Albus Dumbledore looked out the window of his office, down at the students who were streaming into the carriages that would bring them to Hogsmeade Train Station. His face broke into a gentle smile as he fondly watched the laughter and happiness of his students' expressions, like watching his own grandchildren. Childhood was the best part of life, to be happy without a care in the world. He loved watching children, their innocence was something that never ceased to amazed him. This fascination of his was also what inspired him to be a teacher. His greatest joy was times like that, to watch his students carefree and full of life. He knew that such a scene now would be rare and precious in the impending dark future. He looked on at the scene, as if trying to store it in his memory forever. His attention caught onto a raven-haired boy that somehow stood out of the bustling crowd. Blue eyes softened behind half-moon spectacles and followed boy a little longer as he made his way through the crowd, not bothering to engage in the chatter and excitement around him, only nodding occasionally when approached, all the way until he reached a carriage. Just before he boarded it though, Dumbledore watched him turn around to face Hogwarts. He stood there unmoving on the footstep of the carriage, looking at the castle for a long time. Oblivious to the commotion around him, his face had an unreadable expression, as though only the Hogwarts castle and he existed.
Dumbledore wondered what was going through his mind. Was it how his past fifteen years had been? Or simply the recent year? Or the fact that his future had already been set out before him - to kill or be killed? Dumbledore sighed deeply and turned his back towards the window. Neither of those should be in the mind of any teenager, yet fifteen-year-old Harry Potter had to bear that burden at his age. He sat down on his chair, elbows propped up on his table. Taking off his spectacles, he closed his eyes wearily, suddenly looking very much older. Dumbledore played out the recent events in his mind.
Harry had charged into the Department of Mysteries with Ron and Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and Cho Chang, after being tricked by Voldemort into mistaking Sirius Black to be in his hands. The entire incident hadn't turned out well. The Department of Mysteries was trashed in the short battle between the Death Eaters and Order members. All six students were injured, with Cho and Ron getting the most of it, requiring a stay at St. Mungo's for a part of the summer. If there was any silver lining to be seen in this, was that now the wizarding world finally acknowledges the return of Voldemort. He had risked appearing in the Ministry and in the end of their magical battle in the lobby, he had been spotted by Cornelius Fudge himself and a few dozen Aurors. The Ministry had finally come out of its denial and were now taking little but nevertheless necessary steps to prepare the public against the dark times ahead. But the fiasco at the Ministry was still a tragedy. The Order had lost yet another Order member that night. Sirius was killed in battle by Bellatrix Lestrange.
At this, Dumbledore's shoulders sagged as he put his head in his hands. He was a wise and intelligent man, as many had come to deem him so. All his life, he had foreseen what could have happened, and most of the time, he was right. But he had not foreseen Sirius's death, to his deepest regret. Sirius's death had hit Harry the most. Dumbledore had witnessed the growing father-son relationship between Sirius and Harry for the past two years, how Harry gradually began to see Sirius as a father figure he never had. With Sirius ripped from Harry this way, Dumbledore worried for Harry. The boy had suffered so much yet fate had been cruel enough to deal another blow. He himself was no better, for he too had dealt just one more blow to Harry's fragile state.
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"There was a prophecy, Harry." Dumbledore leaned over his table, looking intently at the fifteen-year-old boy seated in front of him. "A prophecy about you and Voldemort."
Dumbledore waited for a response from the boy. But there was only silence as the boy stared at him with dull eyes from his slouched position opposite him. That response made it difficult for him to continue, but he knew that there was no way he could not keep it from him any longer. He took a deep breath and went on.
"That was what Voldemort wanted today at the Department of Mysteries. That bottle that the Death Eaters wanted from you contained the prophecy that was made sixteen years ago, just before you were born. He had only heard the front portion of the prophecy then. Thus now that he had gotten his body back, the first thing on his list was the prophecy. To hear it in its entirety. For he believes that it is the prophecy that will foretell the end. In his understanding, the prophecy is his weapon to vanquish you."
At this, Harry finally gave a reaction. He let out a short bitter laugh, his entire body jerking with each laugh as if it had to be forced out. "Serves that bastard right." A smirk broke through his emotionless face. "The bottle was smashed. He'll never get to hear it. Fifteen years of waiting for something that is gone forever." He laughed again. "Serves that bastard right." He repeated.
"That bottle was merely a copy of the real prophecy, Harry. A recording, you can call it. The prophecy is not, as you say it, gone forever. Sixteen years ago, I had the pleasure of interviewing a prospective Divination teacher at the Hog's Head. It was she who made the prophecy, and in a stroke of luck, I was present to hear it to its entirety, unlike Voldemort thankfully." Dumbledore recounted the events that were etched so deeply in mind for the past sixteen years. "I have kept all these a secret all these years, and now I believe it is time for you to know… Everything. Let me begin by showing you the prophecy that started it all."
"The pensieve." Harry whispered. He was more alert now, no longer slouching in his chair, but sitting up straight, leaning forwards on the table.
