Chapter 6: August 16th

At around six o'clock, Mme. Pomfrey came in again to check up on me. I was "awake" this time, sitting on the chair next to the hospital bed and reading a muggle fantasy book that had been left on my bedside table a few days ago. It wasn't really that interesting, but it gave me something to do and stopped me from remembering the past.

She bustled in, carrying a gooey black potion. My eyebrows rose.

"I don't remember drinking that before," I remarked.

The medi-witch looked up, irritated. "That's because you haven't," she said. "This is a new potion that Severus only made at the beginning of this year, and is designed to push the last vestige of illness from your body." She shrugged. "Most people just wait for their own bodies to heal them, but since you're going to be talking to Albus later tonight, I thought it would be better if you were free of pain."

I nodded, slightly dubiously, and was handed the potion. It didn't look very edible. I tilted the bottle, and watched as the mixture ever-so-slowly flowed in the direction I'd tipped it. No, definitely not fit for human consumption.

I looked up at Pomfrey disbelievingly and, seeing her stern expression, gathered my courage and threw the concoction back.

It was just as disgusting as I'd expected, but I could feel it working on my aches and pains as I drank, so I continued. I mentally gave Snape a pat on the back.

I handed the empty vial back. "Dumbledore is coming to check on me, then?" I asked nonchalantly.

Pomfrey threw me a sharp look. "How do you — oh, I suppose Severus told you the Commander's name. Yes, he is coming to talk to you in about an hour's time, to explain to about… certain things. After all, you're probably terribly confused."

I nodded in agreement, my stomach starting to churn. Albus was coming. I didn't know whether to feel excitement or dread. One thing I did have to do was think up a plan of action.

"Well, goodbye, Mister…"

"Thatcher," I answered. "Tobias Thatcher."

"Goodbye, Mr. Thatcher," Pomfrey said, and left the room.

The name wasn't something I had thought up off the top of my head, surprisingly. Back with the Resistance, it had been my codename. People couldn't have gone around calling me "Harry Potter" all the time, or my life span would have been shorter than the average ant.

It was actually a more comfortable name for me than my real one. After all, no one expected anything from "Tobias Thatcher". Except, of course, the Vipers, who knew who I was.

This brought me into another line of thought, one that made me grin.

The guerilla group I'd been a part of was called the Viper's Poison. Most of the people there saw themselves as the last defence — they were brave, courageous and utterly good, and would gladly sacrifice themselves if it would mean there were less Death Eaters in the world.

But here, the roles seemed to have been switched. Now the Slytherins were the ones opposing the form of government, and I was fairly certain that the ministry was trying to make Slytherin life as miserable as it had been for all the "light" people, back in my world.

Oh, the irony.

I decided, however, that now might not be the best moment to think of all that. After all, I had a master manipulator to best. I'd better have a plan…

000

I may have been expecting it, but the ominous sound of the door slowly creaking open nevertheless sent a chill of fear and anticipation right through me. I had put my Occlumency shields up at full power, and so I only faintly felt the Legilimency wave that had been sent at me. I immediately recognised the magical signatures, though. The sense of ancient power was unmistakable.

I was standing up with my back to the door, so when Albus said, "Redeemer," he didn't see the degree of disgust my face showed from the remark.

"Albus Dumbledore," I said, still facing away. I had to play my cards exactly right…

There were footsteps, and I slowly turned. I may have trusted him when I was younger, but I understood the Headmaster better now. He might seem like a harmless old man, but he was really a powerful, intelligent leader, and would go to great lengths to achieve what he thought would be best for the wizarding world.

There was no cheerful madness about this Dumbledore; not at that moment, anyway. He looked at me solemnly over his half-moon spectacles.

"I would ask how you knew my name, but I have a sense that you would not answer my question."

I shrugged, seemingly careless. "I'm a 'mystical savior', aren't I? Obviously, I used my supernatural mind-controlling abilities to find out."

Albus' eyes hardened, ever so slightly. I once again felt Legilimency pushing against my wards; sharper, this time. I knew they wouldn't waver, however. Dumbledore may have been overwhelmingly powerful, but I had managed to keep my mind from Voldemort, and the Headmaster didn't hold a candle to that Dark Lord.

We stared at each other, neither talking nor making movement. Unlike with Snape, this silence was tension-filled and uncomfortable.

"You are different than I had thought you would be," Albus murmured eventually. "I was expecting a… well, something not human-like. You are remarkably different from a god."

