Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own Harry Potter. I am not writing this for any sort of monetary gain. I'm just a bored person who can't come up with their own original thoughts to write an entire book.
A/N Hello there . This is my firs time posting a story here since I was…. Well 12 years old? I created a new account. I'll be honest: I've lurked around this site for almost 14 years now (Jesus that's a long time) reading Harry Potter fan fiction. I recently got a wild hair up my ass and decided to try my hand at writing a fanfiction again, mostly after reading V. L. Crawford's fanfics (and also through his/her favorites). So here's my take on a "what would have happened" scenario. I know this has been done to death, but look at my screen name honey dears. You've been warned.
Chapter 1: Shattered
"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 ..." (From Harry Potter, written by J.K. Rowling, only included for context)
Sybil Trelawney's voice cut through the silence of an otherwise peaceful night and stopped briefly before she tremulously continued.
"… but his first victory will come at a terrible price. Thrice blessed will perish and suffer. He of the stars will disappear without a trace. And the boy who lived will be raised ignorant of his legacy. Unwanted, unloved, unknown- he will suffer twice over at the hands of a man with moon eyes. Beware he of the moon eyes for through his machinations all will suffer fates of untold and unbridled sorrow."
An elegant twist of Albus Dumbledore's wand effectively cut off the ominous timber of Sybil Trelawney's voice, and the white haired man managed a small smile her way.
"Thank you Sybil, that will be quite enough," his calm voice was belied by the surreptitious glance that followed, twinkling blue eyes discreetly making note of any others who could hear the prophecy. At the same time he reached out with his magic—no inconsiderable feat—probing the area for any other magical signatures he could not detect through ocular means. To a casual observer, Albus Dumbledore looked cool as a cucumber, but inside he was a roiling mass of chaos. Would someone make the connection?
It might not be immediately clear to others, but he recognized whom Trelawney meant by " a man of moon eyes". And if given the time, Albus knew with inevitable certainty that others would reach the correct conclusion.
Fortunately, only two other souls were around to witness this historic and terrible moment: his own brother, Aberforth Dumbledore (unfortunate, really, Albus thought briefly), and Severus Tobias Snape. Oh, Albus couldn't see the spindly younger man, but he'd recognize the jib of dear Severus' magic anywhere. And, unfortunately for Snape, his presence represented a distinct problem to Dumbledore's grand design. He certainly couldn't have that.
With expert precision, Albus quickly set a plan in motion that would ensure neither of the other men would remember this moment. Utilizing a bit of wandless magic, he caused the floorboards near Snape to creak. True to form. Aberforth's head immediately whipped toward the source of the noise, and within moments he strode across the room and wrenched a terrified Snape from his hiding place. In the midst of the shouting and confusion, Dumbledore had little trouble gaining control of the other men. Without sparing a backward glance toward Sybil—who lay prostrate on the floor—he ushered the others to Aberforth's personal chambers. He would deal with the seer later; no doubt she would be so worn with the magical effort of prophesizing that she wouldn't be able to wiggle her toes without him knowing. The two men, however, represented a significantly bigger problem. With a simple "Obliviate", Albus knew he could become the sole recipient of Trelawney's prophecy.
And though he would have liked to keep the whole mess a secret, Albus knew he could not. Prophecies left behind magical signatures—someone in the ministry was bound to know that one had been given. But the contents and to whom the prophecy was spoken would remain a mystery until someone filed a report. And of course he would have to do that, or there would be a nasty investigation that could stir up all manner of unpleasantness.
No, that would not do at all. Heaving a weary sigh, Albus directed the other men to sit down on the floor while he himself took the single chair in the disparate room. He knew he couldn't just Obliviate the two men. A plan. Albus Dumbledore needed a plan, and simply disposing of his brother and the potions master hopeful would not suffice.
So the three sat, and Dumbledore thought, stroking his beard and pondering the numerous possibilities in his head.
Caught up in his own thoughts, Dumbledore made perhaps the biggest mistake he'd made in his considerably long life: ignoring Sybil Trelawney in the wake of her prophecy. Had he paid a bit more attention, he might have noticed that the prostrate women started to writhe and flail her arms after he silenced her, her mouth gaping open and closed like a fish out of water.
As Dumbledore sat, the young woman lay on the ground, fighting desperately to overcome the other mans silencing magic. The prophecy was not done, and in silencing her, the man had interfered with a most ancient and powerful magic. It was well known to seers, old and young, that once a prophecy started it would be finished, no matter the cost to the seer. Normally this wasn't a problem. But in silencing her, Albus condemned the young woman to a terrible fate.
Over and over the words of the final piece of her prophecy wheeled through her head, leaving fiery ribbons of pain throughout her brain. Sybil's body alternated between scorching and frigid, and her magic lashed out without her beckoning. Every fiber of Sybil's being focused on remembering the words of the prophecy, even as she dragged herself across the floor and desperately searched for something—ANYTHING—with which she could record the prophecy.
