After almost half a million words and over 70 chapters, we're finally going to hear this mysterious Prophecy! We've also passed over 220 followers and almost 200 reviews. Thank you so much for your loyalty and your hunger for this story. I love sharing the tale of the Marauders and can't wait to see how the Prophecy plays out in their lives. Warning: #TeamSean moment in this chapter.

"I need to use the bathroom." I said, rising to my feet on shaky legs and reaching for the crutch. Everyone stood up in a flurry to help.

"I'll take you." Remus offered. "Looks like they'll be tending to Harris for a bit. Bob Jordan just called for an intermission."

"Great," Lily sighed. "The bathrooms will be packed!"

"Not at magical stadiums." Dad told her. "They look small, but they've been enchanted to contain hundreds of loos. Solves the waiting problem, especially for lassies."

"I'll take her." Willow said. "Remus, Lily, why don't you refill on snacks?" She gestured to the empty cartons and baskets.

"I want to come!" Naomi insisted, taking Lily's hand firmly, as if that settled the matter.

"You three go get more food." I told them. "Willow will take me to the restrooms."

"And we'll have some alone time." Dad chuckled. "Just like when I used to play professionally."

Mum turned dark pink. "Walter!"

Dad tugged her braid playfully. "Come on, Le-Le… you remember my practices and games. Besides, how do you think you and Naomi got here, Amber?"

"I think I'm going to vomit." I groaned loudly as we left en masse. I could hear Dad laughing amidst Mum's mortified scolding.

"Are you alright?" Willow asked in a low voice as we hung behind.

"I saw something." I told her quietly.

Willow's expression was grim. "I figured you did. Come. There's things we need to discuss anyway. Dumbledore sent me."

"Sent you? Why?"

Willow led me away from the jostling crowd and into a broom cupboard. She closed the door firmly. Her wand tip ignited, illuminating the small room with an iridescent blue glow. Her scar was more prominent than ever, and I knew my own face was marred and marked as well.

"I was sent to keep an eye on you," Willow said, her voice low in spite of the fact that we were alone. "And to have a chance to talk to you alone after what you've been through. I have news for you."

I rubbed my arms against the chill that swept through me again. "It's not good news, is it?"

Willow sighed. "Good and bad, I suppose."

"Sounds like the usual." I muttered, rubbing my arms. "Shoot."

Willow studied my face. "Before I 'shoot', how are you?"

I regarded her blankly. "What do you mean, 'how are you'?"

Willow raised a scarred brow. "Well, you were attacked by two werewolves, one of which was your best friend. In addition, you've been inside of a hospital and receiving agonizing physical therapy for awhile. Surely, you must be feeling some sort of anxiety, without adding to the fact that you have disturbing visions."

I stared at her, feeling the walls of defense rising in response to her calculated words. Willow gazed back calmly, no sign of animosity or fear in her face. She wasn't afraid of me. She wasn't afraid of the scarred girl, the girl who saw things that even she didn't understand. With a click of understanding, I realized that Willow Smith probably understood me more than anyone else. Even Remus.

"I'm hanging in there, I guess," I said genially, looking away.

"Amber," Willow said gently. "You don't have to be brave for me."

I lifted my eyes to her again, that familiar, scarred face, torn by Bellatrix Lestrange, and found tears filling mine. I dashed them away as I noticed the bites and scratches covering my arms and legs. My whole body had been mutilated, marked by the wolf. People stared at me, no matter where I went. I was an object worthy of display, a blatant and unflinching lesson to those who did not get help in time.

I found myself letting out everything to her. I told her about the nightmares about the werewolf attack, about Angelina's memory haunting me like a vengeance-bent ghost, Sapphira Peverell, Salazar Slytherin's grandson who had been her husband, Peter Pettigrew's voice cursing me with that near-fatal spell, my insecurity and frustration, my jealousy of Lily. I even found myself confessing that I loved Remus more than a friend, and that I hated myself for loving him while loving Sean, her own nephew, at the same time.

