Harry woke up that morning in a pleasant mood. It was one of those days where the sun was up and shining, but it was still freezing outside. Like the sun was desperately trying to overpower the cold. It obviously wasn't winning. Harry opened his dresser, and fished around for his sweater. He looked around for the one Ron's mom had made for him, but didn't see it. He shrugged, and threw on a large black one. He yawned, and took a whiff of the air. He could smell the eggs frying themselves in the kitchen. He ran down the stairs, and nearly ran over his father on his way to the kitchen. "Whoa there son, never knew you were such a morning person- oh wait, IT'S 12:00! Jeez, you teenagers sure can sleep…" His father chuckled, as he pulled out the paper.
"Oh how horrible!" Harry's father sighed. "What is it, dear?" His mother asked, concerned. "Oh, there's been another attack. Nobody we know, thank goodness. You don't know how lucky we are right now, Harry. You-know-who hasn't attacked us or anyone we know. You just never know…" His father trailed off and sighed again. Harry turned rigid at his father's remark. Us or anyone we know…but that would mean…Voldemort had never attacked his parents? Is that the reason they were alive and well? But this didn't make sense, the prophecy had said…did the prophecy exist in this world? Was the prophecy true in this world? Harry grabbed some breakfast and went back to his room. Once again, he had unearthed a new set of questions. He figured there were only two people he could trust with his story. Hermione's parents being muggle, Harry decided to call her on a payphone. Harry mumbled something to his parents and headed outside towards the bus stop.
The cold wind slapped against his face and Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. He was the only one on the sidewalk, because nobody in their right mind would be out on a day as cold as this. In his hands he held muggle coins to pay for the call. Harry wondered if he would have known how to make a phone call if he had always lived in this world. As the payphone came into view, Harry quickened his pace, eager to escape the cold. Harry opened the bright red door and stepped into the booth. The windows were coated in a thin layer of frost, and Harry was unable to see out. He hoped nobody would be able to hear him, as this would be one awkward phone call. Harry dropped the coins into the slot and pulled out a slip of paper with Hermione's phone number. Luckily, his luggage hadn't changed to fit the world, and he still had the Granger's phone number in case something had happened. Well, something had happened…
"Hello?" asked Hermione
"Oh good, I wasn't sure I had the right phone number" Harry said, relieved
"Ummm, who is this?" Hermione asked, confused
"It's Harry! Who do you think it would be, Ron can't use a telephone for his life!" Harry laughed
"Oh…um, hi Harry…" Hermione still sounded confused
"Look Hermione, something weird happened to me on that train…you were supposed to pick me up, but my parents did…you see-" Harry stopped, not sure how to start
"Harry? Um, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but uh… why would we pick you up?" Hermione asked.
"We had planned to spend Christmas with you, me and Ron…remember?" Harry urged, trying to move on
"Look, Harry, I'm sure you're nice or whatever, but why would I spend break with you and Ron? I mean, we have 2 classes together, but that still doesn't mean-" Harry cut Hermione off
"What are you talking about? We've always said we'd spend break together, but it never worked out…Remember how many meals we spent going over what day would be best?" Harry asked
"Look Harry, I don't really know what your talking about. I don't know you and I wouldn't want to spend break with you! You're just another annoying guy trying to pull one over on me and I won't fall for it! You're always so frusterating, and I always try to be polite, but I'm sick of it! GOODBYE!" Hermione was practically yelling as she slammed the phone down.
Harry stood there, limp and confused. He was still holding the phone and eventually a voice came on telling him to dial again or insert more money. He listened to the recording in Spanish, then came to his senses and hung up. He pushed open the door and started to walk back home. It was still freezing, but Harry felt worse inside. Apparantly he wasn't friends with Hermione. From what Hermione had said, this other Harry sounded like a jerk. This new world kept getting worse and worse. Harry kicked a stone and watched it bounce to the other side of the road. Harry felt like screaming, Why was he in this world? Why is this happening to HIM? Harry threw himself onto someone's lawn and pulled up a chunk of their grass. "I WANT ANSWERS!" his mind screamed. He was about to bang his fist on the grass when he saw someone's face appear at the window. Harry quickly got up, and sprinted by. He needed to pull himself together. I should not be having temper tantrums at this age, Harry thought. Then he realized that there was someone else he could ask. Two people, actually.
His parents were sipping coffee when Harry walked inside, his shoes leaving a trail of muddy snow. "Harry! For goodness sakes wipe of your shoes when you come inside" Harry's mom scolded. "Limpidiante!" She said while waving her wand, the mud slowly disappeared, and the floor seemed to sparkle. Harry wasn't sure how to approach his question, he knew the change in this world must be related to the prophecy…he found himself asking the same questions…Did the prophecy exist here? How could it, he didn't have a scar and his parents were alive… did Voldemort even attack his house? But why wouldn't he have, why would he just up and decide not to attack? "Umm…dad, did you ever…errr…hear about a um, prophecy?" Harry asked, timidly. His father put down his coffee, and looked up, his face looked angry, but troubled. "Who mentioned the prophecy to you Harry?" his father asked. Harry hesitated. "Oh god" Harry thought "Think of SOMETHING!" Who might have mentioned it? "I heard Dumbledore say something to Professor McGonagall…" Harry's mother sighed, and said "Well, all right James. I guess he should know, it might help him to know…" His father nodded, and looked straight at Harry. "This is very serious Harry, and I need to know you won't tell anyone." Harry nodded, and his father went on. "The prophecy is this:
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
His father looked up. Harry quickly pretended to be confused. "So what does that all mean?" Harry asked, hoping his father would give him more information, so far, nothing added up to why this world… "Well, it means that there is only one person who could defeat you-know-who. This one person Harry, is you." Harry's mother reached over and stroked Harry's shoulder. Harry looked down to hide his expression, which was blank. "I know all this" Harry thought, "Tell me something more…" Luckily, his father did go on. "Somehow, Harry, you-know-who heard this, and to remain powerful Harry, he didn't…attack us." Harry's mother turned away, but he could see her tears. So that was the answer. Voldemort knew the prophecy…so he had never attacked his house, never attacked him, and stayed strong. The prophecy wasn't fulfilled. Voldemort never marked "him as his equal" and he didn't have his scar. Harry looked up at his parents, his father had put his hand over his mother's, as if to protect her. They thought that because Voldemort had heard the prophecy, Harry was spared. Harry was almost glad they didn't know the truth, that Harry hadn't been spared. They had.
