Chapter 10: Secrets, Sorrows and a Solemn Vow
Sighing, Harry picked up his wand off of the small table to the left of his bed. Prodding it into the contents of his Pensieve (which were considerably less than the Headmaster's), he swirled it around. When he pulled it back up from the bottom, a somewhat translucent figure of a very old, very weary-looking Albus Dumbledore rose out of it, his feet and robe hems still dragging in the silvery substance that was Harry Potter's memories.
In a voice (although it sounded remote, as though from a distant realm) that Ron, Hermione and Ginny knew so well, the Headmaster began to speak.
"Harry, it's time I told you something that I should have said years ago."
The see-through form of Albus Dumbledore prodded his wand into a basin that looked very much like the one that his memory form was currently standing in. Out of the Headmaster's basin- through Harry's memory- rose the unmistakable silhouette of a much younger Sybill Trelawney. The three other teens leaned closer, afraid of missing the words that were (unbeknownst to them) about to change their lives forever. With eyes magnified by her signature glasses, the translucent form of Hogwarts' previous Divination Teacher began to speak in a voice that none of them, other than Harry- who had heard it once before- thought possible.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…
And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"
With a wave of his hand through Professor Trelawney's form, she dissolved back into the Headmaster's basin, and she and Albus together liquefied back into the contents of the Boy Who Lived's Pensieve. Harry had already revealed enough- he had no desire to let the memory continue into the part where Dumbledore explained the reason that he had not chosen Harry for Prefect. Replacing the Pensieve carefully back into the bedside cabinet, he turned to his friends to find out their reaction. What he saw, he would not soon forget. Ginny was crying, Ron had fallen to the floor and began muttering incoherently to himself, while Hermione alone had remained calm. In fact, she looked almost pensive herself.
"Say something," he pleaded. "Please."
"What are we supposed to say, Har?" asked Ron, disbelievingly, breaking out of his unintelligible musings. "We thought it was smashed all this time, only to find out now that it wasn't. Honestly, I wish it still was."
"It's AWFUL, Harry!" wailed Ginny. "How are we supposed to react to hearing that either you or VoldeI can't believe this, I- oh GOD!"
The redhead turned and ran from the room sobbing. Harry didn't know what to do. Shoving his hands into his pockets and looking to the floor, he sat on the bed and looked at Hermione for any idea of what to do next. Surprisingly enough, it was Ron that stood up and left to comfort his distressed sister. Shrugging, he headed towards the door.
"Well, she's the one that convinced me to come in here and talk to Harry earlier tonight," he reasoned to no one in particular. "I'll go return the favor of talking some sense into her."
With that, he exited, leaving Harry and Hermione alone for the first time since their conversation in the Library on the first day he had arrived at Grimmauld Place.
"Well, Harry," Hermione offered, "I'm sure you know that the first thing I want to do is head-"
"To the library, I know" he finished, smiling weakly at her. "But what good would it do?"
"Exactly," she sighed. "No good. Harry, um, would you mind-"
"Playing it again? If you think it'll help. I'd honestly rather just repeat it to you myself. It's easier that way. Having to watch it again that time was hard enough."
"Oh, of course. Sorry. I didn't really think about it like that. Of course which ever is easier for you, Harry."
Slowly, not only because it pained him to do it, but also because he wanted to be sure that his best girlfriend heard it all properly on the first shot, so he wouldn't have to do it again, Harry began to speak the encrypted message.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"
"Wow," breathed the brunette, "it's so… precise, and yet so…"
"Vague?" finished the raven-haired teenager.
"Yeah. I mean. In the beginning, it could mean really anyone. And then the whole 'born to those' part makes it—Oh, Harry, I'm sorry! I can stop if you want. I'm sure this has to be hard for you."
He shook his head slightly, "No, 'Mione, it's fine. I'm sure that anything you're about to say has probably gone through my head six or seven hundred times already this summer."
His friend blushed, and summoned the strength to continue.
"'Born to those who have thrice defied him-', I mean, couldn't that have meant ANYONE else? Why you, of all the wizards born at the end of July? There must have been lots of other babies- even Muggle babies- that could have fit that, couldn't there?"
"Well, no, not really. I mean, Muggles wouldn't have known anything about Voldemort, so there's no way that any pregnant Muggle couples could have 'thrice defied' him. There was, as Dumbledore told me, one other possibility of a baby to fulfill the prophecy at that time."
"ONE? Only one other baby boy wizard at the end of July? But who—"
"Neville Longbottom," came a raw voice from the doorway.
Harry looked up, smiled and walked to the doorway. "Yeah. It was Neville, Gin. How'd you know?"
Taking her hand, and whispering thanks to Ron, the three journeyed back to Harry's bed.
"I used to hang out with Neville a lot. After he asked me to the ball my third year, we became pretty good friends. We studied together; he walked with me to meals, things like that. He's really good at Herbology, and so he helped me- I'm awful at it. Naturally, he got me a present for my birthday after that year, and I got him one. We still exchange gifts, come to think of it. That's how I knew his birthday was at the end of July, just like yours, Harry."
"Exactly."
"But why did V-v-voldemort pick you then, Harry?" asked Ginny, her lower lip beginning to tremble again.
"Well, the only reason Dumbledore and I could come up with is that he found me to be the bigger threat. I'm a half-blood, just like him. That's why he would pick me over pure-blooded Neville."
