SHAMELESS PLUG!
My first original novel, Strangers In Boston, is now available on Amazon under my pen name, T.S. Mann (get it?). It's free to Kindle Prime members and $4.99 to people who want to download the Ebook. Paperback copies are available for $12.99. Check it out, and if you like it, please leave a review. Basically, it's American Harry Potter. Except there's no school, no wands, and if you use magic improperly, it can drive you insane and possibly destroy the world. No pressure or anything.
UPDATE: Work on the sequel—Strangers In Dallas—proceeds apace. Chapters will be uploaded to my website and available for preview to patrons on the first of each month. Also, work has begun on the audiobook for Strangers In Boston, and Discord followers can listen to the recording in real time. Thanks everyone for your support.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic.
Harry Black
and the Resurrection Game
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Chapter 5: A Series of Tense Conversations
The Hog's Head Inn, Hogsmeade
Just before noon
The Hog's Head Inn had the dubious distinction of being the most disreputable inn in Hogsmeade. The distinction was dubious for two reasons. First, there were only two inns in Hogsmeade. Second, it was the only business in Hogsmeade that was in any sense disreputable, as the rest of the town marketed itself as a bright and friendly tourist trap that existed primarily to bilk Hogwarts students out of their galleons with everything from overpriced chocolates to custom-made quills (for those few students who took inordinate pride in the quality of their quills). Few students ever went to the Hog's Head. Fewer still ever went back a second time, as the staff and management were aggressively discourteous to all their customers but especially those who were still students.
And yet amazingly, the place stayed open year after year, despite the sticky floors, the dirty tables, and the watered-down beer. Even the addition of Argus Filch to the staff wasn't enough to close the place down, and he made it a habit to insult and curse at every single customer without exception. It didn't help that most of the few who did come in had attended Hogwarts while Filch worked there, and the irascible old Squib seemed to have an eidetic memory when it came to what a particular wizard got detention for thirty years earlier and also what the punishment would have been if Filch had gotten his way.
Back behind the bar, Aberforth shook his head ruefully as Filch loomed over a cowering Mundungus Fletcher and lectured him on how he'd told Dung when he was a Third Year that he'd never amount to anything. Despite himself, Aberforth smirked. As if Argus Filch had a clue what Mundungus Fletcher actually did for a living. His thoughts on the subject were diverted, however, by the soft "whoosh" sound from his back office. He sighed in annoyance.
"Argus!" the large man bellowed. "Take over for me! I need a break!"
Without even looking back, Aberforth passed through the office door and closed and locked it behind him. His guest was already inside waiting for him and sitting in his favorite chair. The preening phoenix who had delivered him to this room was perched on the back of said chair and probably was getting ash all over it.
"You know," he said contemptuously, "it's considered rude to Apparate into someone's private rooms without permission. Doubly so, I reckon, if you're burning your way in with a flaming chicken!"
"So nice to see you as well, brother," replied Albus Dumbledore. "But I thought you would prefer that I not enter through the front door. You did tell me once that I was bad for business."
Aberforth snorted.
"More importantly, it was you who sent word that you wished to see me about a 'sensitive matter.' I assumed from the tenor of your message that you would appreciate my discretion rather than take umbrage for it."
The other man sighed loudly and dropped down into the chair opposite.
"I want you to rehire Argus Filch as your Caretaker," Aberforth said without preamble.
Albus crooked an eyebrow in surprise. "Is his work not up to your standards?" he asked with twinkling eyes. Aberforth fought down the instinct to growl at his older brother.
"One would think that a man who spent decades cleaning a whole bloody castle could at least mop a floor, but apparently not. The bar is actually dirtier than when I hired him. But more than that …"
The wizard trailed off.
"I don't think working here is good for his health," he finally said. "I'm pretty sure he's sneaking liquor when I'm not watching. Also, the work is a lot more physical than what he's used to at the castle where house elves did nearly everything for him. He's an old man, you know."
"As are you and I, Aberforth," Albus replied.
"You and I are wizards, Albus, and powerful ones at that," the younger brother answered before his expression turned sour, "no matter how much mileage you get out of jokes about my lack of skill … and all those tasteless insinuations about bloody goats!"
He shook his head before continuing. "Our magic sustains us, like it does all powerful wizards who don't ruin their health with the wrong kind of spells. Argus's ... condition doesn't allow him that luxury, and I don't want him keeling over dead from lifting something too heavy or just drinking himself to death. Or worse, just … wandering off somewhere! And on top of that, I've got business that needs tending away from the Hog's Head. I don't want him left alone here."
"Yes, I'd heard rumors about your new … business opportunity. My congratulations, if that's an appropriate response."
"Dammit, Albus! Just leave my … business affairs out of it."
And then, Aberforth gave his brother a surprisingly malicious look. "Anyway, I'm sure you wouldn't want to bear the guilt of being in any way responsible for Filch's untimely demise, now would you?"
With that, Aberforth turned his head towards the painting on the wall, the one that depicted their sister Ariana. She favored both brothers with a sad yet dreamy expression.
Albus sighed loudly. "There is, of course, no guarantee that Argus will even want to return to the school."
Aberforth shrugged. "We both know he's only got two options: here and Hogwarts. If his pride won't let him ask for his old job back, perhaps you should take the opportunity to practice a skill that you seldom get to use: a sincere apology. I mean, you did leave the poor man's cat paralyzed and sitting on a shelf collecting dust for months."
"It was an honest …!" Albus paused and shook his head. "Fine! I will speak to Argus with appropriate humility and let him know that Hogwarts cannot possibly survive without him."
Aberforth nodded and started to rise when Albus interrupted him. "But in exchange, perhaps I might prevail upon you to do something for me as well."
The younger Dumbledore glowered and sat back down. "What?" he asked irritably. From a pocket, the Headmaster produced a stack of notes bound in twine which he handed over.
"As we've discussed before, Voldemort has been making use of a clever modification of the Fidelius Charm. It is imperative that we learn the limits of his innovation and quickly. And I imagine if there's anyone in Britain who might know how to break a Fidelius or at least work around it, it's you."
Aberforth reached over and took the notes. "And what makes you think I know more about the Fidelius than you, Albus?"
Albus smiled sadly. "Well, for a start, I'm not the one who ensured that outside of ourselves, no one in Wizarding Britain has any idea that Aberforth Dumbledore and Albus Dumbledore are brothers!"
