A Foretold Love

PROLOGUE.prophecies

The dimly lit room was vacant except for two men. Though no one else was nearby, they spoke in hushed tones, the brown haired man wearing a look of panic and frustration. The other man appeared perfectly calm.

"We could always stop him from attending Hogwarts. He'd never find out that he was a wizard unless someone told him, and who else knows?" the brown haired man suggested.

"I don't think that will work. Remember the prophecies! Voldemort must be allowed to rise!"

"But why, Minister?" the first voice said again. "So some infant will be able to face him and come away with nothing more than a scar?"

"No," the Minister of Magic said gently. "Not because of the boy. Because of those destined to fall in love! The prophecies have told about this romance for centuries.... Nay, millennia!"

"So let me get this straight.... We are going to allow what is sure to be the most evil and powerful wizard of all time attend Hogwarts and learn magic just so two people will fall in love?"

"That's correct. We're not even supposed to know of the prophecies; we are supposed to let everything play out as it should."

"This is ludicrous!!" the first voice said angrily. "I will not go along with this!"

The Minister chuckled. "It doesn't matter whether you agree or not. Only I have the power to instruct Dippet to not send Riddle his Hogwarts letter and while I'm not looking forward to the future under Voldemort's power, it must be so."

The first person growled in annoyance. "I will tell everyone! I will! I will tell everyone of the dark wizard they are teaching at Hogwarts!"

The Minister only smiled. "No one will believe you, you know. They'll think you're mad."

The first person groaned. "But why must we go through such a time of suffering if we don't have to?"

"I told you -- we're not supposed to know of the prophecies."

The first man sighed in obvious exasperation. "What exactly do these prophecies say?" he inquired.

The Minister's eyebrows flew up as he adjusted his robes. "You mean to tell me you don't know?"

"Should I? You yourself said we shouldn't."

The Minister only fixed the other man with a pointed stare before clearing his throat. "The prophecies.... They say that a boy named Tom Riddle will grow to be the most greatly fear wizard of all time -- Lord Voldemort. Many will die by his hand until one day a young infant named Harry Potter faces his wand.... The child will survive somehow and Voldemort will flee, but he will be back. When he returns it will be a Pureblood male and a Muggle-born female from Hogwarts who defeat him." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"And these two people.... They will be attending Hogwarts at the time?"

"That's what they say."

"How is it that this Voldemort is one of the most greatly fear wizards of all, yet an infant defeats him the first time, and two Hogwarts students defeat him the second time?"

Once again, the Minister shrugged.

The other man frowned, incredulous. "How do these Hogwarts students defeat him?"

"Ah, that's not exactly known. Supposedly their love for each other runs so deeply and passionately that Voldemort is unable to destroy them and ends up killing himself. It appears that it is much the same way for Potter. He was loved too greatly to be killed by Voldemort."

"It sounds like a load of rubbish to me, Minister."

"Think what you'd like. I must be on my way." The Minister turned to exit the room, leaving the other man alone.

"Wait! I have one more question!"

The Minister stopped to look at his partner, his gaze expectant.

"Does it say the names of the lovers?"

The Minister nodded, albeit hesitantly. "It does, but I'm not sure it is wise for you to know. Suppose someone else catches drift and decides to try and play match-maker when they are born?"

"Please?"

The Minister sighed, giving in. "One, the male, will be from a family a pureblooded wizards. He will be put in Slytherin. The female will be born to two Muggles. She will be put in Gryffindor."

"Yes, but their names?" the man inquired impatiently.

"I'm getting to it!" the Minister snapped, running a hand through his graying hair. He shot a furtive glance around the room as though to confirm they were alone. Then he sighed. "Fifty-six years from now, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy will fall in love. The prophecies say it is so."