A/N: This chapter is a bit of a change of pace. Don't worry; we'll get back to Laura and Remus in the future. I haven't forgotten about them, but these next few chapters won't feature them like the previous two. Suffice it to say that Laura has begun her drug therapy, and everything is status quo for now.

Oh, and before you start reading too much into this chapter, I want to let you know that the spy doesn't have a name for a reason – it's not important. He's a spy, and that's all. Don't worry about his identity!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own Harry Potter.

The Prophecy

Could someone deliver us?
Just send us some kind of sign
So close to giving up
'Cause faith is so hard to find
- Believe it or Not, Nickleback

Dear Madam Trelawney,

I would like to inform you that I have received your letter of interest regarding the position of Professor of Divination, as well as your resume. Upon reviewing your credentials, I feel that an interview would be the appropriate course of action. I would like to meet with you to discuss your abilities, as well as all that the position entails. Please inform me of a convenient time and place to meet for our discussion.

I await your owl, and I look forward to meeting you in person.

Sincerely,

Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore

"Are we any closer to discovering this spy, then?"

"No." Albus Dumbledore looked away from Minerva McGonagall, letting his eyes roam over the landscape that surrounded Hogwarts. "We are no closer than we were the day Lily Potter told me that her source had led her to believe that there is a spy."

"You don't believe there is a spy in the Order?" McGonagall asked, narrowing her eyes.

"No, I am quite certain that there is one. The problem now is not having any idea who it is."

"Do you suspect anyone?"

"I suspect everyone," Dumbledore replied.

"Don't you think that's being a bit too suspicious?"

"How can I not?" Dumbledore asked. "Every member of the Order is someone that I trust. If I did not trust them all, why would I have asked them to join me in this battle? Yet, clearly, I should not trust them all. How, then, should I decide who not to trust?"

"You should look at each individual," McGonagall replied. "Consider each person's characteristics, and decide if they would be likely to turn."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I do not suspect you, Minerva, if that is what you are implying."

She shook her head, the humor of the situation lost on her. "That's not what I was trying to say, Albus."

"I know," Dumbledore sighed. He glanced at the clock on his desk. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this meeting short, Professor. I have to meet with a candidate for the Divination vacancy."

"I thought we had agreed to drop that subject from our curriculum!"

"I know," Dumbledore said again. "That was my intention."

"You never discussed an interview with me. And shouldn't the Heads all be present, as we were when you interviewed James Potter?"

"Somehow, I had a feeling that your attitude would be a problem in this interview. I am going to speak with her on my own."

"I was just so sure that you had decided against continuing with the subject."

"I had. However, I received a letter of interest from Sibyll Trelawney, and it is only polite to grant her an interview."

"Sibyll Trelawney?" McGonagall asked, frowning slightly. "Oh, yes, I remember her. She was an abysmal Transfiguration student. Have you talked to Professor Turner about her performance in her class?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Professor Turner assures me that she had acceptable marks in Divination. Madam Trelawney's grandmother was a famous Seer. With a family history, chances are good that she, too, will have the Gift."

McGonagall laughed. "You know as well as I do that there is no such thing as the 'Gift' or the 'Sight.' You're only doing this to be polite."

"You should try to convince Professor Turner that she does not have the Sight," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling again.

McGonagall waved her hand impatiently. "No matter what these so-called Seers predict, I will never believe in Divination as a viable branch of magic."

"Now, my dear professor," Dumbledore smiled, putting on his cloak, "surely you have heard of the prophecies that are kept in the Department of Mysteries. They would not be so heavily guarded if there was no truth in them."

"I do not deny the existence of prophecies," McGonagall said stiffly. "I do, however, deny that Divination is a branch of magic that should be taught at our school."

Dumbledore smiled. "And deny the Seers of tomorrow a chance to develop their skills?"

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Sometimes there is just no reasoning with you."

"And that's why the staff is thrilled to have you, Minerva, as Deputy Headmistress," Dumbledore grinned. "If you would like to talk more later, come back to find me."

She nodded. "Good luck with your interview."

"Why, thank you."

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "And be sure to be kind when you refuse her the position."

"Now who is taking the role of a Seer?" Dumbledore grinned. "You already assume that I will not grant her the position."

"You don't believe that she's a Seer anymore than I do."

