Chapter Fourteen

Terrors of the Mind and Body

James was convinced his son was going to give him a heart attack.

He had carefully laid Harry on the couch while Lily swathed him in a blanket. James looked over to where Sirius was cradling Regulus in his arms after both of their breakdowns. Minerva and Augusta were talking quietly, sitting in armchairs in the far side of the room. The other three Longbottoms had just reentered the room, eyes looked red-rimmed and incredibly happy.

"We're going down to the infirmary," Lily said loudly, announcing to the room. Sirius looked like he wanted to protest and Alice looked affronted. Lily looked around, giving everyone her infamous evil eye. "You will comply." She hissed menacingly, making Alice and Sirius shut their mouths with an audible click. Lily snapped her fingers and Daisy the house-elf appeared. "Take us to the infirmary, please, Daisy," Lily smiled. Daisy nodded and snapped her fingers, and they were instantly shoved down tubes; elf apparation or not, it was all the same.

The infirmary was almost the same as the infirmary in Potter Bunker, except smaller and built more for long-term use. There were white marble floors, swirled and flecked with gray, and high ceilings that made the room feel open and airy. There were about ten beds, each queen-sized with an oak frame and warm, white bedding and scarlet duvets. There was a table on the side of each bed, stacked with healing equipment along with two scarlet armchairs.

James dazedly maneuvered over to one of the beds, laying Harry gently on the bed and lying down next to him, encircling his arms around Harry and burying his face in his messy hair, unwilling to let his son go.

"We came to close to losing you, fawn," James whispered. "I promise you, that will change." Was his last lucid thought before he drifted to sleep.

Lily brushed a lock of red hair out of her face. She smiled. She loved being a Healer; this was how she helped her family. Granted there were some…concerning things. Things she was certain could only be done by one Albus Dumbledore. Fury welled inside of her, but she forcefully pushed it down. That was how you made mistakes as a Healer. No emotion; fear, concern, or anger can ever rule you. Her teacher had drilled into her mind. It only makes mistakes.

That had been a hard lesson for her to learn. Lily's fiery temperament made her very passionate. She was quick to anger and quick to cool; and dealing with those emotions in the field had become almost routine. She went over her mental catalogue again:

Myself: tired, sore from lack of muscle use.

James: tired, sore from lack of muscle use.

Alice: hungry, thirsty, emotionally strained, sore from lack of muscle use.

Frank: hungry, thirsty, sore from lack of muscle use.

Sirius: severely malnourished, emotionally strained, mentally unstable.

Regulus: traces of poison (Drink of Despair?), emotionally strained, sore from lack of muscle use, excess water in lungs.

Remus: hungry, tired.

Minerva: Healthy.

Augusta: Healthy.

Lily grimaced. Lily had given Alice a Calming Draught, and that was about all she needed to do as Regulus and Sirius's were by far the worst injuries, but fixable. She managed to feed Sirius some nourishment potions, which he would have to continue to take for three months to renew thirteen years worth of malnourishment. Lily also fed him a calming potion to help with his emotions, and had Sirius put down his Occulmency barriers to help with his mentality.

Lily had been a Mind Healer as well as a regular Healer. To be a Mind Healer required a refined form of Legilimency, which she had practiced years on cultivating. Mind Healers were used to calm down mentally unstable people and occasionally heal them; depending on how bad their instability was. It was also used on criminals returning from Azkaban (not that there were many) and war veterans.

Sirius had put up a fight, though. He insisted that he was perfectly fine, but relented when Lily glared and promised him a new broom along with pancakes. Sirius'ss mind was a mess, but it was a simple procedure. Lily sorted through his memories, placing the worst ones into boxes and captured the ones that had been 'flying around' his mind. She also soothed the effects some of the memories had on him, and well as the effects of the Dementors, bringing back the memories - the happy ones - the Dementors had repressed.

Lily had been shaking for some time after that. Sirius's memories had been gruesome and scary and…sad. Very sad. She did not pry, but she now knew there was more going on with his family than his mother's hateful words.

Lily tried not to think about it. Sirius would not respond well to any comforting, and she knew, somehow, the only one who could help him heal was Regulus.

Regulus' was easier than Sirius's, but more alarming. Lily wanted to ask where Regulus had been, but she knew the properties of the Drink of Despair. It made you relive your worst memories, thoughts, and emotions. No wonder he was emotionally strained, Lily thought sadly. No one should ever have to go through that. She was honestly surprised he wasn't insane.

She drained the rest of the potion from his body, along with the excess water from his lungs. Lily also gave him a Dreamless Sleep Potion for when he was to go to sleep, concerned about the nightmares he might have. While Lily knew Regulus had been a Death Eater, she had seen the pain in his eyes. He was distraught and heartbroken. She was remembered that Sirius got a missive saying that Regulus had turned to traitor and had been killed. So many people who had been killed or incarcerated that came back to life, it wasn't even fazing her anymore.

Lily checked off the last two names on the checklist and shivered. While not the most harmful, they were lethal in their own rights and downright disturbing.

