Prophecy:

The time for peace is at an end, the time of prophecy has been reversed

And in its stead lies a great struggle, the battle for life will soon be waged

The winds will wail as the world is consumed in a hail of fire and earth

And in the chaos, the spirit of darkness will turn back what time has taken

The time for peace is at an end, only the prophecy reclaimed has the power to save

-1987-

Healer Russo's office in the Pediatric Magical Development Ward of St. Mungo's was entirely too bright. Perhaps it was meant to give the cramped room an illusion of spaciousness. Perhaps it was meant to lift up his young patients' spirits. Or maybe, there was another reason for the stark white light that coated its occupants in a harsh sterile shine. Regardless of whatever Healer Russo's intent may have been, Harry Potter couldn't help but resent the unnatural and blinding beams shining overhead as he squinted angrily into the distance.

A man and woman sat on either side of him speaking quietly with the healer, the man's hand resting protectively on Harry's shoulder- giving it a light squeeze. Harry huffed and made a point to look in the opposite direction. He refused to partake in the conversation unfolding before him, preferring to stew silently in his own whirlwind of emotions. He was certain he was coming off as quite the spoiled child right now, but he found he didn't care. They were bound to think less of him after this was all over anyways- he was certain of it. There was no point in trying to change the inevitable.

Still…

A small part of him stupidly hung on to the hope that this news wouldn't change anything- that his parents wouldn't think any less of him. It was a naïve dream- nothing more than a fantasy, but he couldn't keep himself from hoping nonetheless. It was why he refused to listen to their conversation, why he was determined to look anywhere other than the faces of him mother and father. He was afraid that the moment he did, he would see a look of disgust in their eyes or worse pity, and his fantasy would be shattered. He would no longer be able to pretend that everything was the same as before. These few minutes were all he had left of his old life, and he was determined to cling to them desperately until the very end.

Unfortunately, despites his best efforts, Harry was unable to completely drown out the words being spoken by the adults in the room. Even amongst his inner turmoil, several phrases managed to weasel their way into his distressed mind.

"…absolutely certain?" His father's voice repeated tiredly, the strain in his voice obvious even to a six-year-old like Harry. Hearing his dad's words caused Harry to glare at the floor with renewed vigor. Of course, his dad would be upset, who wouldn't be upset to find out that their child was a- a-

"…results are conclusive… nothing I can do… a terrible shock…" The sound of Healer Russo's patronizing voice pulled Harry out of his brooding almost immediately. He decided he liked the healer's voice just about as much as his office, which was to say not in the least. Harry didn't need the man's sympathy. He was fine, no matter what the healer said. "…several support groups... help adjust… living with a squib"

Harry stilled. There was that stupid word again. He hated it.

Squib.

It sounded like a disease. They were certainly treating it like one. An incurable, horrible disease.

He scoffed, clenching his small fists. So what? What did it matter if he didn't have magic? Was that really so bad? It wasn't like anything had really changed. He hadn't been able to perform magic before his checkup, and he had been doing just fine. Yes, he was a squib, but it wasn't that big of a deal. Right?

Except that it was.

Harry could tell himself that none of this mattered until the end of time, but the truth was being a squib did matter, at least to other people. Harry may be young and magicless, but he wasn't dumb- far from it. Harry Potter was a perceptive child, and he had known for a while now what adults whispered about him behind his back. He was used to the hushed tones, the muttering about his lack of magic, the looks of disdain or sympathy he received. And that was just the adults. Children, Harry found, were much less subtle with their prejudices. It was no secret among the other wizarding children that Harry had yet to show signs of accidental magic, and many had taken to mocking him at every opportunity. Taunts of 'squib for brains', and 'muggle-in-training' had followed him endlessly in primary school, but it wasn't until he started coming home with bruises that his parents decided homeschooling may be for the best. Harry personally found it to be a vast improvement. He had long given up on quelling the ire of his peers and instead opted to avoid them altogether whenever possible. Isolation was better than cruelty.

