Harry Potter and the Tri-Fold Prophecy - 1. Chapter 1

Somewhere in a dense forest

Flashes of light filled the sky and cries of agony and shouts of rage rang through the otherwise silent air. The great walls of the Citadel were ablaze with glowing blue and white symbols, and they were pulsing rapidly. However, as the battle around the tower raged on, the pulsing grew less and less frequent, and the light of the symbols was slowly fading. In the midst of such a battle, there was a small meeting, in a closed and dimly lit room in the catacombs at the very centre of the citadel.

In the small room, there were a group of tall, regal people gathered in an assortment of chairs around a large obsidian table. The expressions on their faces ranged from calm and collected, to outright panic, all the way to anger in the two smallest and youngest looking of those assembled.

“Quickly, they are almost here!”, cried the tall blond man at the head of the table. “We haven’t the time to argue, this IS what we are doing, and as King, I order you to do as we have agreed at this conference, in a majority vote I might add!”

“But this isn’t the right way to go, we should all pool our resources and resist them here, we are far more powerful than they are, they only beat us in number and viciousness!”, insisted the much smaller form, at the right of the king. “We can’t let you all sacrifice yourselves on the hope that we will find what we seek.” The two twins were switching back and forth so much in their speech, that it was hard to tell which one had said any one part of their message.

“We have all agreed to this path, young one”, said a woman off to the left of the table, as she bowed deeply to the king. “My apologies, your majesty, I have just come from the watch-tower, and the wards are about to fall. After they fall, there will be nothing stopping the Dark Ones to march into the Citadel, so whatever plan we choose must be put into action quickly!”

“Yes, we have wasted enough time arguing already, my sons, this is the only path we can take, and we only can ask the blessing of the Ancestors on our chosen course. I am sorry to place such a burden on you at such a young age, but I will be sending you to a man who knows almost everything there is to know of our nation.” The King looked truly old for the first time, and his twin sons calmly accepted their father’s words.

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Number Four, Privet Drive

Harry awoke with a start again for the fifth, or was it sixth, time that night. He sat up and looked around, convinced he would see the flashes of light, or hear the crying in the streets of the city, as it felt as though he had simply stepped into his room for a momentary respite from the battle. However, he recovered more quickly this time: he always felt this way after one of “those dreams”. He’d been having them for a few nights now, and they were providing shelter from the nightmares he was having with the return of Voldemort and the death of Sirius. The dreams had been changing every night, but the men and women, who appeared to wield a very different form of magic than any he had seen, in the dreams remained the same, and they all seemed to be leading up to this point, the dreams were all focused on the debates in the small room with the obsidian table, and Harry had become accustomed to the seating and opinions of all the members in the room. All except the king and his two sons were equal in rank, and were positioned around the table according to their duties in the city. The night before, all except the two twins had agreed on the course of action, however this plan was a mystery to him, as it never was a part of any of the dreams.

Harry quickly decided to go back to sleep, to see if the dream would continue. This time, however, it was not in the familiar city with the Citadel in the centre. This time, he ended up in a multilevel room, with an archway at the bottom tier of the room. The archway was slowly blowing, as if in a calm breeze, but the air was perfectly still. Then, Sirius’s face appeared in the archway. “HELP MEEEEeeeee....” his voice was strained, but the idea was crystal clear.

“Sirius...” Harry whispered, then “SIRIUS!!!” He began shouting; he was running towards the archway, reaching, wishing to pull Sirius from the curtain, but his movements were slow and exaggerated, as if he was attempting to swim through the air. He neared the blowing covering, and as he did, Sirius came into clearer focus: he was white and pale, and he had a ghostlike characteristic about him. Harry slowed, and with a wavering voice called, “Sirius...?”

Sirius began sinking back into the archway, and as he did, he called “You have the answer among you, find me...” Then he was gone, leaving only his water-filtered voice echoing through the still room.

