Chapter Two: A Plan

Disclaimer: This all belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

Dumbledore felt his mouth drop in shock. He was so out of sorts that he did not even hear the obvious commotion going on right outside the room. But as soon as the prophesy was made, Trelawney seemed to come out of her reverie.

"Wha—?" she muttered stupidly, "What—what happened? Did I dose off? In the middle of my interview? Oh no!"

And she shot him such a terrified, pleading look that Dumbledore could only do one thing.

"There's far too much perfume in here, I believe," he said quietly. "We ought to get you out of here and into Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore detected a smidgen of hope in her voice.

"Yes, Hogwarts. You have the Divination job, Professor Trelawney."

She wrung her hands pathetically. "Thank you so much, Headmaster. You won't regret it, I promise you. I will someday make a prediction for you...I promise."

He patted her absentmindedly on the shoulder, said goodbye, and then hurried away down the stairs. He was still off balance. What to do, there was so much to do!

He was almost to the door when a large hand grasped his shoulder.

"Albus, wait," whispered Aberforth. "There's something I have to tell you."

"I'm sorry, but I'm in a hurry. Can it wait?"

"I'm afraid not." His eyes told Dumbledore it was the truth. He nodded and followed his brother to back room. Aberforth looked around as if to check if anyone was watching or listening.

Then he burst out, "Someone was listening. A man came in the bar with his hood up. I'm sure he had followed you. He didn't ask for a drink, as I expected he would, but raced up the stairs. I...didn't know what to think. He could've been a Death Eater. I chased after him, and pulled him away. I had some of the regulars help throw him out, but I think he heard. It wasn't a prophesy, was it?"

During this time, Dumbledore's face had gone white. "He didn't hear the whole prophesy, did he? Did he?"

"I don't think so. He better not have."

Aberforth never looked more mutinous. Dumbledore knew there was no time to waste.

"Listen. You must act as if nothing is wrong here. If that was a Death Eater..." He trailed off. "I have to go."

"Be on your guard. Don't worry about things here. I'll tell the Order, and we'll schedule an emergency meeting tonight."

"No, not today—tomorrow. Today, there are some people I ought to tell first."

With a quick nod, Dumbledore raced out into the night, and back to Hogwarts, his mind racing as well. He'd heard a prophesy only once before—when he was far, far younger than he was now. When he was seventeen. And the most ironic part of it was who had given it to him.

She had stood, dressed in that ridiculous Muggle hoopskirt and bonnet, eyes glazing and speaking in the same voice her descendant just did. Telling him that he'd be a great wizard someday, that he'd one day be the hope of the whole wizarding world at war. Was this the time?

"It's not the time," he told himself sternly, "To be thinking of Cassandra Trelawney."

Back in his office at Hogwarts, he found McGonagall already waiting for him.

"Well?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Do we have a new Divination professor?"

"Yes," he said, searching through his things.

"Yes?" McGonagall repeated, sounding thoroughly shocked. "Do you mean to say she wasn't a fraud after all?"

"No, she was a fraud. But—" He threw up his hands. "It'll be easier to explain with this."

He was holding a pensieve. He got out a quill and parchment and sat down. In a cloud of smoky mist, the bug-like image of Trelawney appeared. As she spoke the prophesy, Dumbledore took notes, determined not to miss a single segment of it.

McGonagall was speechless by the end of it.

"Which goes to show how much it affected her," thought Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall was not often speechless.

Dumbledore looked over his notes once more, praying he was wrong. But everything fit. He had an awful feeling he knew who the prophesy could be referring to.

McGonagall read his thoughts correctly. "Don't jump to conclusions, Albus. There could be fifty boys scheduled to be born at the end of June—no, sorry, the seventh month is July."

He pointed to the top note on his parchment—parents defied Voldemort three times. Her face fell.

"Do you know of any couple who has done this and lived?" he asked. "Who are going to have a baby a month from now?"

McGonagall steeled herself. "Alice...and Lily...you must go tell them tomorrow."

"It must be tonight; someone overheard us in the Hogs Head."

Her reaction was properly horrified, but, like Aberforth, she did her best to reassure him.

"I'll take care of things here." She scribbled an owl. "Where are you going to go?"

"The Longbottoms, and I can send an owl to the Potters from there."

Dazed, as if in a dream, he grabbed the tail end of Fawkes and disappeared.

Frank Longbottom sat by the fire, poring over some more Auror documents. Alice had gone to bed early, as he had insisted that she rest. He gave a yawn, ran a hand through his light brown hair, and couldn't help but think he should be in bed himself. The clock read almost midnight. He heard an owl tap on the glass and went to let it in. He looked at the letter it carried, which was blank except for the initials "A.D."

He turned around groggily and found the man himself standing right behind him.

"Dumbledore! What are you doing here?"

The head of the Order looked worn, Frank noticed. He gestured Dumbledore to sit, but the great wizard shook his head.

"Not now, Frank. I must send an owl to the Potters. Could you open the fireplace to the Floo Network?"

Frank did so, confused.

Dumbledore sent the owl off and regarded him seriously. "Where's Alice? This concerns her as well."

"She's asleep. I mean, she's pregnant, Dumbledore. She needs rest."

"I'm fine, Frank. What is it, Professor?"

Alice Longbottom appeared on the stairs in a nightgown, leaning on the rail for support. Alice had always been on the plump side, but it was obvious she would have a baby in a month or less. Her round, sweet face, set off by curly blonde hair, looked worried.

"Alice!" exclaimed her husband, leaping up to help her down the stairs. "I thought you were sleeping."

"Well, I'm awake now," she said, much like her normal cheery self. "And I'd like to know what's going on."

"Ask him," said Frank, throwing Dumbledore a look. "Lily and James are coming too."

"We'll just have a lovely party, then, won't we?" Alice came over to Dumbledore and grasped his hand. "Is something wrong, Professor?"

He gave a deep sigh. "That all depends on how you look at it, Alice. You'll find out soon enough anyway."

Frank didn't have time to be any more confused. A second later, James and Lily Potter stepped out of the fireplace, both in nightclothes. Frank knew at a glance that they were as confused as he was.

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