Isolation- the word struck Harry with a hard realization. Was that what was in store for him now? If there was one thing Harry had learned from the way others treated him, it was that magic was everything in the Wizarding World. Squibs were to be hidden away, a great shame and burden on any family that bore one. Would his family hide him away? Would they send him to live in the muggle world? He realized with a start that he didn't know anything about the muggle world. How could he possibly fit in? He was an outcast, a misfit of the worst sort. A sense of dread began to swell within Harry as a new emotion began to take hold-panic. Oh god, he realized. Things would just get worse from here on out- the mocking, the whispers- it would never stop now. There was nowhere to run. Maybe it would be better to just disappear. Yes, at least then no one could hurt him. He sniffed, trying to calm his fraying nerves. This was fine, he could be alone. He was used to it. He didn't need anyone, he didn't-

"Harry" The sound of his mother's gentle voice brought him back to the real world. To his horror, he realized he had begun to cry at some point, the tears dripping down his face like acid. Furiously, he wiped them from his eyes, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. Great, just great. If they didn't think him weak already, they were certain to now.

"Harry honey" His mother repeated, trying to get his attention. "Come on Harry, I think it's about time to go home, don't you?"

Despite Harry's best attempts to ignore his parents, he was startled when a familiar hand found its way into his vision, offering to help him stand up. Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. This was it. He couldn't live in this fantasy any longer, it was time to face his parents. Slowly, he raised his eyes towards his mother's, heart racing as he did so. This was it, this was the end…

His breath hitched as he looked at her, hand still extended. Her face, it held none of the malice he had anticipated. There was no pity, or disgust. There was concern, certainly, but it lacked any ill-will. Maybe… maybe she didn't hate him after all? Hesitantly, young Harry Potter took his mother's hand.

"Let's go home, Harry" She gave his hand a light squeeze and led him to the fireplace in the corner. "It's been a long day".

The fire roared to life as Lily, James, and Harry Potter reappeared within their home one by one. Lily was the first to emerge, quickly followed by her son trailing reluctantly behind her. His eyes were still red, and he looked as if he were one word away from bursting into tears once again. James was with them a moment later, his brow furrowing at the sight of Harry's distress.

"Harry," He called out quietly, crouching down so as to be eye level with his son. "Harry, how about we all take a seat on the sofa? I think, we need to talk about what happened today." Harry, for his part, refused to look James in the eye, and the elder Potter felt a great sadness overcome him. He wanted so badly to tell him that it was okay, that none of this changed anything. But a lump in his throat kept him from speaking. He thought of all the hopes he'd had for his son, all the opportunities he would no longer have. James wanted to reassure his son, he wanted to take away his pain, but he felt himself at a loss for words. The truth was Harry would never go to Hogwarts, he would never get his first wand, or play quidditch. There were so many things James had always envisioned doing with his son that now seemed impossible. Those lab results, they had taken away more than Harry's hopes of being wizard, they had taken away his future. How could he possibly tell his son that everything would be okay, when he himself felt so uncertain?

For a moment, James just looked at his son, taking in puffy eyes, the tired expression on his face. He wished with all his might for the ability to shelter Harry from the path that now laid before him. He knew the life of a squib was difficult, at best. Harry was a good boy- he didn't deserve any of this. But there was nothing James could do, nothing he could say to change things. So instead, he did the only thing he could think of- he wrapped Harry in a tight embrace.

Harry stiffened at the hug, caught off guard by his father's affection. Then, he began to violently struggle against it, kicking and screaming.

"Let me go!" Harry yelled angrily, fighting to free himself from his dad. "Don't try to pretend you still love me! I can tell that you're lying! You know what I am, don't you?! Y-you heard the doctor, right? Why are you pretending?! I-I HATE you!" His fists beat weakly against his father's arms as he struggled against the grip like a trapped animal. Unfortunately for Harry, James's hold was simply too strong for him to break free from the embrace. It was all too much right now- the lost expression on his father's face, the harsh sting of reality, the desolation resting heavily on his chest. He couldn't breathe. He needed to escape. Now. So he fired off the only weapon left in his arsenal- his mouth.

"Just say it already! Tell me you hate me. I'm a no-good muggle, aren't I?" Harry continued on, his voice growing more unsteady with each word. "All those kids, they were right- I'm just a useless nobody. Butt least you have a back-up son, right? You don't have to pretend you care now because you've already got a better, less broken model upstairs." Harry's words were laced with a bitter venom as he bit into his father's psyche with as much fury as his six-year-old body could muster.

"Harry-" James started, but was stunned into silence when his son let out a half-crazed laugh. It was a horrible sound, reeking of desperation, and James was startled to hear such a noise coming from a child, much less his own son.

"That's it, isn't it?!" Harry coughed out between laughs. "I'm so stupid. You already knew, didn't you? You knew I was a squib- I mean, how could you not? You just didn't want to tell me until you had a new kid to replace me…it makes so much sense now. Lance has already shown signs of accidental magic, so you know he's not busted…" Harry drifted off into a series of insane mutterings.

