Prophecy Child

‘Has anyone seen Harry?’ Tom called as he strode down a hallway. A few people nearby shook their heads. ‘If you see him, call for me. Keep your eyes peeled.’ He ordered, barely slowing his pace.

In another hallway, Lucius was asking the same question.

Barty was methodically checking the sitting rooms and dining room, with no luck.

Walters had gathered a few of his friends among the ranks, particularly those with children, and they were searching the grounds.

Carrick was hurrying down to the lower level of the manor, in the general direction of the ritual room. He wouldn’t be able to find it without the Dark Lord present, but he knew the general vicinity.

A feeling of tension was building in the manor the longer the child was missing. Tom had gone to wake the boy for breakfast, only to find his bed rumpled and empty. Harry wasn’t in the room, the closet, or the bathroom. Nor was he in a nearby hallway, heading to breakfast. Tom had begun calling his name, drawing attention from various others, who had also joined in the search. They had no idea how long the boy had been gone from his bed during the night.

Tom stopped in his tracks in a mostly unused wing of the manor. ‘Miggy!’ he called, mentally berating himself. Of course – an elf would be able to find the boy instantly – if he was still on the grounds. Tom squashed that thought quickly.

‘Master calls Miggy?’ the little elf squeaked.

‘Where is Harry? Take me to him immediately!’

Miggy grabbed Tom’s hand and he felt the strange feeling of elf apparition tugging at him. They landed in the owlery, and Tom blinked in surprise. He had no idea the boy knew where this section of the manor was, nor how to get there.

He glanced around for a moment, before his eyes lit on a strange sight.

Harry Potter was laying on his belly, facing the outer wall of the owlery. His chin rested on one hand, the other hand stroking gently over the head and back of an owl, which was crouched on the ground, wobbling slightly.

Tom held his tongue, watching in confusion.

The owl wobbled harder, unable to steady itself. Harry’s hand stopped stroking, giving it something to lean against. The owl ruffled its feathers slightly, eyes opening for a moment and meeting Harry’s. Then, the owl just… died. Tom could see the life leave the little bird, as Harry gave it one final stroke, then laid it gently on its side.

Harry slowly sat up, then turned to look at Tom. He didn’t seem surprised, like he’d known Tom was there.

Tom gaped at the small boy though, utterly shocked.

Harry’s eyes were glowing a bright, bold green. Not his usual warm, deep shade. This green… it looked like the Killing curse.

And the lightning scar that zigzagged and stretched over his eye and the side of his face was also… glowing? Not quite. Somehow brighter and sharper too though, in some indefinable way.

Harry watched Tom evenly, calm and still, before the light began to fade from his eyes and skin, and they reverted to their usual appearance. Harry blinked a few times, then his posture changed. Shoulders hunched, fingers twisting, eyes darting nervously between Tom’s face, his hands, the stairs leading down out of the owlery, and back to Tom.

‘Harry… what…’ Tom cleared his throat. ‘Are you alright?’

Harry nodded, cheeks pink.

‘How – how did you get up here?’

Harry hesitated, pointing at the stairs. Tom had the feeling the boy was hiding something. He needed to be careful here – pushing too hard could easily damage the trust he’d been working hard to build.

‘Yes, the stairs. But I don’t think you’ve been to this part of the manor before, have you? How did you know how to get here?’

Harry hunched defensively, eyes darting around.

‘I won’t be mad, Harry. You’re allowed to come here – although I would prefer you have someone with you, as we’re very high up and I wouldn’t want you to fall. How did you find your way here?’

Harry shifted nervously, before signing, ‘Something something no rule Harry bad?’

‘You won’t be in trouble, Harry. You are not bad. There was no rule about coming up here, but the new rule is that someone must come with you, so you are safe, okay?’

Harry nodded seriously. He took a deep breath and let it out again. He raised his hands in front of himself, then stopped, furrowing his brow.

‘It’s alright, Harry. You can tell me.’ Tom encouraged gently.

‘No no no’, Harry signed, then shrugged his shoulders emphatically.

‘You… don’t know the sign for what you want to say?’ Tom tried.

Harry nodded, brow furrowed. Then his eyes lit up a little. He ran his hands down to his thighs, then ran them up over his body and into the air, tipping his head back. He held the pose for a moment, then looked meaningfully at Tom.

Tom stared in confusion, then guessed, ‘Magic? Magic showed you the way?’

Harry nodded, then hunched again. ‘Bad Harry bad no no no.’

‘Why is that bad, Harry? I think that’s amazing – that Lady Magic spoke to you, and you heard and did as she told you. That’s very special, Harry.’

Harry looked up at him sceptically, and Tom nodded again. ‘Truly. That is very special, Harry. You did very well.’