"Potter Manor"
Later that afternoon
With some difficulty, Harry crawled out of the back of Bobby Lattimer's mother's Ford Fiesta before stretching his back until he heard it pop. That morning, he'd decided to ride back from Paris to London with Sirius. Ostensibly, that was so godfather and godson could have some bonding time separate from everyone else, and Harry enjoyed his time on the road spent getting to know Sirius better and sharing those parts of his life that he could safely reveal to the Gryffindor.
That said, the real reason for his change of travel plans—which he did not share with Sirius—was that in light of what happened at Euro Disney, Harry had no intentions of getting back on a jet plane with a Muggle pilot ever again. "Bob the Evil Scar" had been quiet since the incident that had nearly seen Harry strangled by a Disney park employee and then run over by a rollercoaster, but there was no guarantee it would remain that way. And Harry wasn't about to give it another opportunity to turn any nearby Muggles into potential assassins, least of all a Muggle pilot who could kill him and his friends with ease by crashing the plane before anyone could react.
Of course, the fact that he'd traveled by car meant that he was the last of his friends to arrive at his home. After dropping off Regulus (in his Archie Goodwin identity), Theo, and Neville in London at Heathrow Airport, the Finch-Fletchleys continued on to their home in Scotland. Archie then Side-Apparated his two young charges back to the Manor, where Amy and Lady Augusta were waiting. Later, after Harry and Sirius finally arrived, all seven of them sat down for a welcome home feast presented by Buttercup.
Afterwards, Harry and his family and guests retired to the manor's great hall where the Floo was located. Just before eight o'clock, the rest of Harry's guests arrived by Floo: Severus Snape, Andromeda and Ted Tonks, and (in a surprise to some people) Hermione Granger. As Dobby served drinks to everyone, Harry took his place in front of the fireplace and steeled himself. Present in the room was everyone he no longer wished to have any secrets from—except, of course, for those secrets that he couldn't share. But first, he had an apology to make.
"Before we begin … I hate to do this because I trust everyone here, and I don't want any of you to think otherwise. But … I know things. Some of those things, I've shared with some of you. Other things, I've shared with others of you. But they're all incredibly important things to know, and I want all the people I trust completely to be on the same page. I know that goes against everything Slytherins are supposed to stand for, but I recently had a reminder that secrets can sometimes get people killed. The things I want to share … I think they're going to be very important later, both for all of us and maybe the whole world. But in order to preserve the safety of everyone in this room, and likely the safety of a lot of people not in this room, I will need everyone to take a fairly stringent Oath of Secrecy. It's not quite an Unbreakable Vow; I can't ask that of you. But definitely the strongest Oath of Secrecy available that won't flat-out kill you if you breach it."
The Slytherin was relieved when no one objected, and at his request, Regulus swore everyone to an oath not to reveal anything discussed in this room during this present meeting without the express consent of Harry Black. According to Regulus, he'd found the oath in one of the books in the Prince's Lair that Harry hadn't gotten to yet. It was a simple but powerful oath, and its effects were similar to the nonconsensual oath that protected the secrets of the Prince's Lair and the even Prince's very existence. Although Regulus and Lucius had both limited their own coteries to Slytherins, past Princes had used this oath to bind non-Slytherins into their inner circles, though they still couldn't bring such outsiders into the Lair itself.
In fact, in terms of potency, the oath was very close to the one that he and Sirius had both sworn to Arcturus Black as children before being told about the Anathema Codex. Which was important, since magic from the Codex was on the agenda for discussion. Harry took a deep breath before diving in.
"Okay, let's start with the basics. I was born on July 31, 1980 as one of the twin sons of Lily and James Potter. At some point before our birth … a prophecy was made." At that, Snape stiffened in his chair, but Harry continued.
"I can't relate any details about this Prophecy except to say that Voldemort became aware of part of it, and based on what he'd heard, he concluded that either I or Jim Potter could be a threat to him. Or possibly Neville, but I reckon he decided it would be more efficient to hit the Potters first and kill two baby birds with one stone. The Potters were protected under a Fidelius. But by that point, Peter Pettigrew was already a Death Eater, and he tricked James and Sirius here into making him the Potter Secret Keeper. And then Pettigrew promptly told the Secret to Voldemort."
Sirius looked away despite himself. Andi reached over and patted him on the knee.
"Voldemort attacked the Potters at Godric's Hollow on Halloween of 1981. He stunned James and Lily and then tried to use the Killing Curse on Jim. Most likely, I would have been next. But something went wrong, some weird anomaly affecting Jim that caused the curse to backfire and destroy Voldemort. It didn't kill Voldemort though because he used dark magic called Horcruxes to give himself a form of immortality. A Horcrux is a magical object of some kind into which a fragment of a person's soul has been entrapped. It prevents the person from passing over after death and allows them to function as a very powerful ghost with the added possibility of resurrecting the person if the right rituals are performed."
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. She was the only one who he'd never discussed Horcruxes with at all. And while the Azkabal was aware that there were actual rituals which would need to be performed before Voldemort could be fully resurrected, they weren't sure what magic was required. The Black copy of the Anathema Codex was locked up in Chevenoir, the ancestral home of House Black; the Wilkes copy was missing; and the Longbottom copy was inaccessible until Neville became Lord Conditional after turning fifteen.
"We have so far destroyed three of his known Horcruxes," Harry continued. "The diary of Tom Riddle that possessed Ron Weasley during my second year, Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, and Salazar Slytherin's Locket. But we don't know how many Horcruxes he has total and don't know where the remaining ones are."
Harry paused to prepare himself.
"All of you know most of that, although the Horcruxes are new to you, Hermione. But there are things most of you don't know. Things about Voldemort. And things about me. First things first. Everyone knows that Voldemort was the leader of the Death Eaters, and his plan was to use them to take over Wizarding Britain to further the cause of Pureblood supremacy. Except … that's a lie."
Most of those listening to Harry's speech were surprised by that claim, but not Amy and Theo who were both on hand when he first revealed Voldemort's link with Rian O'Grady.
"Lord Voldemort was born Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last known descendant of the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt. Except by the time he came along, House Gaunt was both impoverished and inbred to the point of insanity. Riddle was the son of Merope Gaunt, the squib daughter of the last Lord Gaunt, and an as-yet unidentified Muggle with the last name Riddle, which makes him either a Halfblood or a Muggleborn depending on how you want to consider it. Lucius Malfoy is researching to find who Tom Riddle's father was, but he hasn't been able to yet."
