The King of Slytherin

Prologue

          The door to Godric's Hollow slowly creaked open. A dark, hooded wizard silently crept up the stairs leading to the two Potter heirs. Their grandmother, a muggle, lay fast asleep by the fireplace. He knew the prophecy referred to one of the children, but which one?

          The young boy on the left had flaming red hair and chocolate brown eyes. His magical core was strong, but hardly more than most magical children. His older brother though, was a whole different story. Power pulsated from the child, and his piercing emerald eyes stared into the mans soul, without a hint of fear. Yes, this was the one, he decided. It deeply pained him, but he had to kill the boy. He couldn't risk having him in his way. So, he brandished his wand and cast, Avada Kedavra. 

          But to his shock, the curse just bounced off the boy, and headed straight for himself. He tried dodging the curse, but his attempts were futile. The last thing he saw were those emerald eyes, a sight that would be burned into his memory forever.

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          James and Lily Potter sat across Dumbledore. Their kids were sitting on their laps, (supposedly) oblivious to what was being discussed. They had just finished explaining what they had found when they had reached their home. "Hmmm..." Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Henry's core is still quite full, while young Hadrian was on the brink of fainting. Plus, Henry has a V scar on his cheek. I believe that Henry Potter...is the boy-who-lived."

          These few words would change the course of history, whether for the good or bad. Of course, if they had tried to use their brains a bit, they would have realized that if you recently absorbed a killing curse, you would be quite magically exhausted, and if the ceiling caved in, you could get a ordinary, non-magical scar. But alas, they weren't born with the greatest deductive skills.