Harry: overexerted, healing from past injuries, traces of basilisk venom, phoenix tears, Polyjuice Potion, Cruciatus Curse, Killing Curse, Imperius Curse; compulsion charms, memory charms, magic bindings, bindings on magical gifts.

Neville: emotionally strained, traces of Cruciatus Curse, Blood-Boiling Curse, Bone-Breaking Curse; memory charms, compulsion charms, magic bindings, bindings on magical gifts.

Lily had been distraught and furious. There was only one person who had the audacity to put such restrictions on someone and let people go through such trauma. And I will see to it myself if I have to that you burn in hell, where you belong, Albus Dumbledore. And in Lily Potter's mind, Dumbledore had been responsible for all of those poisons, curses, and charms.

She had quickly suppressed her emotions and got to work.

On Harry, she drained the lasting effects from the Cruciatus, Killing, and Imperius curses and traces of Polyjuice Potion. Lily hadn't been able to remove the phoenix tears or basilisk venom, as both had fused with his blood along with some of the Polyjuice Potion. The phoenix tears sped up his healing rate, and the basilisk venom made his blood a powerful toxin when ingested or touched. Whoever Harry had been impersonating was seriously strong, and Harry now had strength definitely not proportionate to his current size. She removed the compulsion charms, but knew better than to remove the memory charms or bindings. Lily would ask for her son's consent to remove them, and also talk to the other adults about the bindings and memory charms. With Neville, she removed the traces of curses, and gave him a Calming Draught. It would do to talk to Neville and the other adults Neville's about the memory charms and bindings, also.

Lily sighed contentedly and looked around at everyone. She felt at ease, now that she knew all of her family and friends were healthy. She looked around carefully. Harry was asleep on the bed closest to Lily, his head on James' shoulder as he lay next to Harry, as he spoke quietly to Minerva who sat in an armchair at their bedside.

Neville was asleep, too, worn out by the day's events, his head on Alice's lap, who was curled next to him, while Frank lay on the other side, talking to his mother, Augusta, who filled him in on events while Alice listened attentively. Sirius, Remus, and Regulus were conversing gravely; Sirius and Regulus lying in beds while Remus sat between them.

Lily cleared her throat, "I've had house-elves all prepare rooms for you, I think we should all go to bed, and we can tell Harry and Neville in the morning. Speaking of Harry and Neville," she held out the parchment to James where she had written the boys' maladies, "Pass that around."

James' face froze in place as he read over the list and wordlessly passed it to Minerva, his arms tightening around Harry. Various states of shock and anger rippled through everyone as the looked over the list.

"Dumbledore has gone to far," Minerva growled out in her Scottish brogue. "How dare he!"

"To children," Regulus shook his head. He then sneered, "Or should I say pawns?"

"Meddling old goat," Augusta roared. "He'll pay! Depriving children of their abilities!"

Frank shut his eyes tightly, face bright red. He looked like was going to yell numerous expletives, when a golden light appeared and a note fluttered down.

"Don't touch it!" Regulus, Minerva, Augusta, Frank, and Alice yelped. "Ours was a portkey!"

But as soon as they said it, the note started to speak, like a Howler. But instead of yelling, a man's voice spoke in a docile tone,

"My friends, I bear you no ill-will. It was I, GFW, who brought you back to life or sanity, and into Potter Castle." GFW spoke blandly. "I am writing you from the future, where several things have now come to light. I deemed bringing you back and changing history the best course of action. I will explain more later, when you adjourn with Heir Potter and Heir Longbottom. I tell you now; I am friend, not foe. Until then, GFW."

The letter cut off, dissolving into golden light, and everyone stood in shocked silence.

"Who—who?" asked Lily in a shaky voice. "How?"

"Not who or how," Remus shook his head. "The question is, why?"

"And should we trust them?" Frank added.

Silence once again permeated the infirmary.

"He said he would write again," Alice pointed out, "I think we should go up to our rooms. We have a long…" she glanced at Neville and Harry. "…talk tomorrow. And it may not go as well as we hope."

Lily nodded, shifting her mind and trying to focus only on bedtime-related matters and said, "Alice, Frank, Augusta, Minerva, Sirius, and Remus, you'll all be in the same room as last time. Neville'll be in the north room, and Regulus' your room is next to Sirius'ss. He can help you find it. Can you all find your way?" she asked a bit unnecessarily. Lily was trying to sooth her nerves and concentrate on other things.

Everyone murmured agreement, and they departed their separate ways.

"Harry, darling, wake up," came a voice, echoing through Harry's mind, bleary and black with slumber. Harry groaned and rolled over on his back, encountering a very soft surface. Very soft…? Where was he again?

Harry blinked his eyes open, hoping to get a clue. Everything was blurry, he didn't have his glasses on, but he could already see sunlight streaming from a far corner of a red and gold room. Hogwarts, maybe? But that didn't make sense. It was summer; he was supposed to be at the Dursleys.

Urgh. He was too tired for this. Harry rolled back over on his stomach, trying to block the sun from view. Someone shook his shoulder. Harry groaned in response.