"I don't understand any of this." I finished thickly, giving up on trying to wipe away the endless tears. "I didn't ask for any of this. Why me?"

Willow handed me a handkerchief from her robes. I blew into it noisily. She tapped the cloth and it was instantly clean again.

"You probably think I'm such a whiner." I sighed, regaining my composure. "After what you went through, I must sound so spoiled and self-centered." Severus' words still haunted me.

"Not at all." Willow disagreed, looking sad. "I'm sorry that you must carry this burden. But I want you to know that you are not alone."

"Aren't I?" I asked bitterly. "I'm not supposed to learn the answers. I'm just supposed to go on with my life. I mean, it sounds reasonable. But look at me."

"I am." Willow said evenly.

"Maybe you don't understand." I said, getting angry. "Your face is scarred. My entire body is ruined. What boy will ever want this?"

Willow was silent, her green eyes bright with unspoken words of pain and empathy. Deflating, I turned away, filled with shame and anguish.

"Dumbledore wishes for me to mentor you again." Willow said after a long moment. "He has become too busy and involved with the Order to carve out time to teach you. He also thinks you'll be more receptive to me."

I glared at her. "And why's that?"

"Because you and I have more in common. Because he and I both feel that my time is short. We want to make the most of it."

I arched a brow. "What do you mean by that? Are you dying?"

"Not exactly. But you remember what I told you last year: I do not feel that I have quite paid for my sins, especially when it comes to the Death Eaters. No, I believe that Fate has a worthy punishment in store for me, yet to come. Dumbledore and I both sense something big coming. Should something happen to me, I need to ensure that you are well-taught and protected as possible."

The anger evaporated as fear rushed in, cold and powerful like an ocean wave. "Professor, you're going to be fine. You'll probably live to be two hundred years old."

Willow smiled painfully. She looked older than ever. "Not everyone makes it to old age, Amber, as you well know. You are my prodigee, and I will do my best as your mentor to give you all the training I can before my time comes."

Forgetting my own insecurities, I blurted out, "You can't go anywhere, Professor. I need you. You're the only one who understands me."

Willow patted my arm, then drew me into a hug, surprising me more than anything. She held me like Mum did, stroking my back. "I'm sorry that this is happening to you," she said in a thick voice. "I wish I could have done more."

More confused and alarmed than ever, I drew back, searching her face. Tears glittered in her green gaze, but it was the expression of acceptance that hurt more than anything. She had resigned herself to whatever fate was coming, and there was nothing anything or anyone could do to stop it.

"Anyway," Willow said, clearing her throat and becoming my professor once more, "the most important reason why I'm here today is to inform you that Madam Cheek has been found dead."

Cold shock flooded through me like ice. I stared at her, dumbfounded. I remembered a plump black witch with bouncing curls and a foolish naivety that had both annoyed and intrigued me. She had been like some kind of brightly colored tropical bird, flapping her wings and opening her beak too much for her own good. She had also been the one to inform me that Virginia had been a Seer, and that the woman in my dreams and visions had a name: Sapphira Peverell.

"Dead?" I repeated, stunned. "How?"

"Her body was found in her home in London a few days ago. The Dark Mark had been set upon it. Now, since she is one of the only two known living Seers in this generation, this is quite the catastrophe. Goldie wasn't known for her brains, but her ability as a Seer was far and well-known. She made a fortune channeling her ability to See for people for decades."

"Do you think that's why someone killed her?" I asked, my mind racing. "To take her money?"

Willow's eyes hardened. "No. Nothing in her house was taken, except for a rather ordinary object. An old ring."

"An old ring?" I repeated. "Why on earth would someone steal that?" I remembered the old woman and her bright clothes, how each finger was adorned in rings. "Surely she wasn't murdered for that."