"We shall see," Dumbledore said with a wink. "We shall see."

It was not a long walk from the castle to the Hog's Head in the village, but it had begun to rain by the time that Dumbledore arrived. He lowered his hood, and shook the water off his cloak, catching the attention of several patrons in the small bar. One man's eyes followed the Headmaster as he crossed the room. Dumbledore did not look around; he merely maintained his course. His eyes twinkled as they fell on the man behind the bar.

"Albus," the bartender greeted him.

"Aberforth," Dumbledore grinned.

"She's already waiting for you," Aberforth said. "I gave her the parlor. She said that she was going to need the space to show you all she can do." He shrugged. "She's a little off, if you ask me. I think your school would be better off without her."

Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you for that assessment. I'll be sure to take it into consideration when I decide if I should give her the position or not."

Aberforth shook his head. "It's your school, Albus, and I can't tell you how to run it. I'm just trying to say that if she applied for a job as a waitress here, I'd think twice before I'd give it to her."

"Again, thank you for the advice," Albus replied. "In the parlor, you said?"

"Yes, that's right."

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Aberforth."

"You're welcome."

The bartender watched as his brother made his way back to the parlor, a smaller dining room off the main bar. Both Dumbledores remained oblivious to the fact that one of the customers, too, was watching Albus's progress across the room. When Aberforth went back to washing glasses, the customer stood up, and followed Albus to the parlor.

When he arrived, the door was closed. He was certain that this was the room that Albus Dumbledore had disappeared into. He could hear voices inside. He strained to hear enough to identify the speakers. Yes, one was Dumbledore. But the other . . . he wasn't sure who the second voice belonged to. Regardless, if this person was meeting with Dumbledore, the information that was exchanged would be imperative to his master. Standing as close to the wall as possible, he began to listen.

"Madam Trelawney," Dumbledore greeted, removing his cloak. "It's wonderful to see you again. It's been quite a long time since your days as a student at Hogwarts."

"I want to thank you, Professor Dumbledore, for giving me this opportunity," Sibyll replied, draping her gauzy shawl around her shoulders. "I hope that my skills will be what the school requires."

"As do I," Dumbledore said. "Now, a bit about the position to begin – should you be offered and accept the position, you will be given only students from third year and older to teach. You will need to prepare them to take their OWLs in fifth year and their NEWTs in seventh year. Professor Turner, our current Divination professor, will be willing to work with you over the summer to teach you her methods of teaching. You will not, of course, be required to teach the same way that she does, but you should know that she has always had success with her students.

"Professor Turner is also the Head of Slytherin House. However, I will not ask you to take that responsibility your first year; I am certain that I will find another teacher who will be willing to take it."

He smiled at her. "Now, I believe a demonstration of your skills in the art of Divination is in order. Where would you like to begin?"

"If I could see your palm, Professor, I would like to demonstrate my abilities in palmistry," she smiled.

After misreading the Headmaster's palm, Trelawney progressed to reading tea leaves and the crystal ball. She went through a rather extensive list of omens that she could identify, and talked about her accurate predictions of the past. As the time ticked by, Dumbledore began to think that both Minerva and Aberforth were right. This woman clearly had no abilities in the art of Divination. He smiled politely as she continued with the demonstration of her "skills," trying to think of a gracious way to tell her that he would not be requiring her services.

"There are many death omens," she stated, "which can manifest themselves in a variety of ways. For example, it is possible . . ."

Her voice trailed off, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Dumbledore jumped out of his seat, thinking that she had fainted. He stopped short when she began to speak in a deep, harsh voice that was clearly not her own. The man waiting outside the room stood up straighter as he heard this new voice. He had never heard a prophecy before, but was certain that he was hearing one now.

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO DEFEAT THE DARK LORD APPROACHES . . . BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES . . ."

The listener in the hall strained to hear the next words over the loud footsteps that were coming toward him. Aberforth frowned as he saw the man listening at the door.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "What do you think you're doing? Get away from there!"

"I was just – "

"You were just nothing!" Aberforth exclaimed. He grabbed the man by the arm, and dragged him down the hall, away from the parlor. "You have no business being around here! If you can't keep yourself to the front room, you will not be – "

Aberforth stopped short as he looked down at the man's arm. His sleeve had come up as Aberforth had been dragging him, revealing an odd tattoo – a tattoo of the Dark Mark. The man, realizing what Aberforth had seen, quickly pulled down his sleeve.

