Those Who Have Thrice Defied Him

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A/N: This is my first fan fic, I hope you like it.

Chapter 1

Who knew how one small mistake could make Harry Potter eligible to be the person who the prophecy was about? One small mistake, made even before James and Lily knew each other, changed their entire lives. Without that accident, the Potters would be a normal, unknown, family of three, yet they were not. The mistake was made, and nothing could have prevented it, yet it still was counted as defiance. It was not a memorable mistake, not even for James, but it was still defiance, and the reason for how Harry's life is.

When James Potter was six, his family owned a large house which was on a large farm. The farm was full of old, unused buildings, which James would often play in. One of the buildings was in the middle of a group of trees which had grown so densely and thickly that unless you were told about the building (or you were an inquisitive young child with lots of time), it could not be found. It was a great place to hide from his parents when James had done something wrong, and James knew it. His parents had never found him here – he wondered if they even knew about it – and that was why he was heading there now.

There was a big party at his parent's house, and there would be lots of important people there, and his parents would want him to be on show constantly. This was both because they were proud of their 'little darling' and so he had no time to initiate any pranks, jokes or tricks, which he was well known for already. He did not want to be on show, and so he had decided to go to the building which his parents knew nothing of.

He went into the building, which had two rooms, and he was very surprised to hear talking from the room next door – he had never shown anyone here and he had never seen anyone here before. He didn't want them to know that he was here – if they were guests then they would ensure that he went back to the house, and then he would not be able to escape being on show. He edged closer, surprised but not scared, and listened to the conversation.

"Now?" asked the first voice.

"No! Of course not now. The timing has to be perfect for the Dark Lord's plan to work. We will only be transformed for one hour, and one hour only." The second voice sounded exasperated. "And it has to be exactly the right time when we attack, so the Order of the Phoenix is entirely focused on the Potter's house when the Dark Lord begins his own attack."

James didn't understand much of this – Order of the Phoenix? Dark Lord? and what plan?, but he had understood one thing: it was aimed at his house. Even as a child, James liked to do things on his own, without help, so instead of going to find someone to stop whatever was being discussed, he crept closer, to the door, so he could see as well as hear what was going on.

There were two men in the room, both of them in their early thirties, one tall, facing James, with short black hair and a moustache. He had thin lips and had a nasty glint in his eye. He seemed to be the leader of the two. This one who had spoken second. The other man was shorter and was facing away from James, although he got the impression that this man could not wait for something that was about to happen. He was also clutching something tightly.

The first man spoke again. "I still don't understand, Lestrange. Why don't we just go in as we are and kill everyone in sight, and not just attack particular people, under this disguise?" The man called Lestrange began to speak, but the first man carried on. "I know, I know, the Dark Lord's wishes. But it just doesn't make sense. The Minister for Magic – and most of the Ministry – is there, and we could just go and kill them all."

"Avery." Lestrange snapped. "You know that if we just went in and killed them all the Order of the Phoenix would split up, with only some at the Potter's, most still in position. If, however, we create a big diversion and the Order cannot tell who is attacking, then they will all come here, leaving the Dark Lord free. It's simple."

"Fine" Avery replied. "Just let me be the one to kill Potter. We were together at school, and I would enjoy it so much to see the look on his face when he finds out that I killed him."

"But he won't know." Lestrange looked sharply at the smaller man. "No one will know that we were the ones to attack! Okay?" Lestrange was nearly shouting by the end.

James understood enough of Avery's words to realise that these people were planning to kill his parents. He knew he should run back to the house, tell his parents, tell everyone that there were people planning to attack – to kill – them, but he was frozen to the spot. He couldn't move. James had never known a terror anything like this. He had never been anywhere near death before, and neither had his family.

He was terrified, but he was also angry. How could these people come to his special place, and plan to kill his parents? James' anger was bubbling up inside him, and he could only just stop himself from bursting into the room with these two fully grown people – wizards, James assumed – and attacking them with his own bare hands. Only his fear stopped him.

"Okay…" Lestrange was speaking again. "We only have one minute left. Have you got the potions? Yes?" (Avery showed what he was clutching and James saw two small vials of potion.) "Can you remember who you are going to be?" (Avery looked nervously at the ground and shook his head.) "You are going to be Herbert Edgecombe, of the Department of Magical Transportation – you are an under secretary of the person in charge of Apparating – okay?" (Avery nodded.) "I am Gilbert Mockridge, also an undersecretary. We are good friends from both work and Hogwarts. There are only twenty seconds left."

James realised suddenly that he was going to have to do something about this. Apart from anything else, they were about to walk out of the door and find him stood here. That really would not be good.

"Fifteen seconds." Avery passed one vial across to the other man.

James felt his anger and his fear inside him, and wished that he could do some magic, even if it was just to stop them drinking the potion. "Ten… Nine… Eight…" Timing was everything to this plan, they had said. "Seven… Six… Five…" If only James could stop them – or just slow them down – in someway. "Four… Three..." If only he could do magic. "Two." But that was impossible.

"One."

James' anger was at its highest, as was his wish to do magic, and his fear. But he couldn't stop anything happening. He could see Lestrange removing the bottle lid and lifting it to drink from. It happened so slowly. Lestrange was opening his mouth.

The vial cracked. The potion burst everywhere: all over Lestrange, over the floor, and over Avery. Avery spluttered, about to drink his vial, when it smashed as well. The potion was dispersing all over the floor, and though Lestrange was trying to get some of it off his robes and down his throat, it wouldn't come off. At the very least, Lestrange realised the small amount of potion he had got was not working, and he was soon shouting at Avery.

"I told you to bring more potion! You could have got more hair from the workers! But no!" Lestrange knew that the Dark Lord would not be pleased that they had failed, and though the Dark lord was not here, he was already, automatically, blaming Avery. "You just got one hair from each of them! You idiot!" Lestrange was fuming.

James realised that they had been saved. He though back to the moment. Had he been the one to stop them? Had he accidentally used magic? Was it possible? James didn't think that Lestrange had cracked the vial on purpose – and neither had Avery – yet they both cracked at just the wrong moment. Luck? – or magic? Would James ever know?

Before he had time to think about it more, James heard the men start moving towards the door. James fled.

Later, when he had started learning magic, and knew what it felt like to perform, he would realise that he had done magic, and he had been the one to stop the two men. He would always remember the way that when he got back to his house, his parents had not believed him, thinking that it was just one more joke that James had thought of, although this may have been because James refused to show them the building. After all, it was his hiding place.

A/N: What do you think? Review please.