Sixteen-year-old Harry Potter took a deep breath as he walked over
to the floor-to-ceiling windows. He put his hands inside the pockets
of his trousers and stared at the beautiful grounds outside.
Harry knew that the Deathly Hallows were very powerful. The wizard
who obtained them all was said to be the Master of Death and
according to legend, was also immortal. The question was – should
he keep them locked up or should he use it? He considered his
options. As far as anyone was concerned, the cloak was not a threat.
It had survived for centuries within the family, and he too would
eventually pass it on to his descendants. The stone had been held
by the Gaunts for hundreds of years in the form of a ring. None of
them knew its true power – that it was a necromantic marvel. People
like Dumbledore and Grindelwald might think it would create an army
of Inferi, but Harry highly doubted that. It was not a weapon of war,
according to the Tale of the Three Brothers.
The sole danger was the Elder Wand. That was a weapon that had
destroyed countless lives. Only a powerful wizard could truly tame
the Deathstick. Was he qualified?
The teenager flexed his fingers. He would not let the Elder Wand be
placed under lock and key. Such power could have its uses, and he
had plans for the future. Nothing that involved war, but if he ever met
powerhouses like Lord Voldemort or Albus Dumbledore again, the
Elder Wand would be a useful ally. He was already the master of the
wand, so why not use it?
Thinking so, Harry moved back to his desk and picked up the Elder
Wand. However, he gasped when he was forced to throw it back – it
was burning hot! The wand began glowing. Harry stepped back in
surprise when it ascended in the air. The Resurrection Stone
followed, expanding in size until it stood as a perfect disc. The
Invisibility Cloak folded into a neat triangular shape and assembled
behind the two objects creating the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.
All three were glowing bright gold, and the temperature in his study
was very warm due to the amount of magic present in the air.
"What is this?" Harry murmured to himself. He slowly extended his
hand to touch it, to feel it. He didn't know why he was doing it, but
something about the Hallows was calling to him, and he was
attracted to it like a magnet.
The moment his skin touched the objects, Harry screamed as the
magic in the Deathly Hallows merged into his body. The Hallows
reconfigured to form a sphere of golden magical energy and before
he knew what was happening, the sphere had connected with his
chest. Harry closed his eyes as his head started spinning. He saw
things he couldn't identify. There was pitch blackness all around him,
but suddenly, he could see stars, planets, galaxies, and just when he
thought he was going mad, the Deathly Hallows infused with his very
soul.
Lightning flashed outside Potter Castle as it began raining heavily.
Harry's body was glowing, with his aura lashing out violently. He
struggled to regain control of his magic as he collapsed on his
knees, breathing heavily. His vision was still blurry, and his body was
aching everywhere. He fell back against his desk; his head was
throbbing too.
What the hell was that?
Several floors underground, in the bowels of the castle, was a basin
holding two ancient signet rings. The basin, charmed by the late
Lady Potter, recognised the powerful magical signatures of the witch
and wizard present in the castle. With a flash of light, the Peverell
signet rings for the Lord and Lady vanished, appearing on the fingers
of Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass. The Most Ancient and
Noble Clan of Peverell had been revived.
"Harry?"
The scion of the Potter family stood up immediately and turned
towards the door. He was stunned to see that both Daphne and
Dylan were trembling. There was a golden glow around their bodies
as well. Both of them were breathing erratically.
"Harry, you won't believe this, but something strange happened just
a few minutes ago," Dylan cried hysterically. "Some strange golden
sphere suddenly appeared in front of me and the next thing I knew,
my whole body is aching and I was surrounded by pitch blackness!"
Daphne was looking at Harry introspectively. "The same happened
to me too," she confessed softly. "And somehow, I gained a ring as
well."
Harry paused as he examined the ring. It was made of black
diamond, placed on a platinum band, with the crest of a Thestral. It
was the Peverell ring. But that was not what worried him. His body
was literally infused with magic, and he felt more powerful than he
ever had before. But he was confused; the Deathly Hallows reacting
that way to one person made sense. After all, according to legend,
there could be only one Master of Death. Why did the same thing
happen to Dylan and Daphne as well?
"Harry?" asked Daphne worriedly, placing her hand on his shoulder.
"What's going on?"
