Prophecy Child

Tom woke abruptly, eyes snapping open in the dark. Something had woken him. He strained his ears, but could hear nothing unusual. He climbed out of bed anyway, padding softly to the door and opening it a fraction.

Harry was walking down the hallway.

Tom hastily summoned his robe and slippers and hurried quietly after the boy.

Harry walked confidently through the manor, in a manner quite unlike his usual self. Tom was sure that if he’d been able to catch a glimpse of Harry’s face, he would have seen glowing eyes and a glowing scar.

Tom regretted the slippers when Harry walked outside, but there was no time to go looking for more appropriate footwear.

A noise behind him had Tom whirling, wand ready – but it was just Sirius, trying to tug his boots on as he followed Harry too.

‘Where’s he going?’ Sirius asked, but Tom hissed at him to be quiet.

Harry walked further from the manor, into the wooded area to the west, never hesitating in his path. He jumped awkwardly over a little stream, and then stopped just past it, looking around carefully.

Something under a bush nearby caught his eye. He went over to it, as Sirius and Tom both watched from a short distance, wands out and ready to defend Harry if need be.

The sound of growling had them hurrying closer, but Harry, apparently completely aware of their presence despite ignoring them on the way, spun and held out a hand to stop them, eyes blazing.

Both wizards took a step back in shock. Harry’s eyes softened slightly and he nodded, before turning back to the thing under the bush.

It growled again, but softer this time. Harry crouched down, holding out a hand, palm up, and waiting.

It took every last ounce of self-control inside both men not to start firing spells immediately, when the creature moved.

A werewolf.

A fully grown adult werewolf, slinking on its belly towards a tiny boy, crouched down and defenceless.

Tom let out a choked sound but held back the curse on the tip of his tongue – for now.

As the werewolf moved out from under the bush, Tom and Sirius both gasped, wand arms faltering.

The werewolf was practically bristling with arrows, blood soaking its body. A long gash was just visible, running from the beast’s shoulder and down to its belly. A burning smell was wafting from the creature, which began to whine pitifully as it approached Harry.

‘Silver arrows.’ whispered Sirius. ‘The smell. They’re burning from inside the wounds.’

Tom paled, horrified at the thought.

The werewolf crawled on its belly, closer and closer, leaving a trail of blood behind it. When it reached Harry’s outstretched hand, it whined, licking its lips. Its tail wagged slightly, before it sunk to the ground fully, head resting on Harry’s bare foot.

Harry shifted around, moving until the werewolf’s head rested in his lap.

It was a massive beast – its head alone was bigger than Harry’s torso – but the boy cradled it carefully, hands stroking gently over its muzzle, along its cheek, behind one ear. The werewolf leaned into the touch, eyes half-closed and tongue flicking out occasionally.

Harry’s hands slowed, and the werewolf looked up into his eyes. Whatever communication happened between them, it was entirely still and silent. After a long moment, in which Sirius and Tom held their breaths, Harry moved.

He raised a hand, holding it out over the wolf’s bleeding, burning form, and drew something in the air. The werewolf slumped, going entirely limp as the life left its tortured body abruptly.

A few seconds of shock, and then the body began to move.

Tom’s wand whipped up again, pointed at the werewolf – but it was still dead. It began to change though, shrinking and warping, until a human lay in its place.

‘Oh.’ breathed Tom.

Harry drew the same strange symbol over the human’s body, then over his own heart. He carefully shuffled out from under the dead man – dead boy?

Tom leaned closer to look. He looked to be barely of age.

He was distracted from his examination by Harry tugging at the silver-tipped arrows piercing the young man’s body. He was about to step closer and help, when Sirius laid hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.

‘Let Harry do it.’ He murmured, watching the child.

Tom frowned but stayed where he was. It only took Harry a few minutes to remove the arrows and line them up beside the body. He crouched over them, hand drifting across each one, before carefully gathering them all up and carrying them back to the little stream they had crossed.

He knelt down beside the water and placed each arrow into the stream, one by one, watching carefully as they floated a little way, then abruptly disappeared under the surface. When he was done, he stood and moved a few paces upstream and knelt again, tugging off his shirt.

