Night of the Prophecy

Night Of the Prophecy

It was a dreary, wet night in July around ten p.m., and almost all the people in Hogsmeade were somewhere inside their homes, either sleeping or sitting cosily by the fire. But some devoted patrons still struggled their way through the wind and rain for reasons unknown except to themselves. One of these vague shapes was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore strode past all the shops along the winding street, looking straight ahead. He never even glanced at the cheery crowds inside the Three Broomsticks. Instead, he made his way steadily through the storm to the rather darker pub known as the Hog's Head.

Only two people acknowledged his presence as he entered the filthy bar and took off his dripping cloak: a short man sitting in the corner reading a paper, who gazed at him with narrowed eyes, and the grey-haired and bearded man behind the counter, who gave a curt nod. Dumbledore strode forward with a smile that made his bright blue eyes dance.

"Ah, Aberforth. How nice to see you again."

Aberforth grunted. "She's up thar a'ready. Odd lookin' thing. All beads an' sparklin' stuff. Daft, she seemed to be."

Dumbledore nodded, still smiling. "You can't judge by what you see." He suddenly seemed become a more serious and sober. "These days, you can't judge anything by what you see, " he said, almost grimly.

"Ar." Aberforth nodded. "She's prob'ly gettin' sorta mad and such. Been up there a long time."

Dumbledore nodded. "I best be attending to her, then. Thank you." He turned and proceeded to climb a rather unstable-looking staircase up to the second floor, where a guest awaited him in a private room.

In the corner, the short man stirred. Lowering the Daily Prophet, he slowly raised an arm clad in a loose, grey cloak hand and pretended to scratch his ear. Secretly, he tapped it with a wand concealed in his sleeve and whispered 'Amplifiera!' He then picked up his newspaper and took a sip of Firewhiskey, now listening with intently to the voices from the room above him.

* * *

The first impression Dumbledore had of Sibyll Trelawney was that she was some sort of glittering grasshopper. She was draped in at least five sparkling shawls, she was tall and skinny with rather long legs, and she was absolutely covered in beads and bracelets, rings and necklaces, and other assorted jewellery. Her already large, pale eyes were magnified to the size of saucers.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore," she said in an ethereal, mystic sounding voice. "How wonderful to meet you in this plane of existence at last."

Dumbledore stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind him. "Good evening, Miss Trelawney."

She gave a tinkling little laugh. "Oh, you may call me Sibyll. Formalities make one nervous and cloud the Inner Eye."

"Indeed." He sat down in one of the shabby chairs in the room. With a few flicks of his wand, he conjured a roaring fire in the grate, a plate of cakes and a pot of tea, and a crystal ball.

"Do sit down and have a cup of tea, Sibyll," he said courteously, gesturing at the chair across from him.

" Thank you, Headmaster." Holding up her skirt, she sat.

"Am I right in saying that you are the great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawne?" He asked, mainly to get her to stop staring at him with her enormous eyes.

"Oh yes," she said enthusiastically, "I am."

"And you are the first in your family since to inherit her gifts?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly, "but I believe that most of my family has the Inner Eye. But they are too frightened to use it."

"Too frightened?'

"Seers have always been feared and prosecuted," she said, her voice lowering to a whisper. "And it is a great burden to be All-Knowing."

" I see. Well, when did you first realize you had this ability?"

Sibyll smiled. "I was six. My mother had just told me the story of Great-great-grandmother Cassandra, and I was intrigued. I tried to See into future as she had. And I could! It was the most wonderful moment of my life."

Dumbledore leaned back, smiling. So far, so good, he thought. She is a bit strange, but she seems sincere. "That is enough questioning, I believe. Now it time for you to prove your abilities. Nothing complicated--just some tea reading and crystal ball gazing.

Sibyll straightened up, pulling at her shawls. "I am ready, Headmaster," she declared in the most mystical tones she had used yet. "I shall now Perceive your past, See into your future."

* * *

The man in the grey cloak was very bored and rather sleepy. He knew why he was the one who had to trail Dumbledore. He was a close friend, so if he were unmasked it wouldn't look suspicious. But when he had joined the Death Eaters, they hadn't said anything about this. They had told a story of Peter Pettigrew, one of the elite, one of the Pure Ones, one of the protected. Not Peter Pettigrew, one of the greasy patrons in the Hog's Head inn, forced to listen to Dumbledore interviewing some lady for the Divination teacher post. He almost felt inclined to leave, but he knew that would be evidence for them to punish him. Suppressing a shudder, he took a sip of his second pint of Firewhiskey and started to re-read the Daily Prophet for the tenth time.

He failed to notice that Aberforth was watching him carefully, gripping a wand tightly in his fist and trying to think of a subtle way to check him for spells.

* * *

Dumbledore was extremely disappointed. Although she very much acted and looked the part of a true Seer, Sibyll Trelawney seemed to have not a bit of the gift Cassandra had had. She had completely missed on his birth date and the names of his parents, and she had informed him that both his wife the teacher of History of Magic would die very soon, when in fact, one didn't exist and the other was already dead. Now she was staring at him confidently, sure that he would soon declare that she was hired. He tried to think of a way to tell her gently that she was not fit for the post.

