Well of Shadows
Quite a bit of Quiet
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Twenty Six
~ Quite a bit of Quiet ~
Ginny was contemplating the ceiling of the Hospital Wing. Not that there was much to contemplate, but there was little else for her to do, incarcerated as she was. Madam Pomfrey had, in no uncertain
terms, demanded that Ginny remain in bed until all trace of the injuries she had sustained during her encounter with Voldemort had disappeared. Despite her protests, some quite loud and vehement,
Ginny's parents had consented to the decision and thus left her in Madam Pomfrey's somewhat overzealous care.
It had been nearly two weeks.
Having spent most of her life living with six elder brothers, particularly Fred and George, Ginny had never truly experienced the kind of boredom she was currently suffering through. After all, you could only stare up at the ceiling --which was rather bland to begin with-- for so long before there wasn't anything new about it to examine.
"So, how are you feeling?"
"Pretty much the same as I did the last time you asked," Ginny replied sourly, lowering her gaze from the ceiling to where Madam Pomfrey stood at the foot of her bed. She frowned unhappily. "And the time before that and the time before that."
"Well fortunately, for the both of us, it won't be much longer," Madam Pomfrey huffed, still a bit affronted by Ginny's frustration fuelled complaints, in spite of having been subjected to them for the better part of a week.
"It 'wasn't much longer' three days ago," Ginny grumbled, crossing her arms. "Two weeks trapped in this mausoleum is altogether too long."
"This is an infirmary, not the Gryffindor common room," asserted Pomfrey, walking away as it was obvious that her patient was not in need of anything other than to be discharged. "If you have a problem with the room's decor, Miss Weasley, take it up with the Founders."
Ginny stared at Pomfrey's retreating back and declared, "If I have to stay in here much longer, I just might."
"Quit whinging, Weasley," declared a voice from the infirmary entrance.
"I'm not whinging," Ginny protested, turning to greet her visitor.
Blaise Zabini smirked as she approached Ginny's bed. "Oh, yes you are."
Ginny uncrossed her arms and looked narrowly at Blaise. "I do not whinge!"
"I share a dormitory with Pansy Parkinson - I'm an expert at identifying whinging," Blaise asserted authoritively. The blonde girl's smirk broadened. "You are whinging."
Ginny took a breath, preparing to counter Blaise's allegation, but instead flopped back against her pillows and crossed her arms once again. She knew that trying to argue with Blaise would be more invigorating than arguing with Madam Pomfrey, but at the same time it would also reveal just how completely bored out of her skull she was. Which would leave her open to more teasing from the quirky humoured Slytherin witch.
She shook her head and said, "I think you're delusional, but since you've come to visit me..."
"Who said I came to visit you? I'm actually here to ask Madam Pomfrey for a Contraceptive Potion; so that I won't be making you an aunt when I finally seduce your poor brothers, Fred and George," Blaise rejoined immediately, somehow managing to keep a straight face. "Still, if you need the company, I suppose I can stay a few minutes."
Ginny felt her mouth drop open in utter disbelief. She consciously closed it with a snap, only to have it fall open again a moment later. She imagined that she looked somewhat reminiscent of a landed carp, but couldn't manage anything else.
"You are aware, aren't you," she asked after nearly a minute of gaping at Blaise, who had finally cracked a wicked smile, "that your sense of humour is positively sadistic at times?"
"Your brothers certainly seem to think so," Blaise agreed, grinning mischievously. "In fact, last time we spoke, they said that they actually admired it."
"Now I know you're delusional," Ginny announced. "Nobody in their right minds would take anything any of my brothers say with more than a pinch of salt, let alone Fred and George."
"Oh, you wound me," Blaise said, clapped both hands to her chest and miming a blow to the heart. When Ginny's only reaction was to stick out her tongue, Blaise pulled up a chair. "I heard from Padma that Pomfrey is finally letting you out of here today."
Ginny nodded. "That's what she's been promising every hour for the last three days."
An amused cough from the side drew the girls' attention to the doors leading into the Hospital Wing. Harry was leaning against the doorframe and watching them with a grin. He pushed off and strode into the room, smiling at Blaise as he asked, "Hullo, Blaise. Keeping our bedridden heroine company?"