"I thought You-Know-Who didn't know what the prophecy said, though? That's why he went after it in the Department of Mysteries, wasn't it? So how could he have known to… what was it? 'Mark an equal' or whatever?" asked Ron, putting more thought into it than anyone would have expected.
"Dumbledore answered that, too," responded Harry. "There was a spy in the Hog's Head that night when he went to meet Professor Trelawney and interview her for the Divination post, but the spy was thrown out before he could hear the prophecy's entire contents.
"That's why Voldemort wanted it so badly last year. He thought it would be the key to my undoing. But from what Dumbledore and I can discern- it's really nothing of the sort. All it says is that I'm the only one that can kill him now, since I've been marked 'as his equal'."
Ginny looked up resolutely, her bottom lip was no longer trembling, and her eyes were sparkling with a determination that the trio had never seen before.
"You can do it, Harry. I know you can. We'll help. I'll research this till I turn blue in the face if I have to, but we're going to help you beat that bastard."
Leaning over, Harry planted a small kiss on her forehead and squeezed her hand.
"Thanks, Ginny. With friends like you by my side, I swear, sometimes I feel invincible."
Hermione stood, and then leaned down to hug her friend.
"Ginny's right, Harry. I'll research this until my face is as deformed as Pansy Parkinson's if need be. In the mean time, I need to get some sleep. I need to think about this, but when I have any insights, I'll be sure to get back to you."
Ron walked Hermione to her room, leaving Harry alone with Ginny in theirs.
"I'm sorry, Gin, about all of this. But if there's one thing I can tell you for sure, it's that I'm not going down without a fight. Especially now that I've got you to fight for."
Smiling, Ginny leaned over to hug the boy that had filled her dreams since she was a small girl.
"Thanks, Harry. Someday I'll be able to tell you how much that means to me, but I just don't think I have the words right now."
"You're welcome, Gin."
Stifling a yawn, Harry stood and offered a hand to help Ginny off the bed.
"I don't think so, Mr. Potter. You are going to put on your pajamas and get into bed right now."
"Oh really, Miss Weasley? And just who, pray tell, is going to make me?"
"I AM."
Ginny walked over to Harry's wardrobe and grabbed a pair of freshly laundered pajamas for Harry to put on. Bashfully, she turned around while he changed. When he let her know he was decent, she turned back around and pulled down the sheets for him.
"In!" she said, forcefully.
Harry gaped at the redhead that was a good head shorter than him, which was saying something, as Harry had always been on the somewhat short side himself. He couldn't believe that she was so small, and yet was still ordering him around.
"Are you bossing me around, Miss Weasley?"
She grinned cheekily.
"I am. Are you sassing me, Mr. Potter?"
"No, ma'am!" he cried, jumping into the bed.
Lovingly, Ginny bent over and began to tuck him in. In any other circumstance, Harry would have been annoyed at being treated like a five year old, but in this case, he couldn't understand why he was enjoying all the extra attention.
"Why are you doing this, Ginny?" he asked, dazed, as he snuggled under the blankets. Ginny sighed, and lay down next to him, running her fingers through his hair and returning it to its mussed perfection.
"Because. As much as it hurts me to say it- Ron was right. You do have a lot to learn about some things in life. Being cared for unconditionally- like the way a mother loves her child- is one of them. I guess I figured that you never had anyone to do this for you- ever. And I just thought it was kind of sad. You better not start regressing on me, though. I like having a boyfriend I can snog senseless.
"Besides, it's nice ordering you around. I'm one of the few people you actually listen to. I like that power."
Taking off his glasses and placing them on the table, Harry smiled at the fiery redhead that had so easily made him succumb to her every whim.
"You're right, Gin. You are one of the few people that can order me around. Being tucked in at night IS nice- but I'm definitely not going to let you do it every night. There's going to be times where you're going to have to let ME tuck YOU in, Miss Weasley."
Ginny pouted. "Fine. But I'm still going to find other ways to spoil you."
"Hahaha. You've got it, Miss Weasley. Now will you pweeze come and kiss me goodnight?"
Smirking, she leaned over and obliged. "You and your damned green eyes. They get me every time. That, and that stupid baby talk 'pweeze'. SO not like you, Harry, but still cute. What did we just talk about though- not regressing?"
"I'm not regressing. I'm just trying to be cute so my girlfriend will kiss me. She's stingy about that sometimes."
"Hey!" Ginny cried, in mock outrage. Even still, she leaned in once again to kiss Harry goodnight.
"Ha. See? I always get what I want."
"Fred and George were right about you, young man. Since when did you get so smart?"
"Hmm…" Harry pondered. "Don't know, really. It just happened, I guess. Are you complaining?"
Ginny reflected a moment, and then replied. "No, I suppose not. As long as I get what I want, too."
"Oh? And what's that?" asked Harry, curiously.
"You," she replied simply.
"Ah. I see. Well in that case, you win. G'night, love."
"Goodnight, Harry." Ginny glanced at her wristwatch, and added, "Oh, happy birthday, Harry!"
"Is it past midnight already?" he mumbled sleepily.
"Yup. Goodnight. Sweet dreams, birthday boy."
"You too, Gin. So far, it's already the best birthday I've ever had."
Smiling, Ginny turned and began to walk out the door to her room. Lying in his bed, Harry couldn't help but call out to her as her hair caught the torchlight and shimmered when she turned.
"Hey, Ginny?"
Turning back around, she asked, "Yes, Harry?"
"I love you."
Once again that night, Ginny's lower lip trembled.
"I love you too."
