Severus, it appeared, had taken Lucius’ counsel and left the Potters alive. My spy within the Order informed me that there had been little change in the Potter household but, on viewing his thoughts, I could detect subtle changes. James Potter was morose, spending little time in his wife’s company and leaving the house if the slightest opportunity arose. Lily appeared similarly ill at ease; although her demeanour was intended to be light and cheerful, whenever she looked at Potter, there was a sneer in those Avada green eyes. 

However, a wizard, even one of my calibre, cannot concern himself with the lives of mayflies and, assured of my success, I allowed the Potters to slip from my mind. The winter of 1979 was, after all, a busy and largely satisfactory period; a number of audacious blood traitors needed to be neutralised and, what with training Severus in the finer aspects in occlumency, the remains of the year slipped away almost unnoticed.  

And, in early January, news arrived which eclipsed all lesser concerns. Having finished his training, Snape was staying in Hogsmeade, ostensibly to apply for the job of Potions Master but, in actuality, spying upon Dumbledore. I had installed Severus at the 'Three Broomsticks', given, firstly, the 'Hogs Head’s' allure to the insalubrious and, secondly, Dumbledore’s ‘friendliness’ with the barman, his brother Aberforth. However, given the way in which events unravelled, perhaps the 'Hogs Head' would have been the better option.  

Having obtained a copy of Dumbledore’s schedule by dint of merely summoning it through the open window of the old fool’s living chambers! (One would think that a man of Dumbledore’s supposed intelligence would ward such a dangerous document, especially given the proximity of the Forbidden Forest, through which any can enter the castle’s grounds!) Severus reported to me that the Headmaster’s only appointment for that particular week was to interview one Sibyl Trelawney, a talentless parvenu of a seer, at the Hogs Head. I did not have high hopes of gleaning any interesting information. However, hidden under the folds of cheap incense, paste jewellery and filmy apparel, beneath the faux-mystique and chimerical language, there was a spark of divinatory ability in the wretched witch. She made a prophecy. 

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ...” 

There was, apparently, more to be heard: Severus, having failed to disillusion himself, was caught by Dumbledore’s brother before Trelawney had finished conveying the full Prophecy. However, the section which Severus was able to disclose had, undoubtedly, been the most important of the information bestowed, so I wasn’t too harsh on the boy. No, I knew what I must do.  

oOoOo 

I count the first three months of 1980 as one of the most frustrating periods in my life; countering the Prophecy was, naturally, my first objective yet the only information with which my servants could provide me was useless. Upon my demand for my followers to render any information on children due to be born in the summer (I, naturally, did not entrust them with the Prophesy), Malfoy dutifully informed me that the birth of his son was predicted for the last week of July.  

I knew, immediately, that Lucius’ heir was, quite obviously, not the child I sought. While Lucius is not unaware of his value to my cause, he is not fool enough to chance even covert defiance: bending the rules, yes, mild presumption, yes, challenging a wizard with more power in his little finger than he, Lucius, has in his entire body, no. Lucius’ arrogance only reached so far.  

Thus, for months I had to be content with preparing the wizarding world for my putch. However, I am nothing if not a pragmatist, utilising my nervous energy and anger into pruning a number of irritating but (formerly) evasive thorns.   

However, as the tulips supplanted the daffodils (forgive me- the Malfoy grounds are nothing but flowers and I have little else to observe whilst constructing my plans), my spy in the Order- ah, I will not disclose his name, even to you- informed me that Lily Potter’s child was due in late July.  

In his youth, James had openly defied every authority, even going so far as to attempt to rile me, not realising, of course, that his schoolboy bravado was as the buzzing of a fly to a giant. The fool had not gained wisdom with his years and, after his Coming of Age, Potter had announced his affiliation to the Order of the Phoenix to any who would listen and boasted of his petty, if not entirely fictitious victories against the lowest of my servants. Yes, James Potter alone could, in his own, insignificant way, have ‘defied’ me thrice in any one day. I had my target. 

However, whenever one waits what feels like an eternity for something particular to arrive, a number turn up on one’s doorstep in quick succession. I had just informed my lieutenants that discovering the Potters whereabouts was of prime importance when my Order spy informed me that he had overheard Lily Potter and Alice Longbottom discussing their unborn babes at the Order’s headquarters. The Longbottom woman, blood-traitor that she was, had joked about their offspring being brothers in arms- both were predicted for the same week!  

Frank and Alice Longbottom were Aurors and, being both senior and rather ruthless, they had crossed swords with my Death Eaters on a regular basis. It would be a fair bet that they had vicariously ‘defied’ me at least thrice during their careers.

Thus another possible target materialised. However, upon investigation, it appeared that, like the Potters, the Longbottoms had also left their ancestral home. Dumbledore had, no doubt, warned both couples as soon as he realised the implications of the Prophecy; my Order spy informed me, holed them up in the Order’s headquarters which was protected by the Fidelus Charm. 

As the Secret Keeper of the Order, Dumbledore’s continued existence was becoming increasingly problematic and, therefore, I had no qualms in accepting young Snape’s suggestion that he remove to Hogsmeade, to renew his application for the post of Potions Master.  

However, before he left, Severus made a second request which was rather more singular; the boy had, apparently, enjoyed bedding his mudblood and hoped that, if Lily’s death would not serve me, I might spare her. She was unimportant, a mere house-mouse, uninvolved with the war effort and, Severus muttered, I had, after all, granted him her life. 

As presumptuous as the boy was, I saw the logic in his argument. Although my original plan had been to eradicate the Potters, I would not have, otherwise, granted the girl the honour of being killed at my minion’s hands, let alone my own; she was thoroughly insignificant. All in all, Lily Potter’s life was only of use to Severus and, thus, I told him that the girl remained his.  

oOoOo 

1980 was the only year, to date, when we did not celebrate Samhain. None of my spies had gleaned any information of worth on the Potters and Longbottoms whereabouts. Their sons' births had, apparently, been carried out within the Order's headquarters; my contacts at St Mungos had seen neither hide nor hair of either woman, my people at the Ministry had found no reports to deliver and even the Order Spy, while not entirely empty-handed, had his hands bound by the Fidelus.

The only positive news was that Severus had finally fooled Dumbledore into giving him the position of Potions Master and, while the Headmaster remained wary of Severus, he was warming to the boy. I had chosen well yet the pleasure of this small success was nothing compared to my growing anxiety over the Potters and Longbottoms. Would I have to wait until the boys attended Hogwarts?

All in all, this was the winter of our discontent and I was in no mood for idle revelry.