Prophecy Child

Severus leaned unobtrusively against a fence beside a narrow walkway, eyes darting surreptitiously around the bland muggle neighbourhood. Dumbledore had directed him to meet here, and as expected, Severus arrived slightly early, and Dumbledore was now – he glanced at his wristwatch – 17 minutes late.

Severus closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. He glanced around quickly, making sure the area was still unoccupied, before closing his eyes again and letting his mind reach out, feeling for anything magical in the surrounding area.

It was a difficult and draining act of mind magic, an offshoot of Legilimency that was practically forgotten nowadays, but one that Severus had taken years to practice and hone. Even after all that time and effort, he could only reach out a few hundred metres, and only for about 20 seconds, and could only find more obvious or stronger signs of magic.

As it was, he couldn’t sense anything nearby. Either Dumbledore arranged to meet him in a spot that wasn’t particularly close to the house where the Potter boy had been hidden, or the wards around the house were weak enough that he couldn’t detect them from this far away. If what the Montgomery boy said was accurate, the wards were weak to begin with, and if the boy wasn’t there anymore, they may have even been taken down already.

Muggle houses did not have the magical resources to hold wards independently, meaning wixen would have to live in the home, or at least stop by regularly, to feed and maintain them. In a magical home, passive magic within the house emitted by wixen, as well as wardstones, ley lines, and magical artefacts, all helped to maintain the wards. No such things were likely to be available here.

Severus let his mind relax back into his body, and he took a long minute to centre himself again. When he felt balanced and prepared, he opened his eyes and glanced around. Still nobody nearby, and now Dumbledore was… 26 minutes late.

At 41 minutes after their scheduled meeting time, Severus was considering the merits of leaving versus trying to cast a discreet patronus to send to Dumbledore.

At 53 minutes late, Severus was considering the merits of sitting on the curbside. He had worn muggle-appropriate dress shoes to help blend into Surrey, but Merlin’s beard they were uncomfortable, even with cushioning charms.

At precisely 1 hour and 9 minutes late, Severus heard a faint pop behind himself, and he turned, expression blank, to see Dumbledore brushing a hand over his bright purple robes to smooth them.

‘Ah, Severus, I hope you weren’t waiting too long, my boy!’ Dumbledore smiled.

Severus ignored his comment, knowing it was probably some sort of bait, and instead said drily, ‘Those robes are far too conspicuous for this neighbourhood. People will talk.’

Dumbledore held his pleasant expression, but Severus thought he could detect a hint of irritation there that he hadn’t taken the bait. Wasting his time was a favourite of Dumbledore’s little power plays, and Severus had long since learned to expect it. He always arrived on time, even though he knew Dumbledore never would. Even for his Order meetings, he was always at least a few minutes late, no matter the urgency. A trick designed to make him seem busy and in demand, make people wait on him and consider him more important – if his time was valuable and scarce, then how much more important must it be when he deigned to speak with you?

Dumbledore waved a hand over himself in an unnecessarily (in Severus’ opinion) flashy display, changing his robes into muggle style clothing – albeit from around the 1960’s. Severus held his silence again, waiting for Dumbledore to lead the way.

Severus noted the slightly pinched look between Dumbledore’s brows, and internally winced. He’d perhaps taken his lack of reaction too far – Dumbledore liked to think Severus was firmly under his thumb, was reliant and perhaps just slightly in fear of the old man, but also wilful enough to be irritated when things didn’t happen like he’d planned or expected. He’d have to make up for it during this little trip.

The two men walked slowly down the footpath, and Severus took the easy opportunity to look frustrated at the slow pace. He bit out irritably, ‘Is there something wrong with your joints, perhaps? I do not have all day to stroll down the street, Albus. The boy is missing, surely some urgency is needed!’’

He gave himself a mental pat on the back when he saw Dumbledore’s expression flicker with supressed satisfaction.

‘It’s such a lovely day outside, and I’m worried you don’t get enough sun, my boy. It must be unhealthy to spend so much time brewing potions for your master and not getting out and about!’