"Bud, get up, it's time for breakfast." The voice said patiently. Ah, Mum. Harry jerked, remembering everything. How many times was he going to do this? He questioned himself, wondering if it was going to be a daily ritual of waking up and remembering his parents were, indeed, alive.

Harry felt a thrill shoot through his body at the recognition his parents loved him. It was still strange, the feeling of having a mum or dad say randomly, "I love you," and the experience was so novel to Harry he felt that even if he was grounded he'd have a smile on his face.

Another strange thing was the way that they touched him. Harry was used to slaps or punches, and he had immediately acted on the defense whenever someone used to touch him: Hermione or Mrs. Weasley hugging him, Madame Pomfrey checking his pulse, or one of his Quidditch teammates patting him on the back. But, with Lily and James, they would hug him and hold his hand and it was with strange feeling of ease that he let them.

Or carry him to the infirmary; Harry recalled the day before with embarrassment. He had stirred several times after he blacked out—he refused to say fainted, maybe it was male pride, but by Godric, that was so girly—and vaguely recalled his father holding him and his mother running tests over him.

"Harry," Lily said again, with infinitive patience in her voice. "Breakfast," she shook his shoulder gently.

Harry acted instinctively, grabbing a pillow and forcing it over his head.

"G'way, Mum. Sl'p now. E't l'tr," his voice groggy and muffled.

Harry could hear Lily laughing and, with the woosh of a wand his pillow went flying off his head.

Harry groaned in response and thumped his head against the mattress.

"Get up now, bud, or Uncle Sirius'll start the waterworks for making him wait for his precious food," she teased.

"We couldn't have that, now could we?" Harry moaned, sitting up in bed. Harry was vaguely surprised to find himself in his room (well, tower. It was strange to Harry to even have a room - much less a tower - willingly given to him and made to be filled with whatever he wanted and well…his own). He had expected to find himself in the infirmary again.

His room was filtered with sunlight shining in from the owlery, lighting up the deep, rich colors. Harry saw his school trunk along with his Firebolt, broomstick servicing kit, schoolbooks, parchment, and ink he had snuck up from the cupboard under the stairs all piled neatly at the foot of his bed, waiting for him to put them away.

His mother was sitting on the side of his bed, her crimson red hair in a messy ponytail and dark circles under her eyes. A fleecy, scarlet dressing gown was tied over top of a paisley nightgown and her wand stuck out of her pocket. She held a cup of coffee loosely in her hand, and by her yawning, it was obvious she was still waking up.

"We had the elves bring your personal items," his mum said, following his gaze, "You can put them away later, but now it's time for breakfast." She stood and said, mock-sternly, "The first rule of this household, young Harlow, is that all breakfasts taste the best in your pajamas. I expect you to be seated at the breakfast table looking suitably tired and ruffled, young man," she waggled a finger at him and Harry laughed. He certainly liked the rules of this household. Lily kissed the top of his head and handed him a blue dressing gown to put on top of his bright-yellow pajamas.

Harry looked down at his pajamas. "I look like a bloody canary!" he exclaimed, seeing this clearly even through his sleepy state.

"Language, young man," Lily scowled, and Harry waited for the slap to come, his sleepiness instantly fading as he went alert. Instead, his mother looked at him, and noticing his look, wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. Harry was particularly bewildered by this turn of events, tensing instinctively.

When Lily let go, she ruffled his hair and said quietly to Harry, "Bud, your father, uncles, and I do not believe in corporal punishment. We would never hit you or hurt you, physically, mentally, or emotionally. We would not abuse you, like those monsters did," Lily growled out the word. "If you were to ever get in trouble, we would all sit down and have a long talk about what you did wrong. And then, if you were in need of punishment, we would take away privileges such as flying or not being able to write to your friends for a couple of days." Lily pushed Harry's chin up, who was looking at the floor, studiously avoiding her gaze. "Bud, do you believe me that we would never hurt you?" she asked quietly.

Harry looked into his mother's eyes. He had instantly wanted to protest that he never thought they would hurt him, but that was untrue. He had thought they might think of doing what the Dursleys had done (not to that extent). Harry had been lied to in a lot of his life, and never knew who or what to believe. He trusted very few, and, as he looked into his mother's eyes that radiated only love and comfort, he believed, for the first time, in the fantasy that his parents loved him and would come to take him away from all worries and fears.

"Yes," he whispered. "I do." Many things unsaid went into that, and for the first time in his life, Harry leaned in and hugged someone. It was a very strange but very warm feeling that filled his heart and Lily's eyes with tears, knowing she had finally gained her son's trust.

Lily pulled back and smiled at her son. "Time for breakfast, then?" she asked cheerily, and he smiled as they made their way out the corridor together. Harry's drowsiness set in again, and he blinked as he studied his mother's feet, trying to understand what he saw.

"Mum?" he asked suddenly, "Are those—are those doe slippers?"

Lily patted Harry's arm. "The Marauders have a bit of an obsession, dear."

James had not slept well.