Willow swallowed, as if bracing herself for something. "This is top secret, Amber. But as I said: my time is short, and I have complete and full trust in you. Dumbledore has agreed to my request to confide in you, and so I shall. That ring was no ordinary ring. It was once the ring of Salazar Slytherin's. It belonged to the Gaunt family, which died out a few decades ago. Last fall, Goldie was visiting the town of Little Hangleton when she happened upon an old shack behind the road in a cluster of hedges while doing some hiking. Without thinking of any danger, she found the ring and placed it upon her finger. That ring was gone, not found upon her body."

A chill swept through me. "She wasn't killed right away, was she?"

Willow gave me a long, pointed look. "No, she wasn't. She did not die quickly."

I closed my eyes, reading into her words. Goldie had been tortured before her death. "What else?"

"We believe that Lord Voldemort sent Death Eaters to reclaim the ring. We do not know why it is significant to him or where the ring or the Dark Lord is. However, we do believe that they interrogated her before her death about a certain someone."

"Who?" I asked immediately.

Willow looked at me heavily. "About you."

Horrified, I took a step back, bumping into the wall. "Why me? What did she tell them? Professor, am I safe? What… why would they want to know about me? I'm nothing! I'm nobody! I'm just Amber! Just... Amber."

Willow touched a mark on my wrist, a small collection of three dark spots that most people assumed were freckles. "Because of your family heritage, I suppose."

"What do you mean?"

"These aren't just freckles. Each member of your family has them in the same spot, on your father's side."

"Minnie says it's because we are descendants of Nicolas Flamel." I told her. "She says that proves it, along with our genealogy. I always thought it was just rubbish."

"I don't think so." Willow said lightly. "Amber, I know you want to know more, to know why. And I don't blame you for your desire for answers. You're a Ravenclaw; it's natural for you to want to complete a puzzle, to fit each piece into the right spot until you can see the whole picture. But I cannot give you the pieces to the rest of the puzzle. Not yet."

"Why not?" I demanded heatedly. "Professor, I have so many questions, and I think I have the right to know why all of this is happening."

Willow held up a hand for silence. "All you need to know right now is that you are protected."

"Like how I was in the Forbidden Forest?" I shot back angrily, tired of the secrets.

Willow narrowed her eyes. "That happened because of what I said to Mara, when you were in her office with me. It would have been avoided had she listened to my orders and kept you ignorant of certain things."

"Rubbish." I said coldly.

"Is it?" Willow said, her voice dangerously soft. "You are young and woefully ignorant of how certain things work, dear Amber. Do you honestly believe that you alone know all things? That you alone are capable of solving problems? That you alone can turn the tides of this war? Young people are so convinced that they are absolutely right about everything and have no respect for the fact that their teachers and superiors have years more experience than they do and their own well-grounded reasons for how things are. I understand your confusion and frustration, Amber, but if you wish to survive this, then you must learn patience and obedience. There are things that you do not need to know yet. Things that Mara told you caused a chain reaction of events that nearly resulted in your death. It's a miracle that you survived that werewolf attack. Your heart stopped beating, and I'm still not sure how or why it restarted. Yes, you do have a part to play in this game, but not yet. And if you want to defeat the Dark Lord, if you want to avenge your sister and protect your loved ones, then you must put aside your feelings and suppress your ambitions. If you go looking for answers, you will find them. And if you should find them at the wrong time, then events that have happened for centuries, leading up to this very moment in time, will be all for nothing. A prophecy was made foretelling of two outcomes: the ultimate destruction of our world at the hands of evil, or the defeat of the Dark Arts and their players. This game isn't like wizard's chess. This game is a carefully orchestrated series of events that will decide the fate of not just the wizarding world, but all of humanity. You have been given certain abilities and insights in order to do what you must do. We all have a part to play in this game, but your role is far more important than anything you can even imagine. And if you learn the right things at the wrong time, it will cause a devastation to the lives of those living and those yet to come that you cannot even fathom. Stop whining and stop questioning my commands. It's time for you to grow up and to trust me. Do you trust me, Amber?"

Speechless with a hurricane of confusion, hurt, fear, and awe, I gave a single nod. "I trust you."

"Good." Willow said firmly. "You will finish this puzzle in due time. At the right time. Not until then, not until I say so. Do you understand me?"