"Yes Harry, I will show it to you using my pensieve. But I do not have a record of it in it. It is simply too risky; I cannot allow any chances of anyone discovering the prophecy. I promise you, Harry. The prophecy is something I will never forget; whether or not my memory begins fail me as I age." Dumbledore gave Harry a wry smile before getting out of his chair.
He took out his pensieve from his cupboard and placed it in front of Harry. He straightened up again and brought his wand to his temple. When he took off his wand, attached to it was a silver strand, as though his wand had caught on to one of his hair strands. But both of them knew better than that. Soon after the strand was placed into the pensieve, the silvery liquid in it began to swirl. A quick falling sensation, they soon found themselves in Hog's Head Bar.
It was a typical quiet bar, with a local band playing jazz music on the stage. The patrons were minding their own businesses, slouching over their drinks; the bartender was wiping glasses behind his bar. Dumbledore gently placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, guiding him to a dark corner of the place. Dumbledore had revisited this memory countless of times over the years. Finally, he was showing it to him. He wondered how Harry would react to the prophecy. He saw a copy of himself, admittedly younger, standing next to a woman draped in deep red and orange robes. Her entire body was all tensed up, like she was starting a seizure. Her eyes were rolled up so that only the whites of the eyes were visible. With her trembling hands held out, she spoke in a voice that was deep and rough, like she was in a trance.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…"
At this, a cloaked figure seated at the table next to them suddenly knocked down his goblet. The younger Dumbledore looked up sharply.
"…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"
A glimpse of his wand and a movement of his lips were seen. The cloaked figure stood up abruptly and moved towards their table. Only to knock into some sort of invisible barrier some distance away from where the lady was standing.
"…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…"
The cloaked figure whipped out his wand.
"Finite Inca-"
"Expelliarmus!"
His wand flew out of his grip and out of the open door. The barman had sensed trouble and reacted quickly by casting a disarming charm on the cloaked figure.
"…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"
The figure rushed out of the door to retrieve his wand and in a flurry of black robes, disapparated in a characteristic "POP!"
"…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"
The woman finished speaking and her hands dropped to her sides as her body began to collapse. The younger Dumbledore caught her and gently sat her down. "Are you all right, Ms Trelawney?"
The older Dumbledore looked sideways at Harry, who was watching the scene unfold before him. Unspeaking, he stood there frowning, confusion plain in his eyes. Dumbledore took his shoulder once more and brought them out of the memory. Once again, the two of them were back in his office, surrounded by the different portraits of headmasters and mistresses over the years and Dumbledore's shelves of books and trinkets.
Harry dropped into his seat in daze as Dumbledore surveyed him from behind his table. His green eyes moved unfocusedly for a while before looking up into Dumbledore's blue ones, lost and questioning.
"That was the prophecy. As you could see, there was someone who heard the front portion of prophecy. What happened was that I cast a silencing charm around Sybill and me as soon as I noticed the eavesdropper. However he had fled before I could erase his memory of what he heard."
Harry sat in front of him, numbly absorbing his words. Dumbledore sighed. How he wished that this day would never come, that Harry would never know about the prophecy, that Harry was not the chosen one. But as fate would have it, it picked Harry. Confusion, pain and helplessness looked back at him as he locked eyes with him. Dumbledore walked around his table and knelt down in front of Harry, gently placing his wrinkled hand on Harry's knee.
"Harry, you must understand that this is what destiny has chosen for you. It is not your choice to deny what fate has laid out for you, but it is your choice to go down this path with courage," Dumbledore whispered. "Or with defiance."
"I will be here to help you, Harry, in every way that I can and know of. Remember that you're not alone in this." Dumbledore tightened his grip on his knee, staring straight into his eyes.
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You're not alone in this. Dumbledore repeated it silently. He stood up again and walked back to the window. The students had all boarded the carriages, which had left for Hogsmeade Train Station. He let out another sigh. Contrary to what he told Harry, he had not in fact, let on everything that had happened that night. He couldn't bring himself to add on another piece of information atop everything he had gone through. That fateful night at the Hog's Head, he had only let Harry see the second portion of it. There had been two prophecies made that night… To his deep regret, he did not realise the eavesdropper sooner. The eavesdropper had managed to escape with the entire first prophecy and part of second.
"She is the Key to the power the Dark Lord knows not. Born as the Dark reign ends, the winds will find her…She will be hidden amongst the blood despised. Both sides will seek her and she shall be truly found. She will be His Key to the power the Dark Lord knows not…"
Dumbledore deduced that the Key was still alive. With only a portion of the second prophecy, Voldemort must have misunderstood the first. Thus presently, both prophecies still held true. He knew that if they had any chance in this war, it was in the Key and Harry. They had Harry with them, sure enough. And Dumbledore had faith that the Key would appear soon, in this time of need.
Dumbledore turned to stare out of the window again. "You're not alone in this." He murmured.
"She will be truly found… by you."
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