"Only because she scared off everyone else," Blaise replied blandly.
"I should have known better than to leave you alone," he told Ginny, coming up alongside her bed and leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. "Even if it was only for an hour."
Ginny scowled at him, not really unhappy about being teased like this, but deciding to act the part of a disgruntled patient. "After being stuck in the Hospital Wing for thirteen days, you're not exactly catching me at my best."
"No doubts about that," Blaise readily agreed.
"Hey!"
"How're you feeling?" asked Harry, perching himself on the edge of her bed.
Why do people keep asking me that? she thought to herself. She looked at Harry, who was watching her expectantly and said, "Madam Promfey thinks she might release me later today."
Blaise smirked. "I'm sure she will be delighted to finally be rid of you."
Ginny looked at Harry, hoping to have him defend her, but instead found that he seemed as amused by her circumstances as Blaise was. He looked across the bed to where Blaise was lounging in her chair and said, "You know you shouldn't provoke her, Blaise."
"Somebody has to lighten the mood," Blaise defended herself.
"When I get out of here - watch your back, Zabini. I'm going to get you for this," threatened Ginny, brandishing a fist at the other girl.
"Not in your wildest dreams, Weasley," countered Blaise smugly. She grinned and rose from her seat to leave. "I'll leave you two to yourselves now. Hopefully you'll both be in the Great Hall at dinner."
Harry waved as she left. "Bye, Blaise."
"Grrr."
"So, how are you feeling?" asked Harry, looking at Ginny after she finished growling. Ginny was about to reply, but stopped. Instead she pressed her lips together, into a thin line, and crossed her arms for the umpteempth time that morning. Harry, noticing her slight frown, cocked his head to one side and asked, "Gin?"
"I'm going to be extremely rude to the next person who asks me that," she told him. "In fact I might just start cursing them. Literally."
Harry chuckled softly in understanding. "I suppose you do get asked how you're feeling a lot, don't you?"
"It'd be better if I had a different answer to the bloody question," she replied, letting loose some of her aggravation. "Bored, frustrated and wanting to get out of this thrice-bedamned bed!"
"Well, hopefully it won't be much longer."
"Everyone keeps saying that as well," she complained, dropping her head into her hands. She could hear Harry stifling a snicker, so looked up to glare threateningly at him. "You think this is funny, don't you?"
Harry, openly laughing now, shook his head. "No, I think it's hilarious."
"Not surprising, Harry, since you get to run around enjoying life, whereas I've been stuck in bed for nearly two weeks!" Ginny protested bitterly, waving her arms about to encompass the bland interior of the Hospital Wing as she spoke.
"It's not my fault that you goaded Voldemort into trying to cook your brains with the Cruciatus Curse," defended Harry, pretending to be affronted by her accusation. "If you'd had a little more common sense you wouldn't have charged into the fray like that - it's a minor miracle he decided to torture you long enough for the Order and me to intervene. He could have killed you outright."
Ginny grit her teeth, but was unable to deny Harry's argument. Her actions during the siege had been incredibly stupid and shortsighted, regardless of the fact that Harry had been in grave danger at the time. Though she had been told many times in the intervening days, Ginny knew that such a response was an impulse she would never be able to curtail when it came to Harry's wellbeing. It was as much a part of her as breathing was and, even if it killed her, she would never hesitate to leap in harm's way where his safety was threatened.
"I know it was dumb luck that nothing worse happened to me," she admitted, only a hint of her disgruntlement at being constantly reminded of the fact entering her voice.
Harry's expression softened and he looked at her compassionately. "I know Gin," he said quietly, reaching out to grasp her hands, "and I know we've all been telling you about so from practically the moment you woke up, and every hour on the hour since then, but you honestly must understand how much you scared us."
Ginny nodded in acquiescence. "I know, Harry, I really do. You seem to forget, however, just how much you scared us last year when Tom attacked the castle. Or when your bastard uncle shot you at the start of summer holidays. Or after the attack over Christmas. You've scared us a heck of a lot more over the years than any of us ever have or ever will."