"Where is Lucius, by the way?" Snape asked.
Harry coughed diplomatically. "As I said, this meeting is for all the people I trust completely. I like Lucius Malfoy, and he's done a lot for us that he'll probably never get credit for. But trust completely? Nope."
Snape nodded. "Fair enough."
"Anyway, believe it or not," Harry continued, "when Tom first arrived at Hogwarts, he was an advocate of Muggleborn rights despite being a Slytherin and, in fact, being an actual Heir of Slytherin through the Gaunt line. The 1943 Chamber of Secrets affair wasn't actually an attack on Muggleborns at all. It was meant to stir up sympathy for Muggleborns while turning everyone against the blood purists of the day. But everything went wrong when Tom accidentally killed Myrtle Warren instead of petrifying her. He was so distraught that he tried to use Occlumency to shut down his feelings of guilt and grief, but he accidentally destroyed his capacity to feel love as well. The result was the man we call Lord Voldemort, although he wouldn't be called that by the public for decades yet."
"Waitaminute," Sirius exclaimed. "Voldemort started off as a supporter of Muggleborn rights?"
Harry shook his head. "He started that way as a student, but after the Chamber of Secrets incident and the loss of his empathy, he changed his agenda. Publicly, he cut ties with his former Muggleborn friends, but he secretly won the loyalty of a nucleus of Pureblood followers. I don't know who his original inner circle was, but I know it included Boruslav Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood, both of whom were his schoolmates. But other Purebloods of the day still looked down on him for his blood heritage, including Cantankerous Nott Jr., Abraxas Malfoy, and Walburga Black. After leaving Hogwarts, Tom disappeared from public view for several years, but he later returned under the fake identify of Lord Voldemort, who presented himself as a powerful wizard, a Parselmouth, a master of the psychic arts, and the one true Heir of Slytherin. He even told Abraxas that he'd been the one to murder Tom Riddle as a way of gaining his support."
Harry paused and braced himself, as the next bit would be a shock to some people.
"Except … while Tom Riddle was courting Purebloods under the name Lord Voldemort, he was also using at least one other fake identity for a different purpose. Under the name Rian O'Grady, Tom infiltrated Alexander McAvity's Muggleborn Rights movement. Then, he somehow engineered the death of Minister Nobby Leach and, I suspect, arranged for McAvity himself to be banished from Britain. That radicalized McAvity's remaining followers, and Voldemort, as O'Grady, used them to perform terrorist attacks against Purebloods in order to frighten them into supporting Voldemort without anyone realizing they were the same person."
Theo spoke up. "The Dark Lord's last public act as Rian O'Grady was to assassinate Cantankerous Nott Jr., my grandfather. That paved the way for my father, Tiberius Nott, to become Lord Nott and also led to him becoming a Death Eater."
"I remember Mother ranting about Rian O'Grady and the death of Cantankerous Nott," Sirius marveled. "She wanted every Muggleborn in the country rounded up after that. Harry, how much of this have you confirmed?"
Harry squirmed slightly. "Not as much as I'd like, to be honest. Certainly not to the point of proving it in a court or even getting it published in a credible newspaper. But we know the Death Eaters have this odd affinity for anagrams. Tom Marvolo Riddle is an anagram for I am Lord Voldemort, and Ariana McFlossy is an anagram for Narcissa Malfoy. Well, it just so happens that Rian O'Grady is an anagram for Dorian Gray, which was a book by Riddle's favorite Muggle author. It was about a man with an enchanted object that held part of his soul and made him immortal."
Hermione gasped. "You think The Picture of Dorian Gray was about a man and his Horcrux?"
"I have no reason to think that Oscar Wilde was a wizard or that he knew about magic or Horcruxes," Harry replied. "I just know about the anagram and the fact that there's no record of Rian O'Grady before he showed up in the 1960's and no sign of him after he assassinated Theo's grandfather."
"Actually, Oscar Wilde might very well have heard stories of such things," Lady Augusta said. "As I recall the family prattle passed around from my school days, Mr, Wilde was briefly the suitor of one Florence Balcombe whose mother was Mina Balcombe Née Crouch. Mina was my great-aunt and also a Squib. Her daughter Florence, who was also without magic, was courted by Oscar Wilde in her youth, but she eventually married a different Muggle by the name of Bram Stoker, who I imagine Miss Granger at least has heard of. Apparently, Florence foolishly shared with her husband some wizarding tales that she definitely shouldn't have, one of which led to the publication of a novel of some note entitled Dracula. And that caused all kinds of problems between the ICW, the British and Transylvanian Ministries of Magic, and House Crouch. So truthfully, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Florence had at some point told Mr. Wilde a garbled tale involving a Horcrux."
Augusta shook her head disapprovingly and clucked her tongue. "Gossip! Such a vulgar habit. I'm proud to say I've never felt the need to indulge in it."
Neville's eyes widened comically, but he said nothing.
"Waitaminute!" Hermione exclaimed. "Count Dracula … is real?!"
"No, no, no!" Harry snapped. "We are not getting sidetracked into a discussion about vampires. They're not even in the top twenty things we need to worry about right now!"
"Right, sorry," Hermione said contritely before turning to Augusta and mouthing "We'll talk later."
"Let me make sure I'm keeping up with all this," said Ted Tonks. "I'm a Hufflepuff, after all. We're not built for all this chicanery. You're saying that You-Know-Who was actually behind both sides of the blood purity debate? And he spent the '50s, '60s, and '70s driving both sides to extremism in order to inflame the other side? But … why?"
Harry shrugged. "That's the part I haven't figured out yet, which is why I'm sharing what I know with people cleverer than me. But I know Voldemort's not just a blood purist. If he was, he probably had enough votes in the Wizengamot at the height of his powers to just legislate Wizarding Britain into a Pureblood dictatorship. But … he didn't."
Hermione raised her hand as if she were back in class, which caused Harry to smile despite the mood of the room.
"But Harry—even if … Tom Riddle or whoever we're going to call him was playing both sides against each other, well, there hasn't really been a pro-Muggleborn side to speak of since I've been alive. Did his plan, whatever it was, change?"
"Oh, it changed alright," said Archie said. "By the bastard dying! After Jim Potter defeated him in 1981, it should have led to the exposure of his Death Eaters and the imprisonment of a sizeable percentage of the Wizengamot. Only by framing Sirius for using the Imperius against them were those Death Eaters able to escape punishment, return to government service, and, as Harry put it, advance the Pureblood agenda by legitimate means. Ironically, the Death Eaters achieved a lot more of their political goals after the Dark Lord's fall!"
