Voldemort was not a fool. He had seen what the future would bring if his plans were carried out and knew he had to stop it.

And there was only one way to do that, he couldn’t kill the Potters no matter how much he wanted to.

Sighing, he rose from his obsidian throne and motioned for his most trusted servants to come closer. “Gentlemen, Bellatrix,” he hissed, “the plan has changed. We will not kill the Potters under any circumstance. Do you understand me?”

Fearfully, his servants nodded – they knew better then to go against his orders, even when they were more then a little confusing.

“Good, follow me.”

XoX

When they finally reached the home of James, Lily and Harold Potter they were greeted with the sight of the perfect family scene. James lit a fire as Lily played with her young soon and tried to feed him dinner.

They were disgustingly happy.

Voldemort felt anger rise within him but forced it down, no one would die tonight.

His Death Eaters stormed the house, stunning James and Lily with a quick succession of spells and forming a circle around the family. Even stunned in place the new parents strained to reach their precious bundle of joy who was left, exposed on his blue baby blanket.

Voldemort laughed as he entered the room, seeing the fear and anger in their eyes. ‘Please don’t hurt our Harry!’ their minds begged, ‘Take us instead!’

Voldemort looked down at the babe. This, he though incredulously, is the prophesied child? The one who will kill me?

The child looked so innocent, string up at him with wide green eyes and a beguiling smile.

It angered him beyond belief.

That this babe, this weakling should defeat him seemed impossible – he was the greatest wizard on Earth and no one would take that away from him.

All good sense flying out the window in a moment of rage Voldemort pointed his wand at the boy and whispered, “Avada Kedavra.”

XoX

“And so on November 5 Carter’s worries were cast aside as he opened the tomb and came across one of the greatest treasure’s known to mankind…”

Nathaniel Hadley attempted to smother his yawn as Mr. Farley continued to passionately explain the discovery of the treasure of King Tut. As interesting as treasure and adventures were, he couldn’t help but wish he were somewhere – anywhere – else.

A miracle, he mused, would not be misplaced.

It was known through Port Moody Secondary School that Nathaniel Hadley – soccer star and all around Good Guy – hated History with a passion. He’d do almost anything to get out of it including, but not limited to, swallowing bizarre chemicals in chemistry.

And this the students knew from experience – no matter what grade you were in you’d heard the story of The Boy Who Hated History. It was passed from generation to generation and had made Nathaniel something of a school legend – a few grade nines had even asked for his autograph!

Nathaniel didn’t like that fame, didn’t like the fact that his mishap with Potassium Palladium Chloride was school wide knowledge and definitely didn’t like the fact that he’d failed Chem the previous year because of it.

Nathaniel’s musings were interrupted by the door to the classroom slamming open and four peculiarly dressed men running into the room.