Authors beginning note: When I was first writing this, Voldermort sounded like one of those stereotypical supervillians on superhero action shows. I had thought about keeping the ridiculous dialogue it had in just cause it was funny to me, but then after reading it a couple times, um…yeah. He doesn't talk as much now...

Forgot to mention… the inspiration to this story came from reading the fanfiction story: Fugitive Prince by March Madness go read it. I had mention this in my first author write up but I realized that its not there.. so I'm gonna put it here.

…Changing Plans…

Alas… there he stood, a couple of meager steps from one of two possible obstacles that fate and prophecy has set for him. His steps made no sound as he stared at the thing set before him, and thought about the irony of the situation. THIS was not some magical object or creature, nor was it a great wizard like Merlin or Dumbledore. In fact, it didn't even carry a wand for Slytherin's sake, well… not yet anyhow. Was he going to be brought down by THIS? He approached apprehensively still, despite his ego screaming for him to laugh out loud to himself. But before managing another step forward, he stopped, hearing the loud high pitch squeaking of someone's right heel.

"I've waited a long time for this opportunity, Regulas. DON'T ruin it." He whispered harshly with a deadly tone.

The lowly wizard nodded as he nervously silenced his squeaky heel, as well as locking, sealing, and silencing the room after he had come in. "Apologies, your greatness..."

" Where is Pettigrew?" he spat out again with coldness to his tone.

A grotesque rat with patches of fur missing scurried across the floor and the animagus transformed into a cowering Pettigrew who quickly answered with his arm blocking his head, as of prepared for a lashing of some sort.

"Ri, right here.. master."

"Very well…" He said with a sigh as he stared with the look of death and dismay at the two incompetents.

Pettigrew paced around the room nervously, Voldermort knew of his fear and that this was to be the fateful night in which those he had cared for in his years at Hogwarts will forever mark him as traitor. Black meanwhile was adjusting his slick black hair, secretly hiding his nervousness which clearly shown through the shaking of his hands and legs. This man was clearly one who had been at the right time, and now was waiting to reap the rewards for his incredulous luck. The two looked to him for orders with darty eyes. Voldermort merely shook his head as he looked away. Of all his loyal, most trusted, and not to mention "more intelligible" servants.. it was these two who had led him to this pivotal moment and place. He could do nothing but shake his head to the irony, and step forward.

The full moon shown brightly through the clear glass panels of the nursery window, sending its focused beams to the crib as if to make the object glow and seem saintly. The reflected light from the crib gave the room and its inhabitants an eerie sort of glow. Pettigrew nervously bit his nails while Regulas shifted from one foot to the other, brushing his hair back with his fingers every now and then again, looking everywhere but the crib that stood directly in front of him. Neither seemed confident for being there and Voldermort wondered if he should just kill them for having such feelings of doubt within them. Nothing could stop him, now that he was so close, and he could not help but wonder how fortunate that luck should smile on him and give him the edge to wipe out his one true enemy before it would be strong enough to do anything to him. He trifled with the thought of letting the thing live, just to give him somewhat of a challenge in the future. But this thought quickly faded with him envisioning a saintly faceless hero teaming up with Dumbledore to vanquish him in one dramatic blow.

He shuttered at the annoyance of the thought. It would be better this way, to snub out the threat before it was able to manifest and cause future annoyances. Dumbldore was annoying enough. Wand first, he peered into the crib to look at his future enemy with a sinister grin. The grin though, did not last long with the discovery of two infants sleeping inside that crib instead of one. He blinked, thinking it must have been some sort of magic he had no knowledge of.

"Twins!" He exclaimed, not being able to hide his shock of surprise.

He whipped his face at Pettigrew and Black who stared at him confused and dumbfounded. As Pettigrew attempted words he fumbled into garbled nonsense and Black merely just shrugged as he looked inside at the two infants "The prophecy I heard specifically stated only one boy my lord. Perhaps it's a trick?"

Voldermort could do nothing but give a laugh as he calmed down; the possibility of a future rival has gone up by one. That was all there was to it. The only part of the plan that has changed is that two infants would be killed instead of one tonight. His face recovered to show the cool mask of indifference as he faced his two servants.

"No matter, they are both in the same place. Two instead of one shall die."