For the first time, Harry didn't know how to answer that. He too was
dazed by the developments that had unfolded in the past few
minutes and he couldn't begin to comprehend them. Dylan stood
silently, waiting for Harry to speak.
"I don't know," exhaled Harry. "I had placed the Deathly Hallows –"
"Wait, the Death Hallows? But they're a myth, right?" she frowned. "I
know about them, but they're supposed to be a children's tale!"
Harry smiled faintly. "Not really," he admitted. "But I'll explain later. I
need to think for a while ... clear my head."
Daphne and Dylan looked at each other in confusion as Harry
transformed into his Animagus form and flew out of the window.
"That was odd," muttered Dylan. He flexed his fingers and pointed
them at the large windows. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated.
A jet of white light flew from the tips of his fingers, making the
window explode. Daphne gasped as she hastily threw up a shield.
However, the shield was so strong that it pushed them against the
wall painfully.
"Did I just use wandless magic?" he exclaimed, inspecting his hand
with barely concealed curiosity.
Daphne was already on her feet. Repairing the damage with just a
flick of her wand – again, proving that her magical reserves had
increased drastically – she quickly made her way to the castle's
library. She would have to find out what had happened to her, Harry
and Dylan.
At Hogwarts, Luna Lovegood suddenly sat upright, her silvery eyes
staring into space, lost in thought. Her vision clouded as she was
soon transported into another world. Images and sounds dominated
her sight.
"– does that mean the suffering of all those children count for
nothing?" spat Harry. "Are we just going to ignore the plight of
defenceless children and sit in our cradle of power? Your arrogance
disgusts me!"
"Nature does not differentiate between good or bad, Lord Potter.
Nature and Magic only exist in balance, and should the balance tilt
either way, it would lead to destruction."
Daphne felt tears in her eyes as she saw the sight before her. The
tears quickly turned to anger. After all that they tried to do, this was
how they were being repaid? She immediately took off into the air
without the help of a broom. She took in the sight before her and
glared hatefully. She brought her palms together as her anger
reached epic proportions.
"The shroud of darkness has fallen, Lord Potter. We must take
action, or we might lose everything that we hold most dear."
"My Lady," said the wizard wearing a navy-blue uniform. "We're
ready."
Daphne checked her calculations once again. She took a deep
breath as she stood in the middle of the ship's bridge. "Engage," she
ordered. She felt the anxiety of everyone present. The screen in front
of her contorted. Any second now ...
The General watched in silence as their enemies approached their
position. Dylan activated the communications device as he spoke
clearly, "Launch the first squadron. All ships, fire at will."
Harry stood silently as everyone waited for his command.
"They're not backing down. They've ignored your warning," said
General Lestrange, turning back to look at his brother.
"Do it," said Harry quietly. His green eyes were fixed on the screen
as his words were implemented into action. His fist tightened, nails
digging into his palm, releasing blood.
BOOM!
Luna gasped as she woke up, trembling violently. She immediately
rushed to the bathroom and threw up. This was the most intense
vision she had ever had. Usually, it was just a few seconds here and
there at random intervals, too brief to identify anything. But this time
...
She hastily grabbed her mirror. "Garrick Ollivander!"
Luna waited impatiently as the old man's face appeared.
"I assume you're calling me about a vision?" he asked without
preamble. He too looked pale and shaken up.
"Yes, Grandpapa," answered Luna, addressing her late mother's
father. "This was, by far, the clearest vision I've ever had, and I can't
understand what it means."
"We can discuss your progress once you're home for the summer,"
exhaled Ollivander. "I need time to interpret this as well. Keep an eye
on Sybill Trelawney, my dear."
"Understood," she replied, giving a curt nod. "It's a good thing the
second term at school hasn't ended yet. I'll keep a close eye on her."
Luna cut the connection, but she was still breathing heavily.
Splashing cool water on her face, she quietly left Ravenclaw Tower.
She had to monitor another Seer in the castle – a Seer that was
unlike many others. Instead of just seeing visions as she and her
grandfather did, Trewalney recited actual prophecies. With a vision
this intense, she might just make one.
Far away from Magical Britain, a creature was meditating. The
creature seemed to be female. She had a crown on her head, but it
seemed to be made of ice and pearls instead of precious stones.
