CHAPTER 10

A New Prophecy

Harry scooted closer as Severus' voice took on a hushed tone with the quality of secrets hanging about the shadows. The hair prickled on Harry's arms and legs, and he fought the urge to shiver. Something more profound had happened than mere legends, he was sure of it.

"Listen," Severus said. "When I was young, my grandmother would tell me stories about the old days, when Arthur was still king. There was a prophecy made in the time of Merlin, on his deathbed actually, that has been passed down so long it has become nothing more than fodder for fairy stories. Few copies of the original prophecy exist, but I have seen it, and Dumbledore has as well. I do not doubt that the Da—no, Riddle has also. This prophecy is why I told Molly's Patronus you were ill six days rather than the full week."

Harry clenched his fingers in his trousers and swallowed a knot in his throat. "So it has to do with the integration illness then?"

"Yes. How much do you know of the illness and why it occurs?"

"Not much admittedly. Remus said something about the birth of new magic weakening the caster, and I remember you saying that it would wear me out on my birthday."

"I never thought I would say this, but the wolf—"

Harry gave him a pointed glare.

"Oh, very well. Lupin is correct. We are all born with a set amount of power, but while our body is growing, most of it remains dormant so as not to interfere with our physical growth. When we are fully grown, or at least mostly so, our magic awakens, and the integration of new power weakens our bodies until it stabilises. Hence the integration illness. The stronger the power, the sicker the wizard."

A tremble began between Harry's shoulder blades and spread into his arms. "So the fact that my illness was seven days …?"

"Is unheard of. My illness was far worse than any other student in decades, and mine was but six days. By the sixth day, Poppy had started watching for a prophecy, but I recovered that evening instead."

Harry recalled Ron's letter and cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

"—You'll probably turn into Trelawney on your seventh day or something …."

Merlin, was it true?

He dug his fingernails into the coarse fabric of his jeans, needing the sensation to steady him, and forced his voice to work.

"A … prophecy?"

Severus gave him a worried look, setting Harry further on edge. "Yes. The prophecy of the Seventh Day Seer states, paraphrased, that in a time of war and chaos, when the world is in grave peril and light shadows darkness, a thrice-prophesied wizard would have a seven day illness of magic, and on the seventh day, would see the end of the Great War. The Seventh Day Seer would, for a time be vulnerable, caught in a war between wizards and lords, but his court of shadows and sun were foretold to gather around and guard the Seer, who would then lead them to victory. As for why the Seer leads the battle and not his generals, it is because, according to the prophecy, he would be of greater strength than Merlin himself."

Harry's entire body froze, ice and darkness closing in. "We cannot be talking about me. Even if we include this prophecy from Merlin's time, I've only been prophesied twice. Right?" Severus closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Right?"

"Not so, Harry. I, I admittedly did not link it to the Seventh Day Prophecy at the time. In your fourth year, you were not yet showing signs of greater than normal magic other than an incredible lucky streak."

Harry locked eyes with him. "What happened my fourth year, Severus, and why wasn't I told?"

Severus sighed and wrapped his chest in shaking arms. "That, I believe, is my fault. It was Lovegood, Harry, and I believed it to be more of her usual oddity. The Da—Riddle had not yet returned, and I thought she was speaking nonsense until it happened, and by then, I had more serious issues on my mind. I did not recall it until you … until last night. Can you forgive me?"

Harry sighed and gave him a terse nod. "Just tell me what she said."

"Y-yes. Well, she came to me after a lesson one afternoon early in the year, asking why I didn't cover flibbity-jibbles or some other nonsense—"

Harry couldn't hold back a snort. "Can you pensieve that conversation for me? I'd love to see your face."

Severus gave a wry chuckle. "I am sure you would. I should probably record them all so you can view the full prophecies regardless. At any rate, when I reminded her that her odd creatures were nonsense, she went still and her eyes went even odder than usual. She said—and I will have to pensieve it to remember every detail—but she predicted: 'before summer was high, a great evil would rise again, an innocent would fall, and a shadow-walker would once again walk the line between light and dark.' The first was obviously Riddle. The second was Diggory, and I, I myself was the third. She also said that 'a great hero of legend would be born in that moment, learn his purpose, and again take up the mantle against evil.' We both know who that referred to."

Severus set his head in his hands. "I should have recognized it as true prophecy, but I thought she had conjured the story to prove that her creatures were real, as she went on talking about them afterwards as if she had said nothing out of the ordinary. She even referenced her own prophecy before she left. Trelawney never remembered hers, so I assumed it wasn't real for that reason, and her strangeness did not help. I should have remembered that true Seers, the ones with real power behind their visions, can indeed recall what they See and interpret it for the world at large. Your Luna is a true Seer. I only wish I might have realised it sooner."