"Maybe," he agreed with a shrug. "Still, one advantage of having an Imperial Arch Griffin as my Animagus form is that it automatically uses the Order's magic to almost completely heal any injuries when I change."
"So while you get to escape this mortuary because you're an Animagus right out of wizarding mythology," Ginny concluded, less than thrilled by the idea, "I'm stuck in here for all eternity because I can only transform into a simple horse?"
"Looks that way," he grinned.
Ginny groaned, "Gods, I'm going to start climbing the walls before I get out of here."
"Not to worry, I brought some entertainment while we wait for you to be checked out."
"Oh? What?" she asked, sitting up and looking eagerly at him.
With a flourish more suitable for a Muggle stage magician than a real wizard, Harry reached into his school robes and produced a compact box.
"Cards," he elaborated, just in case Ginny had not recognised the deck of Exploding Snap cards that now rested in her lap.
"I'm not in the mood for games, Harry," she told him.
"That's a pity," he said, feigning disappointment but failing to hide the wicked gleam that was flickering in his eyes, "because I know you'd've like the game I had in mind."
"Oh? What?"
Leaning over to whisper in her ear, Harry explained what he had planned to help pass the time until Ginny could be discharged. As he spoke the salacious grin he was wearing, grew broader in concert to Ginny's cheeks growing an increasingly bright red.
***
"So, Harry," asked Ron, "any idea what Dumbledore wants to tell you?"
"Not a clue," replied Harry as he, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were passing the school's Trophy Room on their way to meet the headmaster.
After Ginny had finally been released from the Hospital Wing by Madam Pomfrey, just in time for lunch, Professor McGonagall had come up to the Gryffindor table during the meal and informed Harry that he and his friends were expected by the headmaster in his office after dinner.
Hermione, walking on Ron's other side, prompted him for more. "You must have some idea."
"I'll admit to having a few educated guesses," he answered, his expression growing a little sombre as he ran through the list of possibilities. Unfortunately, it was a rather long list - not surprising considering Harry's hectic lifestyle and history. Fortunately, however, there was one item on the list which stood out far more than any of the others.
"What are they?" asked Ron eagerly.
"Back in our first year I wanted to know why Voldemort was so eager to kill me and my parents," Harry said, his expression changing from a sombre one to a dark one. The subject of his parents' deaths was not something Harry enjoyed contemplating. "He wouldn't tell me then so maybe now..."
"You really think so?" Ron's eagerness was almost setting Harry's teeth on edge, though he did not say anything. "The reason You-Know-Who tried to kill you?"
"Are you sure you want us with you, Harry?" asked Ginny quietly, clearly having picked up on his increasingly dark mood. She looked at him with concern, something of a turnaround considering the past couple of weeks, and suggested, "I mean, maybe you should hear what Dumbledore has to say by yourself and you can tell us about it later, if you want to."
Hermione quickly caught on, sharing a fretful look with Ron. Both of them understood how touchy a subject this could be for Harry. "She's got a point, Harry," she said, anxiously wringing her hands together. "We don't have to be here if you don't want us--"
"I want you here. All of you," he interrupted firmly.
"Thanks mate. It means a lot to us," said Ron, summing up the feelings of all three of Harry's companions with a simple heartfeltness.
Harry nodded in acknowledgement and at the same time stopped walking. "We're here."
Hermione looked from Harry to the grinning stone facade of Dumbledore's gargoyle and asked, "Do you know the password?"
"Yes," he nodded, turning to address the gargoyle. "Mars Bars."
The stone guardian stepped aside, revealing the winding staircase leading up to Dumbledore's office. The four students squeezed through the entrance left by the gargoyle, Harry and Ginny first, followed by Ron and Hermione.
Ron grinned as they let the staircase carry them upwards. "I love this thing."
"That's only because you're a lazy bugger who prefers not to walk," countered Ginny.
"I'm not lazy," Ron protested.
"Tell that to anyone who's seen you 'study'," noted Hermione.
"Hermione!"
Harry smiled at their light banter and, noticing that they had reached the top of the stairs, knocked against the oak door before them. The sounds of someone walking towards the door could only just be heard before the door was swung open by Dumbledore, who was wearing a violet cloak over periwinkle coloured robes.
