Chapter 2
Plans And Prophecies
An hour later, Minerva was still sitting in the same position. She had let her hair down so that it fell loosely about her face and her eyes were bloodshot. Resting on the table was something that looked suspiciously like a bottle of butterbeer.
"I have to figure this out!" she expostulated in a sudden fit of frustration. "The final confrontation is growing nearer and nearer, and with Albus gone…well, of course I want Potter to defeat the Dark Lord, but I refuse to believe that Tom is lost to me forever."
A sudden, terrible thought flashed into her head. "No," denied Minerva, refusing to believe for a second that she would ever even consider what she had just almost considered. "If it ever came down to it, I would protect Potter. Even if I had to give up on Tom, I would protect him. I would protect him the way I never protected his parents."
The truth was that Minerva had had many a chance to aid in the Dark Lord's defeat. But because of her love for the boy he had once been, she had only made half-hearted attempts. Albus had known this, and only he had truly understood.
"We cannot choose with whom we fall in love, Minerva," he had told her shortly before his death. "You love Tom; maybe it is your love that can save him."
Minerva bolted upright.
"Of course! That was what he was trying to explain to me!" she exclaimed, her emerald hat nearly falling off in her excitement. "Potter has faced the Dark Lord on numerous occasions and managed to escape with his life, but he has been unable to destroy him. That is because the boy feels only hatred for him. But hatred cannot destroy hatred; it only fuels it. Love is the key! It sounds cliché, yes, but surely if Tom had known love, he would not have chosen the path that he did.
"Let me see…his mother died and his father abandoned him." Here her nostrils flared, and she continued rather defiantly, "But I loved him, and still do…despite all that he has done. I will always love Tom."
Minerva tucked her hair behind her ears, tapping her long fingers thoughtfully on the desk. "Perhaps my love will be enough. Perhaps I can find a way to save him…before any other innocent people are hurt."
She was mulling this over when a rather loud knock came at the door.
Minerva hastily thrust the bottle of butterbeer under her desk. "Come in."
A tall, thin boy with messy black hair and glasses stumbled into the room. She sighed, exasperated. It did not surprise her that Harry Potter had been wandering the corridors at night again.
Sternly, she peered over her spectacles at him. "Mr. Potter…."
"Er…Professor?" began Harry. "I had the dream again, but it was different this time. Just thought that you should know."
Minerva stopped short. She had been prepared to chastise him for wandering and send him straight back to his rooms, but this could prove important.
"Yes, Potter. Go on."
Harry looked uncomfortable. "He was here," he said. "Voldemort. He was here at Hogwarts. He and I were dueling and I had the upper hand when you – well, you Stunned me." He looked at his professor and saw that she had turned white as a ghost. "You Stunned me and then I woke up. That's all I remember."
Minerva was shaken. It was only a dream, the disturbing tale that Potter had just told her, but his dreams did seem to have a certain element of prophecy to them. Wait – prophecy? The nightmare of an adolescent could not possibly be a prophecy. She mentally slapped herself for even considering it. Foolishness, that was all. Better simply to send the boy to bed and pretend that he had never told her about his dream. Yes, that was the best solution.
"Potter," she said wearily. "Go to bed. Just go."
He did not argue, but looked at her searchingly for a moment before exiting the same way that he had entered.
Minerva slumped over. It had been a long day and an even longer evening, and she just wanted to rest. Taking a vial of Dreamless Sleep from her desk drawer, she downed it in one swig and collapsed into slumber.