She was of average height. Her ears were longer than those of a
human and her skin had wrinkles on them, suggesting great age.
Her hands seemed strong, with sharp nails, and her skin tone was
dark blue, but the most distinguishing feature of them all was her
eyes – eyes which were large, the round orbs the colour of the
sunset.
The Queen of the Elves opened her eyes, stroking her chin in
contemplation. She summoned her chief adviser and gave her
command.
"Bring Nicolas and Perenelle before me. I sense a strange shift in
the planet's magical activity. Ollivander was right. The time has
come. We must begin preparations for what is eventually going to
happen. We must be ready within the next ten years."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I shall contact them at once."
The Queen looked towards the sky as her orange eyes narrowed.
After thousands of years, it was time for the Elves to come out of
their self-imposed solitude. The fate of the planet was at stake. She
whispered the name of the young man whom she had sensed, the
vision which the Queen had foreseen more than three hundred years
ago, when she had still been a youngling.
"Harry James Potter. The Saviour of Magic."
HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP
Harry closed his eyes to contemplate his situation. He was perched
on top of the highest tower of the castle, not bothered by the heavy
rain that was soaking his clothes. Looking down, he once again
traced the tattoo he had on his chest. The addition on his chest,
directly over his heart, was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. It was
dark red, looking more like a blood clot. What was interesting was
that Daphne and Dylan had the same tattoo as well, from what he
had verified a couple of days ago. The memory of the three of them
absorbing the magic of the Hallows made him frown.
Why was he suddenly the Master of Death?
Why him?
That was not the only puzzling discovery. Ever since he had
absorbed the power of the Hallows, he had felt a connection with
Daphne and Dylan he had had never felt before. It was as if his
fiancée and brother were tied to him in some way. In fact, according
to Daphne, she felt like the boys were tied to her . He could only
conclude that all three of them, their magic itself, were tied to each
other due the Deathly Hallows.
Harry could feel it, their magic present in his very soul. It was literally
indescribable. Did that mean his fiancée and brother were immortal
too? Wait, why was he jumping to conclusions? Was he immortal at
all? The legend of the Master of Death could not possibly be true,
could it?
No . There was a voice inside him, telling him that his theory was
right. The magic of the Hallows had turned him into the Master of
Death and he would not accept that title if he did not have his fiancée
and brother with him. Magic had granted his wish – this he knew,
though how, he could not explain. There was something nudging him
along in that direction.
The traditions of magical species like magical humans, goblins,
centaurs, merpeople, elves and many others believed in the
sentience of Magic itself. To them, magic was not just a tool or ability
– it was much more than that. It was the primordial energy that had
created the universe. Their beliefs were based on it and this had
existed for tens of thousands of years.
Harry now knew that they had all been right all along. It was as if
Magic herself was guiding him along, helping him fulfil his destiny by
making him the Master of Death. But what was his destiny? Hadn't
he just destroyed Voldemort?
"Something on your mind, Harry?"
The young man's mouth twitched into a small smile as he saw the
ghost floating next to him. If there was anyone he could talk to about
his problems, it was Alfred Potter, the ghost that had raised him
since he was a little boy.
"I was just thinking about what happened a few days ago," said
Harry softly. "Why did the Hallows choose to merge into us? Why the
three of us specifically? Why me ? "
"Such questions do not always have answers, Harry," replied Alfred
with a knowing smile. "The Deathly Hallows are objects that have
never been fully understood by anyone. No one can predict how they
would react to situations and people. Magic is free-flowing and
eternal. You can't really anticipate when and why magic would flow in
a certain direction."
"What is expected of me?" he blurted out. "I've fulfilled the prophecy
that Trewalney recited to Dumbledore. I got rid of Voldemort for
good. But now, I sense something that I cannot explain,
Grandfather."
"Hmm," the ghost pondered. "This voice in your head –"
"It's not really a voice, just a strong feeling I have about my role in
the future. Sometimes I feel like there are whispers in my head.
Other times, it gives me a sense of peace I've never felt before. It
tells me if I'm on the right path ... and that gives me the courage to
move forward. But I don't understand ... it's only been a few days
and I'm already feeling such strange effects!"
"And what is your path?" asked Alfred sharply. "What is that you plan
to do?"