I only just stopped myself from rolling my eyes. "Story of my life," I answered evenly. "Everyone finds out I'm not good enough, eventually." I ignored the slight burning feel in my stomach.

Albus' brow creased, but he didn't say what he was thinking.

I gave a sigh. "So, why have you entered my humble abode?"

The headmaster answered with another question. "How much do you know about war?"

Ooooh, nice question, Albus. Have you been taking lessons from Snape, that you're able to bring back painful memories with a few simple words?

"The one you're having, not much. In general, quite a bit."

"Then you'll know that sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

I could see where this was going. "I hardly think that my participation would make a great difference, in the great scheme of things. Most likely, things would go downhill from the moment I entered."

"I very much doubt that," was the reply. "You are the prophesied one, you are the Redee—"

"Don't say it," I growled.

A dark and dirty room, made of stone.

A shape curled up in the corner.

Flash of green eyes.

Sparkle on a cheek. Tears.

"No. Please, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I tried, I did! Please, believe me!"

Crying out, into the everlasting darkness.

Forcefully, I shoved the memories away, into the back of my mind. I shook slightly with the effort.

Damn the Headmaster. I hadn't even been feeling bad before he came, and now he had to bring up the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

"My name is Tobias Thatcher," I said coldly. "Call me that, or nothing at all."

The Headmaster inclined his head. "Very well, Mr. Thatcher. As I have said, sacrifices must be made. As much as I do not like it, I must do things for the good of the community. And one of these things I must have is your participation, whether you want to help or not."

Ahh, and so the player lays down his cards for all to see.

"No," I say simply.

"I'm sorry, but you don't have a choice," is the apologetic answer.

I take a step closer to Albus. Evasively, "Everyone has choices, some people just refuse to see what they are."

The Headmaster sighed. "I really don't want to force you, Red— sorry, Mr. Thatcher."

"Why do you need my help, anyway?" I asked. "What have you all stuffed up now?" I was rather curious too see how Albus' explanation differed from Snape's.

A slight frown, and a split-second pause. I was certain the Headmaster was thinking of what he could and couldn't say.

"There is an organization of evil wizards, who call themselves the Viper's Poison. Their goal is total destruction of the Ministry of Magic, and chaos throughout the continent. They are slowly destroying life as we know it. The children of my school haven't stayed during the summer for centuries, and now they are."

"What's the date?" I interjected, suddenly remembering something.

August sixteenth, nineteen ninety-seven," was the answer, Albus looking at me curiously.

Well, that was… unexpected. At least now I knew why Ron and I had looked so much younger. I'd gone back to when I was seventeen.

"And, how long have I been here?" I asked.

The Headmaster looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at my seeming avoidance of the main subject, but he answered anyway. "Eleven days, from when we brought you here."

It had been that long? Strange… but I suppose that it would take a while for me to get healed from the torture.

Wait a second. If it had been my birthday when I went cross-worlds, and the fifth of August when I came, didn't that mean…

… that my birthday was now the fifth of August, instead of the thirty-first of July.

Meaning that in this world, technically, I wasn't born as the seventh month died.

In this world, the prophecy Trelawny had made wasn't valid.

Well… I didn't know what to think about that. So instead, I thought of something else.

"You can't make me participate," I said carelessly, getting back on subject. "Nothing you do to me will make me change my mind." At the same time I was slowly taking steps around Albus, my goal the slightly ajar door.

"There are… ways, that I could use, to get you to agree," the Headmaster said.

"You're not going to damage me, Dumbledore. Not after you've spent all that time healing me."

"You are correct," was the reply. "I wouldn't hurt you physically. But there are other ways."

"You'll regret it," I said. "Everything I try to do goes wrong, eventually. You'll be cursing me by the end of this."

The door was only two metres away.

"No," said Dumbledore. "I know I won't. Because, you see, my dear Tobias, it is said in the prophecy that you will save us."

"Prophecies can lie," I said dismissively. But I was slightly curious, so I asked, "What does it say?"

Albus recited it, slowly and reverentially. "There shall come a day, three summers from the Kalaverael, where the Decagon shall bind their magic, and use the Sacred Mirror to bring The Redeemer into this world. He shall cease the fighting between the Snakes and the Lions, and he shall bring about the unity of the Sorcerer School, and he shall argue with the heavens, and bespeak with demons, and bring peace into the magus world."

"That's a shit prophecy," I said matter-of-factly. "I know more that are loads better."

