Harry, Ron and Hermione walked toward the house talking about different things. They talked about the weather and each of there summer adventures. Hermione told them about her vacation and Ron told them how much he had been practicing Quidditch; he was sure that he was getting better. Harry wasn't sure if he was ready to talk about Aunt Petunia. What if it had been a dream? Then he remembered the sweet words of his mother and the feel of the letter in his hand. It had not been a dream.
"My Aunt Petunia and I had some good discussions. She gave me a letter from my mother," They were coming closer to the Burrow. Ron and Hermione stopped for a moment and stared at Harry who kept moving forward. He could feel there eyes watching them. He could hear Hermione sympathetic words and Ron's genuine banter to move the awkward subject away. He turned around. He stared at his best friends and for the first time understood why he loved them. They knew him like no one else. They understood that Harry didn't want to talk about it. They stared at him with love. There was a searing pain in his scar. His eyes were flooded with white as he felt the approaching pain.
"You have failed again, Wormtail. Lord Voldemort, as I have told you again and again, does not accept failure. How dare you come back here with nothing? Did you think that I would accept this type of disappointment? If only I could kill you…if only I could do that to you. But I cannot…a great deal of pain will have to do."
He had fallen to his knees when the pain had stopped. He could still hear the cold snake-like voice of Voldemort. The voice-which sounded like the hisses of a snake rather than a man's voice-that haunted him. His eyes opened and he could see the faces of his friends. He could see the frantic freckled face of Ron and the contorted face of Hermione. There were tears streaming down her face.
"You okay," Ron was leaning down in front of Harry. He was staring at his scar with an odd look at his face. The scar was burning a bright red. It was illuminating from the top of Harry's head. A drop of blood fell down from it. Harry could fell the cool blood on his cheek as it traveled. Hermione was crying harder. Harry wanted to say something to ease her heart. He couldn't bring the words to his mouth.
"Hermione, I am fine," He began to stand up. There was a rush of blood to his head. He could feel another drop of blood come down his cheek. He looked up at Hermione. She had wiped the tears from her face and was rummaging through her pocket. She pulled out a tissue and came over to Harry. She sat him down on the ground easily and began to wipe the blood away.
"Ron, go and get Dumbledore and if he is not there bring your dad or Lupin," Ron stood dumb for a moment. He was staring at Hermione and at Harry. He turned and walked toward the house. Hermione stared at the distant figure of Ron walking away. "Harry, I want you to tell me exactly what happened. Do not skip on any details."
"Why did you send Ron away?" He looked at Hermione and saw that she was not the crying girl of a few moments ago. She was cool and collected; he didn't understand what had changed.
"I need you to tell me exactly what happened. I didn't send Ron away for any reason other than I want to get someone here quick. I think it is pretty clear what happened. Someone had to take charge and Ron just couldn't. He never could. I stood there waiting for him to take charge he…didn't. What happened Harry?" There was something bitter in her voice.
"My scar started to hurt and then I heard his voice in my head. He was yelling at Wormtail. Wormtail had failed to do something but Voldemort said that he couldn't kill him. I don't understand any of it really," Harry was staring at Hermione. She pulled the tissue away from Harry's head and threw the tissue on the ground. He could see two people coming toward them.
"Harry makes sure that you tell Dumbledore everything. Even if it seems completely inconsequential make sure to tell him," There were tears in her eyes again. Harry looked at her and thought about what she was getting at. He could see the outline of Ron and someone get closer. They came closer and Harry could see that it was not Dumbledore. It was not Mr. Weasley. It was not Mrs. Weasley. It was not Lupin. It was not even Moody. It was the one person in the Order of the Phoenix that Harry never wanted to see. It was the Potions Master of Hogwarts, it was Severus Snape.
"Why would Ron bring him?" Harry said out loud. Hermione turned to see who was coming; she sighed in relief as Ron and Snape came closer and closer. Harry could see the outline of Snape's large form.
