This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations. This work also includes Pokémon, which belong to the Pokémon Company, and I again claim no ownership of these characters.

I thank both Rowling and the Pokémon Company for the universes they have created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

The atrium erupted, so much noise that Harry couldn't pick any of it apart. His head was spinning, his eyes closing to block out the now painful light, though it was no brighter than it had been before. He felt Charizard and Talonflame settle nearby, his faithful partners knowing to give him some space, low growls indicating they were ensuring others would too.

And through all the haze and confusion a hand found its way to Harry's shoulder and he looked up into the face of Albus Dumbledore, his eyes showing sadness and something else, something Harry couldn't quite place.

"It's time to go," he said. Harry just blinked at him. Dumbledore seemed to understand anyway. He returned Harry's Pokémon for him, purposefully attaching the Pokéballs back to Harry's belt, much to his relief, and helped the boy to his feet.

"Alakazam will take you to my office," Dumbledore told him. "Please wait for me there. There is much we need to discuss." Harry found himself nodding but he knew he hadn't heard a word. A moment later he was gone, leaving the busy atrium behind, and he stood alone in Dumbledore's silent office.

The sudden quiet was jarring and he found himself looking around the room. He didn't take anything in, though. His mind was blank, his senses feeling as though they'd been filled to the brim such that anything new just slid straight off.

After a while he became aware of the tiredness in his legs. He sat down. Not on a chair, just right where he had been standing. He sat there, on the floor in Dumbledore's silent office, and waited.

Who knew how long he sat there. He didn't even know Dumbledore had arrived until he stood over him, his eyes sad in a way Harry had never seen before. It would have been startling to see this emotion directed at him, at least it would have been on any other day. But as Dumbledore looked down at him Harry just stared back up.

"Harry," Dumbledore breathed and just the mention of his name kicked something inside him back to life. "I cannot begin to explain how sorry I am for what happened tonight."

Harry stayed silent. It wasn't like it was Dumbledore's fault. He hadn't rushed down to London with faulty information and a traitor in his midst. He hadn't forced Sirius to come rescue him. The fault for that rested on Harry, and Harry alone.

Dumbledore sighed. "I can't undo what has been done," he said. "And I cannot heal that aching hole in your heart. The least I can do is tell you the truth, and explain just why what happened happened tonight." Again Harry said nothing. "Perhaps you would join me at my desk?" Dumbledore held out a hand.

Harry contemplated it, taking a moment to realise just what Dumbledore was asking. Then he wondered if he could be bothered. What did it matter? At the desk, on the floor, it was all the same. Yet a small part of him, the part that still respected the Headmaster above all else, prompted him into action and he found himself pulled to his feet by a surprisingly strong grip. He was guided to the desk, falling numbly into the offered seat, and watched without feeling as Dumbledore rounded the desk.

Alakazam appeared briefly, silent communication between him and the Headmaster, before he was gone, and within a few moments he was back again. Held in his hand a time plant glowed and Harry felt a sickening in his stomach as his eyes followed it from Alakazam's fingers onto the desk before him.

"If you'll excuse me, we'll be needing…" Dumbledore trailed off, Harry's eyes having not even flickered up towards him as he spoke. He was surprised, therefore, when something touched his knee and he looked down. A small, bipedal, black and blue Pokémon looked up at him with sorrowful eyes.

"This is Riolu, the Emanation Pokémon," Dumbledore explained. "Riolu have the ability to sense emotion, through the power of aura, and for this young Riolu he endeavours to comfort when those around him are in need of it." Harry turned away. He could not stand to be comforted. He shouldn't feel comfort. That was not an emotion suitable for this moment.

"Riolu's ability is also imperative for what I'm about to show you," Dumbledore continued. "You know about time plants but what you may not be aware of is how difficult they are to use. Strong emotions can call upon certain memories but to pick and choose what to view we need help from an aura user, such as Riolu."

Harry nodded. He understood. "So what are you going to show me?" Dumbledore looked at him sadly.

"The reason," he said, "for all of this." He sighed heavily.

