Harry Potter and the Prophecy of Two

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of Two

Disclaimer-I don't own Harry Potter and never will. I've found way to write triple the amount that I've been writing, hooray!!!

Chapter 5-Truth be Told

The day flew by, with Ron's reenactments of his vacation and the twin's showing off their newest inventions, the day wasn't uneventful. Dinner was a rushed affair because of the daily Order meetings that took place every night. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were ushered out of the kitchen, and sent upstairs, where a spell was put over the stairs, so no-one could go down, and silencing charms all over down stairs. They spent their time upstairs, playing chess, exploding snap or reading, which was Hermione's suggestion. Since Fred and George had left school, and now had a job, they were classified as adults and allowed to attend the meetings.

That night, once Harry had said good night to everyone, he made his way to Sirius's room, now his. He read a few pages of the Defense book that Lupin and Sirius had given him the previous year, before closing his eyes.

He was standing at the top of a tower, wind blowing from all sides. There were no railings, walls or roof. No way of getting down. Harry stood there at the side, looking down into complete darkness. No moon or stars were in the sky, there was nothing, no living forms at all. He started muttering, hardly a whisper at first, but slowly getting louder.

Truth be told

My hearts gone cold

Being nice

Has just got old

Long, long ago

When the world was young

I roamed these lands

This song I sung

Merlin's magic

I did not heed

I grew stronger

Power I did need

I was beaten

But not for long

I now roam again

I now sing my song

Truth be told

My hearts gone cold

Being nice

Has just got old

Harry awoke, a blurry form stood above him, hands on his shoulders. His glasses were placed on his face, as his waker spoke.

“Harry? Harry?” It was Hermione's soft voice, full of concern.

“'Mione? What are you doing in my room, its night still?” He said groggily, observing the darkness around him.

“You were muttering in you sleep, I was coming back from the bathroom, and I heard you.” She said letting him sit up, as she sat down on his bed.

“Oh, thanks. What was I saying?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“You said something like Truth be told, My heart's gone cold, being nice has just gotten old, something like that, it was like an incantation. What were you dreaming about?” Harry told her of the tower, and the complete nothingness. She sat thinking in the darkness. Silence hung about the room, when he heard a soft knock. Harry swung around out of his bed, listening intently.

“What is it?” Hermione asked softly, straining to hear it again.

“Come with me.” Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room.

“Where are we going, Harry?” She asked curiously. Harry led her to the wall, he felt around, finally running his fingers over the latch; he pulled it out, the door swung open with a click. Hermione gasped. He led her up the hidden stair-case, the door enclosing them in darkness. When the torches flickered on a moment later, Hermione gave off the second gasp that evening. She let go of Harry's hand and wondered around a bit, stopping at a pile of books.

“Harry, when did you find this place?” She asked looking up from the book she now had in her hands.

“Last night, I heard the knocking, but I don't know where it's coming from, Shhh, let's listen.” They both fell silent, trying to hear the knocking once more. There it was, a soft knock, coming from the other side of the room. Harry walked quietly to where he thought it was coming from. A chest lay on the ground in a corner. Engravings ran over the front, and down the sides, unrecognizable by

Harry. He heard the knocking again; it was coming from the chest. It shook when the knock was let off, like something was inside and wanted to get out. He felt a hand on his shoulder as Hermione stood beside him watching the trunk. They both moved towards it, kneeling down in front of it. Harry reached out a hand to it, but the lid creaked open before his hand touched it. He pulled it open more. A small gold ball zoomed out. Harry's Quidditch reflexes took over as he flicked his hand out and caught it. He looked at it curiously in his hand, before a light clicked on in his head. It was a snitch. Harry looked at it speechless. It was obviously old, with a few scratches and grime over the golden ball, and the wings were a bit dusty, but it was other wise perfectly fine. Harry remembered Snape's penseive, the one how his father, Sirius, Lupin and Wormtail had sat under the tree. His father had been playing with a snitch, this snitch. Hermione woke Harry out of his memories.

“Harry?” She asked, very curious now, as to what an old snitch was doing in an old chest.

