A/N: Well, I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last part. I can't respond to everyone, but I did want to answer one review, which mentioned that this plot has been done before, to the point of cliche. I can only say that I wanted to write a prophecy story my way, and that I hope this doesn't end up as a clone of some other story. Anyway, sorry it took so long for this part to get posted, but I suffered from a case of writer's block. So, of course, when I was able to get past that, I wrote a rather important chapter. The next one will probably be just as important, because I plan (key word: plan) to actually reveal the prophecy next chapter. Ok, so here it is.
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
Chapter Four
History of Magic
It had been nearly two weeks since the incident in the Great Hall, but the ramifications of it had been swift and great. It had impacted Harry and Ron the most, though in vastly different ways. For Ron, the incident had awoken the Big Brother in him, causing him to follow Ginny around, glaring menacingly at any male who approached her. Particularly if that male happened to be Justin Finch-Fletchly. This was rather bad luck for the happy couple, as they were practically joined at the hip, leaving Ron with a perpetual frown that Harry was sure would freeze like that. Harry and Hermione were desperately trying to get Ron's mind off of the whole thing, with varying degrees of success. What seemed to work the best was Hermione working on her own to distract Ron, as Harry wasn't really much help. He secretly agreed with Ron, so his attempts at distracting Ron were half-hearted at best, fuel for Ron's wrath at worst.
To Harry, the whole thing seemed to reflect his luck in life. Just as he was beginning to notice her, she had found someone else. The incident in the Great Hall had been a painful way to face reality-he liked Ginny Weasley. Even telling himself that she was his best friend's little sister did no good, because it caused him to remember her flame red hair, and her bright brown eyes. And then he would daydream about her, like how she had looked at the Yule Ball, gamely dancing with Neville, or that time when he had been at the Burrow, and she had taken a nighttime stroll during the full moon. The moonlight had been so bright as he looked down on her from Ron's bedroom, and he could make out how serene her face seemed, so pale in the moonlight, that she had looked like a ghost with her bright red hair. It would make him realize too, with regret, how little he knew about her. In the six years they had known each other, they had never really talked. She was beautiful-there was no doubt about that-but he couldn't help but feel like there was so much more to her than that, as if her outward appearance was almost ugly compared to her inner beauty. It was merely a feeling he had about her, nothing he could really prove. But that didn't mean he wasn't willing to try to find out.
For two weeks, she had been in his thoughts constantly, and she haunted his dreams. After the incident in the Great Hall, his dreams had taken a turn. Now they usually involved him sweeping her off her feet, doing all kinds of things that he wouldn't dare try in reality to get her to notice him. Sometimes they would go to Hogsmeade and have a picnic just outside of the village, sometimes he would send her flowers or write her poetry. But no matter what he did, the dreams always ended with her in his arms, looking up at him with her big brown eyes full of love, only for him. She was always smiling at him and then they would kiss, and then she would whisper to him, "I've always loved you Harry." That's when he always woke up and, no matter what embarrassing things he had done in his dreams to get her, he would only feel happy that his dream-self had won her in the end.
It was after a particularly good dream about a moonlit broom ride that found Harry with Ron and Hermione at breakfast in the Great Hall two weeks to the day after the incident. Ron and Hermione were engrossed in each other, having one of those discussions that couples usually do. Harry was tuning them out as usual, reliving his dream. He could feel the wind against his cheeks, see her in the moonlight, cradled in his arms, hear her whispered words . . . .
He snapped to attention as he realized he was probably staring. When his eyes refocused, he saw her. She was looking at him, an odd look on her face, as though she didn't know what to make of him. Harry was beginning to wonder why she was looking at him that way, secretly enjoying her attention, when she shot him a small smile, then turned away. He turned away also, trying to figure out what to make of that. Was it possible that she still liked him? He immediately dismissed the notion as he stole a glance over at her, chatting animatedly with Justin. They were holding hands, and she was smiling at him. No, he told himself again, looking back down at his plate. He was just imagining things.
He saw a hand wave in his face and he looked up. Hermione was trying to get his attention. "Hmm?" he asked, prompting her to say whatever it was she had been saying again.
She sighed, a little bit of frustration in her eyes and around her mouth. "It's time to get to History of Magic, Harry. I've been trying to get your attention for nearly a minute. What's the matter with you this morning? You've seemed kind of quiet."
Ron and Hermione were both looking at him expectantly. "Oh, nothing really," he replied, hoping he sounded nonchalant. "Just a little tired, is all." Hoping to avoid anymore questions, he quickly stood up, grabbed his bag, and started walking to the History of Magic classroom. A few seconds later, Ron and Hermione caught up with him, neither saying a word, but Harry couldn't help but notice the looks they shot each other when they thought he wasn't looking.
***
The three made it to History of Magic with only a minor run-in with Malfoy, who had teased Ron about his girlfriend, his lack of money, and his siblings. The three, preoccupied with other matters, and too used to Malfoy's comments for them to really be upsetting, merely walked past him as though he had not spoken.
