he refused to turn Dark and join You-Know-Who."

Cornelius looked sceptical. "He's not an affable fellow, though. Heard he had the reputation for being a bully and a troublemaker."

"It was all in good fun, sir. I was even in on a few of those pranks."

"You trust him?"

Peter stayed silent for a while. "I do," he answered softly.

"Just watch your back. Apples don't fall far from the tree, you know."

***

0145 GMT

Sirius Black wiped the sweat off his brow. It was a humid night, with hardly any breeze to cool him down. He fought the temptation of casting a wind charm, knowing that a couple of curious Muggles still lingered about. He sat down on the Grahams' porch chairs, resting his sore legs and aching feet. This feels good, he thought as he settled more comfortably in his seat.

He closed his eyes and tried to forget the images he saw earlier, though it was a futile attempt. He knew that those images would be forever imprinted in his mind, though he could probably ask Peter to alter his memories. But knowing Peter's occasional blunders, he'd prefer having those memories to having all his memories erased.

He was among the first Aurors to receive the summons, and the first to arrive at the scene. The metallic scent of blood had hung in the air, assaulting his senses. The green glow of the Dark Mark added a surreal feeling to the scene, making it almost seem like a dream. The twins, whose room was located in the first floor, had been discovered first. And were probably killed first.

Evan and Ewan are, were, just toddlers. They have done nothing to deserve death, though if there was anything Sirius could be grateful for, it was that they died quickly and painlessly. He saw them lying there on their cots, seemingly asleep.

The parents were not as fortunate. Sirius had found the body of John Graham strapped to a chair, his hands heavily bound and his mouth gagged. The bare, battered and bloodied body of Alessandria lay on the bed. The chair had been facing the bed, and Sirius could only imagine the torture the couple may have underwent before they were finally put out of their misery. No one deserved to die like that. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy, not even Snape.

Inevitably, he thought about his brother. Was Regulus mercilessly tortured, before he died? Or were his executioners merciful, as in the case of the twins?

He opened his eyes, hearing the wooden floor creak, and saw James Potter sit down next to him, holding two steaming cups.

"Coffee, Sirius?" his friend asked, offering one of the cups to him.

Sirius took the proffered beverage gratefully, nodding his thanks.

"Are you okay?" James asked him.

Sirius shrugged. Of course not. "Yes, you?"

"Bone tired. They've taken the bodies."

"The neighbours?"

"Taken care off. They now believe that this was a burglary gone awry," James said.

"I don't envy the poor lads tasked with notifying the victims' families their job," Sirius muttered.

James nodded. "Where are you off to, now?"

"Home, try to get some shut-eye before I drag my sorry hide to work. Why are you still here, anyway? You do have a wife waiting for you at home."

His friend's cheeks reddened a bit at that. "I probably should go now."

"No one's going anywhere," a gruff voice announced. Alastor Moody stood by the front door. "Crouch has just called an emergency meeting. All Aurors are to report in two hours' time back at headquarters."

***

0400 GMT

Despite the hour, a number of witches and wizards squeezed into the usually spacious conference area at the second level of the Ministry of Magic. A few bleary eyed witches tried to stifle their yawns, while a group of wizards distributed mugs of coffee and potion. James scanned the room, looking for a place to sit.

"Potter, Black, over here!" Davy Gudgeon beckoned them from the front.

The two moved their way in. "Morning, Davy," he said.

"Do you two know what's this about? It isn't just us Aurors who's been called, also the Hit Wizards."

Sirius yawned loudly. "No idea, though this probably has something to do with what happened last night."

James nodded and looked around the room. What Davy said was true; an assortment of Aurors and Hit Wizards filled the room. Though they worked under the same Department, the two groups tended to work separately, and at times competitively, fighting over arrests and public recognition. The competition between the Aurors and the Magical Law Enforcement Squad has always been a sore point in the Ministry, with the two keeping valuable information from each other.