Severus held back an eye roll. That wasn’t the least bit subtle. ‘He is not my master, as you well know.’ He growled, quickening his pace a fraction, then having to slow down again when Dumbledore held his pace, and Severus didn’t know where they were headed.

‘Apologies, my boy – a slip of the tongue. Of course he is not your master.’ Dumbledore left unsaid the implication that he himself was Severus’ master.

Severus scowled fiercely but stayed quiet. It was becoming easier to play the old man – was he getting better, or was the old man losing his edge? Time would tell, Severus supposed.

Dumbledore turned suddenly, stopping to stare at a particular house. There was nothing noteworthy about this house over any of the others. Severus couldn’t feel a single hint of magic. From this close, it was far less effort to reach out and feel for magic – but the only thing he could sense was Dumbledore standing beside him.

‘How long have the wards been down, and who put them up?’ he asked, eyes roving over the house.

Dumbledore looked slightly surprised. ‘Whoever attacked the house must have dismantled the wards – they have not been taken down otherwise.’

‘There is certainly nothing present here.’ Severus said simply, while mentally rolling his eyes again at Dumbledore’s blatant lie. He had heard how Montgomery had walked straight into the wards and taken the boy out with no reaction – certainly nobody had attacked the house. A brief flare of vindictiveness made him speak again. ‘There are no signs of attack – not with magic at least. Perhaps a muggle kidnapped the boy?’

Dumbledore frowned. ‘Perhaps you ought to take some time to cast some of your Dark detection spells and see if you can find out what happened here, Severus.’

I just told you, thought Severus – but the use of his name rather than ‘my boy’, had him ducking his head in acquiescence. ‘Yes, sir.’ It wouldn’t do to irritate the old man too far, cause him to keep a closer eye on Severus and work harder to make sure he was under control. Better to play his role and do as expected.

Severus bit back a smirk as he turned to face one corner of the house. He cast a widespread disillusionment charm over the area, then twirled and twisted his wand in a complex pattern, muttering a continuous incantation under his breath and he moved his wand from one side of the house to the other. A dark purple-black fog swirled slowly over the house, following the direction of his wand as it moved. When it reached the far side of the house, Severus let it go, sagging his shoulders slightly and gusting out a breath, as if the effort of the spell had drained him. In truth, it was a spell designed simply to create a cloud of fog, usually used to create a backdrop for children’s puppet shows. Not that Dumbledore knew that, of course –it was technically a Dark spell. 

Dumbledore was watching him with a complicated expression – disgust at the Dark spell, but also a hint of grudging respect at the apparent strength of magic needed to cast the complex spell. Dumbledore knew that Severus had an impressive magical strength – for a spell to visibly tire him, it must have been powerful. He graciously gave Severus time to gather himself.

‘What have you learned, my boy?’

Severus shook his head. ‘Nothing. No magic residue anywhere. No sign of wards, but no sign of an attack. That sort of magic – the sort that could bring down wards – that leaves a mark. How long has the boy been gone?’

Dumbledore hesitated for a fraction too long. ‘Two days. Perhaps three, depending on the time of the attack.’

Severus nodded slowly. Harry Potter had in fact been in the Dark Lord’s manor for 6 days now. Clearly, nobody had been keeping a close eye on the boy – which begged the question – who had been feeding the wards? Likely Dumbledore, feeding them from a distance – but surely he would not have tolerated watching the abuse the child had been suffering in that house?

Something was niggling at Severus’ mind, but he gently pushed it away for later.

‘Even after a week, that sort of magic would still be detectable. Faint, but detectable. Whatever happened here, it wasn’t a magical attack.’

Dumbledore frowned again, but didn’t argue. He stared at the house for long enough that Severus was beginning to wonder if he should fake a call through his Dark Mark, when Dumbledore broke from his ‘reverie’ – which Severus suspected was more time-wasting power playing – and sighed heavily. He gave Severus a sad look, then simply turned and began walking away, back down the street. Severus followed behind, keeping his mind calm and blank. It was not yet time to start analysing, not while the old man was close and possibly readying himself for another probe at Severus. He had to stay in the present and ready for whatever Dumbledore might try to trip him up with next.