Nightmares plagued him—he was used to nightmares from the aftermath of battles, or his fears seeping into his unconsciousness, but this was different. Scenes of battle and spells had drifted through his mind, like a skipping record. Nothing made sense, they were convoluted and confusing, and the only faces he could make out through the sea of bewildering images were Harry and Neville. One or both of them were featured in every image and scene. James' mind drifted back, replaying the painful images of last night…

A strange, golden seal that featured the letters 'MA' and various animals circling it drifted in the night sky over a burning building… Harry, Neville, and six others looked over the carnage…

Neville and Harry, racing through woods at twilight…

A dark room, the only light was flying spells and the single sound that permeated the air was the continuous screaming of, "Crucio!" and "Avada Kedavra!"… Harry's screams suddenly pierced the air…

An ancient house with peeling wallpaper and dusty floors… Harry speaking to a portrait of an old woman, and Neville smirking in the background…

A vault in Gringotts, filled with various treasures…Harry and Neville triumphantly holding a small, golden cup…

A pub in Hogsmeade—the Hog's Head—packed with students, Neville, Harry, two redheads, a black boy, and a blonde girl all standing in the front of the room…

A stone chamber with cavernous ceilings, and a statue of a monkey-ish faced man peering unseeingly through the green gloom…Harry and Neville, standing in front of the corpse of a huge snake…

An empty hallway in Hogwarts…Harry pressed a hand against a wall, looking each way for intruders and hissed a password…

Harry, underwater, swimming and fighting his way through plants and creatures, legs and arms oddly fish-like; gills on his throat…

Harry in the graveyard again, and Voldemort triumphantly hissing, "Avada Kedavra!"

"NOO!" James had sat bolted upright in bed, the only thing that kept Lily still sleeping next to him was the silencing wards he had put up. James tried to calm his breathing, which was coming fast and erratic, and his heart raced like he just won a Quidditch match. He shut his eyes.

"They're dreams, just dreams," he told himself. "Calm down," he said firmly.

Just then, a soft, muted golden light filled the air and a letter fluttered down.

"GFW, again?" James asked, happy for the distraction. He pondered waking up Lily, but on the letter, which was folded, was written, Lord Jameson Potter. Hesitantly, snatching his wand from the bedside table, he carefully opened the letter:

Lord Jameson,

At this point in time, you have been suffering strange nightmares every time you go to sleep. I am afraid I am the cause for that. Unlike Dumbledore, I will tell you the cause for your unnecessary suffering.

When I brought you back to life, I changed many peoples' futures (on purpose and for the better, I assure you). I could see the people's paths I had changed, as I was the one that had changed them. Even though I brought you back to life and I can see certain peoples' future, the future is always changing. Many different things could happen because of one choice.

Dumbledore fears the future. It is the unknown, and he cannot control it. He cannot tell if he will come out on top. As such, that is why he manipulates people: to secure his own gain.

The reason I brought you back to life is because you are people of action, and also people who should not have been killed or incarcerated. I know you will do what is best for the world and for my family (which you and your son know). I know that you will bring down Dumbledore and Voldemort, and secure a better future for all of us.

I also know, that while you will include your son in trying to bring down Voldemort and Dumbledore, he will be restless and try to help you rather than just spying on Dumbledore. While I see many futures, there is one future I see that I am almost certain will be true. In this future, your son and 'nephew' will take some matters into their own hands. I am giving you the information of the futures I know in the form of dreams. Some might happen; some might not. Some dreams will have a "focus" and some will not. The ones without the "focus" you will see images and scenes, muddled and mostly blackness, you will not be able to describe them; don't come true. The ones with a "focus" you will be able to describe. There are two different kinds of "focused" dreams: there will be "shorted focused" dreams, where there are short clips of images. There will also be "long focused" dreams, which are entire scenes of the futures. You will usually only have one or two "long focused" sequences of the future in dreams when you have them. These focused dreams are futures that will most likely happen.

You will probably only be able to remember the "long focused" dreams clearly.

I hope you understand,

GFW

James, shaken, grabbed a dressing gown and slipped the letter and his wand in the pocket. He got out of bed, walking to a spiral staircase in the corner of the master bedroom. Lighting his wand, he staggered down the stairs to the study, where it ended: still shaken from his dream. James padded over the carpeted floor to a bookcase behind the desk, running his hand over an old, blue, leather-bound book, called "Veritas Memoriam."

The book slid into the bookcase, and with a clinking noise, the crease between two bookcases slid apart to reveal a pensieve hidden in an alcove, casting an eerie blue light over the room and throwing shadows through the air.

Raising his wand in a shaking hand, he drew the memories of the dream out and flicked them into them into the pensieve. As he watched them again; they made no sense and were unclear. Like GFW had written, while the vision had a "focus", it was a shorter one and the scenes were unclear and he couldn't remember them properly. It was a "shortened focused" dream.

Sighing, he drew himself out of the pensieve. Abandoning the hope of sleeping, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen.