"Great…this is the best thing Ron could have done," Harry screamed in disbelief. "Oh, Harry you must get over this dislike of Snape. He is your Occulmency coach and he can help you better than anyone."
Harry wanted to remind Hermione that Snape had sworn never to teach Harry Occulmency again but they were so close that he could hear the deep panting breaths of Ron and the swish of Snape's black robes. As he came closer and closer Harry noticed something new about Snape. He looked older. His once jet black and greasy hair was now streaked with gray. His once penetrating dead eyes now looked weary with age. It was as if Snape had grown immensely older in the two months. One thing remained the same; he was still dressed in black. His robes were as dark as ever. Harry looked at him and felt sorry.
Harry knew why Snape looked older. He had danced around the idea long enough. He understood for the first time that Snape was spying on Voldemort. Snape was doing more than any other member of the order. Harry could see that Snape was paler than ever. His dark protruding eyes stuck out from the pale skin. Snape and Ron were standing over Harry. Hermione got up from the ground and helped Harry up as well.
"Well, what happened to you Potter?" His voice was still the same. It was still cold, mechanic and, full of hatred that he saved for Harry-alone. His eyes swept over Ron, Hermione and, Harry. He stopped on Harry and smirked which he followed with a cold laugh. Harry was filled with the same contempt. He remembered the face of his Godfather and how Snape had tormented him.
"I was walking along talking to Ron and Hermione," Snape gave a small sigh. It was clear that he wanted the real story. How can expect it without letting me speak? Harry thought. "When my scar started to hurt and then I fell down. I could hear the voice of Voldemort," At the sound of the word, Ron flinched and Snape's eyes gave a quick look around. Hermione stood tall and kept staring down at Harry. "He was talking to Wormtail-Peter Pettigrew-and was telling him that his last failure would not be excused and that he would kill him if he could and then he did something to him-I think he used the Cruciatus curse on him," Harry finished his story. He looked at Hermione and Ron. Hermione was saying something to Ron and he whispered something back. His eyes landed on Snape. His eyes were looking down at Harry.
"What have you been dreaming about?" It was however, not Snape who asked the question. It was not Ron. It was not even Hermione. Standing behind Snape, was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. It was Albus Dumbledore. He stepped from behind Snape and emerged in his entire valor. He was an old man that at any given time could seem as if he were twenty or five hundred. His eyes were deep set blue and stood out being his shaggy grey hair. He was wearing forget-me-not blue robes. It was as if he had appeared without concern to time and space. Even Snape, was astonished by the sudden appearance of what many called the greatest wizard ever to live.
"I don't understand what that has to do with," Before the words even left his mouth Harry understood. He had spent all last year dreaming of an empty corridor of the Department of Mysteries. This turned out to be the object of Voldemort's obsession. Dumbledore restated his question.
"The only thing I have been dreaming about is Hogwarts. I mean I have missed the school so much. Although at the beginning of the summer I dreamt about a burned down house," He had only understood one of those dreams. He had missed Hogwarts for so long. He still yearned for the hallways and four poster beds.
"Well Harry, I cannot make much out of it at this moment. I suggest that you three return to the house. Servrus and I will be going to handle some business. We will be back by tomorrow. Oh, and I must say good work on your O.W.L's. If I was you I would make sure to buy all the books on the list," There was a slight twinkle in his eye as he and Snape disapparated with a small crack.
"Ron, of all the people to bring…you brought Snape," Harry was already to moving over to his best friends. He stood in front of Ron as Hermione began to move toward him.
"Harry, calm down. It is nothing so important. Ron brought who I asked him to. He brought a member of the Order," Hermione's voice was reasonable. He looked over to Ron whose face had turned bright red.