Fortunately, when Dumbledore turned to face him a couple of blocks later, he simply said, ‘I will see you at the next Order meeting, my boy. I have much to consider.’ And then apparated away.

Severus apparated too, jumping between random locations, back and forth across the country, before pausing in a Welsh muggle village for half an hour, waiting to see if anyone was trying to follow. With nobody on his tail, he apparated to his Lord’s manor, and walked up the wide path to the front doors.

He called for an elf, sending it to tell his Lord that he would meet him by Harry Potter’s room.

He paced out the front of the room while he waited, thinking hard. The whole way back here, apparating from place to place, his mind had been racing. The sound of his Lord’s footsteps coming down the hall snapped him from his spiralling thoughts.

‘Severus, how did you fare?’ his Lord asked carefully, noting the obvious tension.

‘I have much to share, my Lord, but there is something more urgent that we – that you must deal with immediately. If I am correct…’ Severus broke off, eyes fixed on the door.

Tom blinked in surprise. Severus was almost never this… emotional. ‘What is it, Severus? What has you so rattled?’

Severus turned to face him, pain and anger and a hint of fear in his eyes. ‘I believe the boy’s magic has been fuelling the wards at his muggle house. Light wards. My Lord, I think the boy has a Dark core.’

Tom stared for a long moment, before abruptly grabbing the doorhandle and stepping into the child’s room. He hesitated in the doorway, trying to gather himself, eyes scanning for the child.

It took a moment to find him. Tucked in a corner of the walk-in closet, Harry was laying on his back, fingers tracing the knots and lines of the wooden shelves. He seemed more relaxed than Tom had ever seen.

Of course, that calm was immediately broken when he caught sight of the two men standing in the doorway to the closet. Barely missing a beat, the boy scrambled under the closest shelf, and a heavy weight began to weigh down on both men.

Severus’ knees began to weaken, and he lowered himself to the ground, slumping against the wall, eyes sagging shut and breath turning slow and deep.

Tom felt the same desire, the same heavy need to sleep, but he held it off. He knelt to the ground, leaning down to try to catch Harry’s eye. This close to the ground, the weight felt stronger – he was so close to doing as it demanded, but he was still resisting.

‘You are safe, Harry. You are not in trouble. I am sorry for startling you – I thought you had heard us come in. It’s alright, I am not angry and you are not in trouble. Severus and I came in to check on you. Severus is worried you might be… unwell.’

Harry’s wide green eyes practically glowed from under the low shelf. He tilted his head slightly in question.

‘Have you been feeling tired? Or feeling like things take more effort than they should?’ Tom asked, then mentally berated himself at the question when the small child stared blankly. What context would a little boy have for that sort of thing? Of course he couldn’t answer!

Tom cleared his throat. ‘Never mind. I’d like to cast a spell on you, Harry, that can tell me if you are… if something is wrong. Would that be alright?’

Harry continued to stare for a long moment, before furrowing his brow in confusion. His hands began to twist and wave in front of him, and he looked disappointed when Tom just watched blankly.

‘Are you perhaps asking what the spell looks like? The wand movement?’ Tom guessed. The boy tilted his head in confusion.

‘It’s not a wand spell, it’s actually a ritual. A small one, which we can perform here – well, in the ritual room. Would you agree to come with me and try it?’

The boy’s expression was complicated, eyes roving assessingly, before he slowly began to shuffle out from under his shelf. Tom moved back to give him more space, and the child stood, posture still tense but seemingly prepared to follow.

Tom glanced down at Severus, still fast asleep against the wall. ‘Would you mind letting him wake up, Harry? Severus won’t hurt you. He asked me to come here and check on you – he’s worried you might need help. He won’t be angry when he wakes up, I promise. If he is, I’ll deal with him, alright?’

Harry eyed them both shrewdly for a moment, before concentrating on Severus. The man’s eyes began to flutter, then suddenly he was awake, wand whipping into his hand and eyes darting around wildly.

Before Harry could dive out of sight again, Tom crouched down and laid a hand on Severus’ wand arm. ‘You’re alright, Severus. We are in my manor, nothing has happened. Put your wand away and take a breath.’