James shivered involuntarily, though he was wrapped in a robe and his stag slippers and the sunlight streamed through the window of the family kitchen, it did nothing to quell the chill of the memories. And the sting, he added silently. Harry… That was the only thing he could remember: the dreams had something to do with Harry getting lots of trouble.

"You look like dog sh—" was Sirius'ss greeting as he stumbled into the room.

Remus, who came into the room behind him, cut him off with a, "'Morning."

James agreed with Sirius, though. He had been sitting in the kitchen for the past three hours nursing an untouched cup of tea and had been woken up at four in the morning from dreams. His hair was messier than usual, his skin was as pale as a ghost, and the bags under his eyes clearly spoke of his sleep-deprived state. He looked like a zombie.

Granted, neither of them looked good, either. Sirius'ss hair was a mess as were his pajamas; his dog slippers were on the wrong feet, and his robe was inside-out. Black rings were present under Remus' eyes and his hair was tousled, but he looked much more put together than Sirius or James. And, of course, his pajamas and wolf-slippers looked pristine.

Sirius, whose head was lying on his plate and seemed to be asleep, noted this and said, "We have to de-age you, Remmy. You're too adult-like and stuff. Perfect."

Remus ignored Sirius, and said to James, "Sirius was right, though. You look terrible."

"Thanks," James said sarcastically, trying and failing to cover a yawn.

"Mate, did you actually get any sleep last night?" Sirius asked.

"No, I…" James paused. Should he tell them? He immediately decided to. He didn't keep secrets from his brothers. It would be easier to make sense of, too, with Remus' brain. "I'll tell you later," he said hastily, as Lily dragged along a sleepy Harry who stumbled into the room.

Harry looked around at the table as though he had never seen it before and Lily took pity on him and steered him into a chair next to Remus, Lily sitting on his other side. Harry blinked rapidly as though he forgot he was supposed to be at breakfast and promptly buried his head in his arms.

"Not a morning person, cub?" Remus asked, chuckling.

"Ugh…" was Harry's muffled response. "Sl'p."

Remus patted his head.

Regulus staggered in quite like Sirius and sat down next to him. Minerva, some how managing to look intimidating and prim in a tartan dressing gown, came down soon after, and Augusta came in wearing robes ("I refuse to go anywhere except bed not properly dressed," she sniffed). while Frank was being poked in the back by Alice to keep moving. Neville also looked quite chipper, like his mother, and looked at Lily in sympathy as she tried to explain to a groggy Harry that they were supposed to be eating breakfast.

"You tried to wake up Mr. Sleepy?" Neville grinned. His response was Harry chucking a spoon at him, which missed by about six feet.

"Sh't 'p," Harry groaned.

Lily looked at Harry exasperatedly. "What is his problem?"

Neville chuckled as he seated himself next to Alice. "You're a lucky one. He turned Dean's hair purple when he tried to wake Harry up. It didn't come off all day."

Remus looked at Harry warily. "At least he doesn't sleep-hex like his creature of a father. Or hit, like his—" he glanced nervously at Lily, who was glaring dangerously at him, "—flower of a mother."

"Nice save," Sirius muttered, having been on the receiving end of Lily's temper one too many times.

"He does both, unfortunately," Neville shuddered. "It was fine, first year, when he didn't know any spells, but when Ron woke up as a pink and blue-polka-dotted kitten for waking Harry, covered in bruises ("He des'rved 't!" exclaimed a disgruntled Harry)," Neville grinned at the memory, but it faded to a grimace at the implication, "We decided an indestructible alarm clock might be in order."

"Suddenly mornings make so much more sense," Minerva raised an eyebrow, "I suspect that is why Mr. Weasley spent a day in the hospital wing and came out with pink hair?"

Neville smirked. "I got some good blackmail photos, too."

Breakfast arriving cut off the rest of the conversation; a couple elves came in and put the trays of food on the table. Everyone thanked the house elves, and turned to the food.

As breakfast came to an end (Sirius bolting down his fifth plate of food) and everyone slowly woke up, the conversation turned to serious matters. Neville and Harry wanted to know what the big deal was with Dumbledore—Neville having been filled in that Dumbledore was "no longer a friend" by his parents—but all the adults insisted that they go to the study.

As everyone—and an increasingly irritated Neville and Harry—tromped in the study, (still in their pajamas), they all took seats at the table. Frank and James sat at the heads, Harry and Neville on their respective rights, and Lily and Alice on the heads' respective lefts. Minerva sat on the right of Harry, across from Remus. Regulus next to him, across from Sirius, who was next to an empty seat, Augusta on the other side of the seat, next to Neville. Next to Regulus were two unoccupied seats, Alice on the other side of them.

Harry looked around at the table, unconsciously swallowing. Whatever this is, Dumbledore must be in big trouble…everyone at the table looked intimidating and severe. Though, he had to admit he couldn't help but stifle snickers as they were all wearing their pajamas - and decorative slippers, of course.

"Harry," James started. "We've—our family—has always been a target because we have opposed Voldemort, along with being a supposed Light family." This drew a curious look from Regulus, but the rest seemed unsurprised. Remus, who was closest, quickly hissed an explanation to him, "We escaped him three times. Both the Longbottoms and us. Along with the Longbottoms, Voldemort especially targeted us. Do you know why Voldemort targeted us, in particular?"

