Who gon' pray for me?
Take my pain for me?
Save my soul for me?
'Cause I'm alone, you see.
If I'm gon' die for you
If I'm gon' kill for you
Then I'll spill this blood for you.
-The Weeknd
She discovered it by accident. Looking back, she would wonder what would have happened if she had never known.
They were all practicing maneuvering out of difficult spells. It was a late evening for the D.A., and Jamie had paired off with Neville. She was tired and grouchy, and ready to be done. She had him bound with an incarcerous on the ground, and was trying to get him to sever the bindings.
"Neville, just sever it already, it's fine!" Jamie told him, standing over the boy as he struggled and panicked in his bindings.
"I-I can't reach my wand!" Neville grunted, fingers scrabbling behind him to grab hold of it.
"And you might not be able to do it in battle—do it nonverbally, Neville!" She urged him, exasperated.
"I don't think I can do it!" Neville insisted, eyes wide.
"Neville…do it!" She snapped.
"DIFFINDO!" Neville cried out. At once, Jamie knew she had pushed him too hard. He hadn't even been looking at the ropes when he did it. There was a creak and snapping sound. Glancing up, she jerked her wand out to send Neville flying across the room as one of the chandeliers above them gave way.
All Jamie remembered hearing were shrieks.
Black. It was all black.
"JAMIE!" A voice cried. "Oh my God, Jamie's dead!"
It was as if consciousness ripped through her suddenly and she choked, gasping for breath as her eyes wrenched open. Her head was throbbing, body aching, as she stared up at the horrified D.A. members hovering above her.
"Shit Neville, that was a powerful spell," Jamie mumbled, rubbing her head. Her hand was warm and sticky, she pulled it back to see her head was bleeding badly.
"Jamie…I don't think you should be moving right now," Hermione knelt beside her, eyes wide and haunting.
"I'm fine," Jamie sat up as the others protested. Harry was gazing at her, horrified, tears on his face. Jamie made a grumbling sound as her muscles protested and she stood up on shaking feet. She saw stars. "I think I just have a concussion."
"J-Jamie…" Neville was a wreck. He reached out to touch her as if she weren't real. "I'm so- I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine, mate," she clapped him on the shoulder. "No harm done, we're all tired. Let's call it a night and we'll work on it some more next time, yeah?"
Jamie shook everyone off of her as they gathered their things, staring at her in a mixture of disbelief and fear. She bent, focusing on grabbing her bag and shuffling over to Alicia or Katie so they could heal her.
"Jamie…I think you need to go talk to Dumbledore," Hermione appeared, whispering quietly to her. Her eyes were wide and knowing.
"He's not exactly around much these days, Hermione," Jamie said softly, lowering her voice. She winced as she moved her neck too much when she turned to look at her.
"You…then you need to write to him, you need to insist," Hermione stuck her chin forward. "Jamie…do you understand what happened?"
"Don't go there, Hermione," Jamie warned her.
"Jamie…" Hermione touched her arm. "I checked your pulse…I made certain…you weren't breathing. You were dead on the floor for several minutes."
"Hermione," Jamie warned. Her gut was sinking, she had already suspected what Hermione was trying to tell her when she woke up. It was impossible for her to be walking around after the blow she had suffered, much less to be alive.
"Jamie…you were dead," Hermione said forcefully.
"And now I'm not," Jamie sighed. "We don't need to understand everything, Hermione. Some things…are probably best left unsaid."
"Jamie. You need to tell him, at least talk to him…or I will," Hermione's voice was fierce. "I mean it. You need to tell him."
Jamie swore, picking up her bag.
"Promise me," Hermione urged.
"Fine, I promise, just drop it, alright?" Jamie groaned. "I'm serious, I don't want to hear about it anymore. I'll write him tonight…just leave it alone, Hermione."
It was the next morning after the…incident. Jamie was in between classes. Alicia had healed her head and they'd given her some potions to ease her muscles, and Jamie had warned everyone not to say a word about it to her.
She didn't quite understand what it meant, and it unnerved her. She should be dead.
"I'm ready to speak with you, Miss Shacklebolt," Professor Dumbledore fell in step beside her. She blinked at him, surprised, not having seen him since school started.
"Oh, now you can to talk to me," she grumbled. "You've been M.I.A. for weeks, sir, and by the way, we have a contract…I'm not supposed to be shut out like this!"
"Surely given the current school climate, you can understand why," the headmaster retorted. She gave him a look and flashed her scarred hand at him, only taking small satisfaction as he blanched slightly.
"It's bonkers here, sir, no offense," she lowered her voice, plastering a chastised look on her face as he feigned annoyance, as if she were in trouble. "Surely you've come up with a plan."
"Well as it turns out my dear, the outside world is just as 'bonkers' as you put it, and I'm juggling a lot of crises at once," he replied. "I quite like that term, 'bonkers', I think I'll start using it."