I nodded. "I understand."

Willow relaxed slightly. She touched my arm again, motherly once more. "Sometimes I see so much of Mara in you, so much of myself in you. I've come to care for you as if you were my own child." She paused, taking in a small breath. "Forgive me for my harshness, Amber, but sometimes I must treat you as if you were a Gryffindor, not a Ravenclaw. It's as if you are two different people sometimes."

A tingle of comprehension raced across my skin. It was gone within seconds, but I held my tongue. The answers would come in the right time. Not my own.

"Now, let's get back to the game," Willow said, smiling at me fondly. "You are only young once. Enjoy your friends, enjoy life."

"Yeah… I guess." I agreed neutrally. I followed her out of the broom closet, no longer using my crutch for support. Her words kept buzzing inside of my skull, like a trapped fly banging itself a glass window in a vain attempt to escape. No matter what I did, I couldn't solve this puzzle on my own. And I knew, with a scowl of frustration, that the one holding the pieces wouldn't give them to me until the right time.

And that right time could be much, much longer than I wanted.

After the game, which was won by a terrific catch from Harris, we met Sean near the exits. He was disappointed that his team had lost, but I wasn't surprised. He had played so badly that I had a hard time believing that he had been the one to teach me how to play Quidditch in the first place.

"I guess you win some and you lose some," Sean said indifferently as he put his arm around my shoulders. I stepped away from him as I caught sight of Anna Noyes, who had walked by us on her way to see her own family and friends. Her gaze caught mine briefly and then skittered away. I watched her go with a feeling of dislike and warning.

"I'm hungry!" Naomi whined as Dad and Sean talked about the game. "Can we go get something to eat, please?"

"There's a great little place in Bellinghall," Mum said. "Not my own bakery, of course, but it's a sandwich and soup shop. They close late during the summer."

"Let's go!" Naomi shouted, hugging Lily. "And I get to sit with Lily."

"Of course." Lily laughed, ruffling Naomi's dark hair. "I'd be happy to babysit if you ever need a break, Amber."

"That would be nice." I said lightly, still battered from Willow's verbal lashing and fighting the anger at Sean.

"Great!" Mum said, smiling. "So we'll all head over there now."

I followed the rest of our group without my crutch. My leg protested, but I ignored it. Sean tried to slip his hand into mine, but I pulled away, putting several feet between us. He frowned and followed me.

"What's wrong, Amber?" Sean asked, dropping his voice so my family wouldn't hear.

"Nothing." I said shortly, studying the back of Remus and Lily, who had Naomi between them. Each held one of her hands and swung her into the air every few seconds, to her delight. With a pang, I realized how good they would be as parents, how great they were together already. I struggled to hold my temper and tears in check.

"Something's bothering you." Sean insisted.

"I don't want to talk about it right now." I said shortly, glaring at him. "Just drop it, alright?"

But Sean wasn't going to drop it. As soon as we arrived in Bellinghall, he pulled me aside to the empty train platform. He folded his arms, looking down at me with a firm expression. I crossed my own arms and glared back.

"Well?" Sean prompted. "Aren't you going to tell me what this is about?"

A violent surge of dislike filled my veins. I knew the temper of the wolf was within me, and I fought hard to control it. "You have to ask?"

Sean lifted his brows. "Is this about me not seeing you enough this summer? Amber, I told you: I have Quidditch, and I have a second job as a spy for the Order. I'm sure Mara has told you."

"Sounds like complete hippogriff dung to me." I snapped.

"It's not." Sean insisted, his gray eyes full of concern. "What's really bothering you?"

I rolled my eyes, giving a harsh, bark-like laugh without a trace of humor. "How about why you don't have enough time to spend with me, but you have time for Anna Noyes?"

A pink hue crept into his face at my words. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." I snapped. "You two used to date. I remember. You took her to the Hufflepuff Ball instead of me."

"Because you turned me down!" Sean reminded me hotly. "Amber, what's the matter? Why are you so jealous?"