"No," said Harry honestly. "I asked Dumbledore, though. He wouldn't tell me. I supposed it was because you were working against him."

James' facial muscles tightened. "It was because of a prophecy. A prophecy made by Sybil Trelawney to Dumbledore," Harry and Neville's shocked looks were enough to make everyone give a tight smile. "Yes, she's a real Seer. Just not a very good one. The prophecy goes like this:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

Harry sagged against the chair. The words of the prophecy echoed in his head, as he spun and wove them, trying to figure them out. But other than that, his mind seemed blank; he could not focus on his father, mother, Remus, and Sirius'ss worried glances, or Minerva or Augusta's sympathetic eyes. He could not see Neville visibly shaking, or Frank and Alice's stony faces.

He remembered his father's words, "Along with the Longbottoms, we were especially targeted by Voldemort." and Trelawney's voice, "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies." Neville was born in July. July thirtieth.

"So it was Harry or Neville," Regulus took the words out of Harry's mouth. "I knew that Voldemort was looking to destroy the prophecy's chances…but I didn't know the specific wording." Regulus' brow furrowed. "Or the last part. Voldemort kept the wording secret, only that it had to do with a baby born to either the Potters or Longbottoms. He never heard the last part, either." Regulus spat the 'he' like venom in his mouth.

Harry shot a curious look at Regulus, happy for the distraction, along with Minerva, Augusta, Frank, Alice, and Neville.

Regulus shifted uncomfortably. "I suppose you have a right to know…you're going to find out soon, anyway," he sighed, "I was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's slaves," He answered Harry's questioning glance, "Or follower, if you wish to think better of yourself," he added sarcastically. "And I…when I was a recruit, I didn't have my Mark at the time. I was in seventh year and I was at a raid and I dueled…Sirius, my brother," Regulus and Sirius's faces were pained. "It was…it put it in perspective," he said bitterly. "It was the last time I spoke to him, even though I would see him passing occasionally. Anyway, when I was in seventh year, I stopped. Going to raids and things, I mean. And I…" a blush tinted his cheeks and his eyes got cold and hard. "I fell in love with a girl. A Muggle-born, actually. Her name was Emmeline." He cleared his throat as the blush got deeper and Sirius's grin at his little brother's embarrassment got wider. "After seventh year graduation, we got married. We spent a year together before my mother started wondering where I was - she was insane, had no perception of time - as I never showed up or told her anything about backing out of the Death Eaters. I went to her house with Emmeline; prepared to tell her I was done with the Death Eaters and pureblood supremacy."

Regulus' face crumpled, but his eyes were like steel.

"That's when things went wrong. Bellatrix, Lucius, Rudolphus, and Rabastan showed up and ambushed me. I told Emmeline to run, and she did. I didn't give her a choice. I shoved her out the door and went to duel them, but I wasn't prepared. They knocked me out and dragged me to Voldemort. He branded me with the Dark Mark: his insignia. The mark of his followers and their loyalty to him." Regulus rolled up his left sleeve. There was collective gasp at the ugly, blistered skin there. It was obvious it was in the shape of a skull with a snake through it, but it had burned badly and the skin seemed to have been scraped off. Harry looked at in perverse fascination. He knew, unlike with Snape, that Regulus was not a Death Eater. Not truly. He could tell and feel it by looking in his eyes and seeing the pure misery and hate for Voldemort on his face. And he had never been, Harry thought miserably, knowing that this was another person condemned by Voldemort's actions.

"Your defiance," Sirius whispered.

Regulus gave a curt nod and continued on with his story, "The Black family is a powerful and influential family. They are a Dark and terrible family by trade, priding themselves on being purebloods. Many are insane, locked up in Azkaban, or dead. They killed a lot of people, hated half-bloods, Muggle-borns, and any kind of creature - they included Muggles in that category. Obviously, they liked the idea of Voldemort. He was happy to have them. The loyal," Regulus enunciated the word, "Blacks knew spells and had objects he wouldn't be able to get through normal channels. Not only that, but they had money. As presumed heir," Regulus glanced at Sirius, making it obvious that Sirius was still heir, no matter his blatant distaste of the Dark family, "They thought I had access to the vast fortunes. They were running low on money, you see," Regulus explained. "While the Lestranges, Malfoys, Notts, and Averys have fortunes, they can't give away their entire fortunes or take to much out without causing suspicion. They are relatively young families and are all known for being very conservative with their money - Slytheirn-style, of course. The Potters, Longbottoms, and Blacks have lots of money piled up. No one would question one us," he gestured to Sirius, Frank, James, and himself, "taking out tons of money for our newest 'project'. We are all very old, very…um…eclectic families," Regulus grimaced, along with the rest of the room. "None of our families are known for being the most sane. The Potters are arrogant, megalomaniac mass-murderers, the Longbottoms like their 'experiments', and the Blacks, of course, like to take over the political, financial, and even physical capitals. Those are stereotypes, of course, but stereotypes start somewhere."