"We're getting off track, I think," Harry said. "Let's get back to 1981. As we all know, Jim somehow destroyed Voldemort's physical form. But what nobody knew at the time was … I was also affected."
Silence. Harry paused and waited to see if some strange horror from beyond the confines of Reality started pouring through the walls to register its disapproval of Harry discussing this topic. Sensing nothing of the sort, Harry took a deep breath and soldiered on.
"Ted, Andi, Professor Snape, my … Muggle problem … started that night. And it's connected with this."
He pushed his hair back and pointed at his scar.
"I thought that scar was the product of falling masonry or something, wasn't it?" Ted asked in confusion.
"Muggle problem?" Amy interrupted in confusion. "What Muggle problem?"
"I'm getting there!" Harry snapped in exasperation before reining in his emotions. "Sorry, Amy. It's a … sore subject."
He took a breath and then continued his story. "After Jim destroyed Voldemort's physical body, we were both taken to St. Mungo's, where the Healers came to the very strong but incorrect belief that I was a Squib. They also speculated that I might have been turned into a Squib because of whatever Jim did, and so it might not be safe for me to stay around him. And based on those recommendations, James and Lily sent me to live with her in-laws, Petunia and Vernon Dursley."
Immediately, Sirius leaned forward to interrupt, but Harry put his hand up to silence him.
"At that point, Lily had made up with Petunia, and according to everything Lily knew at the time, the Dursleys would take care of me but also let the Potters know if I showed any magic. Instead, they …"
To his own embarrassment, Harry's voice suddenly cracked, and he paused to reinforce his Occlumency.
"They mistreated me. Horribly. But that's not important right now…"
"NOT IMPORTANT?!" Sirius exclaimed as he jumped up from his chair.
"No, Sirius! It's not important! What is important is the reason for it! Professor Snape knows, and so do the Tonkses. It wasn't just a matter of the Dursleys being cruel monsters. There's … something about me specifically. Some supernatural aura that affects Muggles. It makes them distrust me. It makes them inclined to get angry at me. And after long term exposure, it makes them dangerous to me."
He paused and took a deep breath.
"Or at least, that's how we all thought it worked," he said ruefully.
Andromeda narrowed her eyes. "Explain, Harry."
Harry paused to collect his thoughts. "There was … an incident at Hogwarts a few months back. I can't give you any details, but … I could feel it."
Everyone stared at the boy who was normally almost unnaturally self-possessed but who now seemed overcome by emotion. Specifically, fear.
"Breath, Harry," Snape said softly. "Breath and then tell us. You could feel … what?"
"It's not just an aura," Harry finally said after a long pause. "It's … intelligent. I was put in a situation in which I was nearly overcome with anger at someone and … I felt IT. A force inside me that has some level of intelligence and wanted to take control of me. That … or see me dead. I was barely able to beat it back."
He paused again and barked out a laugh. "Since then, I've taken to calling it 'Bob.' My way of thinking about it without panicking, I suppose. Anyway, after the incident I mentioned, it seemed to go dormant. I was even able to interact with Muggles freely. I spent several days with Justin Finch-Fletchley's parents and we all got along fine. His father even apologized for how he was rude to me in the past. And I spent all of yesterday morning in an amusement park packed full of Muggles without incident until …"
Harry looked over at Sirius with an anxious expression. "Sirius, please don't be mad at me for not telling you right away, but I wanted to make sure you were back here first with the Tonkses on hand in case hearing about what happened upset you."
"What happened, Harry?" Sirius asked with quiet intensity.
Harry scanned the room. Theo, Neville, and Archie were all giving supportive looks, but none of the others knew what had happened to him or how terrifying it was. If he weren't already an Occlumens of remarkable skill, he was sure he'd still be traumatized.
"At one point, while we were at the park, I and all the underage wizards were separated from Archie and Gunther. We were on the same rollercoaster but in different carts. They were only a minute or so behind us, but … that's all it took. We were just kids, on our own, with no wands. And immediately after the ride started up, my scar started hurting terribly."
"Not your head, Harry?" Ted inquired. "Your scar itself?"
Neville spoke up. "It wasn't just hurting him, Healer Tonks. His scar just started … bleeding."
"The pain got worse and worse until the ride came to a stop. Then, when the park attendant came over to see what the matter was … as soon as he got close, he suddenly went berserk and tried to strangle me. And it wasn't just one of them. Every Muggle within about twenty feet was affected, and they all mobbed me and eventually tried to throw me onto the tracks so that the cart Archie and Gunther were in would run over me."
Sirius was aghast and shot out of his chair.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!" he bellowed to Archie in a rage before breaking into a fit of coughing.
"Most likely because he didn't want you to have this sort of reaction," Andi said before physically shoving him back into his chair and handing him a potion she'd produced from a bag. "Now sit down and let the medicine do its work!"
"So it was the same effect that provoked Vernon Dursley into attacking you in the summer of 1992?" Snape asked while keeping a side-eye on Sirius.
"Yes, Professor, but a lot stronger."
"Tell them about the eyes, Harry," Theo directed, and Harry described how the eyes of every affected Muggle turned blood-red.
"A classic sign of possession," Ted murmured. "Though I've never heard of a mass possession before. I hadn't even thought that was possible. But I still don't see what your scar had to do with it?"
Harry pinched his brow with his fingers. "Everybody, just look at my scar for a second. Does it, you know, resemble anything?"
Everyone muttered in response to the question. Exasperated, Harry finally grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill and jotted down a familiar lightning bolt pattern before holding the sheet up.
"Anyone who's had Ancient Runes, do you know what this is?"
"Sowilo," several people replied almost at once. Harry then held the parchment up next to his scar.
"Right! So does anyone think the scar looks familiar NOW?!"
The whole room went silent as everyone's brows furrowed in concentration.
"Your scar … appears to resemble … the Sowilo rune," Snape said with obvious difficulty.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Wonderful," he muttered angrily to himself, "the master Occlumens can kinda, sorta see it. It doesn't resemble the Sowilo, Professor, it is Sowilo. And either it was carved into my head through the backlash of whatever Jim did or … or I reckon it must be something Voldemort did to me before he tried to kill Jim."
Neville raised his hand. "Um, for those of us who didn't take Ancient Runes … what is Sowilo?"
