Foreseeing Fate

A Harry Potter Fanfiction
by Moey

Originally archived at The Sugar Quill

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter et al belong to the wonderfully talented J. K. Rowling. Who would want it any other way?

Dedication: To the girlfriends I always wished for. Wishes really do come true.

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Prologue: First Sight

The future is the worst thing about the present. - Gustave Flaubert

"I have called this meeting to speak with you all about the tragic event that took place yesterday. As you know, a student here at Hogwarts was found dead in the second floor girl's lavatory." The Headmaster was standing at the front of the classroom, hands clasped behind his back; a tired, worried expression on his face.

"Is it true what they are saying, Professor?" one of the students interrupted. She wore the plain black Hogwarts robes with the Head Girl badge pinned to the breast. "Has the Chamber of Secrets really been opened?"

What little color remained in Dippet's face quickly vanished. "Minerva, as Head Girl, you know better than to listen to idle rumors. I need all of you prefects," he continued, looking out at the young men and women seated before him, "to help in this matter." His tone was grave. "We need to watch over the younger students until we know that the danger - whatever it may be - has passed. As prefects, I expect you all to help keep such gossip at a minimum."

"I know Professor, but it's just-" she began but the words caught in her throat and tears were welling up in her eyes. "It's just, I mean Myrtle is--" she sobbed. Minerva lost all composure she had been maintaining and broke down.

It was Albus Dumbledore, the Transfiguration professor, who went over to console her. Placing an arm around her shoulder he spoke, "I know my dear. It is a very hard and emotional time for all of us." His voice was gentle and caring. "What Professor Dippet was trying to say is that we must remain calm if we are to keep the board from closing the school. We all must remain calm." Dumbledore looked around at the other prefects seated in the classroom. All had identical looks of apprehension and fear on their faces. All, that is, but two.

One sixth year Slytherin, Dumbledore thought, had a look of trying to appear worried. It was a peculiar expression. Looking at the boy's eyes, a shiver ran down Dumbledore's spine. There was something wrong there, something missing from those eyes.

The other student, a sixth year Gryffindor girl, just looked ill, and at that exact moment he found out why. Quite suddenly, her head flopped backwards on her neck and her eyes rolled back into their sockets. Her hands were clawing at the desktop; her knuckles turning white. Then, slowly and almost menacingly, she raised her head forward and immediately her whole demeanor and attitude changed. As she spoke, the words coming out of her mouth seemed almost removed, distant. Her voice took on an odd tenor as if someone else were speaking through her.

"With the serpent has come fear and death, but know that this is only the end of the beginning. For soon, a darkness will creep over the land." The room was silent, all eyes on the girl "Fear and death will reign until the coming of two. From the lion will come the bearer of the light. He shall seek the other and prepare the way. From the guardians shall come the keeper. He holds the key to unite the worlds. Only after blood fills the land, shall the two bring peace."

With that, she collapsed. Several of the students rushed over to her with cries of, "Sybil! Are you all right? What were you saying?" Minerva, still recovering from her unusual emotional outburst, was looking toward the gathering of her classmates not really understanding what had just happened. Dumbledore just stood there looking at the other sixth year student he had noticed before. He could have sworn the boy wore some sort of smirk.

Professor Dippet gave his final instructions to the Prefects and then escorted Sybil to the hospital wing. Dumbledore sat in the empty classroom, immediately extracting a quill and parchment from his desk. Quickly, he wrote down the words that the young girl had spoken. He was quite sure that they would be very important in the future.

But he wasn't the only one to do this. Young Tom Riddle, the sixth year Dumbledore had been watching with heightened curiosity, went straight back to his dormitory in Slytherin House and copied the same words into his diary.

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