Harry took a deep breath. "The magical world isn't truly safe until we
have cut off all contact with the Muggles," he said. "My main concern
is the children who grow up in Muggle environments. Of course, I'm
also worried that the International Statute of Secrecy cannot be
enforced a few decades from now unless we do something. With
more Muggles being informed about magic, the more dangerous it's
going to be. If the statute ever crumbles, we'll have nowhere to run,
and we can't defend ourselves against such superior numbers. I
have goals and ideas for the future of the magical world but I also
know that one person cannot do it alone. I can recognise that this is
how Dark Lords began their journey, but so did some of the greatest
witches and wizards in history. Unfortunately, history also shows us
that greatness always comes at a cost of war. I have lived through
the war with Voldemort and I don't want to witness another. I
welcome peace. But for that, I cannot limit myself to Magical Britain
alone. I need allies internationally."
"You've had these ideas since you were a small child. What makes
you think this is the right course of action?"
"I just have this feeling ," said Harry earnestly. "It's the whispers in
my head saying that I'm doing the right thing. I'm inclined to trust
them."
Alfred smiled. "I have raised you since you were a seven-year-old
boy, Harry," said the ghost softly, "and I've always known that you
were meant for great things. You have it in you to become a leader.
Listen to your heart, it won't lead you astray. Do not try to change the
present based on what you know of the future. The future is always
in motion, and by doing things to change it, you might create a selffulfilling
prophecy. You might create the very danger you sought to
avoid."
Harry sat silently as he thought about that. His eyes narrowed when
he spotted something strange about the ghost. "Grandfather, are you
alright?" he inquired.
"You've always had a sharp eye," chuckled Alfred. He looked at the
boy fondly. "My time has come, my child. It is time I moved on."
The teenager froze as he looked at his ancestor. "What?" he
whispered angrily. "You're leaving? After a century and a half, you
decide to leave now ? When I need you the most?"
"It's not my decision, Harry," said Alfred sadly. "Ghosts are created
due to a variety of reasons. Some choose not to cross over because
they're scared of death. Others do so because they can't accept
death. I chose to remain as a ghost solely to watch over my
descendants until someone revives the Peverell Clan. I promised
myself that I would move on only after I assured myself of my
family's safety."
"So?"
"So, my soul never passed on at the time of my death," he
explained. "However, my mission is now complete. I have faith in
your ability to protect your family. My soul has recognised that.
Hence, my magic is fading away. I will have to move on."
Harry stood stunned as his green orbs filled with tears. This man –
this ghost – who had raised him, taught him, and had been the first
parental influence in his life, was going to leave? He never realised
that there was a possibility of Alfred moving on now that his purpose
for remaining as a ghost was complete.
"Grandfather," he croaked. "I –"
But his words were caught in his throat. What could he possibly say?
How could he thank the man for everything he had done? Harry
knew that he couldn't have reached his potential without Alfred
nurturing his injured heart, giving him the knowledge that would help
him survive. Without Alfred Potter in his life, Harry would have been
a pawn in Albus Dumbledore's game, and the war with Voldemort
would have raged on.
"You don't have to say anything, my child," said Alfred, his eyes filled
with silvery tears. "I know. Words cannot describe how incredibly
proud of you I am. Your name shall be remembered for millennia,
Harry Potter, and I'm ecstatic that I can call you my grandson. Fulfil
your destiny, whatever it may be, to the best of your ability.
Remember, no matter how dire the situation is, you're not alone .
Goodbye, my dear child, and good luck."
A lone tear slid down his cheek as Harry watched his ancestor's form
fade away, the smile and serenity still on his ghostly face. The
teenager stood rigidly as he closed his eyes in respect for the great
wizard – the one who had mentored him all these years.
"Thank you for everything, Grandfather," he said softly, his head
bowed. "I swear to you that I will not back away from my destiny,
whatever it may be. I will strive to make you proud every day. This is
the solemn vow of a Peverell."
The aftermath of the death of Lord Voldemort saw Harry receiving
several gifts from the people of Magical Britain, thanking him for
what he had done to save them from the Dark Lord's wrath. Harry
had instead given those gifts and money to Dolores Umbridge's
victims who were now under a protection program which helped
them re-enter the magical society. The Ministry of Magic was paying
for their rehabilitation and sessions with a mind healer and also
ensured that they got proper jobs. After her trial, Umbridge had been
tossed through the Veil of Death for kidnapping, corruption and
attempted murder – she had been responsible for sending
Dementors to Nottingham to try to lure Harry out of the castle all
those months ago.
