Disclaimer: the rights to 'Harry Potter' do not belong to me. No money is being made of this and no infringement of copyright is intended.
A/N: I'm posting this to celebrate that exactly two years ago, I began my first fanfic.
Thanks go to my great beta Kimmy and a bunch of my friends who read it and gladdened my heart with their great reactions.

- CHAPTER ONE -

The Unheard Prophecy

It was a brilliant sunny morning, quite common for the time of year, and a large Alihotsy plant was happily soaking up the warm rays. A lithe girl had been working her way through the forest for a while now and deftly moved past the plant, not even pausing to look at the strangely scrumptious looking leaves. The ten-year-old seemed to float over the mossy ground in a fashion vaguely resembling that of a gliding wasp, an impression that was only further enhanced by her large glasses (spiralled around her ears to make sure they wouldn't fall off) and an amazing collecting of shawls, bangles, beaded necklaces and a wide sequined dress that made one wonder how she could walk without tripping over its hem, the green fabric almost reached the ground and revealed very spritty legs the few times it flared up. All in all, she looked very much like an oversized bug. The girl was hardly a stranger to the Alihotsy plant as she came through this particular neck of the woods quite often and had come into close contact with the plant a few years back (she'd eaten an enormous amount of its leaves before succumbing to the hysteria they induced – the healers at St. Mungo's thought she'd probably suffer a slight after-effect the rest of her live and her mother swore it was the reason her voice became shrill when she was very agitated or keyed up). The experience had taught her that even something as innocent-looking as the Alihotsy plant could foreshadow danger.

But today, her mind wasn't on the huge plant; she had far more urgent business to attend to. What the girl was looking for, was a lucky four-leaved clover. After all, tomorrow was Friday the Thirteenth and she needed something to dispel the perilous magic that was released on an ill-fated day such as that. More over, the last two figures of the year added up to make thirteen too! Tomorrow was going to be a very unlucky day indeed.

Finally, the girl reached her destination: a sun-drenched glade filled with trefoil and dots of yellowy flowers. Perfect. The large amounts of clover would add to the luck of the four-leaved one, yellow was also a sign of good luck (and of communication, but that's beside the point) and the heaps of sunlight were a positive sign as well. Even the date was blessed, because the number twelve was a very powerful number, though seven would have been even better of course, weren't it that it had stormed heavily on Saturday – not a good omen at all, but she was hoping the brightness of today was enough to balance that out.

She crouched low to a patch of shamrock that was in the exact middle of the clearing – centre of power, you know – and rummaged around for a four-leaved one, whispering an old verse for luck in her soft, misty voice. The green of her frock paid off when she found one after a mere few minutes of searching. With a triumphant and slightly far-away smile she reached out her hand to gather up the important plant when she somehow plucked a buttercup instead. The girl went rigid, her head falling to her chest with a sickening snap. Her eyes began to roll in their sockets and her voice came out in a harsh tone far from her normal dreamy one, her mouth sagging. A nearby bird looked up startled.

'He'll arrive soon… Coming into this world as the seventh month dies. The one who seems kindred to He Who Must Not Be Named, but couldn't differ more. Servant of Light where He is Lord of Darkness. Fleeing fame where He seeks it. Needing love where He despises it. Neither expecting what they'll find. Here their destinies will entwine, for neither can live while the other survives. He'll arrive soon…'

Her eyes closed and her head snapped up again.

'Oh dear.' She said, blinking away the sudden sluggishness and staring at the yellow flower in her hand in surprise. 'Now how did I get that?' Her mouth formed an amazed 'o' and she glanced at the good luck clover with a somewhat proud look, reminiscent to that of a parent looking at a child that has just gotten an 'O' on a difficult Transfiguration test. 'Of course! I forgot to use my lucky scissors!' She drew out the small pair of clippers that had once fallen into a caldron of Felix Felicis and had been rather golden ever since. 'The clover has brought me luck already!' Said clover merely soaked up some more sun, unaware of its fate.

After the girl had carefully clipped the clover and was stowing it away in a small bottle of fortsroot extract, lucky scissors already tucked in a pocket of her dress, her mother's magically amplified voice resounded through the woods.

'Sybill!' She bellowed loudly, not having to worry about being overheard by anyone other than her daughter as the location of their home – originally bought by Sybill's great-great-grandmother for the total seclusion that she needed to keep her Inner Eye clear – was far from any muggle who might hear her. The girl quickly stuffed the small bottle away and started heading home.

Miles and miles away, on the other side of Britain, a newly formed orb balanced precariously on the edge of a shelf in row 91. For a few minutes, the globe wobbled and then suddenly toppled over the rim and fell to the ground. A faint crash resounded in the enormous hall and a hazy figure emerged from the orb and started talking to the empty room. After a few moments, the figure disappeared in wisps of smoke, taking the last recollection of the words with it. No one ever knew of the prophecy's short existence.