"What in the world is that?" Aberforth asked.

"None of your concern," the man said quickly.

"But -?"

But before Aberforth could even formulate his question, the man Disapparated. Aberforth looked at the place where he had been standing for a moment, then hurried back down the hall. He wasn't sure what had been said during the interview, but he was sure that Albus would want to know that this man – a man who was clearly a spy - had overheard it.

"Albus?" he said, opening the door. "Can I have a word with you?"

Albus was sitting in one of the room's chairs with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Sibyll was calming producing a set of tarot cards to read for him. She looked up at Aberforth with a benign smile.

"Go ahead, Professor," she said. "I'll just be a moment in setting out my cards."

Dumbledore nodded, and went out into the hall with Aberforth. Aberforth closed the door, and looked at his brother. He was sure he had never seen that shocked expression on Albus's face before. He was staring ahead blankly, not looking anywhere near his brother. Aberforth waved his hand in front of Albus's face, and the professor brought his eyes around to meet his brother's.

"You needed something?"

"My God," Aberforth muttered. "What has she done to you?"

"She just – I believe she just made a real prophecy."

"What about?" Aberforth asked anxiously.

"She said – she predicted that the one with the power to vanquish Voldemort will be born this summer."

Aberforth's eyes widened. "She said that?"

"Yes."

"And you believe her?"

"If I had not seen it for myself, I would not," Albus replied.

"Well, then you should really know what just happened."

"What's happened?"

"I was coming down the hall to see if you and Madam Trelawney needed anything, and saw someone standing outside the door."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know," Aberforth confessed. "I had never seen him before. But he looked like he was listening – in fact, I'm sure that he was listening. He probably saw you go in there, and thought that he'd better see what was going on."

"Where is he now?"

"Well, like I said, I saw him – and I know how much you value your privacy. So, I pulled him away from the door. But before we made it back to the main bar, he Disapparated."

"Do you think he heard the prophecy?"

"Most likely," Aberforth shrugged. He frowned. "Here's the odd part – he had some funny tattoo on his arm."

"What was it a tattoo of?"

"The Dark Mark."

"The Dark Mark?" Albus repeated, frowning. "That's odd. Why would he have that?"

Aberforth shrugged again. "I'm just telling you what I saw, that's all. What you make of it from there is up to you."

Albus frowned. "Well, if he had the Dark Mark on his arm, he is clearly working for Voldemort – although why he would have it is a mystery to me. Regardless, if he did hear the prophecy, then he will take it back to his master."

"Most likely," Aberforth agreed.

"And if that happens, then Sibyll is in grave danger," Albus continued. "They will not rest until they learn the remainder of the prophecy. They will search for her, and torture her until she can remember it to tell them."

"Is there any way to help her?"

"I can protect her."

"How?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm going to offer her the Divination position."

"Are you insane?" Aberforth cried. "I'm more of a Seer than she is!"

"That may be true," Albus conceded. "However, the safest place that I can offer her to live is Hogwarts. And the only way to keep her there without arousing suspicions is to give her the position."

"But what of your students? Won't their education suffer?"

"You know how important my students are to me," Albus said. "I would never do anything to harm their education. Sibyll may not be the best Seer available, but she is very knowledgeable in all aspects of Divination. She may not be able to make them See, but she certainly will give them enough knowledge to pass their OWLs and NEWTs."

Aberforth shook his head. "I don't know, Albus. It still seems a bit off to me."

"Ah, Aberforth," Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling, "when have you ever known me to do things the way the rest of the world would?"

"Well, I suppose that's true."

He grinned. "Now, leave me. I believe I am going to make someone's day a little bit happier."

With that, Albus reentered the parlor, shutting the door behind him. Sibyll had arranged her tarot cards on the table, and looked up at the Headmaster with a smile.

"May I read your cards now, Professor?"

"That will not be necessary," Dumbledore replied. "Madam Trelawney, I believe that I have seen enough."

"Oh?" she asked, the nervousness that would have been unnecessary for a true Seer clouding her features.

"Yes," he said firmly. "I would like to offer you the position of Divination professor at Hogwarts. Additionally, I would like to off you a home in the castle."