Harry, somehow, wasn't very surprised by this.

Regulus sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in what seemed like an effort to ward back memories.

"After they branded me, they tossed me out and told me to come for the next Death Eater meeting. Bellatrix confronted me. She told me she'd seen Emmeline, and that she was going to track her down. 'After your little mudblooded wench is gone,' she said, 'your loyalty will be solely to our Lord.'"

Regulus pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as, unnoticed to him, a tear traced its way down his face.

"I told her I would never be loyal," Regulus grinned weakly, "And told her that she was a bitch who would burn in hell, but not before I used her favorite curse on her."

"Pretty Gryffindor-ish of you, Reggie," Sirius said softly, a slight smile on his lips, but eyes full of sadness, "if I do say so myself. I always wanted to tell Bellabitch to stuff it."

Harry was lost on the finer points of the conversation, but he knew well enough that if they were talking about Bellatrix Lestrange, she was the Death Eater who tortured Neville's parents. She sounded like a nasty piece of work. He listened carefully to the morbid words that flew out of Regulus' mouth, unhindered, and Harry realized that Regulus must've alone for a very long, very depressing time. The words were truthful—there was no doubt—they were almost too truthful, the emotions oozing from the words, dripping off with suppressed emotions made Harry look at the man with understanding.

He knew, from experience, that that kind words and sympathetic looks were not what one wanted. He had suffered heartbreak and hate—growing up unloved, unwanted, and abused, put through dangerous tasks, he knew the burden of losing someone you loved and having to deal with people who did not care one bit about it, who remind you about your failures and your sufferings. In fact, they would rub it in your face.

Regulus caught the look, and he nodded, even with confusion evident in his eyes.

"I became obsessed. I wanted revenge—that Voldemort would pay for taking me away from my Emmeline," Regulus said darkly. "He was going on about immortality. How he was the furthest along the road than anyone else. He would boast about it and gloat. I think Voldemort thought we were too stupid to figure out what he was talking about. Voldemort believes he is more powerful, smarter, cunning, and just plain better than anyone else," Regulus grimaced. "He's also insane. Voldemort's ego is his downfall. I don't believe he realized that some of us could guess what lengths he went to for immortality. Many didn't care to look into the matter, even if they did know. It would be their instant death, most presumed. But I did.

"Three years after I found this, I had tracked one of the—the—abominations he made. He had used my house-elf, Kreacher, to place it in a cave, where he hid it under lots of extensive protection."

Regulus squeezed his eyes tightly.

"Bellatrix…before I went to the cave, before I could start planning…she came and told me…" he let out a gasp of like it pained him, "told me…that…that…she killed…Emme…"

This seemed to be too much for Regulus, as Harry realized with a jerk, it had been just yesterday in his timeline—if Harry's calculations were correct and Regulus died getting whatever he was looking for—that he found this news.

Everyone listened with rapt attention in morbid silence, as Sirius stood up and walked around to Regulus, putting a hand on his shoulders. He made no further move to comfort him, but somehow, this seemed to be more than enough to keep him going.

"I was angry…so, so angry…" Regulus whispered hoarsely. "I blasted Bellatrix through the door." Sirius grinned, despite the atmosphere, "And I burned off my Mark. I scraped it and tore at it desperate to get off that thing," Regulus spat. "That cost me Emme." Horror and disgust seeped into the room, making the colorful study seem to get darker. Even the sun seemed to dim. "I wanted revenge, and I could finally get it." Regulus' voice suddenly got very flat.

"I was within reach of killing off one part of Voldemort." There were looks of dawning comprehension of Augusta, Minerva, Lily, Sirius, and Frank's faces, but everyone kept the silence, morbidly fascinated with the macabre tale.

"I forgot about everything else and Apparated to the cave. There was," Regulus shivered, "a poison. I don't know what it was…" he trailed off, "I kept relieving my most horrible memories and I was thirsty…so very thirsty."

"The Drink of Despair," Lily muttered, horrified.

"And as I reached down to the lake to drink," Regulus' eyes were unfocused and hazy, "hands grabbed me. Inferi, I think…" he shrugged helplessly. "I had told Kreacher to leave and destroy the locket…and then I was…" he tilted his head to the side like a curious child, "…drowning. And everything went black."

Silence followed this poignant statement.

Regulus was still staring unseeingly out the window opposite him, and Sirius glanced at his brother (a look that clearly read, "We'll talk later.") and cleared his throat loudly, "You were saying, James?"

Harry, as grossly fascinated as he was with Regulus' tale, shut his eyes and let the words come rushing back.

So.

He was supposed to kill Voldemort.

Or die in the attempt.

No one else could.

He was destined to kill or be killed.

With some mystical power he knew nothing of.

(And was willing to bet Dumbledore would call it "love.")

Dumbledore…

So.

Suddenly, Harry was desperate to deny that.