But even as she moved, the words started to lose form. Her vision grew hazy, and the seer's skin began to redden as her blood started to boil in her veins. Unimaginable pain lanced throughout her body until she finally lost the will to move. And so, Sybil lay on the ground, her body thrashing violently as she desperately tried to force the words of the prophecy out of her mouth, or even to write them down somewhere. But Sybil found no outlet . With a bedraggled sigh, Sybil closed her eyes, body thrashing in time with the prophetic rhythm in her head.
Then, abruptly, she stopped moving altogether, her body warping and seizing in a grotesque pose. Her eyes flew open, shining with an ethereal brilliance as her magical core, her very essence, surged forward. This sudden power finally broke the silencing spell Dumbledore had put on her, but Sybil had barely the energy to speak. Even so, the prophecy tumbled out of her lips in an almost inaudible whisper, like water bursting forth from a dam.
"…But when second fought and second defeated the boy who lived will take his place. The dead will rise, the broken whole, and those ere lost with now have trace. The moon eyed man with plans of steel will fight and lie and cry and wail but on the night of lupine capers a second champion, also born in the dregs of seven, will lead the way to truth."
Once the final word was uttered, Sybil's eyes immediately went blank. Her body remained in its horrific pose, her muscles still taught and rigid, as if she'd been the recipient of a particularly bad Cruciatus curse. And so she stayed, even as Albus Dumbledore pondered, blissfully unaware of Trelawney's plight.
No, the man was caught up in his own problems. It was rare for Albus to be without a plan, but he supposed in this instance it wasn't terribly surprising. After all, one could not plan for a prophecy. After an agonizing hour of planning and re-planning, the elder wizard decided on his course of action. He would leave Aberforth to slumber in his bed, blissfully unaware that any of the past few hours had ever happened. He'd wave off the loss of time as a drunken escapade no doubt—especially given the fire whiskey bottles Albus left strewn across his room.
Snape, however, was the bigger challenge. If he simply Obliviated the man and sent him back to "Lord Voldemort"—a snort of derision followed this (Tom Riddle as a lord, honestly)—the other wizard would know something had happened. Tom Marvolo Riddle was many things, but stupid was not one of them.
However, he was easily controlled by his ego. Albus personally knew this. He'd been stoking that fire for months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sweep in and end the war, thus securing his place firmly as the hero of the Wizarding world. Such a feat would solidify his power, and the power of his chosen successors, for years to come.
Severus was meant to be one of those successors, but it seemed that plans would have to be changed-A regrettable fact, but a fact nonetheless.
With this thought, Albus set to work. He molded and modified Severus' memories of the past few hours, leaving only vague details of the first part of the prophecy in place. He knew that the double agent would have to go slithering back to his master and report the prophecy. But all Tom would really know is that there was someone out there who could defeat him—a boy who would be born at the end of July to parents who continually defied him. Albus knew, as would Tom, that very few names could fall in that category.
The news would not sit well with the dark wizard, and Tom would stop at nothing to destroy the child and his parents. And then, with that taken care of, Albus could resume his plans and easily win over the hearts and minds of Magical Britain. Smiling to himself, the old man put a compelling charm on Severus (to ensure he went to Voldemort straight away), released the man from his thrall, and watched him leave the room. Dumbledore himself planned to remain out of sight.
However, sudden shouting from the outer room, followed by the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle required his action. Tightening his grip on his wand, Dumbledore quickly exited Aberforth's room and returned to where Trelawney lay on the floor. She was the first thing he noticed, as her pose was so unnatural it would draw immediate attention. Second, he noticed a dead body next to Trelawney, Severus' wand trained firmly on it. The man was of no real importance, though Albus was silently grateful that Snape had killed him.
Severus himself stood rigid, eyes trained on the dead body before him before they quickly darted to Albus. The old man had the presence of mind to look sternly at the other just before Snape apparated away.
Of course, the use of an unforgivable drew the attention of a group of nearby aurors, including James Potter and Sirius Black, who quickly came to aid in the fight. The next few hours were a blur of investigation, report filing, and transporting Sybil Trelawney to St. Mungos in hopes that her shattered mind and spent magic could be repaired.
Dumbledore managed to make it out of the whole situation unscathed, and later that night, as he sat in the head masters office at Hogwarts, he couldn't help but smile a little at his success. His plan was still in place. Soon he would be the very heart of Magical Britain.
Yes. His plan was perfect.
But as such things are wont to go, Albus' perfect plan crumbled, and the boy who was supposed to die became the Boy-who-lived: a savior, a hero, and a perpetual thorn in Albus Dumbledore's side.