If Harry gripped his jeans any tighter, his nails might have pierced them. He took in a shaky breath and struggled to gather his wits through a dizzying cloud of panic. "S-so this Seer, this one Merlin predicted, he would have to have been prophesied of three times."

Severus nodded. "And so you have."

Harry swallowed and spoke with a shaky voice. "If you include the original prophecy. Besides that, he would have to have a seven-day integration illness—"

"Which you did."

Harry swallowed hard. "And an extremely powerful core—"

"Your magic awakening shattered every bit of glass and porcelain in the cottage, and if not for Fawkes' phoenix shield, might have ki—" Horror crashed through Harry, and Severus quickly altered his phrasing. "Ah, it might have hurt us as well. Besides that, the usual potion preparation for unusually strong cores requires three phoenix tears. Fawkes used seven on you."

Harry's toes dug into the carpet as well, and he trembled all over. "B-bloody hell. Are you o-okay?"

"Yes. Fawkes protected us, and I repaired the cottage after your magic had released. I did not find any injured animals around the woods during your illness, either, so I assume they came out intact as well, though one old tree struck through with rot did split cleanly in two."

Harry shuddered. "Merlin. So I've got the core then, too."

"Yes. And what burst I saw of it was pure white, as the original prophecy claimed it would be."

"O-okay. So the last part of this—the Seer would have to prophesy the end of the Great War before he woke up." Harry fixed Severus with a fierce stare. "Did I prophesy?"

The man winced at Harry's stone-cold voice and looked away.

"Severus, did I prophesy?"

Severus lowered his head. "I am sorry, Harry, but yes. You did, and in great detail."

Harry shook his head and let a breathy "no" slip. "No. No, I, if I were really the Seventh Day Seer, I would remember my prophecy. There is no way a prophesied Seer and Mage doesn't have enough power behind his visions to remember them."

Severus gave him a sad smile and eased Harry's hands out of his trouser legs. "Harry, you do tend to recall your visions. The one about Mad-Eye's death comes to mind. You likely forgot this one because you were so ill and exhausted from fighting your illness, you passed out immediately afterwards. It probably felt more like a dream than a true vision this time."

Tears slipped down Harry's cheeks and he begged Severus with his eyes to tell him it wasn't true. But Severus only held Harry's hands and watched him with a remorseful look in his dark eyes.

"I am sorry, Harry. I did not want to be the bearer of such frightening news, but you deserve to know the truth."

Harry's breath came short and turned his belly to ice. His hands turned to lead and his vision greyed. Freezing, paralysing terror ripped through his chest and shot through his veins, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but gape.

"Harry?"

Severus' concern brought Harry back from the brink, but hysteria still loomed near.

"No. I didn't. I couldn't have. I'm just Harry. I—"

"Harry. I heard it. You did."

"NO!" The windows of the cabin shattered, and Freya gave a startled yelp. "Bloody buggering hell!"

With a sigh, Severus cast Reparo at the windows. "And that is the second time I've had to repair all the windows in the cabin this week. Perhaps we could keep the raging destruction to a minimum?"

Harry let out a hysterical laugh. "Rage? I'm not angry, I'm fucking terrified! Merlin? Merlin?" His voice increased in pitch with every subsequent word, his emotions running amok. "I'm no Merlin! The very thought, it's insane, Severus. Totally mad. I can't, I, no …." He tore at his hair and slumped back onto the couch beside Severus. "I can't be."

"Ssh. Harry, I am here." Severus took Harry into his arms and held him tight, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. The gentle touch took the sharpest edge off of Harry's hysteria.

"No. No, it's not true." Even with all the force Harry could put behind it, his assertion still came out as more plea than belief.

Severus caught Harry's shoulders and turned him so Harry had to look into the older man's worried, pained eyes.

"Harry, look at me. Hush." He brushed away Harry's tears and held his cheeks. "Come now, I know it's frightening, but these are good tidings. You will need incredible power to fight either Dumbledore or Voldemort—both at once require a far out of the ordinary wizard. Fate merely gave us what we needed to accomplish our ends. It's all right."

Harry buried his head in Severus' neck and trembled so hard, he thought he might vomit if he moved back a millimetre. "No," he gasped out. "Not all right. Nothing's all right."

Severus held Harry tighter, rocking him slightly. "Harry, forgive me. I wish I had been able to spare you this."