Harry had also met his friends and they had thrown him a party at
Greengrass Manor. Theodore Nott, for one, had been relieved that
he had managed to survive the war without having to take the Dark
Mark, even if he had been unhappy that his father had died.
Draco Malfoy had been conflicted because while Lucius had died in
the attack, Narcissa was still alive. The sore point for the blond was
the oath of fealty he had been forced to swear to Harry and there
was nothing he could do to get out of it. He would be forced to be
Harry Potter's ally in the future, no matter the circumstances.
However, true to his word, Harry had ensured that Draco was not
sent to Azkaban. Instead, the boy was forced to do community
service at St Mungo's, which was a much better alternative than
being publicly expelled and arrested.
As Harry had advised, Dylan had cremated Rabastan, Rodolphus
and Bellatrix as per the customs of the Lestrange family. He had also
been able to recover his mother's remains from a graveyard near his
previous orphanage and had done the same for her as well. The
deed seemed to give him a sense of peace he had never felt before.
Dylan later admitted to Harry that he was finally ready to move on
from that chapter of his life. He had accepted the fact of his birth and
about his father's death, and realised that there was nothing he
could do about it. All he wanted to do was move on.
The Ministry of Magic was also finally at peace. Sirius decided now
to focus his efforts on how to improve the working of the Ministry and
streamline it so that it would be more efficient. Redundant offices
and departments would be done away with so that work would be
smoother. Since Dumbledore's reputation had taken a beating since
the attack on Hogwarts, Sirius managed to finally oust him out as the
Chief Warlock and also the British representative on the International
Confederation of Wizards, thus removing him as Supreme
Mugwump as well. Madam Marchbanks managed to win the position
as Chief Warlock while an old wizard from central Africa named
Babajide Akingbade was elected as the new Supreme Mugwump of
the I.C.W. Sirius finally got his revenge on Dumbledore as he took
away the man's titles before his death, making Dumbledore die
known only as the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Nearly three weeks after the death of the Dark Lord, Harry walked
inside the Hogwarts hospital wing and took in the sight that lay
before him. Albus Dumbledore, the once powerful wizard, was
reduced to being bedridden.
"Hello, Dumbledore," said Harry quietly, moving closer to the bed.
"How are you?"
The aged headmaster looked at the boy introspectively. He had been
informed about the defeat of Lord Voldemort at Harry's hands. Even
now, it felt too surreal for him to comprehend. His gaze lingered on
the boy. There were changes in Harry. He now seemed to practically
ooze magical power. His bright green eyes had changed colour –
they were now literally the shade of the Avada Kedavra curse. He
seemed to fill the room with his mere presence alone.
"Harry," Dumbledore greeted him with a faint smile. "Come to say
goodbye to a dying man?"
The teenager simply raised an eyebrow. "How long do you have?"
"A couple of days, I expect."
"The curse wasn't meant for you," explained Harry after a pause. "It
was meant to keep Voldemort from detecting the fake Horcrux.
Never did we dream that you were stupid enough to actually put it
on."
"I was a fool," he sighed. "I was sorely tempted –"
"By the lure of the Resurrection Stone?"
Dumbledore looked away. "You invaded my privacy," he said quietly.
Harry's eyes turned cold. "You sacrificed my fiancée," he shot back,
"all to protect Snape's rank in Voldemort's inner circle. I'd say we're
even."
The headmaster sighed. "Harry, I was only doing what I thought was
best," he said heavily. "At the time, I did not have a choice. I needed
Severus to remain as a spy. He was our only link to Voldemort."
"And it was alright for you to sacrifice Daphne for that?"
"We would have most definitely rescued her later, Harry. I would not
have let her stay in Voldemort's prison for long."
Harry snorted bitterly. "You still haven't changed. Even after
Voldemort's death, after having the truth shoved in your face, you
haven't changed. Do you feel any remorse for what you did to my
parents?"
Dumbledore closed his eyes in defeat. "Of course I do, but you have
to understand why I did it. Countless lives had been lost," he said
before coughing violently. "When Professor Trelawney recited the
prophecy to me, I had to act. Voldemort seemed unstoppable. What
would you have done?"