Her eyes grew round. "Professor, it's more than I dared to hope for!"

"I take it you accept?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes, of course! When shall I move in?"

He gave her a penetrating look. "I'd like for you to move in tonight."

"Tonight?" she asked, clearly shocked.

"If it isn't a problem?"

"No," she said quickly, thinking of her small, dingy flat. "It's not a problem at all."

Alone in his office, Professor Dumbledore placed his wand against his temple, extracting the memory he wanted. He held his wand over his pensieve, letting the memory replay itself. He watched as Sibyll Trelawney, the newest addition to his staff, appeared before his eyes.

"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 . . ."

As the memory faded into the pensieve, Dumbledore stared into the open space where it had been swirling. He knew what the prophecy meant; he just did not know how it would be fulfilled.

"Born to those who have thrice defied him," he muttered to himself. He touched his wand to the surface of the pensieve again, searching for the right memory.

After a moment, Frank Longbottom was dancing before his eyes. "Alice and I recently received some news that we have been waiting for for a long, long time. I'm not sure that everyone will be excited, given the current events of our world, but I hope you can all be happy for us as we look forward to the birth of our first baby this summer."

Frank disappeared as others rushed into the memory of the Order Christmas party to congratulate the expectant father. Dumbledore moved his wand, and the memory returned to the pensieve. He touched it again, and Alice Longbottom appeared before him.

"We can't believe it! We've wanted this for so long – after so many years, August doesn't seem all that far away."

"August is the eighth month," Dumbledore argued. "It can't be them."

He touched his wand to the pensieve again, and James and Lily Potter appeared before his eyes.

"We were surprised, that's for sure," James said.

"James!" Lily laughed. "Professor Dumbledore doesn't need to know that!"

"What?" James asked. "It's true!"

Lily shook her head. "We are excited, though. Even if we didn't plan it, we can't wait to be parents."

"I don't know how we're going to wait until August," James stated. He kissed Lily's cheek, and she giggled.

Dumbledore shook his head again as he let the memory drop back into the pensieve. "What other couples have defied Voldemort three times?" he muttered.

He began extracting memories. Sirius Black and Olivia Alexander appeared before him. He shook his head. They were no longer a couple, and they certainly weren't expecting a baby. Other Order members appeared, many of which were not couples, and none of which were pregnant.

Shaking his head, Dumbledore brought back the memories of the Longbottoms and the Potters.

"August doesn't seem all that far away."

"I don't know how we're going to wait until August!"

"Well, James," Dumbledore sighed, "maybe you won't have to."

His musings were interrupted as his office door banged open. He looked up, and saw Minerva McGonagall standing in his doorway.

"Professor McGonagall," he smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"You know exactly what has brought me here." She slammed his door shut, and crossed the room with quick, purposeful strides. "I thought we had agreed that you weren't going to hire that woman!"

"No, you said that I wasn't," Dumbledore said calmly. "I never agreed."

"Dumbledore, you can't let her teach in this school! She has no more Divination ability than I do!"

"That is where you are wrong," Dumbledore said, still maintaining his calm demeanor. "Sit down, Professor."

McGonagall obediently sat down. "Do you mean to tell me that that woman is an actual, authentic Seer?"

"No, not exactly. But I do mean that I saw her make a prophecy."

McGonagall laughed. "One prophecy earned her a job teaching our students Divination?"

"This prophecy did, yes."

Dumbledore touched his pensieve, bringing the image of Trelawney's prediction to the surface. McGonagall sat back as the image began to spin before her eyes.

"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 . . ."

"And, that, Professor McGonagall, was enough to earn her the position," Dumbledore said as the image faded back into the pensieve.

"But I don't understand," McGonagall said shakily. "What does it all mean?"

"No more or less than what she said," Dumbledore said.

"And do you know who it refers to? Do you know whose baby will be born in July?"

"No, not exactly," Dumbledore replied. "There are two possibilities, but neither is due to be born until August."

"So you're relying on the fact that one of them will be born prematurely?"

"Yes."

"And do you intend to tell the parents?"

"Not until after the baby is born," Dumbledore replied. "Both sets of parents are anticipating their children's births with such joy – I will not be the one to bring them unnecessary worry. When the baby is born at the end of July, I will tell the parents."

