A/N: As much as I love the stories, I don't own HP or The Guardians.


It was a cool, clear night that October 31st. The half bare trees swayed and creaked with the wind. Fallen leaves were tossed about the ground on the back of the breeze. It was dark with the only light cast by street lamps, porch lights, left over jack-o-lanterns, and the glow from the Moon. The streets were empty, all the children long since finished collecting treats, with the exception of one lone figure in a dark cloak.

The figure moved unhurriedly with an even gate. Had anyone been looking outside as he passed they probably wouldn't have thought much of it. Even his odd manner of dress would have been dismissed that night for a costume. But this man was much more than he appeared and far more dangerous.

He made his way to one particular house in the village of Godric's Hollow. The strange thing is that the house he sought wasn't there. At least, to all but a chosen few – he included, there didn't appear to be anything but a vacant lot. You see the house was hidden by magic. Hidden to protect the young family inside from the very man who visited them that night.

The man was uninvited, unexpected, and most definitely not welcome as he entered the house. Of course, no one should ever expect a warm greeting after breaking in the front door. This man didn't care what his reluctant hosts thought. As a matter of fact, the man enjoyed the reaction his sudden arrival inspired. He always had loved a fight he knew he would win.

The young father was the first of his victories that night. He had to make it a short duel though. He could not afford to have his main target escape. Speaking of which, after defeating the father the man quickly ascended the stairs to the nursery on the second floor. There he confronted the young mother. She didn't put up a fight and instead begged the man to spare her son's life. She may have succeeded had the boy not been the very reason for the man's visit. No, and because she would not move aside she too fell at the hand of the man.

Finally free of any obstacles, the man turned his attention to the baby boy in the crib. Such a pity that so much promise had to be wasted but the man could not risk the possibility that the boy may one day rise against him. So the man turned his wand to the boy to kill him. The boy did not die as the man planned. Instead, the spell somehow rebounded and killed the man who cast it.

What happened? No one will ever be quite sure. No one except the man who hadn't really quite died as he should have, the boy who wouldn't remember until he grew older, and the Man in the Moon who watched silently from above.