Summary: Okay, Harry's a girl in this fic and her name is Charlotte Jayde Potter; her twin brother Evander is mistaken to be the one who survived Avada Kedavra and because of this she is abandoned on her Aunt Petunia's doorstep because they don't want her to become jealous of her brothers fame (at least this is what they said to justify leaving her). To get back at her parents and make them regret what they did to her, she pushes herself to be the best she can be and becomes a genius.

A.N.: This is my first fan-fiction story so please try and be nice, I appreciate any criticism and idea's you may have for me and while I won't go saying 'I need so and so reviews before I post a new chapter'. I'd like to know it's being read and enjoyed and as I happen to be a chronic procrastinator, reviews will most likely encourage me to bring chapters out faster - not that I expect them, even after this; nobody reads the A.N.'s anyway. Sigh. Oh well. A big Thank You to lakewater who edited this chapter for me.

Disclaimer: Since I don't particularly feel like being sued, I'll put this in as painful as it is…Unfortunately, I don't own it.

In Spite Of Betrayal


Halloween in 1981 started off like any other, Mr. and Mrs. Potter were preparing for the Minister's Ball that evening despite the fact that they were in hiding – after all, the Potter's always attended various social functions of the wizarding community – it would be very suspicious if they didn't go. So, in spite of the young couple's misgivings of leaving their year and an half old twins for the night with Peter, at seven that evening they were giving twitching Peter last minute instructions on looking after their little boy and little girl while heading out the door to head for the designated apparation point to go to the Minister's Ball.

But, this Halloween wasn't like any other, for petty Peter was the traitor in their midst, he'd already told his Master of the secret location of the Potter's cottage and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was coming to dispose of his eminent threat tonight, before the little brat became a threat.

It was a quarter to ten when the most feared Dark Lord in history arrived in Godric's Hollow to destroy the child of prophecy – Charlotte Jayde Potter, the younger of the two children started crying and whimpering in fear, as if she could sense the eminent danger.

Lord Voldemort looked down at the emerald eyed little girl with his own fiery red orbs with indifference – as he had decided, this little girl was his target – putting importance not only to the day she was born, but the time – the thirty-eighth second at eleven fifty-nine pm – born as the seventh month dies indeed he thought, smirking to himself.

"M-master?" came the hesitant inquiry from the fool of a rat Pettigrew.

"What Wormtail!" he snapped - annoyed that the short, chubby man had interrupted his musings; satisfaction flowed through him as he noticed his servant flinch at his sharp tone.

"N-nothing - nothing at all, master."

"Crucio!" That would show that stupid prat not to interrupt him for any reason again; he turned his attention back to the, now sniffling, infant.

"Pity, little Charlotte," he said to the child "You would have made awonderful heir - but then again, I can't risk leaving you alive. Avada Kedavra."

As Mr. and Mrs. Potter apparated back to Godric Hollow at ten past one, after a wonderful night of catching up with old friends to find the small cottage where the young family lived partially collapsed and on fire, they immediately started panicking, after frantic searching terrified of what they might find, they discovered their Evander sitting protectively over his unconscious little sister crying with a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek, Charlotte also had a scar – a small cut on her forehead that almost looked like a lightningbolt.

By six o'clock morning Dumbledore had proclaimed Evander the Boy-Who-Lived and savior of the wizarding world. It was in every newspaper, magazine and even announced on the wizarding wireless sets all over the world, and it marked the beginning of what would be the Potter's worst mistake since Henry Potter's decision to take on a thousand year old thirsty vampire with nothing but a sword in 1863. Admittedly, Henry was drunk at the time but James and Lily Potter wouldn't have that excuse unfortunately – if they were, perhaps Charlotte would've been more forgiving of their error; but then again, maybe not.