"Why is it me?" he demanded. "What makes it me? There are plenty of boys born at the end of July!" The room—despite being the size of a gym—abruptly felt very confining. Frantically, Harry paced the length of a table, "Is it Neville? What about another boy? Or maybe even some Muggle with a gun!" Harry threw his hands up in desperation. "What makes it me?" his voice suddenly lost all its fervor and volume as his hands fell limply at his sides and he stared around in hopelessness. He vaguely wondered why he was not told this sooner, but he shoved that thought in the back of his mind. Dumbledore must've had his reasons, Harry thought dismissively. He always did.

James and Lily were looking at love and compassion in their eyes, as were Remus and Sirius.

"Because he marked you," Remus said quietly. "He had a choice: you or Neville. He chose you because you were a half-blood, like him. At least, that's our guess. And I think you know what he marked you with. And, in doing so, he marked you as his equal. Something he could not stand."

Harry raised a hesitant hand to his scar. The source of all my troubles, he thought bitterly.

As if reading Harry's thoughts, Lily said, "We're not worried about the prophecy, though. Though flaky and unreliable as they are, they always come true. You can do nothing to force, stop, or confine it. However," she rose and pulled a limp Harry into a hug, even though he did not respond. "They come true in their own time. We are however, worried about something else."

Harry full of relief and disbelief, looked as his mum. "What?" he asked hesitantly.

"The implications," she said gravely. "We are worried about who would try to force you; the main part of this prophecy. Destroy you. Or control you. Manipulate you; you with the power to take down Voldemort."

And suddenly, everything made sense.

Severus Snape was not a stupid man by any means. He was a cunning, resilient person: as you had to be to live the life of a spy. And put up with someone as slippery as the Marauders during school. As vague as the thought was, it was still tempered with enough hate to make the devil green with envy. Snape drifted like a wraith as he made his way through the empty corridors to the Headmaster's office.

Snape was not stupid enough to doubt that McGonagall's abrupt disappearance (with a hastily scrawled note about a sick cat) and the Headmaster's summoning were related. But he also loathed to actually do whatever job he required.

After all, how could you be a good Slytherin and not be aware of Dumbledore's constant manipulations?

But, he had sold his soul to the man for Lily - who was completely loyal to Dumbledore - and would stay for Lily. Even if it meant protecting Potter's arrogant son. Because Lily would never have had such a bigheaded son…He was Potter's son. That was firmly lodged in Snape's mind. Not Lily's. Because she was Lily Evans to him, not Lily Potter, and would always be.

He hated every Potter, and would always curse the lineage to the depths of hell.

That included Minerva McGonagall, who was Potter Senior's great-aunt and godmother; who, though he hated, he had grudging respect for. Apparently, Potter hair did not skip women. Why else did she keep it in a stiff bun? Snape's respect, though, was for how sneaky the old tart was. That seemed to be the most damnable trait—in Snape's mind—that all Potters carried. That the epitomes of Gryffindor had the insolence to display traits of his house, Slytherin!

Snape spat out at the gargoyle, "Cockroach cluster." As the guardian moved aside, he sneered at the wall. He swore Dumbledore made up those ridiculous passwords just to hear him say them.

While he prayed to any higher being (though he hadn't had much luck with that in his life) that Potter wasn't involved, he took one look at Dumbledore's irritated face and the unusually-still spindly instruments and couldn't help but internally groan.

So you've finally slipped your leash, Potter? Snape couldn't help but mentally applaud the boy for making Dumbledore so irritated, even if it was Potter. He inwardly sneered, took you long enough, as he glided over to the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Ah, Severus. Where is Minerva? I need your help with a situation involving young Mr. Potter."

Remembering McGonagall's note, he simply stared at Dumbledore, and said bitingly, "If you've noticed, Headmaster, Minerva had to go home. Something about a sick cat," he scorned.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Never mind. You can do this job alone, then. You see, the wards around the Dursleys' house have fallen dramatically. I will need you to go check them, while I search for Mr. Potter, who seems to have slipped off my radar," he punctuated the sentence with an eye twinkle.

Snape looked at Dumbledore with his usual blank mask, but inside his Occlumency barriers he was gaping rather unattractively at the old man with disbelief. He couldn't have really bought McGonagall's excuse, could he? And Potter hadn't just "slipped off" his radar! The old tabby probably finally wised up and dragged Potter Junior away from Dumbledore's manipulations.

Snape knew that McGonagall and Dumbledore had had a vicious fight when it came to Potter's guardianship. McGonagall had wanted to raise him, as she was his great-great-aunt, Dumbledore had insisted that Potter stay with the Dursleys' for the blood wards. He thought that it was better that Potter was raised unspoiled and unaware, and Snape completely agreed. They already had him running around as a miniature James Potter, and they didn't need Potter Jr. to take after Senior anymore than he already did. Snape wasn't sure what finally convinced her to stop, but she had been furious with the Headmaster for the better part of three years. Never say Potters don't hold grudges.

Sighing, he saw no way out of the task and billowed out of the room—not before giving Dumbledore a parting sneer—and left to find out what mess Potter had created now.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or JKR's works.

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Explanation to the Manipulation