"Ah, Harry. I've been expecting you and your friends," he greeted, stepping to one side and motioning for them to enter. "Please, come in."
"Thank you, sir."
The four walked into the office, settling into the four plush leather chairs which were arranged in front of Dumbledore's massive desk. Harry, since it was acknowledged that this meeting would in all likelihood concern him, sat closest to the desk with the other three sitting slightly behind him on either side.
Closing the outer door to his office Dumbledore passed around them and settled down behind his desk. He pushed his spectacles up so they were resting comfortably on the bridge of his nose and then rummaged around inside one of his draws for a few seconds, searching for something.
"Would anyone care for a jelly baby?" he offered, withdrawing a small paper bag from the drawer and extending it over the desktop so that they could reach. "I'm rather partial to the red ones myself."
"Jelly babies?" asked Ron incredulously, looking at the packet with revulsion.
"They're a Muggle sweet, Ron, not real babies," Hermione explained, as it was obvious that her boyfriend thought the jelly babies were made from real infants. She declined Dumbledore's offer by saying, "No thank you, Professor."
Harry also shook his head. "No thanks, Albus."
"Thanks, but no," Ginny demurred.
"Er..."
"Just take some, Ron," Hermione told him, shaking her head in obviously despair of Ron ever understanding Muggle culture, despite Arthur Weasley's fanatic fascination with them.
Ron reached into the proffered bag of jelly babies and pulled out a green one, which he regarded suspiciously for several seconds before popping it into his mouth. Remembering his manners at the last second he added, "Uh, thank you, sir."
Dumbledore smiled graciously and put the packet back into the drawer, but not before searching through it and finding a red baby for himself to chew on. Sliding the drawer closed he sank back into his chair and steepled his fingers just below his chin as he regarded the four teenagers sitting patiently (and impatiently) in front of him. "Now, on to business," he began, his bright eyes sliding from one student to the other from over the rim of his glasses. "I believe you are all curious as to why I've asked you here."
Ginny, Ron and Hermione, sitting slightly behind Harry, said nothing - clearly willing to let him speak for them all. Resisting the urge to lick his lips in anticipation, Harry settled for nodding silently in affirmation.
"Towards the end of your first year at Hogwarts, Harry, you asked me why it is that Lord Voldemort wanted to kill you," Dumbledore said gravely. He paused, seemingly to collect his thoughts, and then nodded to himself. "It is now past the time, I think, that I should have told you."
"Should I brace myself?" Harry asked, trying to ignore the sudden knot that had formed in his stomach at Dumbledore's declaration. He had been waiting for the answer to this question ever since he had learned the truth about his parents' fate. In a way this was something he had been searching for all his life - since he had never truly believed the fantasy the Dursleys had told him when he was younger.
"After everything you have experienced, Harry, I have no doubt that what I have to say will not overly perturb you," replied Dumbledore, giving the question serious consideration before he answered. The corners of his mouth turned down a fraction as he continued, "Unfortunately, I cannot say the same of the second reason for which I have asked you here tonight."
Ginny immediately latched onto this and leaned forward to ask, "Second reason?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, but that can wait until afterwards."
"All right then," Harry said, taking in a deep breath and letting it out as a protracted sigh as he sank back into his chair. Unconsciously he stretched out with his left hand, reaching for Ginny who slipped her hand into his and gave a comforting squeeze. This time Harry surrendered to the urge to lick his lips, his mouth suddenly very dry, and asked, "Why did Voldemort want to kill me when I was a baby?"
"The story begins shortly after you were born, Harry, at the height of Voldemort's reign," began Dumbledore with a sigh that matched Harry's earlier. He looked over them all and asked, "You are, I'm sure, familiar with the Hog's Head?"
Harry nodded. "It's a pub in Hogsmeade. I've heard Hagrid mention it a few times and I've passed by it once or twice. I've never gone inside though - doesn't look to appealing."
"It looks positively filthy," added Hermione, her distaste clearly evident in her voice and her expression. "I'm amazed the health authorities haven't condemned the place."
"It has seen better days," Dumbledore agreed.