Both Black and Pettigrew gave a laugh as well but the laughs were full of fear and nervousness. Voldermort could feel the blanket of tension that filled the room, and both looked to leave at the slightest noise. Voldermort stared at the both of them and they both stopped fidgeting, looking away. Frustration and annoyance was all he could think of as he stared at the two imbeciles. Besides the most precious information that these two had given them, they were of no use to him. He thought of what would happen if aurors were to ever capture them, and what they would do for their freedom. Just by looking at their weary faces he knew what their weak minds would do in a blink. As he planned the twins would not live through the night, he planned for these two to not live through the night as well.

He turned back to stare into the crib at the twins who breathed deeply in ignorant slumber. Which one would be the first victim of the night? The plump strawberry blond with his thumb stuck to his lips or the thinner darker haired one who seemed ghastly in the moonlight with his pale skin. Voldermort drifted his wand over to the darker spiky haired infant, brushing its hair with his wand. Subconsciously, he had always thought his future rival to seem more like this infant, and it even reminded him of pictures of him when he had been small. He gave a sinister smile and spoke out his favorite curse while staring at the infant.

"Avada Kedavra"

The spell shot out and his eyes followed the green flash of light striking the small infant. The spell seared an electric green onto the skin but delved no deeper and the infant flashed opened its bright green eyes, crying in surprise and pain. Immediately he knew… something was wrong. The infant should have died right with the spell's impact, instead the spell leapt about on the skin as if it were a solar flare and it's skin was the sun. The thought of the spell reflecting back onto him made him begin to cast a charm at himself, casting a spell that would turn his body into a shadow of itself. The killing spell leaped about on the forehead of the infant once more before it bounded right back at him, just as he had suspected. His spell casting was not as quick as he had thought and a touch of the curse kissed him before tearing through him just as his own counter spell was enabled, attempting to transform him into a shadow form of himself. The power of the spell attempted to rip his soul out from him but he fought it diligently with all his strength and won by a slight margin. The spell went through him then, having no real substance to touch now, allowing him to live.

Regulas Black on the other hand, who had not been so quick to observe or understand the situation and had been cowering behind him, was struck in the neck with the spell before he could utter a single sound of surprise. The body fell limp and the dark green glow of the scar on his neck faded to a dull emerald green. The soul that was left behind as the body collapsed, stared at Voldermort only momentarily in shock before it faded into the realm of the dead. A coward that he was, and now thinking that his master has also died, Pettigrew panicked and transformed into his animagus form and scurried out of the room without looking back. His spell soon faded, and Voldermort nearly fell limp himself with weakness. He had fought the spell with most of his strength and left him feeling as weak as the infants inside the crib.

Minutes passed by like years as Voldermort beckoned his strength back little by little until he was strong enough to stand using the crib as his crutch and his anger with Pettigrew and his current situation as fuel for his strength. If anyone had happened upon him right that moment… he knew he would not be able to defend nor even attack. He would have been lucky if he could even manage a stand on his own. Taking a deep breath, he turned his head to the source of the only sound in the room. The crying infant who had awakened his sleeping twin, who also began to cry. He stared at the infant with the scar that still flickered with energy on his forehead and pondered on what he was to do next.

Whatever he had to do… he had to do it quickly since the spells Regulas cast were now quickly fading. The noise inside the room could now be heard on the outside. The bright green eyes of the infant focused on him and it suddenly quieted, his brother in turn quieted and went back to sleep suckling on it's thumb.

"What a strange child." He said to himself as they both stared at one another.

He thought about escaping but was stalled in this instinctual thought, as thoughts of this child's future and how Dumbledore and the foolish parents would raise this one to destroy him. What power was this that would reflect his most powerful curse back on to him? He knew he must figure it out, and soon, if his dreams of a new dawn were to ever be accomplished. But he had such a short amount of time, he could feel the seconds slipping from him. He must do something and he must do it now.

One single clear thought rang past his hectic thoughts. "But what if this… thing is raised in a different environment?"

He stared at the boy as thoughts and plans began to form in his head. Raised under the Potters and Dumbledore, the prophecy would come true and the boy would most likely destroy him, especially in his current state. But what if he were to take this boy as he escaped? What if he raised this boy and trained him to fight for his cause…? He could find what power it was and maybe learn to counteract it, especially with the child living with him. No matter what, if he takes this child now… The tides would be turned, the prophecy could be nulled, and his boy would become his greatest weapon against Dumbledore and all those who were behind the old man.