Harry could not answer vocally, but he slipped his hands behind Severus' back and held on for dear life.

~SSHP~

Three days passed in a daze for Harry. The Seventh Day Seer. Ron had jokingly warned Harry about it. "—Because everything barmy, weird, or impossible happens to you, mate. Cheers." How ironic that he was right. And really, why did everything happen to Harry? Why couldn't fate find some other poor sod to dump some of her extra baggage on? Hadn't he lived through enough unbelievable events for a lifetime or three? Maybe for an entire nation's worth of lifetimes?

It was juvenile to expect fairness from life, but even for Harry, who had experienced hardly a single fair moment in his entire life, this was too much.

He had never asked for anything more than love and to be normal. A home and a family. Well, fate had officially screwed that to hell and back. He had a hard enough time just finding someone willing to look past the persona of the Boy-Who-Lived. It would be impossible to start a family once the world knew he was not only gay, but Merlin reborn or some similar rubbish. He didn't need the powers of a Seer to predict the headlines after that little titbit slipped out.

Harry paused halfway through pulling on his trainers. Severus looked past his powers, his fame. Severus accepted Harry's strengths, his weaknesses, and even overlooked Harry's three-day-long funk while he attempted to wrap his head around what his life had become. The man had been exceedingly patient and gentle with him, and shouldn't that tell Harry what kind of man Severus really was under the mask he had worn for so long?

Perhaps he need not worry about finding a partner any longer. Harry tugged his laces into a firm knot and shook his head. No, he needn't. No more waffling. Whether it had been one week or twenty years, Harry knew his heart. He felt at peace in Severus' arms. They helped each other and, without the past and spying to cloud their judgment, they saw the complete truth of one another and accepted it all.

And besides that, when Severus touched him, Harry felt he would melt.

Well, Harry supposed he had his answer now. In spite of their past, in spite of everything, if he didn't love Severus already, he soon would.

Harry nodded to himself as he tugged a jumper over his head. To hell with waiting. He had lost too many loved ones to let this one, miraculous chance at a real family slip him by. Harry wouldn't hurt the man, and, after watching Severus for the past few days, he now knew the cruelty of the man's days as a spy would never return.

The idea of them together, just him and Severus against the world, filled Harry with joy and purpose. Yeah. That sounded good.

Harry's stomach dropped like a stone. The world—shite! It would never be just Harry and Severus. The press would hound them, especially if they really did defeat Dumbledore and Voldemort both. Would intensely private and shy Severus be willing to stay with Harry, knowing the amount of publicity likely to tail a mage for the rest of his life? Gods, even a thousand or so years later, people still invoked Merlin's name every few moments.

Harry scowled. In another thousand years, would people say 'dear Harry' as a figure of speech the way they used Merlin's name now? Gods, he hoped not.

Harry sighed and trudged into the forest, giving a concerned Severus a half-hearted wave on his way out. Perhaps Severus would rather have his solitude and leave Harry out of it, even if the man had to break his own heart. Merlin knew Severus was good at that.

Harry scowled again at his thoughts' wording. Hadn't he just complained about invoking Merlin's name not a moment ago? He sighed and moved on, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

Gods, he hated being famous. Worse, if he had to be a celebrity, why couldn't it be for something he had actually had control over? He couldn't help either instance contributing to his notoriety: surviving as a baby and being born with a Hagrid-sized magical core.

He kicked a stone into the stream behind the house and plopped onto its bank.

"Whoop-dee-doo," he muttered, twirling his hands in self-mockery. "I was born and I didn't die. That's all I've ever done to deserve my fame. Hell, my mother deserves it more than I do. She died to save me, for Merlin's sake. And Severus! The pain that man has endured for the sake of everyone else is staggering. He deserves this, not me. But instead, everyone keeps pushing his bravery aside like it's nothing."

Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and sighed. "Gods, it's so stupid. Just because he's Slytherin, Dumblefuck thinks he's disposable and the rest of the world thinks he's dark. Rubbish! The thought is enough to make me pity even Malfoy …." He groaned and banged his forehead against his knees. Repeatedly.

"And now I need to wash my mouth out with bleach. Ugh."

Harry let his knees fall and dropped his head into his hands. "It's not fair. Severus deserves fame and accolades and love for everything he's done, but he doesn't even get the bare minimum of respect. People look at him like he's scum on their shoes, when they should be bending over to kiss his arse rather than mine."