Severus eyes were riveted on his Lord, and he sucked in a ragged breath as he put his wand away. ‘Apologies, my Lord, I did not mean…’

‘It’s alright, no harm done.’ Turning to Harry, Tom continued. ‘Severus has also lived with people who weren’t kind, Harry. Sometimes when he wakes up, he forgets where he is and gets a little… worried.’

Severus tried not to bristle, but one glance at Harry had him deflating again. The boy was watching him with a solemn expression, one far too knowing for such a young boy. His fist was rubbing at his chest again, and he looked a little ashamed.

‘Harry has agreed to come to the ritual room, Severus. Would you mind going to fetch the others and meeting us there?’

Severus stood and brushed himself down briskly. ‘Yes, my Lord. Lucius and Barty – Carrick?’

‘Not Carrick. He doesn’t need to see this, if what you suspect is true.’

The group gathered outside the warded door to the ritual room. Harry looked torn between fear and intrigue, as he hid slightly behind Tom, watching the other adults warily.

‘I have asked our friends to join us here, Harry, to assist with the ritual. We want to be sure you are alright. The ritual doesn’t hurt, but you have to stay very still while it’s happening, alright?’

Harry nodded, anxiety clear on his face. His hands twisted together as he glanced around, then fell to his sides with a brief flicker of frustration.

Tom raised his wand to release the wards over the door, then swung it open and stepped inside.

The adults heard Harry suck in a sharp breath at the sight of the room, then watched on helplessly as the boy stepped over the threshold and immediately dropped to his knees, then hands, then fell to his side, gasping and twitching. His hands fluttered strangely, then he pressed his fingers hard to his lips, tapping them repeatedly. Tears trickled from the boy’s eyes and he lay limply on his side, breathing ragged.

Nobody moved for a long minute, too shocked and confused at the sight. Finally Barty took a step forward, breaking the frozen scene. ‘Quick, get him into the circle! Prepare for the ritual!’ he said, voice quiet but urgent.

He scooped the limp boy up and gently laid him on his back in the innermost stone circle on the floor. Harry didn’t resist at all, just allowed himself to be moved and arranged as Barty saw fit. His eyes were glazed, like he wasn’t really there. Barty’s chest clenched at the sight, but he stepped back hurriedly and took his place in the outer circle.

An urgently whispered ‘Barty?!’ had him shaking his head firmly. ‘Ritual first, explanations later.’ He said firmly, readying his wand.

The others followed suit, and Tom began to chant as they all channelled their magic toward their Lord. The stones began to warm and glow as the ritual began, and in the innermost circle, Harry Potter gasped. His back bowed and head tipped back, whole body shuddering and writhing as the magic of the ritual flowed through him. Tears flowed down the boy’s cheeks as the men continued to cast.

A swirling mist was forming over the child’s body, flickers and flashes of colour twining together, before it began to settle into something of a pattern.

The child had a Dark core.

A very large Dark core.

A very large Dark core with a leech, sapping at him and suffocating his magic.

Tom felt a surge of fury at the sight. Who would dare to manipulate and cripple a child’s magic in such a cruel manner?! He fed more magic into the ritual, intending to overpower the leech and destroy it, before he felt something pulling at his attention. He glanced across the circle to see Barty shaking his head.

Gentle, mouthed Barty, pushing his thoughts forward for Tom to read more easily. He is only a child. Take it apart gently.

Tom took a steadying breath and pulled his magic back a fraction, honing and directing it more carefully. This was more taxing than just a burst of power to destroy the leech, but the boy was too fragile to risk it. Sweat began to bead at Tom’s brow, but he held firm and continued to carefully unwind the leech from the child’s magic.

It took a considerable amount of time to loosen the thing, but once it was floating freely above Harry’s core, Tom sent a burst of his tamped down, furious energy at it, causing it to explode dramatically.

Unfortunately, the backlash and magical exhaustion caused Tom to drop into a dead faint. His followers, their magic connected and feeding into his, also fainted.

Harry Potter, laying in the centre of the ritual circle, sat up.