"It's the rune of raw and ultimate power, Neville," Hermione said gravely. "Any enchanted item meant to power itself must incorporate Sowilo, often multiple times."
Harry nodded. "And perhaps more importantly, the Sowilo rune is also the wand movement for the Killing Curse."
The room went silent again. Snape stared intently at Harry's scar as if trying to commit it to memory.
"Extraordinary," he finally said. "It must be some form of magical occlusion. I can see that the scar is in the form of Sowilo, but only if I focus all my attention on it and Occlude as hard as I can. It is quite likely that everyone else in this room will forget about your scar's occult significance as soon as we all leave tonight."
"Which presents a bit of a problem when it comes to medical treatment, I should think," Ted added ruefully.
"Yeah," Harry said irritably. "Professor Snape, I assume you can use the Hidden Mind technique to hide this information in a secondary thought-stream. You should probably do so." He paused and frowned. "Because judging from all the looks I'm seeing around the room, you're the only person other than me who's ever even heard of it."
And sure enough, when the assembled group left the topic of Harry's scar to further discuss Voldemort's Horcruxes, he could almost sense the point at which each of them simply stopped thinking about the significance of a rune of power carved into his skin. He and Snape briefly made eye contact, and the older wizard sent a psychic reassurance that he still remembered the information if not fully consciously.
After a good twenty minutes going over what the group had discussed so far, Hermione spoke up. "Perhaps we should move on. We've talked about You-Know-Who's secret identities and hidden soul anchors, as well as Harry's Muggle problem. Is there anything else I should know?"
Almost absent-mindedly, Neville spoke up. "Um, Archie Goodwin is actually Sirius's brother, Regulus, who is a Metamorphmagus who faked his own death back before any of us were born. He pretended to be Professor Lockhart when we were Second Years. Oh, and nearly everyone in this room was involved somehow in the Azkaban break-out, and Bellatrix Black is still alive and is a surprisingly nice person."
"NEVILLE!" several different people exclaimed simultaneously.
"What?" he asked in surprise. "Everyone else in the room already knew all that, and she's under a vow anyway. Harry did say he wanted us all on the same page, right?"
"It's okay," Harry said. "He's right. Show her, Reg."
Archie gave a loud huff and then shook his head violently to resume his true form. To his surprise, Hermione gave him a rather intimidating glare.
"And you were also Professor Lockhart?" she asked frostily.
"Er, yes? Is that a problem?"
She folded her arms. "As I recall, you left Hogwarts weeks before final exams, with the end result that we all got a pass-fail grade in DADA for the year regardless of how much effort we put in!"
Harry smirked. "I'm sorry, Reg. I should have realized that telling Hermione the truth about how you negatively affected her class placement would have made her your mortal enemy."
Hermione glowered at him. "Fine. I'll let go for now that crime against education. Is there anything else you want to tell everyone, Harry?" she said while giving Harry a pointed look indicating her belief that there was.
He sighed again. "Yes, I suppose so. I told you all that there was a True Prophecy concerning Voldemort and Jim Potter, though I can't reveal its contents. I can share with you … the other two Prophecies in play at the moment. Theo, Hermione, if you would?"
And while the rest of the group sat aghast, Theo shared the 1790 Potter Prophecy in its entirety. Regulus frowned at the notion of the Prince of Slytherin title being revealed in a prophecy to outsiders, particular to outsiders like House Potter and its 200-year history of Gryffindor Sortings and anti-Slytherin bias, a bias which suddenly made a lot more sense. Meanwhile, as soon as Theo was finished, Harry nodded to Hermione, who recited Sybil Trelawney's Prophecy from earlier in the year.
"So, the Something Something is actually just called the Prince of Slytherin?" Hermione asked when she was finished.
"Yes," Harry replied before noting her expression. "Is there a problem with that?"
"No, no. To be honest, I was just expecting something more arcane. Or maybe just … fancier. "
Harry rolled his eyes and then noticed that Snape was fuming.
"I was a Slytherin for seven years," he said angrily, "and then Slytherin Head of House for thirteen! Why have I never heard of any Prince of Slytherin?"
"Because when you were Sorted, Lucius Malfoy was a Seventh Year Prince, and he didn't allow firsties into his inner circle," Regulus answered blandly. "And when I became Prince during my Sixth Year, I aggressively disliked you." Then, he shrugged. "Sorry."
Snape glared at Regulus but said nothing.
"Right then," Harry said with his arms outstretched. "That's where we are. I am the Prince of Slytherin as of this past March. I am also under the effects of an Oath of Enmity against my twin brother, and he is under a different magical compulsion to hate me, so that's pretty much the two who should be as one set against each other in reckless hate. I can neither deny nor confirm that I have a literal throne made of basalt and silver, but I can admit that because of my 'blameless decision' to spare Peter Pettigrew and turn him over to the Aurors instead of killing or letting Reg do so, he and Augustus Rookwood escaped custody and are likely now working to resurrect Voldemort, whose plans, I assume, include becoming a Dark God and destroying the world."
Everyone in the room stared at the boy. "So," he continued, "if anyone has any ideas on what to do about that, it would be … swell."
Later …
The Azkabal continued its discussion of the two prophecies for another hour before calling it a night. Those who were not staying as Harry's guests made their way home via Floo, though the Tonkses stayed behind to, as Andi put it, "have a few words with Sirius about treatment." They did reassure Harry that it was nothing serious, and the boy followed Theo and Amy upstairs towards their respective bedrooms. Once the children were gone, Sirius turned to Regulus with an angry expression.
"I cannot believe that Harry was nearly killed, and you didn't even tell me! He's my godson, for Merlin's sake!"
Regulus shrugged. "I know he's your godson, Sirius. But he's also emancipated. In the eyes of Magic and the Law, he is a grown man in nearly every way that matters. He asked me to remain silent and let him be the one to tell you, and he promised to do so once we were all back home and has, in fact, done so. My trust in him was justified, and I don't have any regrets about doing as he asked."
"Because he's the Prince of Slytherin?" Sirius asked bitingly.
"In part," the younger Black admitted. "I do have some experience on that topic, after all. Enough to give the benefit of the doubt to someone who has earned the title."
Sirius did a double take. "Wait … you told Snape that you were a Prince back when we were at Hogwarts! Why didn't you ever tell me?!"
Reg stared at his brash Gryffindor sibling for several seconds. "I won't even dignify that with a sarcastic comment," he finally said.
