Harry Potter and the Prophecy of Light and Dark

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of Light and Dark

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter and never will.

Thank you for the reviews!

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Chapter Seventeen- Sweet Dreams

Sweet dreams were playing in Harry's mind, of rolling meadows and a particular chestnut mare. The white wolf didn't visit him in his dreams that night, but he hoped she would soon, he needed answers. Voldemort's visions were absent also, but these were pleasant spaces, were Harry was able to sleep peacefully. It had been a week since the cuts had vanished from his fingers, and a week after he realized the cuts upon his feet, where the lamp shards had sliced his skin, had gone, leaving no mark or pain. When Amity once more joined his dreams, he would ask about these mysteries and how he would manage to defeat the dark lord for good.

They continued sword fighting in Dueling, with Harry still using Gryffindor's Sword. He was exceeding in weapon fighting, as was almost everyone else. Soon they would advance to magical items, such as The Rod of Sezaric, which Professor Dimity described as, `The most inhuman object ever created'. Everyone was looking forward to laying eyes upon this weapon, mostly the Slytherins, for some reason undisclosed.

What did he know of this land, this world, The Reverience, could it be some scheme cooked up by Voldemort to capture and mislead him? But somehow he trusted the white woman's voice, its sound soothed him, pushed all his worries away. He had told no one of his second form, of Daroth: The Black Wolf, he wanted to keep it to himself, to be his secret, for now. Amity, the white wolf, had made sense in what she said during that faithful night, but still that thought lingered in his resting mind; could he trust her?

In Care of Magical Creatures the next day, they had a mighty surprise. They all had their dragons with them, as they always did, but when Hagrid was inspecting one which seemed to have a stomach ache, he let out a loud squeal and whipped his head up, his beetle-black eyes shining with tears.

“She's pregnant! Oh, the lil' darlin'”

“WHAT?” yelled Ron, moving forward, “I thought it was a boy!” Harry laughed, watching the red head stare angrily at his matching cooning reptile. Hagrid smiled happily down at the baby-bearing creature, tears sparkling in his hairy beard. “Do yeh know who the daddy is?” asked the half-giant, stroking the snout of the dragon making baby noises. “Erm………I thought I seen him, umm her, the other day, in the bookcase………”

Hermione gasped. “But, but, Aqua's a girl! It couldn't be her!”

“Well I thought Scorch was a boy, but obviously not!” the rest of the lesson consisted of Hagrid making a nice soft portable nest, which as the bell rang, was slung over Ron's shoulder, gaining a very `you gotta be joking!' look from him. As soon as the half-giant was out of sight, Ron quickly pulled the pouch off his shoulder and dragged it behind him, but Hermione huffed and pulled it from him, slinging it over her own shoulder, saying something about, “Being half hers”. Bolt was perched upon Harry's shoulder, occasionally gazing down upon his pregnant friend, a toothy smirk on its reptilian lips. Aqua hovered above Hermione, swooping down to look upon his child-bearing `wife'. According to Hagrid, she was in her third week, and in about twelve more weeks, she would have between one and five little pups, or `lil' ones' as Hagrid called them.

That night in the common room, they caught Hermione knitting small, wooly things that Ron prodded in precaution. “What in the name of god are those?” she smiled happily.

“They're little jackets for the babies when they're born, so they don't get colds during the night!” Ron snuck a look at Harry when Hermione returned to knitting, and made a swirling motion with his finger to his temple and mimed, “She's bonkers!” Harry stifled a laugh and sat down beside her, talking a couple of knitting needs and a spare ball of wool. Ron looked in shock as Hermione began to help him try to knit something.

“Harry!”

“What?”

“What are you doin mate, that's the sort of thing Hermione does, not us!” Ron gasped, Harry smiled.

“Well, what's a great uncle meant to do?” added Hermione, placing another, moldy colored jacket upon a pile consisting of two. “What're you on?” said Ron, picking up a little blue jumper and pulled it onto his hand, wiggling his fingers. “Well, Bolt, is the uncle of the babies, since Aqua, is the daddy and Scorch is the mummy. That means Harry is the great uncle!”

“And I am so proud!” said Harry, placing his hand on his chest and sniffed dramatically. They all cracked up laughing, Hermione most of all, her face bright red. And every ten minutes after that, she kept breaking out in giggles, messing up her knitting patterns. That night they had the DA club, meaning, they began practicing conjuring, which they were learning in Charms, and Harry had aced in his first lesson. The first years were struggling so far, but after some help from Hermione, they had gotten gradually better, but still unable to perfect the sixth year charm.

They were alone in the armchairs by the fire, its sizzling embers setting an eerie glow upon the couple. Hermione was resting her head upon his shoulder, while Harry ran his fingers through her chestnut locks. She moaned, and placed her hand upon his, looking up into his eyes.

“That feels nice,” Harry grinned.

“I'm glad.” He said, continuing with his finger movements.

“Harry?” she said. “Mmm hmm,” he said, letting her know he was listening.

“Where do we go from here, I mean, I don't want to ruin our friendship with Ron, or you!” Harry shifted so he was looking into her deep drown, chocolate eyes, the fires glow reflected in them. “Ron knows how we feel about each other, and he doesn't feel anything to you anymore, other than a friend.”

“What do you mean, `anymore'?”

“Well, he used to like you, and I convinced him to ask you out but he later told me he knew you two would never be right together, since you always fight.” She nodded and smirked.

“You encouraged him to ask me out?” Harry smiled and stroked her cheek, “That was then. This is now.” and with that he leant in and pressed his lips to hers, taking in the scent of her shampoo, smelling of strawberries and enjoyed the best night of his life so far.

