Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of it's characters, so don't sue me!
Pairing: hmm…not sure, but will be slash if anything…
Warning: Some spoilers from OoTP. (order of the phoenix - for mere mortals)
Plot: A weird thing which I just thought of this morning (I don't think I am copying anyone, so…*shrug*)
Basically, my theory on how Harry could get out of the war (kind of), and still manage to save all the people whose lives 'supposedly' depend upon him. Afterall, Harry's a teenage boy…if it were you in his place, don't you think the pressure would have some…unforeseen consequences?
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Professor Trelawney leaned forward and grabbed Harry's arm. Peering into his startled green eyes, she slowly nodded in satisfaction. Her blue eyes momentarily unmisted, as the true seer looked upon the boy-who-lived with the wisest eyes Harry had ever seen.
"Sometimes, prophecies can be…are meant to be broken."
Straightening in her chair, Professor Trelawney proudly wrapped her shawl more securely around her shoulders, looking at Harry slyly as she did so.
For the moment, at least, she appeared the real deal. Wise, regal, and too knowing for her own good.
Retaking his seat at the table, none of the others leaving the room; Dumbledore, Snape, Ron, Hermione, McGonagall, Pomfrey; noticed they were missing one of the most important members of their group.
Pushing away the cold teacup in front of him, Harry looked at the Professor earnestly, his own eyes almost as wise as Trelawney's.
"Do you have something you want to tell me?" Gently putting the question before her, Harry hoped it wouldn't make the sight leave her, like it had before.
A corner of her mouth curled up in wry amusement, humour showing in those eyes for a split second.
Then it was gone, and she was leaning forward, reaching for Harry again.
"The others will never see the true path, they will never understand why my prophecy was misinterpreted. Not even Dumbledore can see it. They never will. You, however, will soon be able to see it…and much more."
"Hold strong, and you will see what I have. I wish I could help you more, but this warning is all I can give to prepare you for what is to come. Take my lessons to heart, and learn Harry, learn as much as you are able."
Then the wisdom faded from her gaze, leaving her blue eyes befuddled and hazy. For a moment Professor Trelawney just sat there, blinking at the room, then her gaze lighted on Harry, who still sat at her table.
"Did you want some more tea?"
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Professor Trelawney had died the next day. A heart attack.
Sighing in disgust at his lamentations, Harry rested his forehead against the cool glass, as he stared sightlessly out the window. Or, at least, appeared to be staring sightlessly.
Harry had gained Trelawney's questionable 'gift' of second sight, and had first-hand knowledge that she had been anything but a fake. Unable to cope with the full strain of the gift? Yes. But a fake? Far from it.
When she had collapsed on the grass outside of Hogwarts, Harry had felt it. He had felt the wrenching pain in his chest as though it were his own, and the numbing, tingling sensation consuming his arm which had preceded it. He had felt her take her last breath, and then he'd felt her gift.
Passed down voluntarily, the person who received the 'sight' didn't have to want it, didn't have to have knowledge of the tremendous compliment about to be paid them. They just had to be strong enough.
Madame Pomfrey had judged it to have been a completely natural death, no sign of any magic being involved. Harry knew better.
As she'd died, Professor Trelawney had passed on to Harry, all of her present knowledge, as well as her gift. That was a hell of a lot of information to suddenly have flooding into your brain. It had knocked Harry out cold, and could have killed a weaker individual.
In this bundle of information, had been Trelawney's own explanation for her death.
Passing on a seer's powers is a conscious act, and takes a tremendous amount of power. The power is linked to the bearer's life-force, and with the passing of the gift, so does the bearer pass on their own life.
The seer chooses their 'heir' so-to-speak, and it is dependent on their judgement that they choose one strong enough to bear the gift and all the strings attached.
If, however, the one they choose isn't strong enough, then the powers return to the giver, and the seer then has to find someone else to name 'heir'. The process still weakens both parties incredibly, even if it is not a successful exchange.
Professor Trelawney had judged Harry the right person to carry out what needs to be done, and had thus given him the tools to accomplish it. After seven weeks though, Harry was still no closer to finding out how to go about doing such a thing.
Bringing his new powers under control had been quite easy, thanks to Trelawney's knowledge floating around inside his brain, but putting what he 'saw' to use was something he'd only be able to perfect with practise. Time. Something Harry knew was beginning to run out.