"And while I knew nothing specific about any Prince of Slytherin during my school days," Andromeda added. "I'm nevertheless glad Harry insisted on waiting and Regulus acquiesced. I shudder to think what might have happened if you'd learned about what nearly happened while you were still in France or, worse, on your way back in a Muggle conveyance!"
"I'm doing better, Andi," Sirius said almost in a sulk.
"You are, Sirius," Ted said gravely. "You've come a long way, and you will continue to improve so long as you follow your Healers' advice. But you do have one glaring area where your health is still a concern, and perhaps it's time we got it out in the open."
"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, while beside him, Regulus grew concerned at Ted's tone.
Ted looked to Andi, and she nodded for him to continue.
"Based on our observations, you survived Azkaban with your mental faculties mostly intact due to three factors. One was your Animagus training. Even if the Anti-Animagus wards prevented you from changing form, you still benefited from the dual-mind properties of your Animagery. Another factor was simply your knowledge of your own complete innocence. It provided you with a single fixed memory that the Dementors could not steal away, and that provided a bulwark against other memories being stolen."
Ted paused to prepare himself.
"And the third factor was your intense guilt over, in your mind, failing to protect your godson and fulfill your obligations to him. The punitive elements of being imprisoned with Dementors were weakened because, in a real sense, you were already punishing yourself for your perceived failures as a godfather."
"Well that's because I did fail as Harry's godfather!" Sirius snapped. "But I'm free now, so I can make up for that."
"Yes, Sirius," Andi said. "But what you don't understand is that now that you're free and actually able to look after Harry, the fact that he doesn't need you to do so is causing that very devotion to work against you."
Sirius looked at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
She put her hand on his shoulder. "What I'm saying is that whenever you find yourself in a situation where you feel that you've let Harry down or not been there when he needed you, it can trigger a flashback to similar feelings you experienced while you in Azkaban. Muggle Healers recognize a condition they call Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which triggers panic attacks when reminded even indirectly of past trauma. But for wizards, it's worse because your own magic can cause you to physically experience such trauma once more instead of just mentally. At worst, it might cause a total relapse like it did last December when you tried to Apparate and it triggered a nearly fatal flashback to your prior confinement."
Andi looked at him sadly. "I know you want to act as a parental figure to Harry. I certainly wish someone could fulfill that role. But it does Harry no good to bond with you as a father figure only to lose you while he is still in his teens. And I am warning you—that may well happen if you continue to let yourself become overwrought because of Harry's circumstances."
At the top of the stairs, Harry stood leaning against the bannister with his head bowed and the Black Wand clutched in his hand. Silently, he dismissed the Supersensory Charm, and the voices of the Blacks and the Tonkses faded to a distant murmuring.
"It's okay," he thought to himself. "He's just someone else I have to look out for. I saved Amy. I saved Regulus. I can save Sirius. That's what family is for."
Harry turned and made his way to his bedroom but found that he was too wired for sleep, even though he (and Sirius) both had big days ahead of them. Instead of going straight to bed, he sat down at his small writing desk and opened the drawer. Inside, there was an old deck of cards, the same one that Serena Zabini had used to divine his future the night before. As they were leaving the Lestrange Mausoleum the night before, he had idly mentioned to Lady Serena an interest in learning more about Tarot readings, and she'd freely given him the deck.
"I was going to throw them out anyway," she'd said. "I never reuse a deck after it has provided me with a momentous reading. Superstitious of me, I suppose, but what can I say. I am Sicilian."
Serena had assured Harry that the deck was not magical at all. It was, in fact, a common mass-produced Rider-Waite Tarot deck she purchased from a Barnes & Noble bookstore in Manhattan a few years earlier. Despite those assurances, he still regarded it warily. Then, he shrugged at his own hesitation and reached back into the drawer for the copy of Unfogging the Future which Dobby had picked up for him from Flourish & Blotts. He turned to the chapter entitled "Cartomancy for Beginners" and began to read until he finally felt sleepy and retired for the night.
Before finally turning out the lights, he took one last look at the plum-colored Wizengamot robes that Dobby had helpfully left hanging from a hook next to his closet door. He sighed and closed his eyes. The next day would be a busy day indeed.
2 August 1994
The Wizengamot Chamber
"Let Magic itself hear my oath and sanctify it," said Hadrian Remus Black Lord Wilkes in a confident voice. "I stand in unity with the Wizengamot and the families both Noble and Ancient and Noble who are its foundation. Let my magic be bent to our collective purpose and so too the magic of my family and all who come after me lest they be forsworn and suffer expulsion. From the unification of my family magic with that of my peers, let there arise a deeper magic that is greater than the sum of its parts. From this day forward, I hereby submit myself to the will of the Wizengamot as expressed through its majority. I hereby accept the judgment of the will of the Wizengamot as expressed through its laws. I vow to act with the Wizengamot, and when we act as one, so shall we perform miracles. This I swear upon my life and unto the ending of the world. So mote it be!"
"SO MOTE IT BE!" the entire chamber replied in unison, though some with more enthusiasm than others. Harry breathed in deeply in order to combat the lightheadedness he felt. When his godfather swore his oath as Lord Black moments earlier, Harry had felt the same stifling wave of magic that he'd experienced months earlier when Justin Finch-Fletchley swore his own oath as the Prince Heir. It was the product of so many powerful wizards and witches from so many powerful families reaffirming their unity.
But it was nothing compared to what Harry felt when he swore his own oath as Lord of an Ancient and Noble House. For a moment, his head grew dizzy at the sensation of being a part of such incredible magical power. Briefly, Harry even thought he could feel the ley lines that flowed into the building and maintained the enormous magical infrastructure of the Ministry building before heading out again across the land according to the Wizengamot's dictates.
After taking a second to clear his head, Harry retired from the podium and took his place in the Wilkes Seat next to Artie, who shook his hand warmly. Nearby, Sirius Lord Black beamed at his godson, while Lucius Lord Malfoy gave him a respectful nod. Harry tried to avoid looking at some of the other lords and ladies who gave him far colder looks, though he was surprised to see Daphne Greengrass, the Greengrass Heir, sitting with her father, Daniel. Of course, it was not uncommon for Family Heads to allow their Heirs to sit with them, especially during the summer, as a learning experience. In particular, House Greengrass, by tradition, did not rely on Seneschals or proxies, and so Daphne at some point would be expected to learn what her eventual duties as Lady Greengrass would be. What puzzled Harry, however, was the way she kept giving him appraising glances and then leaning in to whisper things to her father.