Harry woke with a start once again, but this time he had no desire whatsoever to return to sleep. This dream was another he had had repeatedly in the week since he returned to the Dursley’s, and it always filled him with the urge to be ill. Suppressing this urge, he decided that he would do something useful with his time and pack, as he was leaving to go to the Burrow for the rest of the summer later that day. His summer so far would have been almost pleasant, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Sirius was dead, and Harry believed it was entirely his fault for being too stupid to learn Occlumency. The Dursleys had mostly ignored him this year, which was perfectly fine with him, as he wasn’t much in the mood for company of any kind, especially not with his relatives. He had spent much of his time in his room, simply staring at the ceiling, or walking aimlessly through the community, trying to drown out his guilt and shame.

He had been writing frequently with Lupin, Ron and Hermione, and he was feeling that if he could just move on, he would be much better off this year than he had been in a while. He had discussed his dreams with Lupin, and he agreed they were unusual, but could offer no insight into the matter. At the top of the list of strange occurrences this summer, however, were not his dreams, but instead the many exploding objects in his vicinity. Whenever he would get upset or particularly emotional random objects began to explode, and so, Harry had taken to hiding away in his room, lest he attract the wrath of his ‘family’. He had tried to use Lumos once, as it was easier than turning on the lights and was the one bit of magic he was permitted to perform, but he had nearly blinded himself with its intensity, and a beam of light had nearly melted through his school trunk. Lupin again was upset by this development, but other than assuring Harry that he would be in contact with some of his sources and advising Harry to not use any magic whatsoever, he was again no help. Harry felt like his entire world was crashing around him, and his two previous comforts, magic and Sirius, were now beyond his reach.

As he wandered around and picked items up and set them down again, he found the mirror given to him by Sirius. The mirror that could have been used to prevent all of this, the mirror that he could have contacted Sirius with at any time... Any time he was alive, Harry thought bitterly. If only I hadn’t been so stupid... if only I had waited and taken the time to think things through... such thoughts ran wild through his mind, and he sat down heavily on his bed, cradling his head in his hands. Why do these things always happen to me? Why am I the one that is always targeted by misfortune? But he already knew the answer to these questions. He was targeted because of a prophecy. A prophecy that drove Voldemort to seek out Harry and try to destroy him when he was a child... a prophecy that dictated that he must either murder, or be murdered in turn. THAT is why his parents are dead, THAT is why Cedric is dead, and THAT is why Sirius is dead. Killed protecting him, or simply for being there. He seemed to be good at that, getting people killed. Despite this, the wizarding world still considered him a hero. Some hero he was, he didn’t even do anything.

By this time, tears were falling freely, and despair was slowly creeping in. Depression was settling in, and it didn’t seem like it wanted to go anywhere any time soon. He was even debating simply marching up to the Death Eaters and demanding to be brought before Voldemort, so he could finally end it all. As he was falling deeper and deeper into darkness, a small voice in the back of his head spoke up. “Don’t give in, we will beat this, you’ll see, things get better with time.” Great, now I’m depressed AND hearing voices in my head... The voice had seemed so familiar though... if only he could think: where had he heard that voice before?

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“Severus, what do you have to tell me” asked a silky smooth voice, with a hint of a snake’s hiss.

“My Lord, I have finally succeeded in obtaining the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts this year.“ He said this quietly, yet you could not mistake the joy in his voice. “Dumbledore seems to think he can finally trust me enough to instruct the young ones to defend themselves from you,” he added the last with a small chuckle.

“Yes, this is news of the best sort indeed. Harry Potter and those who oppose me would do well to be taught by you. Perhaps, if you can continue to go undetected by that old fool you can even sway some of the students to our way of thinking...” He left his thought unfinished, though Professor Snape knew what that meant. Convincing had nothing to do with it; the Imperius Curse was the favoured method of “convincing” among the Death Eaters.

“As you wish, my Lord.” Snape bowed low while turning to leave.

“Oh, Severus, do remember, if any harm befalls any of the Mudbloods in your classroom, it would be a most tragic accident, I’m sure.” Voldemort continued to talk in his calm quiet voice, the words rolling off as if they were blending into the air.

“Of course, my Lord.” And with that, Severus Snape turned and walked out of the room, his robes billowing around him in his stride.

Well, I think that’s enough for one chapter, the next one will be out soon! Even constructive (or not so constructive) criticism is welcomed. Make a review or comment in the forums to let me know what you think

foopy