"Maybe because I wonder if my boyfriend even cares about me!" I shouted. A few people walking by looked over in alarm. Sean's face hardened.

"How can you even say that to me?" He demanded. "You know that I love you!"

"You have a funny way of showing it." I spat.

"I think you're feeling a little insecure." Sean decided. "I think you've been through a lot. Between being attacked by Remus and Greyback, and other things."

"What do you mean by that?" I said angrily. "Do you think that maybe this was a mistake?"

Sean stared at me. "A mistake?"

"Yeah, a mistake. Us. Do you think that we should have just decided not to date? I'm too young for you, remember? And you're too old. You don't have enough time for me. You don't even know me."

I was walking on dangerous ground, and I knew it. I was so angry with him and so frustrated with my life that I didn't care. If a break-up was coming, then let it come. I was tired of the games.

"Amber, you need to calm down." Sean said firmly.

"Calm down?" I repeated, enraged. "Calm DOWN? You filthy hypocrite! You hate Remus, even now, when I'm in a relationship with you and not him! You think that I need to calm down, but you're never around to see me calm, are you? I think we're done here, Sean. I don't like you. I don't like that you keep secrets from me or that you don't spend enough time with me. It's over."

The rage of the wolf burned recklessly within me. I wheeled around on my feet so I wouldn't have to see the shocked hurt on his face. Good. Let him feel it for once.

Sean grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him roughly. "Let go of me!" I snarled. "I said let go!"

But Sean wasn't listening. He kissed me hard, with the same devastating effect it had had in the hospital when he had told me how much he loved me, in spite of my disfiguring scars. My fury and violence changed into passion and remorse. I kissed him back, pouring out my frustration and anger into him. He wasn't Remus, but it didn't matter. Not at that moment. He pushed me against the wall, ignoring my yelp of pain, and dug his fingers into my hair.

After a few minutes, he released me. He stepped back, breathing hard, his face flushed and his eyes wild and bright. I knew I must have looked the same, even worse, since my hair was probably wilder from his hands. Inside, I felt a strangely animalistic satisfaction at my outburst, and at his response. He had taken the brunt of my anger, and instead of letting me go like Remus had, he had taken me back and reminded me of how deeply he felt about me.

"I'm not letting you go that easily, Amber Harkstone." Sean said in a rough voice. "Fight and scream all you want. But I'm in love with you, and I'm not playing games. And I don't give up easily."

Caught up in the cocktail of powerful emotions, I could only nod, trying to catch my breath. Sean took my hand and walked back with me into the warm, bright cafe, and this time, I walked so close to him that we brushed. Remus glanced up, his face darkening at my expression. A muscle jerked in his cheek as he looked down at the table, his hands clenched.

You had your chance, Remus, I thought sadly. Maybe now you'll know how I felt when you were with Angelina.

We sat down together. Everyone was chattering at once as the waitress took our orders and handed out beverages. I realized it was the same waitress who had worked here two summers ago when I had first kissed Remus. In fact, if it hadn't been for her, I might not have done it at all. Her shameless audacity to flirt with Remus had sparked the jealousy that had pushed me to act upon my feelings down by the river. The same river, in fact, where Remus, Lily, Naomi and I had gone swimming.

Enough, Amber. I thought firmly. How can you even think about that kiss with Remus after what you just did with Sean? There's a three-letter word for girls like you that starts with an "H" and ends with "e".

Biting my lip, I took a long drink of water. Sean squeezed my hand as he talked animatedly with Dad about the game. But even as I felt Sean's touch, I thought about Remus and I and the only kiss we'd ever shared. And how no matter how many times Sean and I were together, it could never measure up to how that one short kiss with Remus had changed my life.

Admit it, the dry voice cajoled inside of my mind, you love Remus.

I do love him. I thought defensively. As a brother.

Remus and I made eye contact over the table. It was only for a brief moment, but I felt a jolt of recognition race through me like lightning. The same electric brightness in his green eyes matched the golden-brown hue in my eyes. It was as if an animalistic fire burned behind our eyes, now that we had been attacked by werewolves. Both of us bore the mark of the wolf.