After Sirius and Harry completed their Oaths of Unity, the Chief Warlock opened the floor up to a special report by Barty Crouch, the Director of the Department of International Cooperation. The venerable diplomat and official began with a terse welcome to Sirius Black to the Wizengamot. Sirius nodded politely but said nothing. Crouch's somewhat tyrannical reign at the DMLE in 1981 was not the only reason for Sirius's false incarceration nor even a major reason, but it certainly didn't help.
"Lords and Ladies, Honored Guests, and Citizens," Crouch began. "In one week's time will begin an event years in the making. The Quidditch World Cup will return to this blessed isle once more!"
Immediately, Crouch's speech was interrupted by tumultuous applause and cheering such that Dumbledore had to repeatedly bang his gavel to restore order. Even Harry found the excitement a bit much, particularly since this was the second speech on the topic today—Ludo Bagman had already talked about the schedule for the World Cup for over an hour, and Harry wondered what Crouch thought he had to add. As it turned out, nothing at all, at least where the World Cup was concerned.
"But—now that the negotiations are finally complete, I can officially announce that the Quidditch World Cup is not the only sporting event scheduled for the coming year! For 1994 will mark the return of a tradition dating back centuries! It is my great pleasure to formally announce to you the recommencement of the Triwizard Tournament!"
This time, the applause was far more perfunctory, as few people present had any idea what the Triwizard Tournament was, and the tepid response visibly annoyed Crouch. He went on to provide an overview of the Tournament's storied, if lurid, history.
At the heart of the Triwizard Tournament was the Goblet of Fire, an ancient and powerful relic from the age of high magic. When the ancient wizard-ruled societies grew weary of constant bloody warfare that left the winners little better off than the losers, the great magical empires of the day resolved to settle their conflicts less destructively, specifically by resolving disputes through trial by individual combat rather than competing armies. To ensure fairness, wizards in the Time of Legends (long before the era of the Hogwarts Founders or even Merlin himself) fashioned the Goblet of Fire. Rather than allow conflicts to lead to ruinous war, the opposing leaders would each submit the names of their greatest warriors to fight on the behalf of their entire empires.
"Once activated," Crouch explained, "the Goblet would select Champions from each side, and those Champions would then take part in competitions devised by the Goblet. The very nature of the Goblet magically ensured that the chosen Champions would be forced to compete to the best of their ability, that those tasked with putting together the Challenges would do so to the Goblet's specifications and without attempting to manipulate the outcome, that those selected as judges would do so fairly, and that the leaders who invoked the Goblet's power would abide by the results of the trial without attempting to cheat. The Goblet of Fire was used to settle wizarding conflicts for untold centuries until the rise of the modern nation-states and the eventual subjugation of wizards to Muggle authorities that made such magical trial by combat disfavored."
As he listened to Crouch's history lesson, Harry's head perked up at Crouch's comments about the "subjugation of wizards to Muggle authorities." It was an interesting insight into the man's political leanings. For someone who was such an outspoken enemy of Voldemort, it was odd to note his apparent anti-Muggle bias. Harry briefly wondered what the man had thought of Grindelwald back in the day.
"By the time of the Norman Conquest and the birth of the Wizengamot, the Goblet of Fire had fallen out of use … until the 13th Century, when the great magical schools of Europe resolved to pit themselves against one another in a spirit of competition. And facilitate it, they chose the Goblet of Fire, which by then had come into the possession of the government of Magical France. After extensive negotiations, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang agreed to terms under which the Goblet would be allowed to select Champions from the best students of each school. These Champions would then compete against one another in three Challenges. This became known as the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and every five years, the best and brightest wizards and witches from across Europe pitted themselves against one another and against the most demanding tasks that the Goblet could devise for them, to prove to each other and to the world which school produced the greatest wizards and witches!"
"Yes, yes," interrupted Lucius Malfoy. "Until that unfortunate business in 1793 when they all died!"
Dumbledore banged his gavel. "Lord Malfoy, your remarks are out of order," he said, even though his expression suggested that he readily agreed with them.
"Then, I formally rise to a point of order," said Malfoy as he stood to address a seething Crouch. "What, other than scholastic bragging rights, is the point of reviving the Tri-Wizard Tournament? How much is it going to cost us? And what steps—if any—will the individuals responsible for this Tournament be taking to prevent any of the best and brightest of British Wizarding youth being brutally killed in what historically been best described as a bloodsport?"
Dumbledore banged his gavel again to restore order. "Lord Malfoy, I understand your concerns, and when this proposal was first brought before me in my capacity as representative to the ICW, I shared them. However, I can reassure you that every step is being taken to prevent the Goblet from assigning any Challenges that might be deemed dangerous. While we will not precisely be able to decide the nature of the Challenges, a blue-ribbon panel of experts will design the challenge parameters which will be fed into the Goblet to ensure that the three tasks, while able to push the Champions to their limits, will not be inherently life-threatening. And certainly nowhere near the danger levels of 1793."
"Moreover," said Ludo Bagman as he rose to be recognized. "While we expect the three Champions to all be legal adults, there will be plenty of activities for students other than the Champions. We're still working out the details, but we plan on an interscholastic dueling competition, an academic decathlon which will test students of all ages on Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and other school subject, and even a number of exhibition Quidditch matches!"
The prospect of more Quidditch seemed to fill Bagman with glee, but Severus Snape, in his capacity as Regent Prince, was less enthralled by the game. He raised his wand to address the Chief Warlock.
"Mr. Bagman said that he expects the Champions to all be legal adults. Can you expand on that? I have no desire to see my ward, a Fourth Year student who is Heir to a Noble House, drawn into this foolishness."
"We're still ironing out the details, Regent Prince," said Dumbledore. "But we will be limiting potential Champions either to legal adults or to upper level students who have parental approval. This is both to eliminate even the slightest chance of danger to any competitors and also to reduce the chance of underage students seeking to enter because they are dazzled by the prospects of winning the tournament, which, aside from significant fame and recognition, will also carry a cash prize of 1000 galleons! In any case, the Champions will be chosen by the Goblet itself based on which students it believes will best be able to compete, and so it is hardly likely to choose an underage competitor."
Meanwhile, back on 4 Privet Drive, one such underage competitor who had been listening to the proceedings on the Wizarding Wireless while working on homework, nearly shot out of his chair.
"Did you hear that, Mum?!" Jim exclaimed. "A thousand galleons!"