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“Young one,” began Amity, the white wolf/woman, that night in his dreams, in the Reverience. They were standing in the same forest clearing as last time. The lakes clear waters shone in the moonlight. The moon hung above the trees, a great orb, looming in a sky of pinprick lights, yellow, orange, blue, red, green, purple, pink. The night's sky was different in this world, the stars shone many colors, not the endless one, and the moon was extremely large, as if it was pulled closer to earth, and took up a quarter of the sky.

“Young one, you return here again to speak with me. Answers need to be given to the questions plaguing your mind. Speak.”

“How am I supposed to defeat Voldemort, if Dumbledore can't even do it!” Harry blurted sitting upon a large rock lurching over the dark waters of the lake.

“Again the first question you ask is one that surprises me. You hold a power inside you that none other holds. Not even Albus Dumbledore, or Tom Riddle. That power run kept in your blood, your voice, your soul. It is your heart that has defeated the dark lords these many times past and your love that has kept the dark from taking over once more.”

But everyone has a heart and loves at least somebody, what's so different about me?” The white clothed lady smiled a dazzling smile.

“Yes, that is true. Everyone in your world has a heart and shows signs of love. But it's your love and spirit that stands out. Over your short life so far, you have suffered many losses, suffered many deaths. These have affected you in many ways. Every time you suffer, every time you see someone getting hurt and you think it is because of you, your power grows stronger, it broadens. No one else does that in their body I your world. You show extraordinary power that is attached to your feelings, your heart, your soul and spirit. You sometimes perform magic without a wand, so it runs freely through your body, your sight. These happenings occur when they are most needed, if you are in danger or angry, sometimes even in love.”

He nodded in acknowledge meant, grinning, but asked his question again. “But if I'm so special, and have unknown powers, how come I haven't shown them before. How come Voldemort is still around, killing off people I care about?” his mind trailed to Cedric, then to his godfather, who was still with him, but the thought still lingered behind of loosing him forever.

“That time will come, young Harry, boy of the light. Until then, enjoy your life, and be watchful, as the dark lurks where the light is not.”

The beautiful landscape dissolved in front of his eyes. The last sight was of a pure white wolf, and the last sound of a majestic howling, running through the trees.

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The potions master slumped up, against the stone walls of his dungeon office, having entered Harry's mind and being shot back out, being blasted into the opposite wall once more. He glared at Harry, swiping the sweat which was beading on his forehead.

“Again, Potter!” he snarled, trying again to provoke Harry into dropping his mind shield, which didn't work. Harry could feel his prying eyes peeping into cracks in his mind wall, demanding access into his thoughts and secrets. He pushed the wall forward, pushing with it, Professor Snape. He now was viewing a small, greasy, black haired boy, crying in the corner of the room while a man stood looming above him, brandishing a wooden pole. Just as the man was about to strike down upon the tearful young Severus Snape, the memory changed. He was now watching a scene before him of a red haired girl, scooping up some books often ground and handing them to him, smiling kindly. He heard himself mutter, “Thanks,” before the memory was blacked out from his eyes.

He was left panting in his seat, staring at Snape, who was watching him with anger in his eyes.

“Was-was that my-my mother?” he asked, catching his breath. “Yes, Potter, that was your mother, the only good thing about you, now go, get out of here before I take fifty points away from your measly house!” Harry didn't need telling twice, he quickly said `thanks,' and bolted out the door, catching a very surprised look on the potion master's face.

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“Umm, Mione?” said Harry that afternoon in the library. They were working on their homework, which came in large amounts. Hermione, having finished all hers, was studying for the exams coming up all too soon. She nodded in acknowledgement.

“I've almost finished, but I need to find out another use for Unicorn Manure in the making of Truth Potions.” She snapped her head up.

“Have you got the one where it needs to be boiled in sulfuric acid, and then added to Veritaserum to be an acting ingredient?” Harry nodded scanning his page. “What about when it is dried and sprinkled in a short amount into Gerandium?” he shook his head.

“Nope, but I do now. Thanks!” she smiled warmly and returned to the book she was flicking through, reading back on Herbology. Harry finished off his potions essay with, `Unicorn Manure is a very essential part to all these potions, such as Veritaserum, Gerandium, Kilbot and the Yolandy truth potions. Without it, those potions would be useless.' He smiled and rolled up his essay, stretching his arms and yawning. Ron sat next to him; his eyes scrunched shut and quill poised in the parchment in front of him, where he had written, `The Use of Unicorn Poo in Truth Potions!' Harry stifled a laugh, but not enough, since Ron opened his eyes and glared at him.

“What?” he said, looking at his parchment.

“I think you should change `poo' to manure, you'll get more marks and it'll make you sound a little older.” Hermione laughed as she looked up from here book at Ron scratching out `poo' and writing `manure' in its place. Next Harry began on his Charms essay, on Summoning and Conjuring: What are the Uses? As he finished it, Hermione slammed the book shut, rubbing her temple.

“God I've got a headache!” she moaned. Harry rubbed her cheek, smiling and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Do you feel better now?” he asked, gaining a smirk from Ron, who was watching with mild interest. She smiled and put on a pained expression.

“A bit,” she groaned, giggling as Harry kissed her again. “What about now?”

“A bit better,” once more he kissed, this time on her lips, gaining a gagging from Ron, who turned away with a sickened look. They pulled away from each other, Hermione looking red, while Harry was feeling great. “What about now?” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair. She sighed and whispered.

“Never better!”