It would no doubt be easier if he could at least tell Ron and Hermione what had happened, but he knew that would be a foolish thing to do. Whereas before he had always run to his friends when he was presented with a challenge, he knew that wouldn't work in this case. They would be filled with disbelief at first, then demand Dumbledore check him out to see if he was telling the truth. Then Madame Pomfrey would be drawn into the situation, then Snape, then McGonagall, then…
Luckily, with his new gift, Harry could hypothesise possible courses of action, and he would know if they would work or not, as he could foresee the results.
This should have made his task easier, but there were so many possibilities spreading before him that the amount of time it would take for him to examine them all, could stretch into years if he didn't maintain control.
If anyone could have helped him, Harry knew it would have been Hermione. Her brain worked rationally, and that was exactly what was required here. The subject matter though…well, let's just say it would make Harry extremely unpopular with his friends…
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////P o s s I b l e - f u t u r e \\\\
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Screams rent the air, as dark, noxious clouds of death swirled above them all. A portent of the prisoner's fate, and a sign of things already done. Through it all, red eyes gleamed crimson, deepening in colour as more blood began to spill. The jangle of chains, and a dark-haired prisoner was dragged before the Lord. Red tears slipped down the down-turned face. Brown hair coated in grease, and…other, darker, fluids. A cruel up-twist of the Lord's mouth was the only sign of his amusement, and…pleasure. At the snake kings signal, the prisoner's tormentors reached down. Gripping the dark hair in white, delicate hands, they viciously jerked the prisoner's head up.
The red liquid dripping down that previously hidden face, weren't tears. Where beautiful, warm brown eyes had been, two, mocking, crescents had been carved out. An expression of agony tore the female's face in half, and blood began to pour out of her mouth in a stream. Choking on her own life fluids as the members of the court looked on, her eye-less face still retained some hope. Hope…that their saviour would come, would save them all. Even as her face grew lifeless, her body cold and blue with death, that face still had a spark of hope, unsmothered. Mocking her meaningless death.
The snake king slowly turned around;
"How do you like this reality, Harry?"
Hung up, behind the cruel ruler's chair, pinned to the ironic cross that decorated the wall, was the saviour of them all. The boy-who-friggin'-lived. The one who should have died to save them all. The boy who had lost it all; his nerve, his strength, his will to live.
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Shuddering as he pulled himself from the results of one set of actions, Harry only just heard the creak of the tower door opening. Remaining where he was, Harry let his green eyes lose their otherworldly knowledge, pulling on the mask of a boy. Weary of fighting, but still young.
"Harry," The gentle voice of Albus Dumbledore reached his ears. Obviously trying not to startle Harry, the old man announced his presence well in advance.
"I understand you miss Sybil. I might be slightly surprised how much her death appears to have affected you, but I do understand."
The rustling of fabric let Harry map out the Headmaster's journey around the room without turning around. There was silence a moment, then a sigh of pleasure, as the old man sank into one of the Divination Professor's chairs.
"Miss Granger and Mr Weasley inform me that you have withdrawn from their company recently…" Dumbledore paused in his speaking, obviously waiting for Harry to comment, and wandering why Harry had yet to turn around.
"It isn't healthy to distance yourself so, particularly in times such as these. We have no way of knowing when Voldemort will stage his next attack. You should be making the most of this peaceful time, not fretting over something that is the result of nature."
"Sybil is no doubt in a better place now, at peace. You should rejoice that she has been spared having to struggle through a war, and is out of harm's way. Now," Dumbldore climbed to his feet, finished with the distinctly inadequate pep-talk.
Using a tiny percentage of his powers, Harry noted the moves Dumbledore was about to use, and couldn't help but marvel over the man's inhumane jolliness.
"I think it is about time you came down and joined the rest of us. I believe there is a rousing game of exploding snap taking place in the Great Hall. Come on, you can't escape life Harry, not forever."
Casually turning in time to avoid the Headmaster's wrinkled, outstretched hand, Harry moved over to the door by himself. As the Headmaster gawked at his easy capitulation, Harry glanced over his shoulder.
"You're wrong."
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Whilst Dumbledore had been most annoying in his attempted interference, which had resulted in Harry relocating to the owlry, he had given Harry an idea for the solution he needed to find.
Mulling over the germ of an idea he had, Harry idly petted Hedwig as he thought it over.
It could work…but it would need a lot of planning, a lot of preparation, and Harry would need to know a lot more spells and the like. At the moment though…it gave off the luring appearance of being foolproof. Which just so happened to be what Harry needed.
Do you like the beginning? I tried to make it long, since I haven't written anything for my other fics for a while (I've been BUSY, okay?! Jesus!) *giggle*.
As I said, this is only the beginning, so it's a little (ok - a lot) vague, but that will get clearer, later on.
R&R please? I'll give you chocolate…J