One dark and frankly pretty chilly Halloween night, James and Lily Potter were at Shelly Cottage congratulating the animagus Sirius Black and the werewolf Remus Lupin on their engagement. Their twin boys, James 'Joey' and Harry Potter were being babysat by Peter Pettigrew.

Joey had straight red-gold hair and hazel eyes. He was a whiny, pudgy baby who seemed to feel a sense of entitlement by his stature as 'younger'. Harry was older, content with his luck, and had the Potter black hair and green eyes.

That particular night was about to change everything they knew.

A dark, hooded figure walked slowly up to the door. He shook free his hand of his somewhat-too-long sleeve and placed it an inch away from the door. He paused. Ominously, scarily, dramatically-

he knocked.

Peter Pettigrew rushed to the door. He opened it. There was Lord Voldemort outside.

He ushered his Lord and Master in.

"Pettigrew." There was nothing but contempt in the Dark Lord's voice. "Where are the devilish little brats? Upstairs, I presume..." His neck twisted as he produced his wand. "Ah, yes. Upstairs..."

"You presume right, M'Lord," Pettigrew said hurriedly. "Please, Master, right up the stairs and the second bedroom on the right, the one with the white door."

Lord Voldemort seemed to float up the stairs- whether from his, truthfully pretty dark, aura or his joyfulness- okay, not necessarily joy, but if the fearsome, Dark Lord Voldemort could ever be happy, this was it. As he walked, he casually cast spells to destroy things he found off-putting, such as the wallpaper or photographs that had really overdone themes. As well as Sectumsepra on the cat. The cat spasmed, bleeding in the hallway, and ran yowling into the bedroom of the two boys. It clanged shut behind her.

He twisted the knob. The babies were playing with their toys in their joint crib. They stopped as the Dark Lord cast the Dark Mark and kicked over their diaper table and their dresser. "Pettigrew." He barked, beckoning the cowardly servant. "Which of these two children is the elder?"

Pettigrew chuckled- then cowered as the Dark Lord shot him a glare. "Fool! Only I can pull off the evil chuckle!"

Peter backed away, hands in the air. "I apologize, my Lord. The elder is the green-eyed one, I believe."

Lord Voldemort crossed over and peered into the crib. Harry's green eyes met Voldemort's red, and the Dark Lord laughed raspily. "You shall have as short a life as possible, brat!"

He pointed the yew wand at Harry and smiled, stretching the thin, papery skin across his face and showed his rotting, disgusting black teeth. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry let out a whine of pain as the streak of green light hit his heart. Lord Voldemort laughed. Direct hit... but what was that?

The bolt of glowing green light settled into his skin. It seemed to pulse inside his skin there for a minute. Then Harry screamed.

The green light, glob like now, flew from his skin. It hovered in the air for a minute as Voldemort stared and the expression settled on his face- the expression of horror, of terror, of dread.

Of fear.

And then it burst apart, a shield of green light surrounding him. It whipped Joey across the face, creating a small cut across his jaw that immediately began to bleed. On Harry's forehead, a glowing lightning bolt scar began to burn itself into the little boy's forehead.

Lord Voldemort realized it. The prophecy was right. This boy was so powerful it scared him. It was a simple but effective defense spell that was taught in first year at Hogwarts, but to do that at the age of one, speechlessly, without a wand, his magical Core must've been a thousand times stronger than his. And at this level of power! To deflect a Killing Curse from the Lord Voldemort?

That was bad. Very bad.

And then the green light formed a spear that rocketed toward Voldemort. He dodged out of instinct, and it only just barely hit his arm- the boy was obviously controlling it, and his aim was off- but the pain was so great as to be unimaginable. He screamed in pain, in fear. He had only ever felt fear once in his life before this day, and that was a day he cared not to remember.

He Disapparated, clutching Pettigrew's arm.

Harry collapsed, exhausted from using up so much magic. He slept peacefully. Joey burst into tears. The man's face had scared him, and he'd never been hurt before. The bloody cut began to ache on his jaw, and the blood dripped into his mouth and onto his hand. He continued to cry. He wanted his Mummy and Daddy.

When James and Lily returned from the cottage, they found the house wrecked, the cat bloody and big-eyed, the door open, and they could hear a baby wailing from upstairs.

They raced upstairs, mentally cursing themselves the whole way. How could they have left them there? Evidently, hindsight was truly 20/20. It was obvious now. A plot by Peter Pettigrew. He was a traitor.

They wrenched open the door and stared at the horrific scene. It was not, necessarily, horrific to say, a Muggle- only Joey was bleeding, and only a little now- but the Dark Mark was floating in the room, the dresser and diaper table had been overturned, and the blood just sealed the overall effect. Immediately, Lily went to the fireplace and Flooed Dumbledore.

"Our sons are hurt. Lord Voldemort has been here. Please, please come to Godric's Hollow immediately." Lily begged the Headmaster. Albus leapt up and Flooed over.

James came racing over. "They're not dead. Why aren't they dead? Not that I want them to be dead. It's just Voldemort always kills his victims." He paced frantically. Albus laid a hand on the nervous father's shoulder.

"I believe that one of your sons is the Chosen One. The One who will defeat Voldemort. This is a great honor for you. Are they gravely injured, either of them? If one is, I do not think he is the Chosen One. The Chosen One would have only a cut or a bruise."

James shook his head. "Both of them are cut just once. Joey has a large cut on his cheek and Harry has the mark of a lightning bolt on his forehead."

Dumbledore furrowed his eyebrows. "Hmm. I shall have to examine the two myself." He proceeded up the stairs and looked into the boys' room.

The black-haired boy was still sleeping off the effort of the spell, but his twin, who was no longer crying, was awake. The cut was no longer dripping blood, either. "Who is younger?" The Headmaster asked Lily, who had hurried up behing them.

"Our Joey is. The one with the reddish-gold hair," she said tearfully. "Oh, will they be alright?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Perfectly alright. The curse scars will not bleed. Here is what I have hypothesized. Joey is the Chosen One. First, he is younger but born on the same day, making him born literally as the seventh month dies. Second, he is awake. Only the Chosen One would be this vigilant. Harry, though a good boy, does not have the instincts the Chosen One has, and has fallen asleep. Third, Joey's cut is noticeable, while Harry's could easily be concealed by his black hair. Surely the Chosen One's Mark would not be hidden! Fourth, Joey is directly under the Dark Mark, showing that the Dark Lord attempted to kill him first, but failed."

James scooped up the baby Joey. "C'mon, baby boy. Let's get you to Potter Manor where we can get you all good and safe; obviously our best efforts weren't good enough here." He bounced the baby and started walking to the Floo.

Lily scowled at his retreating back. "I'll have you know, James, that you were the one who chose Peter Pettigrew as Secret-Keeper!" She picked up Harry carelessly and stomped over to the Floo. Albus left shortly after, and silence fell in the wrecked house as the cat slowly bled to death, forgotten.

No one would ever find out what exactly happened that night- the memory was sealed, locked in the minds of Harry, Joey, Voldemort, and Pettigrew. Joey wanted that fame he was getting so he pushed the memory away. People were too busy with Joey to ever listen to Harry's side of the story. And Voldemort and Pettigrew- well, if they wanted to believe the wrong baby was the Chosen One, they could use that to their advantage.

No one ever realized the Boys-Who-Lived had gotten mixed up.

So as Harry was put down for that night, he sensed something had changed. Something not-so-good.

And he was right.