Chapter Text
October 31st, 1981, dawned bright and chill. For the muggles of Britain, it was like any other Halloween. For the Wixen of Britain, it was a day that would be remembered as the end of the dark Lord Voldemort’s reign of terror.
Remus J Lupin sat in his shack far from civilization, prepping for the evening's moonlit run with two of his three best friends, ensuring his runes were all correct, ensuring all would be safe from him. He had no idea of the pain he would awaken to the next day, no idea all his carefully laid plans for the future would be for naught.
James Fleamont Potter awoke the morning of October 31st, 1981 with a heavy heart. He didn’t know why, pondering on it as he gazed lovingly upon the peacefully sleeping face of his wife, Lily Potter, nee Evans, still asleep. Memorizing every detail of her face, committing it to memory, before their son, Hadrian, Harry, Potter, started fussing from the nursery. He got up, shaking off the odd feeling, dropping a kiss upon his sleeping wife’s forehead before heading to care for their son.
Sirius Orion Black stumbled into his flat early in the morning on October 31st, 1981, bloody, bruised, and exhausted. Fresh from his friend Marlene McKinnon’s house, or what had been her house. All that was left now was ash. He’d received an emergency patronus late the previous night, along with many other order members. The McKinnon safe house had been found. He got there just in time to exchange a few curses with the death eaters before they fled, and spent the rest of the night trying to contain and put out the fiend fire. They had been too late, piles of ash all that remained of the McKinnon family. He collapsed in bed, and did not awaken till later that night when he felt a disturbance in the wards around Godrics Hollow. He would, again, be too late.
Lily Potter awoke the morning of October 31st, 1981, to an empty bed, reaching for where her husband should be, as she felt panic clawing its way up her throat, till she heard her husband and son laughing in the kitchen. She took a moment to calm down, reassured that they were safe, before making her way to the kitchen, excited to see what her husband cooked up for breakfast.
Peter Pettigrew awoke midday on October 31st 1981 with a burning mark on his arms and a cowardly heart. Rushing to throw on his robes, he Apparated to his master, knowing he would give ANYTHING to be safe, to be on the winning side of this war. Even his best friends