His strength was returning to him, but not fast enough he felt… he

was not even at a quarter of his full strength. He went to pick up the living boy by the foot but stopped as he touched the boy. His fingertips felt as if they were burning thus making his hand pull away.

He hissed at the added pain, and scowled "If you think this will sstop me!" he whispered harshly as he took a blanket and wrapped the baby within the blanket without touching it.

With his wand he pointed and transformed the infant into a simple garter snake, and took both the blanket and the infant and set them into the bottomless inside pockets of his robes. He pointed his wand towards the window and blew out the wall entirely. Scraps from the wall/window blew both ways and a piece of broken glass flew and glided along the top right brow of the strawberry haired infant, thus making him scream with a shrill and cry in pain, and his own blood stained the sheets of the crib. The noise of the wall shattering was louder than he imagined, but he didn't care anymore. All he had to do now was jump out from the window, outside the anti-apparation barrier the house had, and apparate to whichever destination he wanted.

Before leaving though, he looked to the empty side of the crib where the baby had once been and then looked to the dead body of Regulas Black. His mind began twisting and turning like a mechanical clock as he pointed his wand at the dead body. If he left like this, of course the potters and the rest of the wizarding world would be after him for this child, they will continue living with the thought that this child was living and find unknown strength to search him out and take him back from Voldermort. He had to snub all hope of this infant being alive, despite him feeling weak, and his powers limited, he felt up to the task of another transfiguration.

The vision of the infant filled his mind, and in seconds he transfigured the body to a mirror image of the boy, and picked it up by the foot. The form was almost perfect except for the fact that the scar was on the neck instead above the left brow, something he could not change… but who besides him would notice? He picked up the body by the left foot, and raised it high above him looking at the fine transfiguration he managed in his current state. The noise of rushing footsteps approaching made him look to the door waiting for the parents, and their looks of horror on what he planned to do.

Some seconds of silence pass when the footsteps stopped just on the other side, and the doors bursted open with wands in both of the parent's arms. He faced them and set up a magical barrier momentarily between them all and stared at them both with one of his many cruel smiles. His eyes looked to Lilly Potter's the longest before he turned to the transfigured body, and let go.

Before the body could reach the floor, he had already made the lunge for the outside through the hole he made, and as he was falling down to the damp, plush grass, the eerie sound of a thump which was followed by an unnatural cracking sound which echoed through the quickly waning night. The silence that followed was interrupted by his own landing, in which he did rather ungracefully. With his remaining strength he had regained he hobbled to the edges of the barrier and apparated away. His only last regret as he apparated, was not being able to see the faces of the potters as he dropped the corpse.

----

The Aftermath

James in his fit of rage and shock had jumped out the hole to chase after the obviously weak Voldermort, but came back with tears welling up and snot running down his nose. He had caught the glimpse of the hobbling monster before it apparated. The sight he came back to was Lilly still holding their dead son, and a hysterical Stephan still bleeding and crying in the crib. He healed the cut but a small tiny red line of a scar remained, splitting his right brow in two. Stephan quieted, and he picked up his remaining infant son, and fell down to his knees where his wife lay still cradling Harry. There was nothing he could say to comfort her, but there was only one thing he could do, and that was to sit and mourn with her on the passing of their son.

Soon the Ministry would come, but not before Dumbledore and the Order. Pettigrew would be found and captured, sent to Azkaban without trial, and forgotten to rot. James would note the weakened state of Voldermort, and that coupled with Stephan being left scratched but relatively unharmed, the Ministry dubs him as the boy who lived. Dumbledore notes the scar above his right brow, left by Voldermort when he blasted the wall, as the mark from the prophecy and notes him as the one who will vanquish Voldermort. A memorial will soon be set up for Harry Potter and all the victims of the war. Voldermort will have disappeared since the incident without so much as a trace and many will assume his eventual demise. The wizarding world will begin to live comfortably again and the wizarding history afterwards pretty much follows that of the books.

Weakened and never fully recovered, Voldermort goes to hiding, biding until the time is right for him. He tries to figure out the power he knows not of in Harry but soon abandons the effort and raises Harry as his own. Harry is given a new name, Evan Gauntless. Many of the remaining Death Eaters that have not been captured or killed go on with their usual lives, pretending to have never known the dark lord, and yet wait patiently for a sign..