The Prophecy

Chapter 2: The Prophecy Revealed

Harry Potter of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, awoke with a start. It had been two weeks since the disaster at the Department of Mysteries. Two weeks since his entire world had come crashing down. Not only had he lost the closest person to family he had ever had; Harry learned that his entire life had been for naught, and that he was, in fact, destined to die at the hands of Lord Voldemort.

Looking at the small clock beside his bed Harry let out a soft groan. 4:43am, 2nd July, 1995. In just a few weeks Harry would celebrate his 15th birthday. Somehow he had a feeling that 15 would be no better than 14, and a lot worse than 13. With a grimace Harry began to wonder if he would even see 16. His dreams were becoming increasingly alarming, and made less and less sense as the days went by. For a week straight he had dreamt of the prophecy. What it meant, and how he might be able to work around it. And then tonight he dreamt of a horocrux (whatever that was). He thought about owling Hermione for the answer but abstained from it at the thought of what she might do if she was woken by Hedwig at five in the morning. And then there was a girl, but who was she? Harry knew for a fact that he did not have a sister, but then she had said "at least not where I came from"… 'Not where I came from', what did that mean? Surely parallel universes and alternate realities WERE the thing of science fiction, but then again, magic and dragons and unicorns existed, so maybe things such as that did as well. In that moment Harry wished desperately for a headache potion, or even some paracetamol, but seeing as Uncle Vernon had taken to locking Harry in his room again at the start of the summer, and had accordingly locked up all of his school supplies (save his wand which he had managed to hide), neither seemed to be an option.

"James died protecting you. NOT because he was the man who helped create you, but because of an oath he made to two of his closest friends…"

Yet another part of the mystery. Of COURSE James was Harrys dad. He had heard it every day since he was eleven, of how MUCH he looked like his father, except for his eyes, which were exactly like his mothers. The more Harry thought on it, the more his head hurt. He would definitely need to write to Hermione.


"The world is not split into two sides, good and evil. We all have light and dark inside us. It just matters what we choose to act upon." -Sirius Black


"All this talk of Light and Dark, Good and Evil…no such nonsense exists. No one is wholly good or wholly evil. All good deeds at some point in time obtained an evil nature as a means to an end. And the world? It's just varying shades of grey. No white. No black. It's just a matter of how grey you are willing to get. That's what Sirius was trying to say. Stop TRYING to be good Harry. Just be whatever it takes to stay alive. And trust NO ONE. Not even me. These are very uncertain times. A time when friends and enemies won't exist and the lines between right and wrong will begin to blur. Dumbledore may be an idiot, but he did get one thing right. At some point or another we will all be faced with a choice between what is right and what is easy. And as we face different situations, and certain things come to light, our ability to choose between the two may be hindered. It would be so easy for me to do this all myself because I know what NEEDS to be done, but it is only right that I let you take head in this quest, for the decisions made must be yours, and yours alone. "


Harry had been dreaming of Sirius and the conversation they had had just last term, when Harry was beginning to feel as if he were loosing himself to Voldemort. He had confronted his Dogfather with his fears, and in one of his more mature moments, Sirius had sought to comfort his best friends son the only way he knew how. He had tried to convey to him that while Harry had a connection to the Dark Lord, he was not, himself, an evil person. How Harry longed for the comfort of his Godfathers words now.

As he lay back reflecting on his most recent dream, Harry was still at a loss to explain this girl who kept speaking to him. It sounded like she had intimate knowledge of Harry and his life, but not a life that he led in 'his' world. It was almost as if she were trying to warn him of things to come, but what things? Many people had spoken to him about the separation, or lack thereof, of good and evil, of power and the willingness to seek it. But this dream girl had told him not to trust ANYONE, not even his friends. If he couldn't trust those closest to him, how was he to overcome Voldemort? It was all so confusing and unfortunately for Harry, he had yet to hear from a single person all summer. Maybe Dumbledore would let him go to the Burrow soon, he was always allowed the last two weeks of Summer Hols there, and if that was still true for this year, then maybe, just maybe, he would find some answers there.

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