They were turning corners, nearly speed walking toward his office.
"Harry's even more mad at you, by the way," she told him. "Feels like you are ignoring him, sir."
"I am," Dumbledore admitted. "For his safety."
"And you're ignoring me because?"
"Strictly out of necessity, this is a risk even right now," he said, stopping before the gargoyle which guarded his office entrance. "Fumbling Fudgeballs. Right this way, Miss Shacklebolt, we have much to talk about and very little time."
Jamie's lips only twitched when she heard his new password, following him up the spiral stone staircase. When they entered his office, she was surprised to see Draco and Severus sitting there waiting.
"I'm mad at you too," she told her godfather as he rose to hug her.
"Me, why on earth are you mad with me?" he asked incredulously, looking exhausted.
"You're ignoring me just as much as Professor Dumbledore is," she stuck out her lip as she took the empty chair beside him.
"Necessity," Severus intoned. She harrumphed but turned her attention to Dumbledore as he sat behind his desk.
"Before we begin, it's best I catch you up to speed. Lord Voldemort has briefly returned to the country," Dumbledore told her. She glanced at Draco and Severus who nodded, having told the headmaster themselves. "I fear he's going to start making swipes at your brother or yourself."
"I'm not much of a priority for him," Jamie pointed out.
"That's not quite true," Severus said. "You angered him in the graveyard, and he doesn't like loose ends. You're a surprise he hadn't counted on, and well, you've been walking around on borrowed time in his eyes. You're a reminder he failed on many levels that night he murdered your parents."
"Precisely," Dumbledore nodded. "Which leads to our conundrum. Your public favor has started to dip thanks to Madame Umbridge's displeasure with you, she's quite vocal in the tabloids about your…spirit."
Jamie rolled her eyes, but she leaned forward slightly, concerned. "So, I need to go on another positive publicity spree, the holidays are coming up, there's tons to work with."
"It's a little more convoluted than that," Dumbledore said. "He met with his followers, and thankfully we had Severus and Draco there as listening ears."
She turned her eyes to them as Dumbledore continued. "He seems to think your survival is preventing him from…removing your brother from his way permanently."
"That's why I wrote to you last night, sir," Jamie said. She glanced at Severus and Draco one more time before continuing. "Something happened."
She filled them in…in loose details, about how she had been helping Neville with some charms and had suffered a blow to the head and, well, died.
"Who all witnessed it?" Dumbledore's voice was solemn after she had finished speaking.
"Uh, Neville, my brother, our group of friends," Jamie said slowly. She left out how their group of friends had significantly expanded this year.
"I see we don't have much choice now but to tell her," Dumbledore addressed Severus.
"But we don't yet understand what it means—" Severus protested quickly.
"Regardless," the headmaster sighed heavily. "Jamie…what do you understand about your…protection you hold for Harry?
"Well, I mean, Lily's protection for Harry resides in me, at least a little bit," Jamie shrugged. "Until he turns seventeen, that's two years away."
"It's deeper than that," Dumbledore said. He glanced at Severus before continuing. "There's been a recent discovery…it has to do with the night Voldemort came to call and you escaped. It's why I've been away…searching for answers. There's a prophecy… directly involving you. We attempted to keep it under wraps, but unfortunately it was filed with the Ministry and, as you know, he has quite a deal of access to whatever information he wants there."
"A prophecy about me?" Jamie's jaw ticked slightly ajar as she processed the information. "What does it say?"
"We don't yet completely understand it," Severus said slowly, sending a warning look to Dumbledore, who ignored him.
"Perhaps you'd like to listen to it yourself," Dumbledore said, waving his hand toward the pensieve, the cabinet doors opening as the shallow vessel floated out, glowing. He moved a small memory vial across the desk.
"I want Draco to come with me," she said, foreboding running down her spine. Neither professor refused her as she stood, Draco joining her. Clutching the vial in her hands, she turned only briefly to look at Severus. Her godfather looked sad.
Upturning the memory, she watched it swirl and warp in the pensieve. Draco took her hand, looking reluctant, and she leaned forward slowly as he did the same.
Tumbling head over heels, she righted herself up suddenly. They were standing a neat, rather sparse little flat. She could hear the sound of motor vehicles and honking outside the covered windows.
"I told you, Professor, I've had the very same vision over and over again," a woman was arguing with Professor Dumbledore. It was hard to judge the timeline, he looked very much the same. The woman looked somewhat familiar as well, though Jamie couldn't place her. "The girl, the warning…it all ends in death as far as I'm concerned!"
She heard Draco's intake of breath.
"Yes, Serenity, I understand it hasn't changed," Dumbledore said. "I'm simply asking you to repeat it for me. Your sister told me you are more developed in recall."
