The Prophecy
There isn’t a sound that is as loud as silence. Harry was feeling smothered by all the unspoken words that filled the sitting room they had settled in at Headquarters. He looked at Dumbledore from across the pensieve that all three of them were huddled around. The headmaster had summoned the instrument from his office at Hogwarts so that he could show them the memory that Snape had insisted needed to be shown. Now Dumbledore was staring back at Harry through his bright blue eyes, a lone tear trickling down his cheek and disappearing into his white beard. Sat far back in the armchair, Snape hadn’t reacted at all.
“Neither can live while the other survives,” Harry recited the most polarizing line from the full prophecy he had heard, when he couldn’t take the silence anymore. Dumbledore’s tears, Snape’s blank expression, and his own crippling fear which made it difficult for him to even talk right now. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and held Dumbledore’s gaze. “So that means that one of us has to kill the other one in the end?”
"Yes, it does" Dumbledore said softly.
Harry looked away from Dumbledore and back into the depths of the pensieve. He could see the outline of Professor Trelawney still drifting somewhere near the surface. Neither gas nor liquid, she had set the course for Harry’s whole life before he was even born. This prophecy was why his parents had died and the reason Harry couldn’t see anything but Voldemort when he thought of the future. Harry now knew the thing Voldemort was desperate to know, but he didn’t see any advantage to himself anyway. He couldn’t see any potential for himself to survive.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches
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 seventh month dies
Harry kept hearing the prophecy repeated in his mind. He stayed bent forward in his chair and remembered the prediction Trelawney had made in his presence back in third year. About how the Dark Lord would rise again thanks to the aid of a servant. A prediction that he was forced to accept had turned out to be entirely true. Despite always considering Divination class to be something of a joke, Harry did not doubt the legitimacy of this prophecy, which had made its mark on his entire life just as his scar had marked his forehead.
“You aren’t going to die,” Snape suddenly spoke, for the first time in over an hour. “I would never let that happen.”
Harry attempted to speak, but all he managed to make was a weird sound somewhere in the back of his throat. He watched Dumbledore quietly tap his wand on the edge of the pensieve and it vanished, leaving the mahogany table bare.
“How can you be so confident?” Harry finally asked. He did not look at Snape while he answered.
“Because being the one with the power to vanquish him does not mean you’re all on your own in this,” Snape replied softly. “It just means that there is a chance to finish him. You have to remember that learning his secrets, figuring out his weaknesses, and earning his trust is what I do every single day. All that information is at your disposal for as long as I live.”
“You couldn’t have a better man on your side, Harry,” Dumbledore added gently. “You know that, right?”
“I do know that,” Harry agreed quietly, looking at Dumbledore. Even though Snape was the one who had knocked the line of dominoes over in the first place when his younger self had told Voldemort the first half of the prophecy.
“I put off telling you this, Harry, because I didn’t want to burden you earlier than necessary,” Dumbledore said sadly. “Perhaps I withheld for too long. I have carried this secret your whole life and I wanted to spare you it for as long as possible because I care too much about you. However, you’ve proven to me that you’re exceptional and I know that you’ll face this with the same bravery that you’ve faced everything else."
“But I don’t have any powers that he doesn’t,” Harry said weakly.
“Oh, I believe you do,” Dumbledore said confidently. “You will realize that more as time goes on. Voldemort would be very mistaken to underestimate you.”
“He’s more afraid of you than you are of him,” Snape said softly, rubbing his marked arm absentmindedly. “That’s why he’s so desperate to learn the second half of the prophecy. So much so, actually, that he’s considering going to the Ministry to retrieve it himself because he’s learned that nobody aside from the two of you is able to take it.”
“That is excellent news,” Dumbledore sounded satisfied.
“Excellent news?” Snape repeated incredulously. “I thought the last thing you wanted was for the Dark Lord to get his hands on it? Even though I think such effort is futile. Do you realize that part of my reason for asking you to share the full prophecy with us tonight is because I’d like to hand it to him personally?”
“I cannot let you do that, Severus,” Dumbledore replied.
“And why not?” Snape asked stiffly.. “If the Dark Lord goes to the Department of Mysteries you know perfectly well that the results will be catastrophic. There will be casualties - your people on the ground.”
“We will take the necessary precautions,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “However, a catastrophic upheaval at the Ministry is exactly what I want. Fudge and the entire Wizarding world need to accept his return. It is the only way forward. Lord Voldemort must be brought out of hiding.”
Snape did not argue, though he seemed wary of Dumbledore’s plan. Harry, meanwhile, still felt rather confused. He was trying to concentrate - the details surrounding Snape’s work with Voldemort would ordinarily have been of extreme interest to him. However, now, Harry was preoccupied with pondering his own mortality - his life laid out before him with a very abrupt and unpleasant ending already planned. Ultimately, every talk about Voldemort would come back to that horrible truth and it sounded to him like Dumbledore was now intending to use the prophecy as bait.
“But I don’t know why he wants it so badly,” Harry said suddenly. “All the prophecy is going to tell him is that he has to kill me and he’s already trying to.”
“He’s trying to figure out how to destroy you,” Dumbledore explained gently. “Of the countless murders he has effortlessly committed, you have persistently proven to be his exception. They call you his downfall. You might be able to bring about his end.”
Harry was staring at him dumbfoundedly, but Dumbledore merely pushed his half-moon spectacles up further on his crooked nose and glanced out the window. The sun was already rising in the sky. The three of them had sat up hearing and contemplating the prophecy together all night. Although Harry was not in the least bit consoled, Dumbledore had gracefully got to his feet and the discussion seemed to have abruptly reached its conclusion.