He washed his hands, his face, his hands, his chest, his hands, his feet, his hands.

Tom and Sirius watched quietly, Tom confused but Sirius with a contemplative gaze.

Distant howling made the hairs on the back of their necks stand up, eyes darting around. They were a fair way from safety – this might still be part of the manor grounds, but the wards out here were far different than the wards close to the manor. Running into a werewolf pack out here could easily be the end of them all.

Harry looked around at the sound of howling but seemed unconcerned. He stood from the little stream, holding his shirt in his hand and making no move to put it back on, despite the cool night air and his wet chest and bare feet.

He began to walk along the side of the stream, then paused and turned back, heading back towards the body.

It was still where they left it – Tom wasn’t sure why he expected it to be gone or moved or something. Harry glanced over his shoulder, beckoning them closer and gesturing for them to kneel behind him.

Harry turned back to face the body, kneeling beside it, eyes downcast. Sirius copied him, and after a glance around Tom copied them both, looking down at the body over Harry’s shoulder – and not a moment too soon.

A werewolf trotted into the tiny clearing, sniffing the air. It let out a blood-chilling howl, and then they were surrounded. Tom’s heart was racing, and he could see Sirius beside him fighting to maintain his composure too.

Harry was a different story. He laid a hand on the body, then stood slowly and approached the largest wolf in the pack. It growled at him but lowered its head. Harry reached out a hand and placed it on the werewolf’s chest, and it sniffed at Harry’s chest, then tipped its head back in a long, mournful howl. The pack joined in, echoing around them.

Harry gave the werewolf a shallow bow, then stepped backwards a few steps, before turning and making to leave. Tom and Sirius hastened to follow, eyes darting around in case a werewolf suddenly decided to attack.

But the pack just watched them leave, then moved to circle their dead pack member, shuffling until they were cuddled up in a large pile, their brother among them.

Harry walked steadily through the woods, Tom and Sirius following behind, until the manor was in sight.

‘Harry,’ called Sirius, and the boy turned. His eyes and scar were still glowing, but more faintly than before. ‘Will you join me for a cup of tea, please?’

Harry nodded, glow fading more quickly and making way for a hint of nervousness. He let Sirius take the lead, and the trio headed for their favourite sitting room.

A house elf popped in with tea, and Sirius added sugar and milk to Harry’s passing it over with a murmured spell.

‘Cool enough to drink, and no caffeine.’ He murmured, before fixing his own cup.

Harry sipped carefully, hands wrapped around the mug for warmth.

‘Where did you learn how to perform a Death rite, Harry?’ Sirius asked gently.

Harry avoided his eye.

‘You aren’t in trouble, pup. That was very special magic, and I am very interested in where you learned something like that?’

Harry placed his mug down carefully and lifted his hands to sign. ‘Father something. Show me where to go. Show me what to do. Draw the something, something go to father something.’

Sirius glanced at Tom, who shook his head slightly. He didn’t recognise some of those signs either.

Harry yawned, slumping in his seat.

‘Time for bed, Harry. We can talk more in the morning.’ Tom said, then picked the boy up and carried him up to his room.

‘Not bad? Not bad magic. Father something told me. Good boy?’

‘You’re not bad, Harry. I’m not sure what happened tonight, but I know you helped that werewolf. That’s a good thing, to help someone or something that is hurting. But now it’s very late, so you must sleep, and we will talk more in the morning. Goodnight, lo- Harry.’

Back in the sitting room, Tom practically fell into a chair.

‘We were nearly eaten by a pack of werewolves tonight.’ he said, voice empty.

‘Yep. My godson knows death rites for some reason.’

‘Yes. Someone hunted a werewolf right near my property and killed it with silver arrows.’

‘Fuck.’ Sirius swiped a hand over his face. ‘This is too much for the middle of the night.’

‘Agreed. We’ll talk in the morning.’

‘Yep.’

Tom stood, expecting Sirius to do the same – but he just flopped back on his couch and rolled till he was staring at the floor.

‘Night times are for floors, right?’ Tom asked drily.

Sirius nodded, a smile twitching at his cheek.