At the same time I was thinking to my self, trying to glean what I could from the outdated words. Okay, so I was obviously meant to be the… redeemer. I assumed that Kalaverael meant "millennium" because this was 1997. The prophecy seemed to be saying that I would make Gryffindor and Slytherin friends again, unify Hogwarts, and stop the fighting in the wizarding world. I didn't know what to make of the "arguing with the heavens and bespeaking with demons" part, so I put it aside for the moment. "What does it mean?" I asked.

Albus looked slightly miffed that I had degraded the prophecy, but nevertheless answered my question.

"The words are quite obscure, really. What the Decagon and I have gleaned is three years from the millennium, you will come from another world into this. From there you will stop the Vipers, thus making the wizarding world, and Hogwarts, at peace again."

Honestly, right then I wanted to throttle Albus for his over-simplistic approach to the prophecy. He must have thought I had less brains than Gilderoy Lockheart.

But then I remembered that he thought I had little to no idea of the world I was now in. He seemed to think that I had come from a completely different place, perhaps where the world was run by horses, and humans were but an inferior race.

Well, wherever he thought I came from, there was still no reason for him to lie.

I nodded, and then dashed as fast as I could to the open door. Not surprisingly, it slammed before I could get to it.

I turned and snarled at Albus, who just twinkled infuriating at me.

"You will not control me, old man," I growled.

"Of course not, Mr. Thatcher," Dumbledore replied innocently.

I came up to the Headmaster, fury filling my face. "I've been through hell and back," I hissed. "I had no idea that there was another bloody prophecy I had to fulfill. And now I'm thrust into this unknown place, with no more than a by your leave, and it is taken for granted that I will rid the world of this 'evil'." I pushed past Albus, and threw myself on the bed.

The ceiling was now intimately familiar to me, as much as I had looked at it lately. I had memorized every crack, speck, and bit of peeling plaster as an attempt to pull my mind away from memories. I looked up at it now, while waiting for an answer to my outburst.

"I'm… sorry," Dumbledore said eventually. I was surprised — he sounded genuinely apologetic.

"When the Decagon and I found the prophecy, we automatically assumed that our savior would be someone who was bred for the role, and that they wouldn't mind at all. I suppose we all imagined some sort of… unearthly being, who had no real emotions. Like a guardian angel, or a god."

"But then I came," I said bitterly.

"Then you came," Albus agreed. "And we had to revise our options again." He paused. "The thing is, you are obviously the savior, because you are the one who came through the mirror."

"A mistake, obviously," I said.

The Headmaster shook his head. "No. Prophecies don't make mistakes. Nor does Severus, and it was he that brought all the threads of he spell together to make it work."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You have been involved with prophecies before, haven't you? You seem to be implying that."

"Oh, I know all about prophecies, alright," I answered darkly. "I also know how they can fuck your life up and make you wish that you'd never been born."

Dumbledore looked at me in pity, and I fought the urge to bare my teeth

"I assume that none of you thought of a way to get me back to my world, hmm?" I said contemptuously.

The Headmaster looked faintly abashed. "We never really considered it."

"Brilliant," I muttered.

There was silence for a few seconds, while I pretended to be thinking things over. I waited long enough for Albus to start looking slightly agitated, then I slowly slid off the bed and stood up.

"Listen, Dumbledore," I said. "I have not the faintest doubt that you and your precious 'Decagon' are dead wrong about me. But I will play your little game for the moment, as there is obviously nothing else to do. I will not be a willing little pawn, however." Under my breath, I whispered, "Never again."

The Headmaster looked relieved. "We are in your debt, Tobias Thatcher."

"Yeah, yeah," I replied dismissively, but filed the comment in my mind. It might be useful later, after all.

I was barely suppressing a grin at that point. I'd known right from the beginning that Dumbledore would never just let me refuse to be the savior because, by his reasoning, that would mean the light would fall. But now I'd let him know what I thought of his plan, and had made it clear that I wouldn't be used.

But one more thing was bothering me, something that I'd have to be very careful asking about.

"Are the Vipers the only threat to the world?" I asked.

Albus' brow furrowed. "In Britain, yes. There are a few things going on in Asia, but they're not quite as bad as what's happening here."

"Were there any threats before I came?"

"Well… there was Voldemort, but he was killed fifteen years ago."

My mouth went dry, and my heart started hammering. Voldemort, tyrannical ruler and sadistic torturer in my world, was dead here?

"How?" I asked. My voice sounded slightly strangled, but Albus didn't notice. He was too caught up in his memories.

He looked at me bleakly. "I killed him," he said. "We dueled, and I cast the soul destroying curse."

It had been that simple? That… simple?