“It was my dad's” He stuttered, holding it up for her to see. Her smile faded quickly at Harry's words.

“I'm sorry, Harry. But how do you know?” Harry remembered that Hermione didn't know about Snape's memory.

“Moony told me how he used to play with a snitch at school. I didn't know that Sirius had kept it though.” He said, not wanting to bring back old feelings. Harry was about to shove the snitch into his pocket, when he realized he didn't have any clothes on, except his boxers.

“Hermione, why didn't you tell me I only had my boxers on?” he asked, slightly embarrassed. She smirked at him.

“Well you said to me yesterday,” It was now after twelve o'clock, so technically the next day, “That they were only boxers, so I didn't worry about telling you,” Harry could only manage to smile. He peered into the chest, now void of the snitch, which was clamped in Harry's fist. Harry reached in and felt a stick; he pulled it out and gasped. It was a wand. He reached back in and pulled out another one. Harry held the two wands in his shaking hand. He had the feeling he was holding his parents wands, somehow he knew it. He placed them on the ground beside him and reached in again. He felt another wand; he placed it on the others, which he knew were his parents, and Sirius's. Hermione placed another hand on his shoulder. He looked up to her to realize a tear was rolling down her cheek. He smiled slightly, as he swept away the glistening tear. She smiled sadly, as Harry turned back to the chest. He reached in for the forth time, but only finding papers. He pulled out a pile of them. They were mostly photos, the first of Sirius and his father standing next to each other, grinning cheekily, no older than eleven. Harry sighed as he pulled out the next. His mother and father stood in the middle holding a baby Harry, Sirius stood next to James, and Lupin next to Lily. Harry's eyes welled up, but he wiped them away with his snitch held hand. He placed them back in, followed by the wands. He kept the snitch clasped in his hand. He closed the chest up, the engravings shined silver in the lamp light.

“I think we should go back down Harry.” Hermione said standing up, followed by Harry.

“Yeah, I think you're right.” They stood and walked back down the stairs, and out onto the landing. Once back in his room and Hermione in hers, Harry sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at the small golden snitch.

The next morning bloomed bright and early for Harry as he awoke from a deep slumber. A whizzing noise was ringing in his ears, as he looked up to see a golden blur zooming around the ceiling. He groaned as he got up and jumped and snatched it in his hand. He placed it carefully in a sock and sat it in his top draw for safe keeping. Down at breakfast Ron was shoveling more food than usual into his mouth, ignoring anyone who spoke to him, or answering with a grunt. Hermione and Harry stayed quiet, occasionally glancing at each other and smiling. They hadn't told Ron what they'd found, or about the secret room Harry had found. But they were waiting for the chance to tell him, but every time the chance came around, someone would start to talk to him, or he'd get up for a drink or more food. So they waited for breakfast to finish, and for Ron to be alone. The right time came when they were heading upstairs; Harry pulled Ron aside into his room, followed by Hermione. Harry told of the secret room that he'd found, but left out the part about finding the snitch and wands.

“Can we go there tonight?” Ron asked, hopefully. Harry didn't really want to show Ron the secret room, incase he stumbled upon the chest, but thought better of it, since Ron was one of his best friends. That night Hermione and Ron met him in his room around midnight; they all went to the secret door, up the old staircase, and into the attic-like room. Ron had a large grin on his face when he found Most Potente Potions. He held it up to Hermione, who smirked in return. Harry found the Animagus book, and casually showed it to Hermione who gasped, then gained a curious expression on her face. When Ron spotted the book in Harry's hands, he glanced at the cover and smiled.

“Are you's thinking what I'm thinking?” said Ron, glancing between his two friends, waiting for an answer, Harry just grinned widely, as did Hermione. “So are we going to do it?”

“Well you probably already know my answer,” Harry said enthusiastically. He looked at Hermione who nodded.

“Wicked!” was Ron's response, “When?” Harry thought thoroughly, but Hermione answered before he could open his mouth.

“We'll meet back up here tomorrow night, then we'll decide upon what we'll do” She said convincingly. Harry nodded in agreement; Ron wore a look of disappointment.