Seeing his chance, James used Harry's distracted musings as an opportunity to collect himself before attempting to speak to Harry once more. "You know that's not true, Harry. Lance's birth has nothing to do-" But it seemed his words had only served to draw Harry out of his thoughts and spark his anger once again.

"I'M A S-SQUIB AREN'T I?" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs. "WE BOTH KNOW I'M USELESS, SO JUST GET IT OVER WITH ALREADY AND TELL ME TO LEAVE." By this time Harry's face was bright red and his breaths were coming in short labored spasms. The exhaustion of the day's events was finally beginning to take its toll on him as he struggled to maintain his verbal onslaught. "W-why…?" He whispered, voice hoarse from his previous screeching. "Why won't you just say that you hate me, already?" He began to go limp in his father's arms, the anger running out of him along with the last of his strength. Tears threatened to spill over and for a moment, the two stood in silence as James allowed Harry to finish getting whatever he was feeling out of his system. However, as the silence continued, James began to wonder if Harry had fallen asleep from exhaustion. He moved to separate himself from his son in order to get a better look but was stopped when Harry suddenly threw his arms around his neck.

"Don't, don't go. I'm s-so-sorry!" Harry hiccupped half-way through his statement, sobbing uncontrollably into James's shoulder.

"Shhh," James whispered back, rubbing the back of Harry's head as he cried. "It's okay Harry. It's okay."

"It's not okay!" Harry practically shrieked, his hysterics escalating yet again. "I'm a-a-a MUGGLE. I'm useless, a nobody. You should just throw me out, you should just-"

It was at this point that Lily Potter stepped in, lifting Harry's head off of his father's shoulder. His desperate eyes gazing up at her as she held his chin in her hand.

"Now listen here, young man" She said, her voice surprisingly stern "there is nothing wrong with being a muggle." She told Harry firmly, his eyes widening in disbelief as she spoke "You already know that I grew up in the muggle world until I was 11, Harry. I promise you, it isn't nearly as bad as you think. Yes, it will take some getting used to, but I know you're up for it. Us Potter's are a tough bunch, and that includes you, Harry. It doesn't matter where you go or what you do- you will always be our son, and we will always be proud of you. Magic or no, you are a smart boy and I know you will accomplish whatever you set your mind to. If you can't perform magic, then you'll just find another way to get what you want. At least, that's the Harry Potter I know- the son that I know." At this point she leaned in and gave his cheeks a slight tug as if inspecting him, a playful smile on her face. "He is still in there, isn't he?" She teased, hoping to lighten his mood. "It's hard to tell with such a grumpy look on your face." Harry for his part, let out a small laugh before his doubts took over once again.

"But what if-" Harry began to protest before Lily cut him off again.

"But nothing." She said, leaving no room for argument. "I won't allow anyone to insult my son, even if that means stopping you from putting yourself down." Her eyes turned softer as she leaned in to wipe a tear from his cheek "You are so incredibly special, Harry. People can talk all they want, but they can't bring you down unless you let them. So, I won't stand for any of this 'I'm useless' talk."

James stared blankly at his wife for a moment, a bit taken aback by her bluntness, before nodding his head in agreement. "She's right, Harry. We love you- and no test results will change that. You are our son, and we plan on keeping you around for a long time. So no more asking me to kick you out, okay? Yeesh, it's almost like you want to leave, kiddo. Hate to break it to you, but we're your parents. You're going to be stuck with us for awhile! Besides, without you who would help me prank Mum on April Fool's? You know you're the best little prankster I've got!" With this, James playfully ruffled Harry's already unruly hair, and beamed when his son let out another laugh, his fears seeming to fade somewhat.

"We love you very much, Harry." His mother added, smiling warmly at him.

Body shaking, but no longer hyperventilating, Harry looked up at his parents. A painfully earnest look crossed his face "Even if I'm a-" Harry stumbled over the word "a squib?"

"Even then" Lily Potter reassured her son, pulling him into an embrace of her own.

A/N: And there it is. This idea has been floating around in my mind for literally years, and now I've finally gotten around to writing it. The first several chapters will be setting up the story more than anything else, but I hope they manage to hold your interest. The bulk of the story will be taking place when Harry is in his 20's, but we've got a few important scenes to cover before then. Because of the time jumps, I'll be putting the years at the start of every chapter. I've already written the next chapter, so I will probably post it soon.

U.W.