"Prophecy," he said, his voice tired. "Such a hard thing to nail down. But true prophets exist. And, despite appearances, we have one in our very own Professor Trelawney." Harry blinked. "This first memory is from two years ago. Riolu, if you would."

Riolu nimbly leapt up onto Dumbledore's desk, his paws making barely a sound on the hard wood of the desk top, and he focused on the time plant. Closing his eyes his ears lifted upwards, as though caught in an unseen wind, and he stretched out a paw towards the time plant. At the slightest touch the time plant pulsed and a blue light projected across Dumbledore's office.

They were in Professor Trelawney's classroom. That wasn't particularly surprising. What was surprising was that Harry was there, too. Not Harry, the person sitting at Dumbledore's desk, but Harry, the thirteen year old sitting across the table from Professor Trelawney, sitting his third year Fortune Telling exam, an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression on his face.

"And so we have a Chansey card, that means happiness and healing," the thirteen year old version of Harry said, looking up nervously as Trelawney pursed her lips.

"But not this time," he said hurriedly, scrambling visibly for something to say. "Eh, no, since you also have the eh… the Exeggcute card, that means it's got to do with the egg, uh, eggs. Yeah, you'll be allergic to eggs." Young Harry looked hopefully up at Trelawney.

"Well done," she told him in a mystical voice, smiling down at him as though he were a simpleton. "I admit I worried you did not understand the art of sight, but your application has been wonderful to see. Run along now. I fear lunch will already be in progress when you arrive."

Thirteen year old Harry simply looked glad to finally be leaving and he muttered a halfhearted goodbye as he descended through the trap door and out of sight.

Left alone to her own devices Professor Trelawney set about tidying up, gathering the tarot cards together and humming a tune to herself as she shuffled. Her Bronzor, who had been hovering over her shoulder whilst she examined, floated around the table happily, eyes closed and bobbing to the tune.

Suddenly Professor Trelawney's hands froze in place. Her tune stopped. She went complete still.

Then she started to shake. Her breathing became ragged, coming out in short, sharp pants as her whole body trembled. Then she let out a loud gasp, her eyes flying open, wild and unseeing, before she started to speak in a deep, guttural rasp.

"It will happen tonight. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight… the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever before. Tonight… before midnight… the servant… will set out… to rejoin… his master…"

Trelawney gasped. The cards in her hands fell loose, spilling out onto the table, and she rocked forward in her chair.

"Oh my," she said, her voice back to normal, though somewhat overwhelmed. "My, what…?" Her eyes widened. "A prediction! It must be! Bronzor, did I make a prophecy?" Bronzor shook his head.

Professor Trelawney looked deeply disappointed. "I had thought, maybe… never mind. Just look at this mess." And as Sybil Trelawney started to gather up her spilled tarot cards she, and her classroom, faded from view.

"As you and I both know Bronzor was mistaken," Dumbledore said. "That very night you would learn the truth about what happened to your parents, and Peter Pettigrew went free. Free to return to his master."

Harry remembered. Harry remembered as if it were yesterday the night his whole world flipped upside down. He remembered meeting Sirius for the first time, being ready to kill him to exact revenge for his parents before discovering his innocence, and he remembered when he said goodbye that night atop the tallest tower.

Harry cleared his throat hoarsely. "So, is that how they work?" He asked. "Prophecies? Do they just come true like that?" Dumbledore hesitated.

"That is unknown," he told him. "There are several schools of thought. Some believe that all prophecies come true, if not always in the obvious way. For example, if you had heard this prophecy first hand you would have suspected Sirius to be who it spoke of. However there are many prophecies, even those held at the Ministry, that people would argue have never come to fruition. It is possible that seers just see one path, maybe the most likely, but not necessarily the only."

"So you're saying the prophecy could have been stopped?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore told him. "I only found out about the prophecy in the days that followed. Had I known I might have been able to change things. On the other hand it may simply have been fate that I didn't check in on Professor Trelawney that day."