"Sybill should know better than to involve me in your politics," Serenity scoffed. Jamie's eyes widened with realization. The woman was younger, probably in her late thirties, with shoulder-length bushy brown hair and neater, smaller tortoiseshell glasses. "I have visions yes, but I do not practice as she does. I want normalcy, and you coming here threatens the very life I've built for myself, sir!"
"Nothing will come of it, I assure you," Dumbledore assured her. "I simply want to hear it for myself and beseech you to not to file it with the Ministry."
"They already made me," Serenity admitted after an uncomfortable moment of silence. "I think they intercepted my letter to Sybill…I only wanted to ask her opinion. I-I didn't mean to put the girl in harm's way if I have."
"Do not worry, it's not your fault," Dumbledore said. "If it's in the Ministry's hands, it is already out of my control… but Serenity…the girl— she can be protected, but only if you tell me what you saw."
"Auburn hair, fair skin…" Serenity said as her eyes glassed over. Her words seemed to have recalled her vision to the surface.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies… guarded by the blood of the true Master of Death who holds resurrection sleeping in her veins, only to be awakened upon sacrifice," Serenity droned in an eerie voice. "She shall escape death thrice before it shall inevitably seize her, and only through blood sacrifice shall true eternal glory be had by her destroyer…"
"Thank you…" Dumbledore's words sounded hollow. "Thank you, Serenity…"
Jamie felt herself drifting up and out of the pensieve, Draco breathing heavily beside her. Her knees were weak, legs shaking, as she looked up as Severus and Dumbledore.
"So, I did die," she said numbly. "Right…and the one born as the seventh month…Harry was born in July. It's about me and Harry, isn't it? "
"We…we aren't certain what it means by final blood sacrifice," Dumbledore admitted. "We're heavily chasing the notion she meant only through some bloodshed, not…well…not the other idea."
"Glory for who?" Draco asked him sharply.
"Also unclear," Dumbledore told them.
"What exactly does it all mean?" Jamie rubbed the heels of her hands across her eyes in irritation. "What did she mean 'The Master of Death'…and does this mean I've already used up two times out of the three times of defying death?"
"Again, we aren't certain…but I believe you've already used up two lives…if we're comparing it to the nine lives of a cat," Dumbledore said quietly. "It's why I've been away, I've been trying to find answers."
Jamie let out a dark laugh. "When exactly did she have this prophecy?"
Dumbledore was silent. "Recently."
"How recent?"
"Within the first week of school this September," her headmaster admitted finally.
"Well that explains things then doesn't it," Jamie said. She felt her shoulders deflating. "And you knew about this?"
Her attention turned to Severus and Draco. The latter shook his head, but Severus met her gaze head on. He had known.
"I was helping to look, to research, in between our regular missions," Severus said. "We just wanted you to have some normalcy as long as possible."
"Normalcy," Jamie scoffed. "I'm alone here, I've been alone all semester long," she stood up, shaking with rage. "That woman has taken everything from me already, and you tell me this is normalcy? I could have been doing something…weren't you nervous I was going to trip in the shower or accidentally poison myself?"
"Which is exactly why we don't need you to do anything," Severus fired back. "We need you safe!"
"So, I can prick a finger over Harry when it's time to win this, then?" She said rudely. "Who has to kill me, then? Voldemort or Harry?"
"We're still researching this, Jamie," her godfather told her.
"It's bullshit," she snapped. "I get your concern, I get the safety precautions, but what the hell use am I now? You've already barred me from The Order."
"Well you're more bloody useful alive, aren't you?" Severus snarled at her. "You're on restriction—effective immediately. No coming and going from the castle. No public outings."
Jamie swore, moving to get up and leave.
"Jamie—" Draco reached for her.
"We had a deal where everyone was going to keep me in the loop," she shook him off her arm. "We were supposed to have open communication, and you two have been going behind my back. Did you even tell my parents?"
They were silent, chastised. "We told Guin and Kings recently…yes," Severus finally admitted. She sneered at him in disgust.
"Everyone's just decided to shut me out, then, huh?"
She spun on her heel, leaving the office quickly. She could hear Severus calling for her to come back. She was fuming, angrier than ever. They wanted her to sit down and do nothing? Nothing! Everything she was doing, it was for her family and friends. For Harry. And now they wanted her to do nothing and to keep her head down and not ask questions. She wouldn't do it.
Only Draco knew about the D.A., and he had promised not to say a word about it. She trusted he wouldn't. Which meant Dumbledore and Severus were still in the dark, and seeing as they never were in school as of late, it meant she could put all of her focus on taking Umbridge down.
No one could answer the question on why she had survived last night. Perhaps she was better not knowing. All she did know, however, was if she truly were meant to die for them all, she was going to go out swinging.
AN: All will be revealed within the next ten chapters, dear friends.
