Prologue November 2, 1981 A tall man inspected three little children, each resembling him in some way. Behind him stood another man with dark hair, who appeared to be his servant. The master swept past a girl with beautiful blonde hair and watery blue eyes. He touched her with his wand. She flinched, and a river of tears fell down her cheeks. “Too weak…” the man muttered coldly. He then advanced towards another girl, who had short, thick, black hair, and green eyes. He gave her a much longer inspection. “Good… good,” the man said. Then, he turned to the third and last child. This one was a boy with dark hair, just like his sister. The man hesitated before making his final decision. “This… this should be the one,” he said. “When he is old enough, he must be branded with-.” He stopped, interrupted by his servant's gasp. “And what is it that you wanted to add, Dolohov?” the master whispered. “N-nothing, my lord…” Dolohov stammered. “Ah, that’s what I thought…” the master said. “You, Dolohov, will keep my child, Evan, safe from harm while I’m away. Do you understand?” “Y-yes, my lord.” “If you fail, Dolohov, you will face consequences quite beyond your reach…” the master said with a chuckle. “But it’s too late to walk out of it.” Dolohov flinched. “W-what will happen to the other ones?” Dolohov asked. “Well…” He stretched out his wand, pointing at the two girls when… “FIRE! FIRE!” a muggle yelled from the street. A big commotion broke out. “Dolohov,” said the master, calmly, “take the boy with you. He ought to be called Evan. I’ll take these two,” he said, pointing at the girls, “and throw them into the fire.” Dolohov looked as if he had been struck by lightning but followed his master's command. They both climbed towards the roof, each carrying a baby. When they reached the top, the fire was already reaching the roof. Dolohov stumbled, and baby Evan fell onto the floor with a loud thump. The baby then rolled and rolled, falling from the roof into the fire… dead. The master screamed in rage. Dolohov was shaking from head to foot, fearing what was going to happen to him next. The master muttered. “It doesn't matter…” the master said. “You have proven yourself untrustworthy. The blonde one will be k!lled… I’ll figure out what to do with the other one… I’ll call Wormtail.” Dolohov nodded and ran away, not wanting to know his fate. He went down the roof and into the street. “Protego Diabolica,” he muttered. A black ring of fire surrounded him, protecting him from the flames. He looked up to the sky and prayed, but he saw something falling towards him. Was it-? ‘No, it couldn't be,’ he thought. But indeed it was. He quickly looked for his wand again. “Arresto Momentum,” he whispered, pointing at the baby. He caught him just in time, aware of what he had just witnessed and done. “Dadda?” the baby said. “Amnesia…” Dolohov muttered. “I guess I’ll just have to keep you with me, Evan. I guess I’ll just have to keep you from our master…”