"What happened in the Hog's Head, sir?" asked Ginny.
"I was conducting interviews for a teaching position at Hogwarts that had recently become vacant at the time," replied Dumbledore. "Divination."
"Professor Trelawney," Harry immediately said, eyes narrowing slightly as he considered. The possible meaning fairly jumped out at him. "You told me once, in my third year, that she's only ever made two genuine predictions."
Dumbledore nodded. "Quite right, Harry. As you have gathered, it was during my interview with her that she made her first true prediction - a prophecy."
"That old bat Trelawney actually made a real prediction?" Ron blurted out, his eyes wide with disbelief. Hermione, sitting in the chair next to him, glared at him in mild outrage. She clearly disapproved of his saying anything disparaging about one of the staff, even though she herself was convinced that the Divination professor was a fraud. Ron, immediately realizing his mistake, flushed a bright red and ducked his head low. "Oh, er, sorry, Professor. I, ah..."
"No need to apologise, Ronald. I can understand your scepticism," replied Dumbledore, waving Ron's apology aside. A thin smile graced his lips. "Yes, Sybil did indeed have a vision."
"Somehow I won't be surprised to learn that it involves my untimely demise," Harry commented, his voice dry enough to turn an ocean into a desert.
"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione.
"But he's right!" Ron defended his best friend. "That old ba-- ah, she's always predicting Harry's death."
Dumbledore smiled fully this time, obviously amused by their byplay. He shook his head a fraction and continued his explanation, "Fortunately, the prophecy was of a far different nature."
Ginny, who was still holding Harry's hand, asked, "What exactly did she say, Professor?"
"I think it best you hear for yourselves," replied Dumbledore, rising from his chair and striding over to the cabinet where he store some of his more uncommon possessions. Swinging the cabinet door open he reached for a shallow stone basin that Harry recognised a penseive - the one he had accidentally fallen into towards the end of his fourth year, before the third task.
Removing the pensieve from the cabinet, Dumbledore carefully carried it back to where they were sitting in wait. He set the basin, filled with shimmering memories, in the centre of the desk before retaking his seat on the other side. Taking hold of his wand, the headmaster dipped the tip into the pensieve and stirred around for several minutes, apparently searching for the memory that he wished to show them all. Finally he nodded and, tapping his wand against the bowl's side, settled back to watch.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..." announced a familiar voice that was strangely distorted somehow. At first Harry thought it was a side effect of the pensieve, but then remembered his own experience with Trelawney's second genuine prophecy, back in his third year. The Divination professor had used a similar tone of voice whilst in her trance then, predicting Voldemort's second rise to power.
Mentally shrugging himself back into the present, Harry focused on the pensieve and what was being said. He could see that an image of Trelawney had swirled up through the liquid memories and risen to form a ghostly figurine on the pensieve's surface. The tiny character continued to speak.
"Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seven month dies..."
The prophesy obviously ended there as the ghostly figure sank back into the depths of Dumbledore's pensieve, the last words echoing faintly throughout the office before fading away. Harry leaned back in his chair, releasing his hold on Ginny's hand so that he could reach up and run a finger along his jawline. His only comment on what he and his friends had just witnessed was a single word, muttered thoughtfully as he stroked his chin.
"Interesting."
"And that's why Tom wanted to kill Harry?" asked Ginny quietly, as if a hush had fallen over the headmaster's office and she dared not risk breaking it.
"Sadly, yes," admitted Dumbledore equally as quiet. "I erred in holding the interview at the Hog's Head, where unfortunately someone allied to Lord Voldemort was able to overhear Sybil’s prophecy and inform him of it."
"So he tried to kill me," concluded Harry thoughtfully, unconsciously reaching up to brush the palm of one hand against his scar, "but instead marked me as an equal."
"Yes."
Ginny looked over at Harry and said, "This actually explains quite a bit."
"Mm-hmm," he agreed wordlessly. "Particularly my Animagus form."
"What d'you mean?" asked Hermione, looking from Harry to Ginny in puzzlement. "What's this have to do with you Animagus form?"
"Remember what it said?" Harry reminded her, "'He will have power the Dark Lord knows not.'"
