The Prophecy

Do all prophecies come true? Or just those we fear most? Scarlatina sighed and closed the book. She had been reading, searching for the answers to her questions, but instead of finding them more questions emerged. Her homework was still unfinished, she wasn't sure how to start it. She sighed again and took the quill. Surely she must write something, at least tiny bits. In her personal opinion, the scribbled nonsense looked much more better than empty page.
Scarlatina Black was an ordinary student in extraordinary school. At her eleventh birthday she received an invitation to attend Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardy. Although she had dreamed learning arts and history, she was quite happy to learn spelling and charming.
Witches and wizards were familiar to her. Her mother was a witch, so was her grandmother and great grandmother. Her father often joked about marrying a witch, only few knew that this was more than joke. She was born witch.

"Hello, Scarlatina! Why so sad? Battling with homework again? If I were you, I would fight to death!" Siur, her fellow student, had quietly entered the Ravenclaw common room. "What a horrible way to die, then," Scarlatina snorted.
"It's about prophecies. Professor Wintertowne asked us to analyse the great prophecies and speculate about the possibilities whether they come true or not," she explained varily. She watched how Siur unclothed and then reclothed. Siur was her best friend, in fact, Siur was the first person she had befriended in Hogwarts. Of course, there were others, too. Artemicia Brandy, always optimistic, always funny with her sometimes obscene remarks. Francius Goldenrose, more boy than young man. Yerica Cessa, whose father was killed by Dark Lord. But no-one of them were so significant than Siur. Siur was always there, Siur never refused or said no. Even now Siur stood and comforted her.

"Ah, that old spider. Write whatever you fancy. He cannot disagree with you, because the prophecies are about the future and no-one knows exactly what it brings. It is possible that there is no future at all. Actually I copied my work from Francius, who used old homeworks from his older brother. You can take a look, if you like to. I don't mind"

"Thanks, Siur. You're the best. Speaking of the prophecies, any news about him"
Siur shifted uneasily.
"You dare to ask? You know they don't speak about him. They don't even dare to think about him! My Mom asked me not to talk about him nor to mention him, ever!" Siur's words were little more than whisper. Scarlatina noticed how uncomfortable her friend was.
"But we cannot hide and live in fear!" Scarlatina cried.
"We are not hiding. Although Headmaster Dumbledore is dead, Hogwarts is still open. And Harry Potter is still alive"
Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived Again. Scarlatina had heard so much about him. How smart he is, how brave, resourceful and stubborn. The Boy Who Is Destined To War With Voldemort.
"Yes, the poor one. My mother doesn't think Potter will survive. The Dark Lord is, after all, experienced wizard. He knows so many wicked spells, that he can challenge entire magical community and no-one will be able to stop him," Scarlatina sighed.
"Oh, why do you torment yourself? Better go to sleep. Your worry will change nothing. Things are just like that. You cannot do anything about it. I prefer not to talk about it anymore," Siur stood up and went to dormitory, leaving Scarlatina alone.

The later night was quite uneventful. Siur was already soundly sleeping. Scarlatina decided to stay up and finish her homework. She was quite sleepy and had great trouble to keep her eyes open. Finally she must have fallen into sleep. When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in Ravenclaw common room. There was unusual darkness around her - like black mist. She closed her eyes and opened them again, but darkness was still there. She heard wind whispering. No, it wasn't wind. Someone was whispering. Scarlatina didn't see any face, but she heard voice. Someone was talking to her.
The voice was rusty.
"Only doing by undoing, only living by dying, only starting by finishing.You shall be what you want"
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" she cried, but the mysterious voice was suddenly quiet.
No answer.
She sighed and closed her eyes again. When she finally opened them, she was sitting behind the desk in Ravenclaw common room.
"What...", she started to say, but didn't finish her saying.
It was a dream. No, it was a vision, a foretelling, a prophecy.
She finally understood it. It was her prophecy. She had her own prophecy.