They settled into their usual seats and, as soon as everyone had arrived, Professor Binns began to speak. Harry managed to catch the first few words, "Today's lesson, class, will deal with the famous prophetess Celestia Moon . . . " before the monotony of Binns' voice caused his eyes to close, and he fell asleep. Almost immediately, he began to dream.
The room was lit by a fire in the fireplace, and there was one figure there, standing tall in front of the fire. He could hear a high-pitched, cold voice hissing, which became words. "Soon, Nagini, soon. My faithful servants have found the Turner the prophecy speaks of at Hogwarts. Dumbledore knows of it, but he does not know that I do. The Turner will soon be mine, and then Potter, nor his allies, will be able to stop me."
The snake hissed in response how pleased she was for her master.
A cold, high laugh filled the air, and he awoke, breathing hard, his scar in mild pain. He was slightly disoriented, but soon got his bearings and looked around the room. Most of the students seemed to have been rendered unconscious by Binns' monotonous voice. Harry tuned him out, wondering what the dream he had just had could possibly mean. What was the Turner? And this prophecy that Voldemort had spoken of? It must have something to do with him, but what? He knew he would have to tell Professor Dumbledore of his dream-that much was obvious-but how much would Dumbledore tell him? The questions whirled around in his head, and were only broken by the bell that signified the end of class.
Harry quickly gathered up his stuff, hearing Binns mention an essay about some prophetess, then left the class, heading towards the Headmaster's office.
***
He made it down to the Headmaster's office in record time. Screeching to a halt at the gargoyle that served as the entrance to the office, Harry was just trying to figure out what the password might be when Dumbledore himself came out. His eyes locked on Harry and he smiled, his eyes twinkling. Before Dumbledore could say anything, however, Harry blurted out, "Professor Dumbledore, I just had a dream about Voldemort."
Nodding, Dumbledore ushered Harry in without a word. Once the two were seated, Dumbledore spoke. "So Harry, tell me all about it."
"Well, er, I was just in History of Magic and I . . . fell asleep . . . " he trailed off, looking at the Headmaster to see the impact of this sentence. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he said, "that has been known to happen. Please continue."
"Er, right. Well, I fell asleep, and then I saw Voldemort standing in front of a fire in a room. I have no idea where the room was. Anyway, he was talking to his pet snake-Nagini was her name. He said that the Death Eaters had found out where the Turner the prophecy spoke of was, and that you knew about it, but that you didn't know that he knew about it. Then he said that the Turner would soon be his and that nothing anyone did would stop him. Then I woke up and I headed straight down here." Harry stopped here and took in a breath, looking at the older man. Dumbledore was quiet for a few moments, seeming to be lost in thought. Finally, Harry cleared his throat. The Headmaster looked at Harry, his eyes piercing. Harry took this time to ask a question that had been bothering him since he'd had the dream. "Uh, Professor, what's the Turner?"
Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry for a moment before answering. "A Turner is a rare witch or wizard, endowed with the ability to alter space-time without a wand."
Harry blinked, trying to comprehend the magic that a normal wizard would have to have to be able to try that, even with a wand. And there was someone out there who could do it without a wand. No wonder Voldemort wanted him! That gave rise to another question. "So, that means that the Turner is a person. Voldemort said the Turner was here. Is he a student?"
Again, Dumbledore looked at Harry with a piercing gaze, as if he could see right through him. "Yes," Dumbledore said eventually, his voice calm, " the Turner is a student here. But," he continued, anticipating the next question out of Harry's mouth, "I cannot reveal the student's identity. The student in question has no idea of what they really are. They will discover that soon enough, and then I have no doubt you will discover the identity of the Turner not long after that."
This gave Harry much to think about, and the room remained quiet while he considered what the Headmaster had just said. Perhaps it was someone he knew. Maybe the Turner was Ron or Hermione. He'd have to think about it more later. There was something else about his dream that was bothering him. He looked back at the older man, who seemed to be writing on a piece of parchment. He cleared his throat, and Dumbledore looked back up at him, sensing he had another question. "What about the prophecy that Voldemort mentioned? What was he talking about?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and he favored Harry with a smile. "I believe, Harry, that Professor Binns just gave a lecture on the prophetess who wrote the prophecy that Voldemort was referring to. I'm sure that if you talked to Miss Granger, she will be able to let help you with that."
Harry blushed slightly, wishing he'd paid attention during lecture. Then again, maybe it was better that he hadn't. At least now he had some answers, if not as many questions. He could tell, however, that that was his cue to leave. He stood up, and Professor Dumbledore stood up with him. "Thank you Professor," he said, as Dumbledore led him to the door.
"Not a problem, Harry. I'm always here, if you need me."
With that, Harry walked out of the door, down the stairs and out of the
gargoyle, moving quickly in order to catch Hermione about the History of
Magic and Care of Magical Creatures lessons that he'd missed.