February 12, 1914
"Now, Victor," Albus Dumbledore began patiently as he sat down on the foot of a hospital bed, "There was a prophecy twenty-two years ago. Do you know it?"
The tense-looking boy in St. Mungo's shook his head slowly.
"Twenty-two years ago, a seer named Cordelia said this: 'In 1914 on the eleventh day of the second month, the ninth son of the serpent will brandish the mark of his master and shall become the slave of Slytherin to restore the sword."
Victor touched the still-bleeding cut on the back of his head.
"Your father, grandfather, and Salazar Slytherin, an ancestor of yours, thought the prophecy was about you, not your little brother Tom. Neither knew that the Dark Mark would appear that night."
"When will I get my magical powers back?" Victor asked, still shaken from the incident the night before. He watched the blood on his fingertips drip down to his palm.
"I'm afraid never. One of the first things to happen when the cruciatus curse is performed for a prolonged period of time is that the victim loses all magical powers. I have-"
"So I'm not a wizard anymore? How will I continue school?" Victor stammered, jolting up in bed but then wincing with pain.
"You should lie down. Recovery is a very slow process. Now, Victor, I decided that it is safer for you to live as a muggle from now on. That way, the wrong people cannot find you as easily. You cannot stay here for much longer because of what you saw last night. I made arrangements for you to live with a family in London. They are extremely nice people. I know them because the wife is the sister of a former student of mine; she is a squib. They have agreed to take you in and help you finish your schooling. Their names are Fiona and Chester Orville."
Victor did not say anything; he was too shocked and distraught to hear that he would never be able to perform magic ever again. And who were these people who he was now being forced to live with? He did not know them, he had never met them, and now he was expected to just make a lovely little home with them as if nothing happened? He then began to wonder who Dumbledore was trying to protect him from. He tried to ask, but he felt too week to even open his mouth. The room seemed to tip over to the right then to the left.
"I'm sorry for awaking you, Victor. You should try to get as much sleep as possible. I will talk to you at a later time. For now, good luck."
And with that, Dumbledore swiftly stood up and brushed a few strands of dark brown hair away from Victor's closed eyes.
"Now, Victor," Albus Dumbledore began patiently as he sat down on the foot of a hospital bed, "There was a prophecy twenty-two years ago. Do you know it?"
The tense-looking boy in St. Mungo's shook his head slowly.
"Twenty-two years ago, a seer named Cordelia said this: 'In 1914 on the eleventh day of the second month, the ninth son of the serpent will brandish the mark of his master and shall become the slave of Slytherin to restore the sword."
Victor touched the still-bleeding cut on the back of his head.
"Your father, grandfather, and Salazar Slytherin, an ancestor of yours, thought the prophecy was about you, not your little brother Tom. Neither knew that the Dark Mark would appear that night."
"When will I get my magical powers back?" Victor asked, still shaken from the incident the night before. He watched the blood on his fingertips drip down to his palm.
"I'm afraid never. One of the first things to happen when the cruciatus curse is performed for a prolonged period of time is that the victim loses all magical powers. I have-"
"So I'm not a wizard anymore? How will I continue school?" Victor stammered, jolting up in bed but then wincing with pain.
"You should lie down. Recovery is a very slow process. Now, Victor, I decided that it is safer for you to live as a muggle from now on. That way, the wrong people cannot find you as easily. You cannot stay here for much longer because of what you saw last night. I made arrangements for you to live with a family in London. They are extremely nice people. I know them because the wife is the sister of a former student of mine; she is a squib. They have agreed to take you in and help you finish your schooling. Their names are Fiona and Chester Orville."
Victor did not say anything; he was too shocked and distraught to hear that he would never be able to perform magic ever again. And who were these people who he was now being forced to live with? He did not know them, he had never met them, and now he was expected to just make a lovely little home with them as if nothing happened? He then began to wonder who Dumbledore was trying to protect him from. He tried to ask, but he felt too week to even open his mouth. The room seemed to tip over to the right then to the left.
"I'm sorry for awaking you, Victor. You should try to get as much sleep as possible. I will talk to you at a later time. For now, good luck."
And with that, Dumbledore swiftly stood up and brushed a few strands of dark brown hair away from Victor's closed eyes.