A sudden hush filled the room. James turned and saw Barty Crouch, Sr. striding up to the front, with two assistants carrying stacks of parchment trailing him. The Department head went straight to business.

"I assume you are all aware of what happened last night?" It was more a statement, rather than a question. James nodded along with the other wizards.

"This won't take long, as I don't want to keep you people from your jobs. I will not talk about what we didn't do that might have prevented last night's events, for endless chatter cannot alter the past. We are here to discuss the measures to be enforced that will prevent a repeat of last night." Crouch gestured to his assistants, who started distributing the parchments.

James took a stack for himself, and saw that the parchments contained lists of names, addresses, years, occupations and, strangely enough, Hogwarts House.

"First, Aurors and Hit Wizards will now be working alongside each other. Information gathered from your investigations will now be shared and circulated in the Department. A meeting shall take place at the end of each week, where a summary of your investigations and research shall be given. Attendance is mandatory, and I shall be presiding."

"Second, surveillance of Knockturn Alley shall be increased, with more officers and shifts. Any suspicious activities shall immediately be reported, and the persons involved shall straight away be apprehended. The Writ of Habeas Corpus is temporarily suspended." Crouch waved a piece of parchment. "I have here the official order of the Minister suspending the writ, signed by the Wizengamot. Aurors and Hit Wizards are allowed to use any methods in gaining arrests, and will not be held responsible for any injury obtained by the suspects."

James heard a few of the women gasp, and he felt as shocked as them. He can't remember the last time when the Ministry took such measures. Even during Grindelwald's time, the protection against arbitrary imprisonment was never suspended.

"You have each been given a stack of parchment. These list down the names of every Hogwarts graduate from the past fifty years. You will each investigate up to five individuals, depending on your skill and level, and I want a thorough investigation. Focus on those from pureblood aristocratic families. Find out anything and everything - their daily routines, when they eat, what they eat, their family life, any extramarital affairs. Anything. Investigate any rumour and follow every lead. We might not get them for murder, but what's important is that we get them, even for something as trivial as littering, or not paying taxes. To maintain the officer's anonymity, only the employee numbers are indicated. Any questions?"

A female Hit Wizard spoke up. "Sir, even officers are listed in this thing. Are we -"

"No one is above suspicion. Everyone is a suspect. Any other questions? None? Now, get to work!"

James hurriedly scanned the list, searching for his number. The names were listed chronologically, by year of graduation, rather than alphabetically. He saw his number twice, beside the names Malfoy, Lucius and Fletcher, Mundungus.

***

1020 GMT

The cavernous Muggle church was empty, save for the old man who sat, seemingly in prayer, in the front pew, the stained glass windows casting colourful flashes onto his white hair. An onlooker might mistake him for a priest, with his flowing black robes and gentle face, but Albus Dumbledore was anything but religious. A typical wizard raised outside the Church, he believed that the matter of the existence of a supreme deity was a mystery that humans are incapable of resolving. He has always been sceptical of the various dogmas that Muggles spread.

A loud pop resonated inside the church, signalling the arrival of a wizard. He heard heavy footsteps approaching him from behind, and the creak of the wooden bench as the man sat beside him.

"What happened last night, Severus?"

"Synchronized attacks of a chosen few, all of them from the Dark Lord's inner circle. Few knew of their plans."

Albus glanced at his companion. Severus Snape looked paler than usual, with dark shadows under his eyes. Playing the part of a double agent was clearly taking its toll on the man.

"Why haven't you been informed? Does Voldemort suspect a spy?"

Severus shook his head. "Ever since Black nearly turned against us, he has been taking extra precautions."

"Who were the perpetrators?"

"I'm still working on it, though I have a few in mind. I'll give you the list as soon as I can."

Albus nodded. "Do you have anything else to report?"

"None." The dark haired man stood up, ready to leave.

"Severus?"

"Sir?"

"Be sure that, the next time, you'll be one of those he chooses."