Lupin ran a hand through his unkempt hair, taking a sip of his cold tea. His stomach grumbled in displeasure, but he ignored it, intent on the sleeping boy before him.

Indeed he had been correct, in his assumption to deliver Harry into Madam Pomfrey's hands that fateful night two days ago. She had been able to heal his broken bones in next to no time at all, mending his arm, numerous ribs and smashed cheekbone. With the help of various potions from her cupboard she had broken down his fever, and healed the nasty infection that had grown on his wounds. In a few days time he would be able walk, but then what?

He tried to shrug away the idea that Harry might have to go back, but he also knew the repercussions if he didn't. With the help of Albus' Charm, he had been safe from Voldemort's revenge, if he didn't return to the Dursley's the Charm would be broken, and Harry in mortal danger. Stretching out on one of the empty cots he took another sip of tea, oblivious of the shadow in the doorway.

*~*~*~*~*

Albus watched the sleeping boy and weary werewolf for some time, shadowed in the doorway. Absently running his fingers through his long silver beard, he contemplated his previous search at the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Mysteries to be more precise.

Rows upon rows of prophecies he had sifted through, eliminating every possibility until he had found it. Or at least, what he hoped he had found. A single orb glowing brightly, waiting to uncover it's secret. Why he had been drawn to that particular one he had a vague idea, but wasn't sure. He had gazed, mildly surprised, at the names for a moment, lost in thought.

Severus Snape had always been one of his first choices; he had after all defied the Dark Lord three times. It still puzzled him though, after all these years why now? The Desguise Spell was a very ancient curse, originating from France instead of Greece, or somewhere more prominent. If the person performing the curse was talented enough it could prove extremely effective, turning them into a completely different person although it would were off after a few days, maybe weeks. But years? A whole decade and half? It was inconceivable; not even the Dark Lord himself had power like that.

But never the less, Harry Potter was under such a spell, for almost sixteen years at that.

Questions plagued the Headmaster's mind and he didn't like the answers he was coming up with.

It was time to talk to Severus.

*~*~*~*~*

The Potions Professor stood in the study of Snape manor, scowling at the emerald flames that flickered menacingly, casting strange, eerie shadows across the walls. When the previous occupant was gone he sat down, stiffly on a plush chair his black eyes swirling with thoughts.

"The Department of Mysteries…Harry Potter…Bloodstones…" Muttering under his breath he snatched his traveling cloak and slammed the door behind him as he left.

Apparrating in front of the Ministry of Magic he glared at the receptionist before stating his business and receiving a small button.

Severus Snape

Retrievment of Prophecy

"Good afternoon, Severus!" Snarling his reply to Mr. Weasly he thrust his wand to an old man behind a polished, new wooden desk (his previous one, damaged by a forbidden curse.) The old man scribbled something down on a piece of paper before handing the wand back, hastily averting his eyes from Snape's cold ones.

Storming down the corridors, cloak billowing around him he was led down the familiar route by a young wizard with oversized glasses and short brown hair. Growling his thanks he briskly set off for aisle 173, prophecy number, 1398743.

Smooth, long fingers reached out hesitantly to touch the small glowing orb. It felt disconcertingly cool to the touch as he resolutely snatched it from the shelf, glowering at it.

Flashback~

"…Harry…small possibility…your son…bloodstones" Dumbledor's eyes twinkled cheerfully while he munched on a crumpet.

"Impossible" he scoffed, his stomach clenched uneasily.

"As I said…it is just a guess" He delves too deeply!

"A poor one at that!" he said, mildly irritated.

"There is a way…" His stomach clenches tighter, he can feel the color start to drain from his face.

"Don't be foolish, Albus" He takes a sip of his tea, his cool, calculated composure revealing nothing.

"There is a prophecy, in the Department of Mysteries"

"Really? And all this time I thought it was rows upon rows of enchanted fishbowls. With Minister Fudge in charge, I would hardly be surprised" If he could just keep his voice calm, sarcastic, mocking…

Albus chuckles, amused.

"It has your name on it, along with Lily's…" Snape could feel his insides churning madly, threatening to upset his façade. Best not to say anything…

His mind was reeling now, the prophecy… Harry Potter? Lily…

"Severus? Are you all right?"

"Yes, it's just the weather"

Albus eyes flicked toward the curtained windows, catching sight of a bright sunny day, with a clear blue sky. His lips quirked into a smile, disguised by his sweeping beard and mustache. Severus' scowl deepened.

"Row 173…1398743…" Snape barely heard it, he knew where the prophecy was…he would always know… "I…leave…hope…pleasant day…" Severus managed to look up just as Albus took a handful of Floo Powder, smiling. Very disconcertingly.

He stood, watching the green flames lick up greedily, to engulf the old man.

Lily…

End of Flashback~

He stood, staring, no glaring, at the prophecy in his hands. Tucking it into his robes carefully he stormed out of the room, scowling dangerously at anybody who looked remotely interested in starting a conversation.

Back in the confines of his home, he sat at the small, circular table, watching the sphere pulsating with light. He stared at it darkly, holding a cup of tea in his slightly shaking hands. Sighing resignedly, he picked it up and promptly dropped it on the hard floor of the kitchen, turning in his chair to observe it.

Watching it warily he took a sip of tea as the glowing mists gathered together, swirling around mysteriously until transforming into the small figure of a woman. She had long, flowing hair, and sharp eyes that stared piercingly into nothingness. When she spoke her voice was eerily quiet and strong.

At the birth of the seventh month

The secret son comes forth

To throw away his veil

Of two enemies that were supposed

One likeness will prevail

Bloodstones bind what once was parted

At the birth of the seventh month

The teacup slipped from his hands, crashing violently with the stone floor.

"Harry…"

*~*~*~*~*

This is possibly the last chapter for a few days. L

Thank-you for your reviews!

Gryphnwng

Jaded Angel8

HermioneGreen- glad you liked it lol