"I would not have betrayed people who trusted me," said Harry in a
frigid tone.
The headmaster smiled sadly. "You're too naïve, Harry. I have never
claimed to be a good person. I knew from the time I was a youth that
I was not the beacon of light as people now think I am. Sometimes,
the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. That is the
universal truth. Had I not activated the prophecy, Voldemort would
have killed thousands more, starting another global wizarding
conflict, just a couple of decades after Grindelwald had been dealt
with. I know you. You would have done the same."
"I don't deny that the greater good is important," replied Harry, fixing
him a penetrating stare. "If the leaders of our world don't think from a
larger angle, society would crumble from within very soon.
Sometimes, doing something unsavoury would actually be good. I'm
not denying that. But you're wrong in that had I been your place, I
would have sacrificed James and Lily Potter."
"I would not betray people who trusted me with their lives,
Dumbledore. My parents and several others trusted you to lead them
through the war. Unfortunately, you were too clouded by Voldemort's
games to pay attention to what his actions had caused. Had it been
me, I would have obliterated the Death Eaters – every single one of
them. A single Fiendfyre curse would have torn their wards to shreds
and engulfed their homes in minutes."
Dumbledore gaped at Harry in shock. "Harry, how could you even
say that?" he asked, aghast. "You would have killed innocent
children –"
"Neville and I were innocent too," spat Harry angrily as he moved
closer to the headmaster. "Just because our parents were committed
to fighting Voldemort did not mean you could make life or death
decisions for them! They weren't your puppets! You thought the
Death Eaters outside the inner circle could be redeemed, and that
was the mistake that cost you the first war!"
"Harry, most of them outside the inner circle were coerced by
Voldemort to join his cause!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "Not all of them
were like Bellatrix or Lucius! Some were indeed under the Imperius
Curse, and others were forced to do Voldemort's bidding. They were
essentially cannon fodder. How could we use lethal spells against
them?"
"We were at war," Harry hissed. "During wartime, such thoughts
should not have been entertained. You could have ended the threat
of Voldemort long before I was born. Do you know what your
problem was? You thought only about Voldemort – his actions and
later his Horcruxes, but nothing about the effects he had on the
wider world. His Death Eaters were just as bad, but you never truly
tackled that problem! Dumbledore, forget about everything else, had
the Statute of Secrecy been breached irrevocably, we would have
been forced into a war with the Muggles! You were the Supreme
Mugwump of the I.C.W., and protecting the Statute was your primary
duty! Why didn't you ever think of that?"
"Not all Muggles are bad, Harry," the headmaster said stiffly. "The
times we now live are different."
Harry shook his head in disgust. "You're deluded," he snorted.
"Grindelwald may have gone about it the wrong way, but he did have
a point. Who is the Statute of Secrecy trying to protect? Us, or
them?"
"You're treading down a very dark path, Harry," warned Dumbledore,
coughing once more. The blood he spat out was jet black.
The teenager smiled thinly. "People like you always assume that
those who see Muggles as a threat are a danger to the society at
large, and you would immediately label us Dark Lords," he said
softly. "But the problem is that you, Dumbledore, along with the rest
of the world, are too busy ignoring the signs all around you, blinded
by your arrogance and ignorance. I'm not Grindelwald and
Voldemort. Rest assured of that. However, that does not mean I will
sit idly by and watch our world get torn apart. If I have to convince
everyone to open their eyes and see the truth, no matter how long it
takes, I shall do so. No child shall ever grow up the way I did, the
way my brother did."
Dumbledore gasped as he felt his throat contracting, as though
someone was choking him. He turned to his right and saw a dark
look on Harry's face.
"I really wish I could just snap your neck for your actions," said Harry
in a low voice. "I wish I could repay you for all the suffering you have
put me through. My parents, Sirius, my childhood, you trying to
manipulate me at school, you sacrificing Daphne and Dylan – I wish I
would give you back for each one of them."
Just when he thought he was going to die, Dumbledore coughed
violently as Harry released his grip. The old man kept coughing, his
lungs too weak to stop.