The thought of lavishing attention on Severus' rear end sounded far more tempting than Harry thought it ought to be, and heat crept into his face. He turned his thoughts back to Severus' unfair infamy and away from said man's hindquarters with a vengeance.

Was there anything Harry could do to get Severus the respect he deserved? Perhaps he could ask Luna to run an article in the Quibbler—but no. Severus would hex him into next week, and pushing Harry's fame off onto Severus wasn't fair either. It wasn't as if Harry enjoyed it, and Severus was a far more private and introverted man. Fame would likely drive him barmy.

Harry amused himself for a moment with the mental image of a harried Severus hexing crowds of autograph seekers, but as humorous as the distraction was, it couldn't take his mind off of his current situation. He wasn't sure which was more laughable, Severus and the crowd, or himself and his supposed powers.

Powers like Merlin? Him? For heaven's sake, he could barely shoot a levitation spell in the right direction, let alone command the type of power Merlin once had. He'd probably blow himself to bits if he tried.

And yet, as much as Harry wanted to deny it, the evidence kept piling up. Besides what Severus had told him outright, there was the fact that Harry hadn't grown normally. He was barely 150 centimetres tall, shorter even than most girls. And hadn't Severus told him that a wizard's powers remained dormant in childhood so as not to interfere with their growth? He couldn't deny that his relatives' foul treatment had influenced the issue, but what if it wasn't the only reason for Harry's lack of height when both his parents had been tall? If he had been hiding power on the scale of a mage, it wasn't farfetched to suggest that his body had needed too much of its already scant resources to keep Harry's magic banked.

And then there was Severus. The man's healed body and mark suggested power beyond a wizard's ken. All his scars, all his wrinkles and grey hair, gone. Even the Dark Mark. Besides that, it appeared as though Harry had taken actual years off of the man's age. Severus looked closer to twenty-five now than forty, despite what his birthdate said.

Harry should suggest checking the man's age, if such a spell existed. They were close enough now that Severus wouldn't hex him for it. Probably.

He picked up another rock and tossed it between his hands, frowning at the implications of his thoughts. Bloody hell. If Harry had actually managed to make Severus younger, then he couldn't deny his strength any longer. Wizards and Muggles alike had hunted for the secret of youth for ages, but no spell existed that could do such a thing. No average wizard—hell, not even the most powerful of them—could make someone younger just by wishing for healing.

What did this mean for them? For Severus?

Harry threw his pebble as hard as he could and started towards the house. He had moped long enough.

~SSHP~

Severus had almost melted with relief when Harry had come inside wearing a determined look rather than a glazed, despairing expression, but this strange request had Severus baffled.

"You want me to cast a spell for what purpose again?"

Harry's mouth thinned and his eyes took on a fierce expression. "I want to know the age of your body, regardless of your birthdate. I suspect we may be surprised."

Severus stared, utterly bemused. "Harry, I am thirty-nine years old. Why do you need a spell to confirm this?"

"Because I don't think you are thirty-nine anymore! Your face looks younger, not just clear of scars."

"I've not taken any age-regression potions, which are only temporary to begin with and would not fool any worthy age-check, and no such spell exists. It's impossible to lose one's age with no catalyst, even on a temporary basis."

"There was a catalyst, though. When I healed you."

"Healing does not take off age, Harry."

Harry snapped, "It might when Merlin himself heals you with all his power!"

Severus paled. Oh sweet Circe! At first, he had thought the shock and stress had injured Harry's mind, but no, this made sense. Had Harry taken years off Severus' age? With any other wizard, he would scoff and remind them of the impossibility of the idea, but Harry had already done the impossible a hundred times over.

Heart racing, he dragged Harry by his hand to the loo and examined himself in the mirror. Merlin, he did look younger! Severus had attributed the changes to being happy and the removal of his scars, but he had lost all the lines around his eyes and mouth too. His forehead no longer had furrows, and some of the sharp edges of his face had smoothed.

He did need to check his physical age after all.

With a shaking hand, he pointed his wand at himself and whispered the spell.

"Statum Corporis Revelaro."

The spell hesitated as if confused, then bright yellow letters appeared in the air before him, reflected on the mirror and the image of Harry's face.

"Name: Severus Tobias Snape. Gender: Male. Birthdate: 9 January, 1960 …."

The spell went on to list his height and weight and many other minutiae Severus didn't care about until he came to the bottom of the list. There the letters showed a paler yellow, as if the spell wasn't sure of their accuracy. Severus read on and reeled back, stunned.

"T-twenty-two. Harry, you took seventeen years off my age?"