"No, Jim," she said without even looking up from the Potioneer's Monthly she was reading.
"But Mum!"
"You're too young, Jim, and your father and I have no intention of signing a permission slip for you to enter into some insane tournament with a history of getting its competitors wounded or killed!"
"But …!"
"No, Jim!" Lily said firmly. "Don't bother asking again!"
Jim stared at his mother for several seconds. Indeed, long enough for Lily to look up from her magazine and take note of his expression.
"… Fine," he said quietly before picking up his books and heading for the door.
"Jim!" the boy's mother called after him. "Don't be that way!"
"What way, Mum?" he said without looking back. "You've made your decision, and my feelings don't enter into it. As usual. I'm going upstairs to get some peace and quiet."
The boy stormed out of the room. Lily sighed and decided not to go after him.
"Let him get it out of his system," she thought to herself. "It's nothing to be worried about anyway."
An hour later, the Wizengamot meeting had finally ended, and Harry, Lucius, and Sirius made their way to the Wilkes Office, where Regulus waited for them in the antechamber in his Archie Goodwin persona. In a few weeks, the antechamber would be a fully furnished office for Harry's personal assistant, which was probably going to be Titus Mitchell. Sirius had taken a liking to Bobby Lattimer, while Titus had been a Slytherin Prefect at the time of Harry's ascension to Prince, so at least that was one less secret he had to worry about protecting. At the moment, however, the antechamber was rather spartan with just a few chairs and, surprisingly, a full-length mirror which had been delivered at Harry's request.
"Are you sure you want to do this today, Harry?" Archie asked. "There's no harm in waiting."
"A preposterous sentiment," Lucius snapped. "Under the circumstances, every hour spent waiting represents an escalating possibility of disaster."
"Oh lay off my brother, Lucy," said Sirius angrily. "He's got a right to his opinion, and I happen to agree with him."
"Which only serves to render his opinion less reliable to me," Lucius drawled. "And as I recall, the last time someone called me 'Lucy' was in 1978. And no one ever found the body."
"Can all of you just shut up and let me concentrate," Harry said irritably. "We're doing this today just like we said we would. We need information, and this is the only lead we've got left. So I'm doing it."
"At least let us come with you, Harry," Sirius implored.
Harry simply shook his head and continued to focus his full attention on his own reflection. After a few seconds, the boy's entire body shuddered. Then, his raven-colored hair suddenly lightened to a stringy brown mop, and his brilliant green eyes turned dark grey. He concentrated even harder, and his brow furrowed from his exertions until, finally, Harry's distinctive lightning bolt scar (the one Reg and Sirius had already forgotten looked like a Sowilo rune) faded away.
Moments later, Harry, who now looked remarkably like his cousin Amaryllis Wilkes somehow transformed into a boy, entered the main office and locked the door behind him. He strolled over to the large oil painting of Erasmus Wilkes, a/k/a the Toymaker, and studied the deceased Death Eater for a moment. Summoning his Gryffindor courage and harnessing it to his Slytherin cunning, Harry reached out to touch the painting with his wand.
"Wake up," he hissed in Parseltongue. As he'd predicted, it took a Parselmouth to awaken the slumbering portrait, and in response, a ripple passed over the surface of the painting. Oddly, the first reaction was to the man's Meerschaum pipe from which bubbles started to flow. Then, Wilkes himself blinked rapidly before quickly jumping up off the fainting couch upon which he'd been reclining.
"Who-Eee!" he shouted with an infectious cheer. "Merlin's Testes! I feel like I've been stuck here for ages! I think my arse has gone completely numb!"
Wilkes giggled loudly in response to his own joke. But then, he noticed the young man standing in front of his painting.
"Why hello, there, young shaver me'lad! I must say that you are in absolutely no sense what I was expecting!" He paused and blew into his Meerschaum pipe again, causing another round of bubbles to emerge.
"So who, dare I ask, are you exactly?!"
Harry lifted his chin defiantly. When he spoke, it was in Parseltongue, and the Toymaker's eyes widened in response.
"My name isss Hadrian Erasssmusss Wilkesss," Harry hissed before switching to English.
"And it's time we talked … Father!"
Next: Meet the Toymaker! Plus, Jim has an unexpected conversation of his own and Harry learns a new spell … much to his allies' alarm.
AN1: Check out the Sinister Man's web presence on the POS wiki, the POS TV Tropes page, and my Discord server (through which you can see advance previews of this story as it is begin written). Also, the Sinister Man would be profoundly grateful if you checked out my P*****n page and supported my original fiction. Patronage is not necessary to get the free POS previews via Discord.
AN2 (What the Sinister Man is reading):
Genius by the Numbers by Lomonaaeren. More accurately, it's one I've read, as the story is complete with just seven chapters. It's a Harry/TMR fic which might not be everyone's cup of tea, but they're both adults and roughly the same age and Voldemort never killed Harry's parents, so it doesn't creep me out as much as most examples of that paring. Anyway, the real reason I'm recommending it is because of its absolutely fascinating take on Arithmancy.
For Want of a Nail by RelenaDuo. On ff.n it's still in Year 2, but on AO3, it's up to Year 4. An oddly delightful crack fic. Technically, it's a WBWL fic, but the twin is a fairly minor character. The fun starts in chapter 2 when, in response to abuse by Vernon, the Scar horcrux wakes up and starts talking. And the Obscurus inside him wakes up and starts growling. Harry names the Obscurus Spot and nicknames Voldemort as "Vol." Things only get crazier from there.
AN3: One of my Discord members suggested that it might be helpful to remind readers of the chapters in which the three True Prophecies in play can be found. The complete 1780 Potter Prophecy can be found in Chapter 125 (DEM #41). Sybyl Trelawney's second Prophecy can be found in Chapter 128 (Dem #44). Sybyl's first Prophecy is, of course, the one from canon that should be well-known to you all.
AN4: Special thanks to my Discord editors: 100beep, BlueWater5, Bob, dragonsandotters, jake3984, kean, Krisni, LFGB, meleryngst, Molly, Mr Yarrow Dread Ellen Ink, Marq, Norégveldi, Priest Of Judgement(Pivosh), Rubric of Ahriman, Sakkiko, and TrendyTreky./ Thanks, guys!
AN4: Vital Statistics: Reviews: 15,823. Followers: 16,695. Favorites: 14,891. Communities: 233. Discord followers: 3962! Go Team POS!