He stared around himself, looking at the unconscious men cautiously. None of them had tried to hurt him since he’d been here. In fact, Tom had been very kind. He’d given him a name, a bed, more food than he could ever possibly need…

He stood slowly, making his way around the circle, examining each man. The glow that accompanied them seemed dimmer, faded. Harry tried to reach out and touch Tom’s glow, to see if it would move or something, but his hand passed right through it and he touched Tom’s arm.

Frowning to himself, he stepped back.

He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he didn’t want Tom to be hurt or have his glow run out or fade away. He’d seen that happen before, and it had been sad to watch.

Tom was kind. Harry had to help him.

He scurried for the door, ducking out into the hallway and trying to retrace his steps. The little glowing dots they’d left behind on their way down seemed brighter than usual, so he had no trouble following them back the way they had come, until he bumped into someone he didn’t recognise.

Fear for himself warred with his concern for Tom, leaving him standing still and staring wide eyed at the stranger. Was he safe? Would he help Tom? Would he hurt Harry?

The man crouched down and smiled gently. ‘Hello Harry. Are you lost?’

Harry shook his head. He wasn’t lost, he was following the glowing dots they’d left on their way down. He could follow them back to the weird room, or back to his room. He knew both ways to go – he wasn’t lost.

‘Do you need help to find someone?’ the man asked.

Harry hesitated. He needed help, yes – but from who? He wasn’t sure who he was looking for.

Fortunately, he was saved from trying to explain when Carrick turned the corner and saw them both. He hastened closer, smiling at Harry, but Harry could see the confusion and anxiety behind Carrick’s eyes.

Carrick was kind too. He’d taken Harry away from the bad people – Harry didn’t need to be afraid of Carrick.

Even still, he shrunk back slightly. Carrick might be nice, but he was having emotions, and that didn’t usually bode well for Harry.

Carrick crouched down too, next to the other man. ‘What’s going on, Walters?’ he said to the other man.

‘Not sure. Found this young fellow wandering around down here by himself. How did you get down here, little one?’

Harry glanced back behind himself, then reached towards Carrick. He’d been going to grab Carrick’s hand to lead him, but he couldn’t quite make himself do it. He pulled his hand back, and took a step backwards, then angled his body and tilted his head.

‘Would you like us to follow you?’ Carrick asked. Harry nodded emphatically, taking off down the long hallway and following the glowing dots back to the strange room.

This time when he stepped inside, he could still feel the warm tingly feeling, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as before. He nearly wanted to giggle, but the sight of Tom laying on the floor held him back.

Carrick and Walters paused in the doorway and gaped openly for a moment, before jumping to action, casting basic diagnostic spells.

‘Just passed out. A bit of magical fatigue. You?’ said Walters, crouched between Barty and Severus.

‘Same, although I think it might be magical exhaustion for our Lord.’ Carrick replied, nervous.

Walters rennervated Barty and Severus, who came to groaning and sitting up slowly. Lucius did the same, but Carrick was hesitant to wake his Lord.

‘Leave him,’ said Severus. ‘Don’t wake him. He’ll be exhausted – he needs to rest and wake when he is ready.’

‘How did you know to find us?’ asked Lucius, voice betraying his weariness.

‘Young Harry came looking for help. Smart lad.’ said Walters, smiling at the boy.

All eyes turned to Harry, making him shuffle back and dart his eyes around, making sure nobody would try to get him. His own glow was ready to make them all go back to sleep so he could run and hide if he had to.

‘Very well done, Harry.’ said Severus quietly. ‘Tom will be very proud when he wakes up. How do you feel?’

Harry eyed him cautiously, then shrugged. How did he feel? His eyes dropped down as he thought. His glow felt… strong. Before it felt heavy and slow and weak, but now it felt… good. He glanced up, a hint of a smile on his face. He gave a slight nod to Severus. Severus had been the one who was worried he was sick, and he’d been right. Harry didn’t even know he felt sick till he felt better. Maybe he should find a way to thank Severus?

Severus gave him a small smile in return. ‘I’m glad. Come now, gentleman. Let us take our Lord back to his rooms to rest.’