“Alright, tomorrow night, same time, same place?” Harry suggested, they both agreed. They made their way back out, down the stair case and into their rooms, staying as silent as possible. Harry lay back down on his bed, closing his eyes once more.

He was back on the tower, wind whipping at his face. He moved to the edge, and began muttering the same words.

Truth be told

There was a tap on his shoulder, he kept speaking.

My hearts gone cold

The tapping continued, slowly getting harder.

Being nice

The taps became sharp pokes.

Has just got old

There was a very sharp, piercing stab. Harry looked down at his left shoulder. A small metal spear had pierced his skin; blood was trickling down his shirt, dripping onto the cold, concrete ground. There was no pain. No nothing. He turned around at his attacker. But before he could get a good look at their form, he awoke.

He took breaths in shallow gulps. Sweat dripped down his face, as though he had just run a long way. He pulled the covers off his bed and stared down at his left shoulder. His shirt was ripped and a red stain ran down his front, issuing from the hole. He pulled his shirt off, still glaring at his left shoulder. There was no wound, just a faint red stain surrounding where the whole had been. His heart beat in his throat, sweat slipped down his face, dripping onto his bare chest. The door swung open and in walked Hermione, smiling broadly. She spotted the shirtless Harry, and her smile faded as her face grew red.

“Oh…..sorry Harry…..I'm…..sorry…..” she backed out of the room, muttering under her breath. Harry sighed, and jumped off his bed, stashed the ripped shirt into his bottom draw and grabbed a clean one. He made his way down stairs, meeting up with Hermione on the stairs.

“Morning Harry, sorry about before,” She apologized, walking down the stairs with Harry.

“No problem Hermione.” They walked into the kitchen, but were ushered back out by Mrs. Weasley. Harry was just able to spot rolls of parchment spread out upon the table, and a few unrecognizable people huddled around in some chairs. They gave each other quizzical looks before settling down in the living room.

“Wonder what that was about?” asked Harry, Hermione just shrugged her shoulders.

“I have no idea, but it has something to do with the Order, I dare say.” She said sighing deeply. There were a few pounding foot steps coming down the stairs, as Ron's red head appeared on the landing. He looked at them curiously before heading down to the kitchen, Harry laughed he heard Mrs. Weasley's shrieks from downstairs, and at Ron's protruding head, looking a bit disgruntled. He collapsed into a chair beside Harry.

“Why didn't you's tell me that we weren't allowed in the kitchen?” He asked glaring at them angrily.

“You didn't ask, besides, you should've guessed since we were sitting up here, and not down there!” Harry snickered at the look on Ron's face at Hermione's statement. At that moment they heard Mrs. Weasley's yells from below, signaling them to come down. The day dragged on, as there was nothing to do, but when the night came, and midnight, the trio was huddled up in the secret room, discussing what to do.

“Are we going to do it here, in this house, or wait till we go to school?” asked Ron, drawing his knees up to his chest, sitting on the ground. They had been up there almost an hour, reading through the Animagi book, and trying to decide where to do it.

“Well, I'm not sure yet. We don't have the proper ingredients for the potion. It says here we'll need mandrake juice, the hair of a unicorn, some dragon's scales, oh….the list is too long, we'll never find all these things!” Hermione cried, dropping the book onto the dusty floor. Harry gave up as well, but a light flickered on in his head.

“If my father and Sirius found all the ingredients, I think we could too, we just need to know where to find them.” Harry stated standing up and swiping the dust off his legs. Hermione and Ron followed his lead.

“Your right Harry, We made the Polyjuice potion in our second year, finding all the ingredients easily.” Hermione said cheerfully. Ron stood thinking a second before speaking.

“Maybe we should clean all this out,” Ron suggested, making a sweeping gesture with his hands, pointing to all the junk scattered on the ground, “we might find some old potion ingredients or something.” Harry agreed with Ron, as did Hermione. About half an hour later Harry was tiptoeing into his room, finally making it into his room, and shutting the door. He climbed into bed, but feeling some thing under his back, he reached under the blankets and pulled it out. Harry gasped. In his hand, gleaming in the moon-light, stained with dried blood, was a small silver spear.