He cleared his throat. She gazed at him expectantly "Sibyll, I am afraid that you don't exactly fulfill the requirements for Divination teacher," he began, trying to ignore the slow crumbling of her face. " I am looking for someone with different talents than you yourself possess. I am sure you will find another job to your taste I wish you good luck in all your exploits." He stood up and held out his hand. She took it, sputtering. "But--but--but-"

He shook her hand firmly and turned to the door. Reaching out, he placed his hand around the knob.

Harsh, hoarse tones interrupted his motion. "The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..."

* * *

Peter was almost asleep. This Seer woman was a real fake. She couldn't tell a lifeline from a pumpkin. Dumbledore sounded as impressed with her as he was. He could tell she wouldn't be getting the job.

He listened without much interest as Dumbledore bid her good day and turned to leave. Good, he thought. Now I can go home.

Then it happened. A harsh voice roused him from his reverie, but it was the words more than the tone that roused him. "The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..."

"What?' he said, sitting up, forgetting he was in a bar full of people.

His surprise at nothing was enough for Aberforth. "Stay where y' ar'!" he shouted, darting forward.

"Shhh!" said Peter, listening intently. Why, the old phoney was an actual Seer! He was in awe as he listened to a true prophecy being unveiled.

"Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord--"

At that precise moment, Aberforth whipped out his wand and shouted "Finite Incantem!"

Instantly the words faded from his ears. "No!" he shouted, in panic. "I have to hear it!" He raised his own wand.

But Aberforth was too quick for him. In a flash, Peter was sent sprawling outside on his back. Hastily, he stood up. The old barman was blocking the doorway.

"My brother's business is sure as hell none of yours," he growled, fire in his eyes. "Unless you want to answer to him, I suggest you get out if here!"

Peter was only too glad to obey. Although he would be greatly punished for not hearing the full prophecy, the other Death Eaters wouldn't kill him. If he stayed at the bar, he would have to face a Dumbledore who knew he was a spy. Without looking back, he disapparated with a crack.

* * *

Dumbledore spun around, his heart in his throat. "Pardon?" he said.

A harsh voice greeted him "born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord (at this point, the Headmaster heard some commotion downstairs and the bang of a spell, but nothing short of Voldemort himself could stir him from this room) will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

Sibyll Trelawney collapsed in a chair, apparently unconscious.

Now, most people after hearing that prophecy would be confused, joyous, or both. Not Dumbledore. He immediately began trying to decipher the meaning behind it.

Obviously Sibyll was a Seer...but she couldn't control the ability like most Seers could...she did make real prophecies...and what prophecies! This prophecy was a ray of light in the darkness...but it was shrouded in mystery as well. Either must die at the hand of the other...that was difficult. The prophecy never said the person; the boy with the power to vanquish Voldemort would actually do so...all it said was that he had the ability to vanquish him. First of all, he must identify this child...he would be a boy...he would be born on July thirty-first...his parents have defied, escaped Voldemort three times...the only ones who have done that are Frank and Alice Longbottom and Lily and James Potter...and they are both expecting...the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal...oh dear, that must mean...I must contact the Longbottoms and the Potters at once.

Sibyll stirred. "Where am I?" she moaned, clutching her head.

She doesn't remember, Dumbledore thought. Perhaps it is better that way. But she deserves something. Something for this. And I ought to keep her around...

He knelt by her chair and took her hand. "Sibyll, I'm afraid you have the flu or something similar. But not to worry. Madame Pomfrey will take care of you."

"Madame Pomfrey?" she said groggily. "Who, pray tell, is that?"

"Why, the Hogwarts nurse, of course." He watched with a smile as she sat up, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

"Y-You c-can't mean that I-I mean, you-I-" she stuttered in amazement.

"Yes, I have hired you," he said fondly.

"Oh my-oh-oh." She said, and before he could say another word, she had fainted dead away.

He smiled slightly. Best leave her here and send Madame Pomfrey to look after her. She'd be all right. He stood up and made his way downstairs.

He met Aberforth coming up. What is it?" he asked curiously, wondering why his brother's face was so red.

"Albus," Aberforth panted, "there was a man. A Death Eater, I think. Short little fella. He had some sorta spell on that made him hear you. I was watchin' him and he just outta the blue shouted 'What?" I stopped the spell and threw him out, but I think he heard something. Kept shoutin' 'I have to hear! Let me hear!' or some fool thin--Albus? What's the matter? Y' look awf'ly pale."

Dumbledore wasn't listening. "Aberforth," he said in a calm, even voice, "I need your help. There is a woman upstairs who is presently unconscious. If she wakes, reassure her that I will be sending Madame Pomfrey along shortly. She believes she has the flu. Please to not disrupt this image."

Aberforth looked confused. "What does she really have?"

Dumbledore attempted a small smile. "Nothing. She is just overtired and overwhelmed."

"So you hired her for the job?"

"Yes. Now, I must hurry along. I have important business to attend to."

Aberforth frowned. "What do ya gotta do other than send over this 'Madim Permfrey' person?"

Dumbledore paused. He couldn't let his out, too much was at stake...

"I must contact the Potters and the Longbottoms at once. I have something very important to discuss with them."

;Fin;