I always swore to myself that I wouldn't fall into such clichés as the Twin-Who-Lived, Manipulative Dumbledore, or Adopted Harry. But these are my favorite to read, and I couldn't help myself. Any similarities to other stories is coincidental and the result of me taking the cliché route. Enjoy!

October 31, 1981

Godric's Hallow was eerily silent. As it was currently 11:04 at night, this wasn't unexpected for a sleepy little village with no nightlife to speak of, even on Halloween. A solitary figure hidden from the world by a simple black cloak strolled down the road with serpentine grace and a purposeful stride. Lord Voldemort didn't fear the silence or the darkness that blanketed the streets; he reveled in it.

The Dark Lord approached the cottage at the end of a quiet neighborhood, anticipation licking at the edges of his mind. There was a time when Tom Riddle didn't feel a thrill of glee when killing, only a sense of accomplishment. That time had long since passed. A fractured soul accompanied a fractured mind, and Tom's sanity had been bleeding away from him with each successive horcrux.

With the barest hint of his focus, Lord Voldemort stared down the Potter's home. Before his eyes layers of light reveled themselves to him, showing the complicated warding that surrounded the house. Charms for the detection and extraction of unwelcomed guests were woven together artfully. For a moment, Voldemort appreciated the power and skill behind the charm work. It was a valiant effort and if he were any other man, it may have been enough. Of course, he wasn't any other man. He was arguably one of the world's most powerful sorcerers, and the only charm strong enough to impede his mission, the Fidelius, laid on top of the others in tatters, broken by a damning betrayal.

The betrayer in question opened the front door, nervous and rat-like in appearance, Peter Pettigrew peered out the door only to throw himself to the ground upon seeing his master. Voldemort breezed past him, triggering several wards to the presence of a hostile entity. It did not matter, the Potter's were currently at an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix held deep within Hogwarts. By the time they arrived, it would be too late.

The Dark Lord swept through the cottage, barely sparing a glance at the homey interior. Instead, he crept up the stairs and down the hall, approaching the nursery. A pale, spidery hand pushed the door open silently, and Voldemort got the first look at his prophesized downfall.

Two white cribs sat side by side, both holding sleeping infants. The one on the right held a fifteen-month-old redhead cuddling a stuffed buck. The left held it's black-haired twin, lying near a stuffed dog. For a moment, an incredible fury seemed to run through Voldemort. One of these brats was destined to destroy him? The greatest wizard alive? It was a joke, nearly unbelievable. But he couldn't afford to have any loose ends. With that thought in mind, the Dark Lord raised his yew wand to the dark-haired one, the one who more resembled himself, first. The smooth words of the killing curse snaked past his lips. The room flashed a brilliant green and Lord Voldemort's world imploded.

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Grigor Krum was a stern looking man with thick eyebrows over black eyes, his nose was noticeably curved and he possessed dark brown hair cut short. Even though he was a bit shorter than most men, his square jaw and muscled physique radiated strength and masculinity, making him an intimidating force in any room he entered. This was very advantageous to Mr. Krum, as his occupation as a competitive dueler required a certain formidable flair, as well as his more day-to-day work as a ruthless business owner.

It was dueling that brought Grigor to Godric's Hallow on Halloween. Not only was Grigor a fighter but he also played a large role in the more illegal aspects of dueling, such as gambling. Jay Ashberry, who lived three houses down from the Potters, had a considerable debt to pay. A debt so large and so long evaded that Mr. Krum had traveled all the way from Bulgaria to remind Jay of it personally.

After a thorough round of verbal abuse and physical intimidation, Krum swept out of the small cottage that Ashberry called home, leaving the man a pale, sniveling wreck spouting out promises of full payment by the end of November.

Grigor moved to grab his portkey out of a pocket of his black robes, when an explosion of sickly green light shattered the peace of the night. If the noise and flash hadn't tipped off the world to it's presence, then the magical backlash would have accomplished the job easily. Grigor felt the explosion in his very bones, and being a man who feared almost nothing, went racing toward the last cottage on the street. He was just starting to step around the wreckage when several pops alerted Krum to the arrival of more wizards and witches.

Remembering that he was here in the first place for less than legal purposes, Grigor whipped out his wand and cast a silent Disillusionment Charm. Between the charm and the darkness, Grigor was all but invisible and began to back away from the ruins silently as a red-haired woman shrieked and ran desperately to the hallow remains of her house, a dark-haired man with glasses sprinting right behind her. Krum was nearly what he considered a safe distance away to Apparate, after which he would use his portkey elsewhere, when a small whimper caught his attention. Looking down, he spotted a raven-haired child on the ground, face screwed up in pain with a bloody gash on his forehead. Being no stranger to some of the darker aspects of magic, Krum could feel a haunting power surrounding the boy, a shadow of great and terrible sorcery. Intrigued, Grigor plucked the child from the ground and looked around.

