The late July night at St Mungo's hospital was a surprisingly quiet one, unusual when accounting for the recent flares in violent activity. In recent weeks, the hospital had grown used to the sounds of screams and sobs as curse victims were rushed around the labyrinth of halls.
The tranquil atmosphere was broken when a young couple apparated into the waiting room. The woman was hunched over, braced against the man, and holding her extended stomach. Her loud breaths were punctuated with strained grunts and loud swearing as she stumbled towards the receptionist's desk.
The woman's bright green eyes were full of pain as she glared at the shocked man through locks of her sweaty red hair. One white knuckled hand fell onto the shiny counter as she braced herself against another painful contraction.
The man behind the counter had jolted upright, seemingly woken from a peaceful napa and after quickly assessing the situation, he waved his wand at a nearby scrap of paper. The paper folded itself into an airplane and sped down one of the many hallways. The man then proceeded to accio a nearby wheelchair and help the panting woman down, quickly following with another flick of his wand that sent the handy muggle invention rolling down the same hallway as the paper airplane had flown.
Finally having a second to take a deep breath, the receptionist turned to the second half of the disturbance, a tall man that was nearly dead asleep on his feet. The receptionist smiled, and summoned a pepper up potion from his desk which the tired man accepted gratefully. As soon as he was alert, he thanked the receptionist and follow his wife down the long corridor.
The following births would change the future, as two twin boys entered the world. They would be known as the children born as the seventh month died, the children of prophecy. However, due to a nurse's innocent mistake, the birth of the second boy, Thomas Sirius, would be written down as arriving a few minutes before the first boy, Harry James.
This mistake would change the course of the future.
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Nearly a year and a half later, the night started out like any other. The cool crisp air was standard for late October, and the stars were shining brightly across the cloudless sky. The calm streets lay untouched and the air seemed to stand still until a quiet pop broke the silence.
The sudden arrival of a hooded figure onto the street went unseen by any of the town's residents, and his purpose would not be known until the next morning's Daily Prophet edition that celebrated the fall of the Dark Lord.
Both the parents and the entire wizarding population were happy and shocked by young Thomas' miraculous survival, trusting the evidence lying in a jagged, wavy scar on the underside of his right arm. It was believed that he gained this scar when he attempted to block Voldemort's killing curse; nobody knew that his scar was just a result of the explosion created when Harry blew up the house and destroyed Voldemort. Harry's own scar, taking the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead, was dismissed as collateral by a very old and wise wizard who was too obsessed with a certain prophecy to even consider checking the boys' scars for residual magic. This mistake would later come to haunt the old wizard, as his choices that evening once again altered the events of the future.