"But I can't," muttered Harry. "No matter what you did, you are still a
great wizard, and I respect that. Besides, I've already killed you in a
way, right? I've avenged my parents' deaths. I'm content. Goodbye,
Dumbledore. May Mother Magic help your soul find purpose again."
Dumbledore looked at Harry's retreating back and mentally sighed in
resignation.
I have truly created yet another Dark Lord , he thought. That's three
times in a row.
First Gellert, then Tom, and now Harry …
Filled with guilt, the great wizard closed his eyes for the last time as
darkness overcame him. Albus Dumbledore was dead.
Harry silently walked towards the entrance hall when someone
grabbed him. With surprising speed, the young man turned and was
about to cast a powerful banishing charm on the person when he
stopped.
"Professor Trelawney?" asked Harry curiously. "Is there something I
can do for you?"
Sybill Trewalney did not look good. In fact, she had dark circles
under her eyes and she looked like she was having a seizure. Harry
wondered if she was unwell.
"Professor, do you want me to take you to Madam Pomfrey?"
The Seer didn't speak. Her right eye was twitching as she spoke in a
hoarse voice.
" The one with the power to restore balance has been chosen ... the
one who has already fulfilled the terms of a prophecy, the one
marked by the Dark Lord as his equal. He shall emerge at a time
when the shroud of darkness is creeping along the horizon. The
ones cursed by Magic have begun their path to chaos ... the balance
shall be broken, the secret ousted, and a holy war shall end it all.
Long forgotten allies shall emerge, for only two can there be that
shall decide our fate. The one chosen by Magic, touched by Death,
flanked by tigress and wolf, will be forced to restore balance, but
should he fail, Magic shall consume us all. The Saviour of Magic has
been chosen ... chosen to fulfil his destiny ..."
Harry stood very still and quiet as Trelawney recited the prophecy to
him. His mind was spinning as he realised that she had given him a
true prophecy. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to understand its
wordings ... what could it mean?
The Divination Professor coughed and blinked her eyes repeatedly.
"Maybe I should cut down on the cooking sherry," she said to herself.
"Oh, hello dear, is there something you wanted to say to me?"
He looked at her intently but finally shook his head. "No, Professor.
Please excuse me."
Trelawney looked at him weirdly. "If you say so," she murmured.
"Now where did I put my cards? Ah, here they are! Five of spades ..."
Behind a statute, Luna Lovegood was standing quietly, having heard
the prophecy in its entirety. She would have to inform her
grandfather about this.
This was what her vision was about.
HP*SAVIOUR OF MAGIC*HP
Daphne narrowed her eyes as she heard the prophecy which
Trelawney had recited. Ordinarily, she would have dismissed it as
junk. After all, the woman was well-known at Hogwarts for making up
fake predictions that never really came true. But she also knew that
Trelawney had been the one that originally prophesied the defeat of
Lord Voldemort at the hands of an infant born at the end of July to
parents who had thrice defied him. So, there must be some truth to
it.
"It does talk about you," she said after a pause. "You've already
fulfilled the terms of her previous prophecy and were marked by the
Dark Lord. But I can't seem to understand the rest."
"Tigress and wolf," said a voice quietly from the other side of the
room. Dylan looked at them with piercing grey eyes. "That's us.
Makes sense now why the magic of the Hallows was gifted to us too,
huh?"
"Who are these long-forgotten allies?" muttered Harry, swirling the
memory in the Pensieve with the tip of his wand. "And what balance
is she speaking of?"
"Don't forget that she mentioned a war," said Daphne quietly.
Harry took a deep breath as he rubbed his temples. Just when he
was out of the shadow of Trelawney's prophecy, she comes up with
another!
"Harry," whispered Daphne, placing her hand on his. "Whatever the
future holds – war or not, I'm with you. You're not alone."
"Exactly," said Dylan firmly. He kneeled down in front of his brother
and placed his hand on top of theirs. "I won't leave you either. You're
my brother, and it is my duty to protect you and Daphne, no matter
how dangerous the situation is. And that means you'll always have
me by your side."
A faint smile formed on Harry's lips as he put an arm around both of
them and pulled them into a tight hug. He took a deep breath and
closed his eyes. The future was uncertain, but as Grandfather Alfred
had said, he was not alone.
No matter what happened, he had Daphne and Dylan by his side.
And that was enough to give him the courage to move forward