Liar. The voice hissed as I looked away. And no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, I knew I had to resign myself to the fate that even though I loved Sean, I loved Remus.

Worst of all, I knew who I loved more, and I couldn't even admit it to myself.

The rest of the summer passed by in a fast-paced routine of physical therapy, Quidditch practice with Naomi and Dad, helping Mum in the bakery, and spending what time I had left over with Sean. Our fight seemed to have had some kind of epiphany upon him: he now prioritized spending time with me, and it seemed that almost every afternoon or evening he Apparated to Bellinghall to be with me. During the full moon, I was locked in the basement, which had been sealed off. Naomi was sent away to my grandparents house so she wouldn't have to hear the hellish noises that I made. The morning after, Dad and Mum did not speak about what I had said and done, but their pale, strained faces did all the talking. Burning with shame and horror, I hardly spoke as I packed my belongings in preparation for the return to Hogwarts. Instead of traveling to London and boarding at King's Cross Station, Dumbledore had arranged for a quick stop in Bellinghall so that I wouldn't have to endure a full day's ride on a train. Doctor Hastings had insisted.

In a way, I was relieved that I wouldn't have to sit with my friends for a solid six-hour ride. Lily and I were on awkward terms, and the situation with Remus was even worse. My stomach clenched painfully in the midst of folding up a set of robes. I knew that people changed while at school. It was a normal and inevitable part of growing up. I could already see how much James had grown up. Sirius had a ways to go (and James did as well). Peter was another story. Maybe he was under the Imperius Curse, but something boded ill about him.

But worst of all was the dawning realization that some friends did not stay friends. As we grew and developed into different people, it was natural for us to drift apart and forge new friendships. "Birds of a feather flock together," Mum had chirped countless times during my childhood. And how true that was.

What would happen if Lily and Remus started dating? Even if they didn't, I wasn't sure how much longer Remus and I could dance around the fact that we clearly loved each other more than just friends did. And Lily. I was jealous of her, and for whatever reason, she seemed to be growing into a vain phase, like Angelina had. Was I going to lose her forever? Would I lose Remus? And what if Sean and I broke up?

I took a steadying breath to attempt to calm my nerves. Adding to the burden of my friendships, there was the contamination of lycanthropy that flowed through my veins and had infected every cell in my body. It was a part of my DNA now. For the rest of my life, I would not only carry the physical scars, but the unseen scars, too. My very cells were imprinted with it.

Even worse to all of this was the looming threat of the mysterious prophecy Willow and Mara talked about. What part did I have to play in it? Why did Virginia die of her illness? What was the story behind the strange necklace I always wore? And my visions? How come Sapphira Peverell and her late husband haunted me, even now?

I was entering my fifth year. That meant O.W.L.S. at the end of the year, which would determine my future at not only Hogwarts, but in the wizarding world outside of school. Would I play Quidditch like Sean and Mara? Or would I do something else? Like work with dragons?

A steady throbbing pulsated between my eyes. I was exhausted from my long night as a monster and wanted to sleep. But the train would be here tomorrow afternoon, and I didn't want to worry about packing at the last minute.

My body felt bruised, my mind battered. After I finished packing, I flopped down on my bed, even though it was only just noon, and fell asleep. I wanted to escape my overwhelming reality, but found myself plunging back into the murky waters of visions and nightmares.

It was as if I had been expecting it: I was no longer in control of my body or my mind. Once again, I was the silent observer as my vision took me along for the almost-routine experience. Tonight, I was back in the graveyard, standing by the gravestone of Sapphira Peverell. It was like I had hit the resume button on a paused movie. The wings imprinted on the headstone glowed in a pale green outline, and I felt myself being spirited away to a forest many miles away from Godric's Hollow. I was deep within a black wood, which I knew to be the Forbidden Forest. I flew through the trees on silent wings. I could see everything, even though it was clearly very late at night. As I had had in my sleepwalking last year, I could see. Somehow, I had night vision.