I staggered, and fell to the ground.

Albus looked at me, concerned. "Mr. Thatcher? Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dumbledore," I choked. "Just — my ankle's not quite healed from when I kicked the door. I'll just, go, bed — lie down." I grabbed the bedpost and levered myself up, then lay on the bed once again.

I didn't talk for over a minute. There was a lump in my throat, and my eyes burned.

Was that all it would have taken to defeat Voldemort? A simple curse?

"If you defeated him, why can't you kill the Viper's?" I asked distantly.

Albus sounded troubled. "A spell like that takes an enormous amount of power from you. However, it is more than just that. Destroying a soul is a truly terrible thing to, and if you do, a bit of yourself dies too. Another thing is that we don't know who leads the Resistance, so we wouldn't know who to curse." He paused. "Anyway, you are here to take care of all that now."

Abruptly, the Headmaster changed the subject. "We're going to have to think of something for you to do when the school year starts, Mr. Thatcher."

"Oh yes?" At least now we were in stable ground. I had a fair idea of what Albus was going to make me do, too.

"Well, Hogwarts is a school, so it would only make sense for you to take the place as a teacher. What sort of magic do you practice?"

I snorted, and glared. "Nothing, if I don't have my wand."

Albus' eyes widened slightly in surprise. "You are a wizard, then?"

"Of course," I said. "And I'm not even very powerful." I raised an eyebrow. "Starting to revise your opinions on me, Dumbledore?"

The man shook his head. "No. You are the Redee — pardon, savior. No matter your power level, you will save Britain."

I shook my head in disbelief, looking up at Albus. I hadn't ever known him to be that blinded before, not even where I was concerned. At least then he had tried to train me.

"We will have to get you to Ollivander's… might be a bit hard, but we'll manage," the Headmaster said to himself softly.

I suddenly recalled something, something so important that it was a wonder that I'd forgotten about it. Well... I hadn't forgotten, really, but I was used to ignoring pain.

"Before that, could you do something for me, Albus?" I asked, urgency in my voice.

The Headmaster looked at me curiously. "What is it, Mr. Thatcher?"

"My animagus form has been taken away from me. Get it back. Please." Now that I thought about it, the separation pain felt doubled. It was gnawing at my heart, filling me with loneliness.

Dumbledore looked down at me in horror. "My poor boy," he whispered. "Who would do something so horrific… so barbaric…" He straightened. "We'll get you your form back," he said firmly. "Not now — it requires a potion. But as soon as possible.

"Now, back to the teacher issue." He looked at me speculatively. "Would you say you are good at making things up, and improvising?"

"Huh?" I looked at the Headmaster, bewildered. "Um, yeah, I suppose—"

"Brilliant!" Albus exclaimed. "Welcome, Professor Thatcher. You're our new Divination teacher!"

"I'm what?" I stared in terrified astonishment.

"The new Divination Professor," Dumbledore said calmly, eyes twinkling. "Professor Loreal had a conversation with a Hippogriff earlier in the year, and the two didn't quite get along. Partrige is consequently spending his time at St. Mungo's, and unable to teach the subject."

An ominous feeling came to me. "Isn't there… anyone else, who could teach that subject?"

Albus looked pensive. "Well, Miranda only finished school last year, and the only other seer I know of that is actually any good is still at Hogwarts. And the post is perfect as a cover."

"Aren't there any descendants of famous seers, or something, that could do it?" I asked, dread slowly filling me.

"Well, not really. The last was Sybil Trelawney, and she died over eighteen years ago."

I sat in shock, as I realised what must have happened.

"Fuck," I whispered.

Albus was hovering over me, looking concerned.

"Get out," I hissed.

"What's wrong?" I was asked.

I stood up. "Get the fuck out of here." I knew from experience that my eyes would be blazing green balls of fury.

"But Mr. Thatcher—"

"We'll decide everything tomorrow, Albus. Now, get out!"

Dumbledore left, slowly and with a few worried glances back at me. But I was no longer concentrating on him.

Everything made sense now. It had seemed a bit strange that Albus had defeated Voldemort. Surely he would have waited for the other me to do it, because of the prophecy.

But there was no prophecy. Because that goddamned Trelawney had gone and got herself killed, she had never had time to say it.

I dropped on the ground, and put my head in my hands.

If the prophecy hadn't been said, none of that shit in my world would have happened.

All the people I had loved would still be alive.

I might, for once, have been happy.

I wouldn't be the man I was now — broken and lost and adrift in a sea of hate.

Alone.