Ron shook his head in confusion. "But you hadn't been chosen by the Order then."
Rolling her, as if it were obvious, Ginny said, "That's not the power it was talking about, Ron. Harry's always been more than a ordinary wizard, you should know that."
"Haven't you ever wondered why my Animagus form is a creature that's not only mythical, but also magical?" asked Harry, rising from his seat and beginning to pace around Dumbledore's office. "Not one Animagus in a thousand, a hundred thousand even, can change into a magical form."
"That's why I can only change into a horse. If it was the Order's power which determined our Animagus forms then I'd be a unicorn or a aethonian," added Ginny, watching as Harry passed from Fawkes' empty stand to the cabinet that had housed the pensieve.
Dumbledore, stroking his moustache, nodded in understanding. "Your own power, the power the prophecy speaks of, is what enables you to change into an Imperial Arch Griffin."
"From the look of things," agreed Harry. He chuckled under his breath and admitted, "In fact, if it weren't for the Order moderating the transformation, chances are I wouldn't have even be able to become an Animagus."
"That makes sense," said Hermione thoughtfully. "All people have one distinctive form that represents them to some degree or another - that's what they change into if they become Animagi. But if Harry's natural form is such a powerful one, he wouldn't be able to make or control the change without outside help."
Holding up a hand to signal for silent, Dumbledore announced, "Regretfully I must call this charming treatise of Animagi attributes to an end for the time being as there are more pressing matters for us to discuss."
Harry, returning to his chair, said, "That would be the second reason you wanted to speak to me."
"Yes."
"Should I brace myself?" he asked again.
Dumbledore nodded. "That might be a good idea."
"That's not very reassuring," observed Ginny, shifting her chair over so that it was closer to Harry's.
"At the start of last summer, Bill Weasley came to Hogwarts in search of assistance," Dumbledore began to speak, opening one of the many drawers in his desk and looking through its contents.
Ron sat up and asked in surprise, "Bill was here? For help?"
"Yes. One of the many expeditions mounted by Gringotts' Egyptian division had unearthed an ancient stone tablet that they were unable to translate," explained Dumbledore, still searching through the drawer. He nodded at the glass-topped wooden case that had been resting inconspicuously on one side of his desk. "After Bill brought it to my attention I passed it on to Miss Delacour, who had only just joined the staff as our Professor of Ancient Runes."
"What does this have to do with me?" asked Harry.
"Shortly before Halloween, Fleur came to me with a preliminary translation," answered Dumbledore, finding what he had been looking for. He withdrew a scroll from the drawer and set it in front of him on his desk. "I did not wish to burden you unduly, Harry, as you were at the time concerned with the dilemma posed by the Well of Shadows. Now that the situation surrounding Draco has been resolved, I feel you should be informed of what exactly the Fleur and Bill were able to uncover."
"This is Miss Delacour's final translation, as well as the original tablet which Bill left in our care," he continued gravely. "This too, it would appear, is a prophecy. One that concerns Harry."
Harry sat forward in his chair, looking at the tablet in its glass-topped case. "Looks like some form of Sanskrit," he observed with preternatural calm. "Sumerian?"
Dumbledore actually blinked. "I didn't know that the two of you could read Sumerian," he finally said. Frown lines puckered his brow before he more or less grumbled, "I wish that I had known sooner, so that I might have spared Fleur the trouble of working her way through such a tedious translation."
"I can't speak or read a word of the language," admitted Ginny with a rueful sideways look at Harry. She pointed a thumb at him and explained, "He's the one with the 'gift' for ancient and long dead languages."
"Yes, I read and speak Sumerian every day," Harry countered sarcastically.
Rolling her eyes and looking back at Dumbledore, Ginny saw his confusion and elaborated, "When the Order of the Phoenix bonded with Harry it didn't just give him access to its power - it transferred its knowledge to him on what could be called an instinctual level."
Harry nodded in confirmation. "That's the reason why I could suddenly cast spells that would normally take years of study and practice to get right."
"Whereas I still have to spend time learning them - except for the simplest and most basic ones."