The world was gray-and-purple as I flew through the trunks of the trees, finally coming to perch upon the crenellated top of a long, tall stone fence. Wild, dead-looking trees grew around it, their bark a sickly pale as their branches reached up to the indifferently black sky. These trees were oak, willow, and yew. They weren't the study pines that thrived on the acidic soil of the Forbidden Forest. These trees craved fresh air and sunlight, neither of which were abundant this deep in the wood.

I made my way over to a looming black iron gate. A crumbling brick path overgrown with poisonous weeds passed underneath it and lead to a black, abandoned manor. It looked like an ugly face grimacing grotesquely at me as I fluttered on silent wings to the pathway. Around me, choking vines grew up along both the stone fence and into the evil-looking manor. It looked like a miniature castle, and the many windows gave me the unpleasant sensation of being watched by some unseen evil.

Unable to control my body, I padded up the broken stone steps, past glaring gargoyles with their frozen faces fixed in leers and snarls. Nearly every window was broken. The place had an eerie aura of dereliction, but somehow, I knew it wasn't completely abandoned. Someone, or something, dwelled inside, like a vampire concealed within a coffin.

A faint shimmering light engulfed me, and I was no longer the winged animal. I was human again. But I wasn't covered in marks and scars. My skin was pale, but my hair was white-blonde. I knew that I was Sapphira Peverell once more.

I hissed at the door, and the snake upon it moved in an spiraling circle. The massive nail-studded door creaked open. Entering without fear, I stepped inside the manor. It had the overwhelming stench of a charnel-house, and I gagged on the foul air. I wandered in each room, my body giving off some sort of faint blue iridescence that somehow repelled whatever malevolent force permeated the manor. I visited each room. There was a large basement, many bedrooms and just as many bathrooms, a laboratory, a huge library, gym, sauna, dining room, kitchen, lounge, and even a room filled with portraits. I stared up at the grandest portrait within the room. A sallow-faced man with olive skin and black, soulless eyes stared down at me in disdain and arrogance. The painting was ancient, but still moved slowly, as if time had made the subject tired and weary. But the narrowed eyes followed me balefully as I looked at each face in turn, all bearing the same arrogance and affluence of the largest portrait. Beneath each portrait was a name engraved upon a golden plaque. Salazar Slytherin was the name of the biggest portrait. Directly beneath him was a man who could have been his brother, but was probably his son. His name was Salviatus Slytherin, and his presumed sister, Lilith Slytherin. Beneath Salviatus was a strikingly handsome and familiar face: Salvatore Slytherin. Sapphira's vampire husband.

"You will not find what you seek here, trespasser," a cruel-faced woman named 'Gormlaith Gaunt", her Irish accent thick.

"I seek not you," my voice - Sapphira's voice - said calmly. "I seek someone much older and much cleverer, and much more valuable."

There was a cry of collective outrage from the gallery of portraits. Instead of speaking English, they all began to hiss and snarl in that guttural language of snakes. I watched them calmly, their insults and threats as clear as my mother tongue.

"I don't fear you," I hissed in response. The shock was so powerful that each portrait fell silent at once.

"How is a filthy peasant able to speak the sacred language of Parselmouth?" a witch named Isolt Sayre said, stunned and scandalized. "The blood of Salazar Slytherin does not run in her putrid veins!"

I held up my left hand, a simple ring glinting in the shimmering light around me. "I am family. Not by blood, but by marriage."

As the room full of portraits exploded into a cacophony of mad fury, I departed. The final room was on the west side of the manor, and it was the most polluted and evil of all.

I entered without hesitation, a mere passenger on this journey, like when I would do Side-Along Apparition with Sean or Willow. A dim, sickly-green light glowed faintly from a half-moon shaped balcony at the end of the large room, which was filled with devastation and the remnants of violence. The light came from a Pensieve-shaped object. Within the poisonous-green liquid was a simple necklace. The same necklace that I wore in my waking hours.