Harry’s body loosened, eyes on the ground as his cheeks darkened. He glanced over at the dead owl, pointing and gesturing.

‘Would you like to bury the owl?’

Harry nodded seriously. He reached down, and Tom nearly went to grab the boy’s hand, but held back at the last moment. No doubt a dead owl was not a healthy thing for a child to carry, but Tom supposed he could just cast a series of cleaning charms and maybe try to convince the child to take a bath afterwards.

The two made their way down the stairs and through the manor. They collected a procession of baffled followers as they wound their way down to ground level and out the front doors.

Harry paused, and Tom took the lead, directing them over to a large tree. Tom swished his wand, and a hole dug itself beneath the tree. Harry laid the dead owl gently in the hole, then made a strange sign in the air, then drew it on his forehead and over his heart. He crouched down and drew it again over the owl, then stood and gave a firm nod for Tom to fill the owl’s grave.

Once the hole was filled, Harry inclined his head, then turned and began to walk back towards the manor.

People tried to catch Tom’s eye, clearly confused, but Tom simply shrugged once and followed the child back inside.

Harry walked purposefully through the manor, up the stairs and towards his room. He didn’t hesitate in the doorway, walking straight through to the bathroom. Tom followed him blankly, no idea what was going on. The boy seemed… very different.

Harry stopped in front of the washbasin, stretching on his toes to reach the tap. He gathered a washcloth and stripped off his shirt, then began to wash himself down.

Tom stared. He heard Barty slipping in behind him, and Lucius too. The three watched as Harry cleaned his hands, his face, his hands, his chest, his hands, his feet. Harry rinsed the washcloth between each area, silent and deliberate as he moved. When he was done, he held his hands out, palms up, and Tom could see his closed eyes in the reflection of the mirror. A small smile lit the boy’s face, before he lowered his hands and slowly blinked his eyes open. He caught sight of the three men in the mirror behind him and whirled, crouching down and raising his hands protectively.

Tom crouched down first, and after a pause, Barty and Lucius did too.

‘You are not in trouble, Harry. You have done nothing wrong. Can you tell us what you were doing just now?’

Harry’s eyes flickered between the men, before he signed, ‘What rule?’

‘The rule for what, Harry?’

Harry eyed each of them, before slowly standing and repeating the action of running his hands up his body and into the air.

‘What are the rules for magic?’

Harry flinched, body tense and wary.

‘Well…’ Tom began. ‘Magic is a special gift we have been given. Using magic is not wrong, no matter what you have been taught. I think perhaps someone has taught you that is it bad?’

Harry shuddered. ‘Bad bad Harry, no no no.’

‘I see. They were wrong, Harry, whoever told you that. It is not bad to use magic – it is very special. Not everyone has the gift that we have. The rules for magic can be… complicated. For now, lets say the rules are, using magic is allowed, but no using magic to hurt somebody.’

Harry nodded, eyes wide. ‘Good boy Harry something something?’

‘I’m not sure what those last two signs were, Harry. Could you act them out instead?’

Harry flapped his arms, then laid his head on his hands and closed his eyes.

‘Good boy Harry for helping the owl to sleep?’ Tom asked awkwardly, not sure whether the boy yet knew the difference between sleep and death. Although Harry had been the one to want to bury the owl, so…

Harry nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged. He flapped his arms again, then made the strange sign he’d made at the grave. When nobody reacted, he tried again, this time pointing up and waving his hands outwards, palms down over his head.

‘I don’t know what you mean, Harry, I’m sorry. We are arranging to find a tutor who can teach us all how to speak sign language, but we haven’t been able to find someone suitable yet.’ Tom apologised.

Harry’s eyes practically bugged out of his head as he gaped at Tom. ‘Tom something good something something good boy’. Harry signed quickly, eyes brimming with tears.

‘Yes, Harry. We all want to learn to understand you and be able to speak with you. And you need to learn new words too, so you can communicate more clearly. I’m sure there is a proper sign for ‘magic’ that is quicker and easier than the one you’ve been using.’ Tom said, gently teasing.

Harry’s tears spilled over then, flowing silently down his cheeks as he ducked his head. Lucius gave Tom a subtle nudge, then a harder shove. When Tom turned to glare at him, Lucius mouthed, ‘Hug the poor boy!’ with a slight glare.

Tom turned back, cheeks warm, and reached out cautiously to tug the boy into his arms.

Harry was stiff at first, then slumped fully against Tom’s chest, making him catch the boy before he dropped to the floor. Tom could feel the child trembling against him, utterly silent as he cried. Tom felt his own eyes itching, and he blinked quickly to clear them.

Perhaps it was hayfever from being outside.