Harry winced. "So it's true. I'm really the Seventh Day Seer." His shoulders slumped. "Bloody hell, why is it always me?"

"Potter, did you hear me? I am twenty-bloody-two!"

"I heard you. I just don't know what you want me to do about it. I'm afraid to try to make you older. I don't know how to judge my power and you might end up at ninety-nine instead of thirty-nine."

Severus gaped. "What to do about it? Merlin! I don't want to do anything about it. You took off some of the most difficult, miserable years of my life."

Harry paled. "Shite. You still remember them, right?"

"Yes, but the physical effects are gone. Don't you understand what that means?"

"Er, you'll look even hotter in jeans?"

Heat burst forth on Severus' face. "Ah, oh. Of course not. I mean—Harry! It means the physical effects of three-hundred or so Cruciatus curses are gone. No more pain or twitches in my limbs. Merlin, that was murder to hide."

A bright smile dawned over the young man's face. "Really, Severus? I helped your pain?"

"Yes. I hadn't time to notice it between caring for you while you were ill and the shock of your prophecy, but yes. The pain in my limbs is much better."

"So this power is good for something at least."

"Yes." Severus gave Harry a shy smile and touched his chest. "Here, too. It hurts less. It must have healed the effects of at least four times I have killed, though I strive to avoid it wherever possible."

Wiry arms crushed him into a tight hug and Harry's face crashed into his chest. "Oh! Oh, Severus! That makes it worth this mess, despite the bloody bother this will be, to know I could heal your soul of pain, even a little."

Severus enfolded the young man and ran his fingers through the soft black mop. "Harry, my pain truly affects you so much?"

"It's been haunting me ever since I heard you've been carrying agony in your soul for twenty years or so. You deserve so much better. I wish I could heal it all."

Severus could not quite blink back the tears such a tender confession wrought. "I, gods, Harry. No one has fought so hard for me, not since my mother died. Why? Why do you fight for me? Why do you care? I don't understand."

Harry clutched him hard. "That is the most heart-breaking thing—short of the story about your mum and little sister—I've ever heard anyone say. Severus, you are worth everything I can give you. You're not going to believe me yet, but you're beautiful. Inside and out, you're so beautiful. And I want to give you back a little of all the affection and care you've been missing so long. Merlin, not a soul has cared about you since your grandparents died, have they?"

Severus, rocked to his core by Harry's honest, heartfelt words, could only force himself to whisper, "Minerva," before tears clogged his throat.

"Right, Professor McGonagall. Remind me to send her a giant plot of catnip and a store's worth of cat toys for Christmas, will you?"

At the thought of Minerva's office covered in greenery and cat toys, Severus couldn't hold back a chuckle.

"Do get her a pot of catnip, and perhaps a fine bottle of Talisker. The old cat rather likes it, rubbish that it is."

Harry snorted and stepped back from Severus' arms, grinning. "You like it too, eh?"

Severus sighed, already missing his warmth. "I can hide nothing from you now, can I?"

"Not a thing. I've learned Snape-Speak. Is there anything else besides rare potions stuff that you like so I can add it to my Christmas shopping list?"

"It's August, Harry. We've time."

Harry laughed. "I suppose I'll just have to pay attention then."

"Indeed." Severus gave him a wry smile. "Perhaps we should take this conversation out of the loo? We do have more to discuss, if you are well enough now. And I am a bit peckish."

Harry sighed and followed Severus out. "Yes, I've wallowed in self-pity enough for one year or twelve. It's time to put the moping away and accept these odd powers as one more thing that makes me different, unfortunately."

Severus stopped and turned to Harry, hearing the disgust in his tone. It was obvious that Harry hated the fame, the fickle friends only after his popularity, the fear of reporters tailing his every move. Severus couldn't blame him, but he couldn't leave Harry feeling inadequate either.

"Harry."

The young man looked up, startled. "Hmm? Something wrong?"

"Yes, there is. It is not just something that makes you different. Your magic is a part of you, just a part, and one of the many that makes you so beautiful."

Harry's eyes went wide and his lips parted. "Merlin, Verus. I never imagined I'd hear you say something like that to me."

Severus lifted a tentative hand to Harry's cheek. "It's true. But I do find admitting such things rather uncomfortable, so perhaps you could refrain from discussing yourself like you are flobberworm mucus in the future?"

Harry's lips twitched upwards. "I'll try to keep the flobberworm mucus to a minimum."

Severus let his hand fall and moved past Harry. "Good. I should think you would have had enough of it in detentions to sustain you through several years."

Harry's laugh followed him all the way to the kitchen.