“A new day is already upon us and none of us have yet rested from the one we’ve already lived,” Dumbledore said calmly, retrieving his hat from the bureau behind his chair and plopping it on his head.
“Aren’t you planning to stay here?” Snape asked.
“Oh no,” Dumbledore smiled. “I have no intention of going into hiding.”
Harry felt the heat rise in his face. Despite everything else that was weighing on him right now, the Headmaster’s words still cut in a rather unassuming way. How ironic it was that Dumbledore would not remain at Grimmauld Place himself, but saw nothing wrong with locking Sirius in here for the better part of a year. Dumbledore was now a wanted man by the Ministry as well.
“Since there aren’t any classes until Monday, perhaps you would like to stay here for the day?” Dumbledore suggested, peering at Harry like he knew what he’d been thinking. “Severus will make your excuses with Umbridge, won’t you?”
Harry stayed leaned over in his seat facing Dumbledore’s vacant chair for a long time after the headmaster left. Admittedly, Harry hadn’t been thinking much about Sirius just three floors above him all night. Though he had half-wanted Sirius to come downstairs and be with him while the truth was revealed, a part of Harry was grateful that he hadn’t. He couldn’t bear to imagine what Sirius’s reaction would be when he learned about the prophecy.
Thinking about Ron and Hermione’s responses was even worse. They were still back at Hogwarts and probably worried sick about what had happened to him after Umbridge had caught him. Harry didn’t even know how he could begin to explain this, though eventually, once the shock wore off, he undoubtedly would. Harry’s fate was so sealed that even Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard he knew, had been brought to tears by it. Sharing it with his best friends and godfather would be even worse.
“I’ll leave if you want me to,” Snape’s voice broke the lengthy silence.
“I don’t,” Harry said quickly, suddenly compelled to move for the first time in hours. He got out of his chair. “Please don’t go.”
“I was just making sure that’s what you wanted,” Snape replied silkily. “Of course, I will stay.”
Harry had to admit that it was a reasonable question to have, as he began restlessly pacing the room and wringing his hands together. He had pushed Snape away consistently for over a month, but the thought of him leaving, perhaps for good, was something that Harry could not bear to even consider right now. Not when Snape was the only person who could possibly understand what he was feeling - Snape had been condemned to a life about Voldemort in a different way. They were in this together, on opposite sides of the same coin. Harry’s trust in Snape was absolute, even in the parts he disliked, because Snape never withheld the truth from him, even when the truth was ugly.
“I was naive to not realize there was a bigger reason,” Harry said, his voice raspy as he continued to walk the floor. Eyeing Snape and confident he had his fullest attention. “I understand bravery and fighting him, that’s what the Order is for. Loads of people are brave and care about standing up for what is good, but you’ve taken it further than anyone else. And now I know why….”
Snape’s black eyes were watching him move about the room. He didn’t say anything. Harry stopped directly in front of Snape and pointed his finger at him accusingly. “You sign up to be tortured and maybe killed every single day of your life, because you’ve never stopped punishing yourself for them dying.”
Snape’s face fell and his eyes seemed to lose their focus. “You’re absolutely correct, Harry,” he finally said. “I’m ashamed of myself every single waking minute of my life. I’m horrified to still be alive when they are not.”
“But, sir, how can I forgive you if you won’t even forgive yourself?” Harry asked helplessly.
“I’m not worthy of your forgiveness and I’ll never forgive myself,” Snape said quietly, staring at the patch of sunlight streaming across the floor. It was morning and Harry hoped fervently that Sirius wouldn’t come down right down, that nobody would interrupt them. Suddenly everything he had been yearning to say, but holding back, needed to be released immediately.
“But I’m too tired to not forgive you,” Harry confessed, as he came closer and gripped onto Snape’s hand. “It’s exhausting to hate you.”
“But I deserve to be hated by you,” said Snape, his hand trembling slightly in Harry’s grip.
"You hate yourself and you're not me," Harry pointed out. "But I know that you didn't kill them or want them dead - it was a mistake."
"An evil mistake," Snape said with venom in his voice. "I'm so sorry, Harry. You've lived a very lonely life because of me."
"Because of him," Harry corrected. It would always come back to Voldemort. It was Voldemort who took everything away. Who preyed on lost and vulnerable people like Professor Snape. Who was still dividing and taking away from Harry everything he could - all that mattered. It was up to Harry to break the cycle.
"But at least now you know the truth about me,” Snape said softly.
“Yes,” Harry agreed. “But I’m not so sure anymore that I want it to change everything.”
He realized now that he never would have been capable of pushing Professor Snape out of his life. That perhaps his silent treatment all this time had been as much about testing Snape as it was for grieving all that might have been. To see if Snape would still unconditionally be waiting for him again when Harry was ready. To see if he'd really meant what he said.
"That’s up to you," Snape replied simply. “I’ll still be working to bring him down and keep you safe, no matter what you decide.”
Harry nodded but there was no decision to be made. He squeezed Snape’s hand once again and then, not worrying about what he was doing, moved into the sparse space available next to Snape in the armchair. Knowing with confidence that he would be welcomed, appreciating how swiftly he knew Snape would take this burden off of him if he could, and respecting that Snape could empathize with how scared he was because Snape faced such mortal danger every day.
“Try and sleep,” Snape murmured softly, while he used both his arms to adjust Harry into a more comfortable position in the chair, which was really only big enough for one. Harry leaned his head back invitingly to rest in the crook of Snape’s arm, with his legs curled up over his lap. He knew he must look like a child right now, but he didn’t really care. His eyes burned and his head throbbed with exhaustion, but Harry could rest in the knowledge that Snape had revealed the absolute worst of himself and it still hadn’t been enough to break what had been built. Could Voldemort really be stronger than such a force as that?