"I am sorry Harry. He was the first person that I ran into. I told him that you had fell down and that your scar was hurting and he seemed to care. I don't know what he was putting on. I heard him say to himself as we were walking-rather running-that Dumbledore had thought this might happen. He said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (Hermione sighed) must have figured out the Prophecy," By this time they had continued to walk toward the Burrow. There was a look of shock upon the face of Hermione. Ron was looking dumbly at Harry. They both looked as if they wanted answers.
Harry had known since the moment he heard the prophecy that he would have to tell his friends. It always came to telling them. He had told them about meeting Quirell in the dungeon room. He had recalled the entire story about the encounter with Tom Riddle and the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. He had even told them about that bloodcurdling night when Voldemort had arisen. Was he ready to tell them about this? To tell them would mean facing the horrific truth. Would they follow him down this path?
"The orb that we went to get in the Department of Mysteries. It was no normal orb it was a prophecy made by Trelawney-"
"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 . . ."
Harry stopped where he was. He was shocked that the words that had haunted him for the last two months had just been so plainly spoken by Hermione. He turned and looked at her and for the first time he appreciated that she was who she was. He looked over to Ron; he was standing next to Hermione and was a rather bright shade of red. Hermione pulled her tear-filled eyes up from the ground; Harry turned and stared down at the ground as well.
So they know…everything! They know that either I have to kill Voldemort or he has to kill me. Either way, I will never be the same. Look at me…I am destined to be either a killer or a victim. How can they stand there? How the hell did they find out? Did Dumbledore tell them? Why would he? Great, my sad life broadcasted to rest of the world. Guess I should say something.
"How did you find out?" His voice was rather flat and uncaring. Ron and Hermione looked at him for a long moment. He had still not turned around. Hermione came up to them and hugged Harry. She hugged him harder than she ever had before. He could fell the tears on her checks.
"Mate, Dumbledore told us a few days ago. He knew that you would be coming and he didn't want us to ask you about it. We picked it up from Snape and Lupin one day. They were talking about what happened and how Sirius-" Ron stopped. He didn't want to say it. He didn't want Harry to have to deal with this as well. He threw his eyes to the ground and then he could feel someone touching his chin. Harry picked up his head and nodded. They both knew that they had known each other too long to hold back.
"-Died. Then they said that at least You-Know-Who had not seen the Prophecy. We figured it was that egg thing. Then, when my Dad said he was going to invite you to the wedding Dumbledore pulled us aside and told us. He said to let you tell us. I am sorry I brought it up," He ended and Harry, Ron and Hermione continued walking to the house.
"Harry, I wouldn't worry about the Prophecy too much," Hermione said as the finally rounded the hill. They were very close now.
"Hermione, I think that Harry should be worried. I mean if the thing is right and Dumbledore said it was true," Ron had a rather annoyed sound in his voice. Harry was glad this one thing had not changed.
"Why do you think I should not worry?" Harry asked as they came so close to the Burrow he could see the outline of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the backyard. It was clear to Hermione as well. She pulled herself closer into the group.
"It is just that prophecies are very iffy. I mean Professor McGonagall told me herself that Divination is very imperfect branch of magic. It really does lack the certainty that Arithmancy finds its grounds in. In fact, after Dumbledore told us the Prophecy…I did a little research. I mean I had to use the books that I could find in the Burrow-Mrs. Weasley actually has quite a library-and I found one rather interesting book named The Folly of Divination or How I learned to Stop Reading signs that are not there. There was an entire chapter devoted to prophecies entitled "Wuthering Prophecies". The author-her name is Jocasta Tilden-said "Prophecies, in some cases come true, are in most cases unreliable. They are in fact unreliable because they speak of the future. In less we are ready to accept the idea of pre-determination over free-choice then prophecies are invalid." I mean all she is really saying is that our choices change these prophecies," She stopped. Somewhere in between of Arithmancy and Wuthering they had reached the Burrow.
Harry felt consoled by Hermione's words. Maybe he would not have to kill or be killed. He looked at her and he had the feeling she could read his mind; there was a large smile on her face.
