Prophetic Resolution

Prologue:

Shifting of Alliance

The old man had heard of the boy. He had not been following him, he'd merely come into the old tavern and heard of a strange boy. The locals claimed he was a wraith, with his fair skin, light eyes, and even lighter hair. Yet there were even more disturbing rumors - he'd had something to do with the deaths of those two people found in the clearing a few miles ago.

The locals were leery of strangers. They were Muggles, after all, but the old man liked them. He found them charming. But it was not about him today. Today he was to see this young boy. He approached slowly, knowing that he would not be expecting a visit from him. He was, after all, supposed to be dead.

"Come with me, son," he said softly, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. The teen was so exhausted that he did not protest as he was steered into a more private room in the tavern.

Slowly the boy lifted his pale eyes to meet the old man's. He waited and was not disappointed - surprise and recognition filled his eyes.

"But - But you're dead!" said the boy.

"I am. And you are an Occlumens - you have gotten better at it, I see."

The boy merely looked at him, and then dropped his eyes. "I saw you die. I was there at the tower-"

"Calm yourself! I will explain everything to you in due time." The old man studied the younger, saying in a gentle tone, "I heard about your parents."

The boy flinched. "I don't want to talk about them."

"Tell me, can you block Voldemort out of your mind?"

"Yes. You know I can, otherwise you wouldn't have shown yourself! My father always said you were a fool, but you are not as much a fool as he was."

The old man did not reply; he only gazed at the young man thoughtfully. The boy's innocence, his illusions...his childhood... all of it had come to an end.

"Did he Mark you?"

There was a hesitation, before the boy shook his head. "No. He gave me a letter - with his seal on it. I was to show it to anyone who gave me trouble. That's what I did."

"Did he mark you in any other way?"

There was a flicker of fear in the pale eyes. He wet his lips, tongue darting out quickly to lick at them, before saying, "He touched me, if that's what you mean. He marked me, yes - as his, but not as a Death Eater."

"I see," said the old man. And he did see - the boy was damaged in a way that could never be repaired. And yet, he still managed to cling on to a remnant of defiance. He was a willful child - he had always been. Always in trouble with Harry Potter and his friends while trying to get them in trouble. Always trying to cause mischief ... he was a mischievous child. One who knew where all those wounds where and rubbed salt on them. Whether it was to make them fester or heal faster, he did not know. But he smiled inwardly that the boy would rub salt on a wound - salt was one of the things to prevent infection - its sting was nothing but the price for having a wound cleaned.

But did the boy know that, he wondered. Perhaps...

Perhaps...he thought if he gave the boy--no, the young man a job that would make him feel important, he could accomplish it. He'd nearly completed his mission in trying to kill him, had he not? It said something about the boy's mettle - his determination, really, more than bravery.

"You can block Voldemort from your thoughts," he mused aloud, "Then... well, then, I suppose you wouldn't be willing to become my Secret Keeper."

The boy choked on his breath. "Me? Your Secret Keeper?" he squeaked in surprise, "But I'm not - you can't possibly trust - can you?"

"Oh, but I do. You have made a few mistakes, my dear boy, but everyone makes mistakes! This is your chance to prove the rest of them wrong - that you are good, that you are worth something..."

He watched the young man as he bit his lip. Then he nodded, saying, "All right. But what about your Phoenix lot - why can't they -"

"They are at risk," the old man said gently, "They are the most likely people I would choose to tell. More than that, the cause - our cause - needs a martyr. Severus - I cannot ask him to do more than he already has. He is alone now, but he will do what is right, help us in the way that is left to him. But you - you have disappeared from sight. If you become my Secret Keeper, you will be safe."

"Oh - so I tell your Phoenix -"

"No!" said the man, speaking much more sharply than he'd intended to and the boy flinched. "No," he said, more gently, "They must not know. You will hold this secret to yourself. You are very good at keeping secrets."

For a moment the old man thought he'd lost the boy - that he would run back to the other side. Then the boy lifted his eyes, a defiant light blazing in those pale eyes, "I'll do it. I won't let my mother's death be for nothing! She died to save me. I'm guilty of it - but I swore I'd make them pay. That puts me on your side. They won't trust me, but I've never trusted anyone. I'll be your Secret Keeper if you can tell me a safe place to go."

"I can," said the old man, slightly amused. Yet he was worried. The teenager in front of him was obviously running on nothing more than adrenaline now. His exhaustion was complete, and it was visible through the gleam in his eyes.

When the boy headed out to find the people that he needed to, a trek he would make on foot, rather than calling attention to himself with a broomstick or Apparating, he was the only person in the world who knew where Harry Potter's mentor was and that he was still alive. Yet, he would not tell them - he'd sworn it to himself, he would never say a word on the old man's whereabouts. Nor would he tell them that he was, indeed alive, and that his professor was innocent. He would let them believe what they would.

A/N: I think it ought to be obvious it'll never happen.

Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:

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