"Are you sure that's wise?" McGonagall refrained from asking which parents were expecting this child. If Dumbledore wanted to reveal that information, he would tell her. If not, she would remain as in the dark as they would.

"The fewer people who know about this prophecy, the better. It is the easiest way to ensure Sibyll's safety. We will only have to wait a month at most to learn who this baby is – to learn which family will spend a lifetime fighting Voldemort."

"But, still," Professor McGonagall protested, "one actual prophecy, no matter how important, doesn't seem like a good enough reason to let her teach our students."

"It was overheard," Dumbledore said softly.

"What?"

"It was overheard by a spy for Voldemort."

"How do you know this?"

"Aberforth apprehended the spy. I don't know if this person was able to hear the entire prophecy, but even the first lines are vital."

"Yes . . ." Professor McGonagall frowned as everything fell together. "And so you hired Sibyll Trelawney to protect her from You-Know-Who?"

"Precisely."

McGonagall shook her head. "I hope this war ends soon. It's become too much when it starts dictating who can teach in our schools."

"Well, it will be quite some time," Dumbledore replied. "This baby must be born, and then must mature to the point of being strong enough to battle Voldemort – to battle him, and to come out the victor."

"That will be years!"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, a fire burning in his eyes, "and we must be ready to support this little one. We must help him to become strong enough to defeat this evil. We must teach him all that we can to ensure that he succeeds. We must help him, and we must make sure that he is ready to face the most difficult battle of his life."

"My Lord, I have news."

"Rise," Voldemort said as the spy fell to his knees before him. "What news have you brought?"

"I heard a prophecy this evening."

"About?"

"About you, my Lord."

Voldemort leaned forward. "Go on."

"It said – it said that the one with the power to vanquish you approaches."

Voldemort's eyebrows went up. "It did? Is that all?"

"No – it also said that he would be born as the seventh month dies, to parents who have thrice defied you."

"No more?" Voldemort asked, desperate for more information. How was it that these prophecies were always so vague?

"There was more, my Lord," the spy confessed. "However, I was discovered. I didn't get to hear the end."

"Very well," Voldemort said his annoyance clear. "What you have overheard will suffice for now. You may go."

"Thank you, my Lord."

Voldemort folded his fingers together, thinking. "Born to parents who have thrice defied me," he muttered. "Born as the seventh month dies. Who can that be?"

Despite his best efforts to reason through this puzzle, he knew he would never be able to realize the answer on his own. He touched the mark on his arm, summoning his followers. Within moments, they were assembled before him.

"My friends," he said softly. "We have a new mystery before us. It would appear that it has been prophesied that I will be defeated."

A murmur of disapproval and disbelief went through the group. Voldemort hissed, and his Death Eaters fell silent.

"Yes," he said slowly. "The prophecy said that this one who will defeat me will be born as the seventh month dies, to those who have thrice defied me . . . I am left wondering who that could be. Who could have thrice defied me? Who could be expecting a baby to be born in July?"

Peter stood in his place in the circle of Death Eaters, doing his best not to let his thoughts be too obvious. He couldn't let the Dark Lord know what was going through his mind. Thoughts of James and Lily consumed him. He fought the horrid images back. It couldn't be them – it just couldn't be! Their baby couldn't be this one that the prophecy described. But they had defied the Dark Lord so many times. He was sure they had defied him at least thrice. But would the baby be born in July? He thought back to the conversations he had had with them. When had Lily said she was due?

"August fifth – and not a day sooner! James and I won't be ready before then!"

As Lily's laughing face appeared in his mind, Peter felt relief wash over him. He fought back the urge to laugh in sheer joy. It wasn't them. They and the baby were safe.

"I must discover who this child is," Voldemort hissed. "The best way to deal with this situation is the rid ourselves of the problem. Once we discover who the potential parents are, we will kill them. There is no need for this baby to ever be born."

Peter shuddered. Lily and James were safe – but someone else was not. And what if the baby was born early?

No, it wouldn't be. Lily herself had said that it wouldn't be born before August fifth, and she should know better than anyone when her baby would be born. Peter relaxed again. They were safe. They would have their baby, and the three of them would form a wonderful, loving, safe family. No harm would come to them. They were safe.