Krum took in his surroundings with sharp eyes. The original group of wizards to arrive, a motley crew of young people who'd run straight for the house, was being joined by much more cautious and official Aurors. In the midst of all the chaos stood the tall and ancient form of Albus Dumbledore giving out orders with an out of place sense of calm. Krum nearly sneered while applying a Disillusionment Charm to the child in his arms. Although Krum had never met the man, he held no love for Dumbledore. His place as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards had caused more than a few headaches for Grigor, who's daily profession of privatizing the gathering of wand components into one company ran by him, instead of a disconnected collection of hunters that had done the job until then, was impeded frequently by the meddling old fools politics and sanctions on the treatment of non humanoid magical creatures. Grigor was also an acquaintance of Igor Karkaroff, who could wax poetic for hours on Dumbledore's underhanded, manipulative ways. Krum had fallen out of communication with Igor once he joined the Death Eaters, remembering painfully the death of his own father at the hands of Gellert Grindelwald. He had no patience for Dark Lords or their followers; another reason Grigor could never trust Dumbledore. There were rumors floating around to this day, at least in Eastern Europe, of a partnership between Grindelwald and Dumbledore. In his books, this was an unforgivable offense.

Shaking away thoughts of the Headmaster, Grigor Krum contemplated his next move. His concentration was shattered by a squeal of "Tommy!" Looking up, Krum watched the pretty redhead from earlier rush out of her skeleton house, clutching a bundle of blankets. She was crying and kissing the bundle reverently. "James! I found Tommy! Have you found Harry?" The hope in her voice, ignited by the discovery of one unharmed, if unconscious, son, was quickly decimated by the agonized reply.

"No. I can't find him in the house." The pain in his voice was easily detectable as he staggered out of the home, the hand of an attractive man of a similar age on his shoulder.

"We should search the grounds. Maybe he escaped with a little accidental magic," the other man replied hopefully. All three were about to continue their search, before a deep, grave voice gave them pause.

"I'm afraid that won't do much good, Sirius. I can't sense a young magical signature anywhere else but in your arms, Lily. It would seem that Harry has been lost to us tonight," Albus stated sympathetically, but with confidence. There was strong traces of Dark magic scattered around the area, some places more concentrated then others, like the weak, dark aura surrounding Tommy at the moment, as well as the lasting imprint of broken wards, but Albus couldn't detect a second young magical core. Being overconfident in his abilities, Albus shared this fact to avoid a lengthy, painful, fruitless search. "I believe he has been destroyed by Lord Voldemort himself," Albus hypothesized, causing most of the surrounding wizards to flinch, Grigor Krum being an exception as he eavesdropped on the conversation. The one called Lily completely broke down at this point, falling into her husbands trembling arms, clutching her surviving son and wailing her devastation.

"How can you be sure?" choked the young man apparently named Sirius. Dumbledore pulled a wand out of his robes, a wand that had been handed to him by an Auror minutes before.

"This wand, Voldemort's wand, was found in the wreckage, along with a pile of robes. The only theory that makes sense is that Voldemort came tonight to stop the prophecy and turned his wand on Thomas. The Dark magic in the air seems to suggest the killing curse was used recently, perhaps rebounding off young Thomas and destroying Voldemort instead, maybe destroying his brother as well, unless Voldemort had killed him first. I can't be certain. Reading magical residue is a fine art, some details are beyond even my detection," Albus said regretfully. Some of these assumptions may seem like large jumps of logic, but with Harry's body missing, there was no other reasonable explanation to be had.

"It would seem that tonight will go down in history. The greatest Dark wizard of the age has fallen to the only person to ever survive the killing curse," Dumbledore continued. At this point, Grigor Krum looked down at the disillusioned bundle in his arms. The child had fallen asleep, as Grigor stood silently, listening as facts started to unfold. Knowing what the others didn't, he theorized that it was in fact the child in his arms that had rebounded the killing curse, not the one in Lily's. This left Grigor with a decision to make; what should he do with the boy? On one hand, he felt bad for the crying woman and her husband. He couldn't even imagine the devastation of losing his five-year-old son: Viktor. However, the idea of letting such a powerful wizard, for there was no question that one day this boy would be powerful, stay in the reach of Albus Dumbledore was out of the question. The man would see hundreds dead to reach his goals, he was no different then Grindelwald in Krum's opinion. With that in mind, Grigor continued to evaluate his options. It occurred to him that, if he left the boy here, the fame of his accomplishments would ruin him. Grigor knew enough of the English press to know that the boy would be put on a pedestal for something he didn't remember. That kind of fame, the kind gotten without hard work, would corrupt him no doubt, creating a spoiled monster. His thoughts drifted back to his son Viktor. Viktor was strong, talented, and his greatest pride. Grigor and his wife had been discussing having a second child, seeing how much they loved the first. Smiling down at the boy, Grigor Krum came to a decision. Backing away a few more feet, avoiding a rat he nearly stepped on, Grigor Disapparated with a small pop, Harry James Potter securely in his arms.