Before I could reach down and touch the basin, a low voice growled, "You should never have come here. You will pay for your trespassing, phantom."

Slowly, I turned and faced the gleaming pair of scarlet eyes in the inky blackness. I stood on the far side of the basin, my back to the moonlight streaming into the gloomy darkness.

"Your eyes are as red as your hands," I replied, the light shimmering more brightly around me. The eyes narrowed. "How far you have fallen, accursed Slytherin. Your legacy soaks with the blood of your victims."

"I told you never to come here!" The monster snarled, lunging out from the blanket of darkness. The hideous creature was reptilian, its scaly hide black as the soil within the Forbidden Forest, its long tail swaying ominously behind it. The cruel talon-like claws flexed as it towered high above me, a black cape swaying like a pair of great wings beneath its arms. The long snout curled back its lips, revealing a razor-sharp stockade of fangs, dripping with what must have been venomous saliva.

"I have come with a warning," my voice said calmly, a stark contrast to the rising inferno of fury raging inside of the evil creature across the basin from me. The green light reflected in its face, no trace of humanity in it, the language it spoke so harshly the language of snakes: Parseltongue. "I have come to warn you to abandon this quest. I have come to warn you that you must turn away from this reckless evil. Repent from your Dark Arts. Come back to the light. Come back, before it's too late."

The creature laughed, a spine-tingling sound of hellish origins. "You have no power here, Sapphira Peverell. You are no more than a phantom. Your powers died with you, long ago in the valley of Bellinghall."

And then the words came from me. The sound that came from my lips wasn't my voice. It was the combined chorus of a hundred, of a thousand souls, speaking at once in a quietly almighty proclamation:

"Beware, O Snake…! For there shall be two… one born of fire, another of sky… they will hold the powers of Death in their hands… though one will perish by water, neither can die while the other survives… Lion, eagle, badger, and snake have broken apart... but what was mended by the union of Slytherin's Heir and the Mistress of Death was torn asunder by evil… for this reason, the Phoenix shall be reborn from the ashes of death... the end of the Four draws near, and Four must become one to battle the darkness that lasts forever… for lo, just as two became one, for fire and sky alone can save our world… The Phoenix approaches to devour the Snake… Beware, O Snake! The Phoenix approaches!"

The creature's furious red gaze turned fearful as the low cadence of voices burst into a powerful crescendo. Backing away, it attempted to shield its maw with its arms and cape, but the iridescent blue light overpowered the green hue cast by the basin, and obliterated the dense darkness with its powerful light. The beast screamed with hopeless rage and fear, and as the blinding light pierced through every dark and hidden place in the manor, there was a mass exodus of fleeing inhabitants of the house. Frogs, centipedes, bats, serpents, spiders, crows, and worse fled from the scalding light, as pure and unadulterated as sunshine.

"Get out!" The creature shrieked desperately, swinging wildly in an attempt to dispel Sapphira. "GET OUT!"

"You have been warned…" Sapphira whispered, as the light faded and I left on soft wings. The creature gave another roar of violent rage, and as I flew away from the reaching trees and into the moonlight, I blinked.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in my bed, back in Bellinghall. The purplish darkness in the room told me that the sun had long since set. I clutched the necklace upon my chest, which was hot to the touch and glowing. Shaking and bathed in a cold sweat, I looked outside of the window. Just beyond the black ridge of the mountains, a crescent moon rose slowly into the sky, the same moon I had just seen in my dream.

Somewhere, many miles away, I knew that evil beast was still screaming in his lair. And that this was more than just a vision: I had been present while something had taken place in real-time.

I had barely registered this fact when something even more alarming happened: a shimmering light filled my room, and instead of a marked and scarred human being, I was now within a winged and feathered body. I stared in utter disbelief at the reflection of my vanity mirror, reflecting the small golden-brown griffin now sitting in my bed.

After three years, in the wake of my most terrifying vision yet, it had finally happened: I was a fully-fledged Animagus.