"Ah, I had wondered," Dumbledore admitted. He motioned for Harry to take a closer look at the stone tablet and asked, "So, what do you think?"
Harry looked over the tablet, reading the Sanskrit without any referring to Fleur's painstaking compiled translation. His face might as well have been carved from the same stone as the tablet while he interpreted what was displayed before arching his eyebrows and declaring blandly, "Very bad poetry."
"You seem awfully calm about this, Harry," Dumbledore remarked, seemingly concerned by this fact.
"I refuse to believe that the future is predetermined. My fate is my own, it's not governed by anything except the decisions I have made or will make," Harry declared staunchly.
"What's it say?" asked Hermione.
Clearing his throat, more for theatrics than anything else, Harry leaned forward in his chair and began to read the contents of the tablet's ancient scripts out for everyone present to hear.
"Four great mages shall found a school for those that wish to learn
the art of their magical gift, which most shall not chance to earn
Dissension shall split their ranks and their paths shall part ways
A thousand years will pass, with many tales for the bards to sing
until the serpent's final dark son shall rise and disaster bring
His black reign shall be one of terror; unmatched and unchallenged
Then a child of thunder and phoenix shall drive the dark lord away
marked by his lightning he shall with those that abhor him stay
Alone in bleak despair the child will retain his heart and courage
Then to his true home shall he travel to fight the darkness again
his peace will be shattered by a treacherous competition and pain
Darkness shall be reborn by the theft of bone, blood and flesh
The dark lord will return seeking his vengeance at any length
but a phoenix shall gift the child with knowledge and strength
Battle upon battle shall the keepers of darkness and light fight"
Harry paused and glanced sidelong at Ron and Hermione, then at Ginny. His lips tugged upwards into a humourless smile as he commented, "Nothing particularly new up till now, but here is where things become... interesting."
"What d'you mean?" asked Ron, sitting on the edge of his seat and holding the armrests in a white-knuckled grip.
Hermione, by his side, seemed equally engrossed by the words Harry was speaking, but gnawed on the fingernails of her left hand rather than bounce about in her seat. Only Ginny seemed to be taking everything in with an outer calmness that matched anything Harry or Dumbledore could produce. It was only in her eyes, which had grown fractionally wider as Harry spoke, that anyone would be able to see her mounting unease, and even then only if they familiar with her expressions.
"Let me finish reading it for you," Harry replied, turning back to the tablet.
"Neither shall be victorious as the balance cannot truly be swayed
until the thunder child and his allies from within are betrayed
Death will claim the phoenix lord before his final studies can end
Only by turning from the light to the dark can he endure in mind
hiding in the wake of death shall be his path to return to his kind
The final battle between them will destroy all that was built before
Survival shall come to who surrenders completely to the dark days
therein lies the only path to salvation from the source of always"
Harry paused once again, this time to smirk in quiet amusement before finishing.
"Continued on next slab..."
"Continued on the next slab?" exclaimed Ron, almost jumping out of his seat. He looked incredulously at Harry and demanded, "You've got to be joking - it can't say that! Where's the next slab, then?"
"There doesn't seem to be one," admitted Harry.
Dumbledore cleared his throat softly, capturing everyone's attention. He sighed deeply and sank deeper into his chair, seeming in dangerous of disappearing into the leather upholstery. "That, I'm afraid, is all that Gringotts uncovered - the rest is lost to us. As you have no doubt been able to determine for yourselves, this is a prophecy describing the establishment of Hogwarts, the rift between Slytherin and the other founders, the first rise of Lord Voldemort, his defeat by Harry and then his subsequent resurrection thirteen years later."
Hermione, looking very pale, swallowed and spoke up, "That's not all it describes."
"Unfortunately," Dumbledore readily agreed. "It also states that Harry is going to be killed sometime during his seventh year at Hogwarts. And shall only be able to avoid this fate if he turns to dark magic, or something of the sort."
"Harry's going to die?" asked Ginny, plaintively.
"And what else is new?" asked Harry wryly.
Ginny looked at him, her eyes sparkling brightly. "Harry..."
"Don't worry, Gin," he confidently assured her. "Nothing's set in stone. Not even prophecies from on high."
TBC...