The night was wet and windy.

Two children dressed as pumpkins waddled across the square. The shop windows were covered with paper spiders. They were all tacky Muggle accessories, decorating a world they did not believe in...

He walked with the same sense of purpose, power and rightness that always came to him on such occasions...

It's not anger...that's what souls weaker than him have...

But victory, yes... He has been waiting for this moment, looking forward to this moment...

"Pretty in disguise, sir!"

A little boy ran over and looked under the hood of the cloak, his smile hesitant, fear covering his painted face.

The boy turned and ran away...His hand grasped the wand under his robes...

As long as he moves a little bit, the child will never run to his mother again...

But it’s not necessary, absolutely not necessary…

He walked on a new, darker street, and his destination finally appeared in front of him. The loyalty curse had been broken, but they didn't know it yet...

The sound he made was lighter than the dead leaves sliding on the road. He quietly walked to the dark hedge and looked inside...

They didn't close the curtains, and he could clearly see that they were in the small living room. A tall, black-haired man with glasses was using a wand to blow out bursts of colored smoke, teasing the little black-haired boy in blue pajamas.

happy.

The child giggled and grabbed the smoke, holding it in his little fist...

A door opened, and his mother came in, speaking words he could not hear, her long crimson hair falling around her face.

The father picked up his son and handed him to his mother, then threw the wand on the sofa, stretched and yawned...

The door clicked lightly and he pushed it open, but James Potter didn't hear it.

A pale hand pulled the wand from under the cloak and pointed at the door, which flew open.

As he crossed the threshold, James rushed into the hall, so easily, so easily that James didn't even pick up his wand...

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll stop him -"

Block him without a wand in his hand...

He laughed and cast the spell...

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light filled the narrow hall, illuminating the stroller leaning against the wall. The stair railings were as bright as a lightning rod, and James Potter fell down like a puppet with its strings cut off...

He heard her screaming upstairs. There was no way to escape, but as long as she had some sense, at least she didn't have to be afraid...

He climbed up the stairs and heard her trying to cover herself up with something, which was a bit funny...

She didn't bring a wand either...

How stupid and gullible they are, thinking that they can entrust their safety to their friends, thinking that they can throw away their weapons, even for a short time...

He opened the door, waved his wand lazily, and threw aside the chairs and boxes she had piled hastily behind the door...

She stood there with the child in her arms.

As soon as she saw him, she put her son in the cradle behind her and opened her arms, as if it was of no use, as if she hoped that by blocking the child, he would choose her instead...

"Don't kill Harry, don't kill Harry, please, don't kill Harry!"

"Get out of the way, stupid woman... get out of the way..."

"Don't kill Harry, please, kill me, kill me -"

"My last warning—"

"Don't kill Harry, please... have mercy... have mercy...

Don't kill Harry! Don't kill Harry!

Please—I can do anything—”

"Get out of the way—get out of the way, woman—"

He could have pushed her away from the cradle, but it seemed safer to kill her...

Green light flashed across the room and she fell down like her husband.

The child never cried: he could stand now, holding on to the railing of the cradle, looking up at the face of the intruder with interest, perhaps thinking that his father was hiding in his cloak, conjuring more beautiful fireworks, and that his mother would laugh at any time.

Jump up——

He pointed the wand very carefully at the little boy's face, he wanted to see it happen, to see the destruction of this single, unexplained danger.

The child started to cry, already realizing that he was not James.

He didn't like the crying. He could never stand the crying of the children in the orphanage——

"Avada Kedavra!"

Then he broke: he was nothing but painful fear, he had to hide, not in the ruins of this house, with the child still trapped inside crying, he had to hide far away... far away

of……

"No."

The snake slithered across the dirty and messy floor. He killed the boy, but he was the boy...

"No……"

Now he stood in front of the broken window of Bathilda's house, immersed in the memory of his greatest failure. At his feet, a big snake slid across the broken porcelain glass... He lowered his head and saw something

…an incredible thing…

"No……"

"Harry, it's okay, you're okay!"

He leaned over and picked up the broken photo. It was him - the unknown thief, the thief he had been looking for...

"No...I lost it...I lost it..."

"Harry, it's okay, wake up, wake up!"

He is Harry... Harry, not Voldemort... and that rustling thing is not a snake...

He opened his eyes.

The memory ends and the picture freezes.

The traceback ends here.

Hermione placed the wand in her hand. She knew what would happen next, and now she had to change her emotions.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, "do you feel - okay?"

"fine."

He was clearly not telling the truth, Hermione could see that.

They were in the tent, and Harry was lying on a bottom bunk, covered with a pile of blankets.

From the silence around us and the faint cold light on the canvas roof, we could tell that dawn was about to break.

Harry was soaked in sweat, which could be felt on the sheets and blankets.

"We escaped."

"Yes," Hermione said, "I used a hovering charm to get you to the bed, but I couldn't move you.

You just...well, you weren't big just now..."

There were purple shadows under her brown eyes, and Harry saw a small sponge in her hand: she had just been wiping his face.

"You are sick," Hermione finally said, "very sick."

"How long have we been escaping?"

"It's been several hours, and it's almost morning now."

"I've been...why, unconscious?"

"not completely,"

Hermione said unnaturally: "You scream sometimes, moan sometimes, and...and so on."

Hermione's tone made Harry feel uneasy. What had he done?

Shout a spell like Voldemort?

Cry like a baby in a cradle?

"I can't take the Horcrux off you," Hermione said, knowing she wanted to change the subject: "It's stuck, stuck to your chest.

I left a mark on you. Sorry, I had to use a cutting spell to remove it.

You were bitten by a snake, but I have cleaned the wound and added some white essence..."

He pulled off his sweaty T-shirt and looked down.
To be continued...