"Why were you looking up on her anyway?" Harry asked. "What even made you think she would make a prophecy? Everyone thinks she's a hack, and I've never seen her act like that before." Dumbledore looked at him sadly.

"Professor Trelawney has a track record when it comes to making predictions," Dumbledore said sorrowfully. He turned to Alakazam. "If you could please return this to Sybil's quarters? Thank you." Alakazam picked up the shimmering time plant and disappeared. He did not return.

"Professor Trelawney has, to my knowledge, made a grand total of two real predictions," Dumbledore told Harry. "What you saw was the most recent, and the reason I've been recording is due to the first, made sixteen years ago, mere months before you were born." And Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out another time plant.

"It is that prophecy that Voldemort attempted to get his hands on tonight," Dumbledore told him. "And that prophecy which I feel you have the right to know."

Harry frowned. "But it's gone," he said. "We can't use it, it went through the…" his mouth closed quickly and he fell silent. He swallowed hard.

Dumbledore watched him, his eyes tired and dull. "Harry?" He said gently. Harry shook his head.

"Keep talking," he said thickly. "I have to know." Maybe if he learned what was contained in that prophecy he could fool himself into believing that Sirius's death actually meant something.

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"The time plants in the Hall of Prophecies are records," Dumbledore told him. "That is to say they are not real time plants. They are not natural but created, designed to hold a single memory which can be copied from real time plants, which the Ministry issue to as many registered seers as they can. For some reason Professor Trelawney was not recognised until I flagged her up. Fortunately there was someone else present to witness her prophecy, someone with a time plant for the record. Me."

Harry didn't say anything in response, looking down at the time plant on the desk. So, after all this time, the prophecy had been with Dumbledore all along, protected in such a way that not even Voldemort would go after it.

"If I could… just set the scene, a bit," Dumbledore said cautiously. "The war was raging, times at their worst during the course of Voldemort's first uprising, and I was on the hunt for a Fortune Telling professor. Options were… limited, and so I entertained Sybil Trelawney, though her resume was lacking, for an interview, in the hope that she may, in fact, have some of her grandmother's talent. I met her in the Hog's Head, quieter and easier to manage than the Three Broomsticks."

"Plus the barman's your brother." Dumbledore looked surprised. Harry wished he hadn't said anything. It was Sirius that had told him that.

"Well, quite," Dumbledore recovered. "Anyway, I took Sybil up to a private parlour and we talked. And that is where we will pick up from." Dumbledore nodded to Riolu and once again the Emanation Pokémon focused, ears billowing, and blue light flashed across the room.

The scene was very different. The Hog's Head was not as popular as the Three Broomsticks and it showed in the poor quality of the furnishings. Furthermore the weather outside was abysmal, rain lashing against the window and wind whistling past. It couldn't have been more dissimilar to the last scene.

And yet there was Trelawney, wrapped up in her shawls, looking a lot younger than Harry had ever seen her. Bronzor was there too, looking no different than before, and neither did Dumbledore, sitting opposite his future employee.

He didn't look particularly impressed.

"Tell me, does your grandmother Cassandra have any thoughts on you applying for this job?" Harry could tell he was fishing for some sort of expert opinion on her abilities. "The two of us go back quite a bit but I'm ashamed to admit we've somewhat drifted apart."

Trelawney didn't seem to realise the interview wasn't going well. She looked completely at ease. "I'm afraid I have not spoken with my most farsighted of relatives," she said mystically. "On this or any other earthly matter recently, but I know I have her approval. I…" and then she stopped.

Harry recognised the symptoms immediately as Trelawney started to shake and Dumbledore, too, seemed to realise what was going on, straightening up and looking interested for the first time during the interview.

And then Trelawney spoke, her voice raspy and hoarse, and Harry listened intently.

"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…"

There was a scuffling sound at the door, followed by raised voices, and though present day Dumbledore turned towards the door both Harry and past Dumbledore continued to watch Trelawney.

"… 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 whilst the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

There was silence in the room, the only noise coming from the rain of sixteen years ago. Then Trelawney gasped.

"Dear lord, what happened?" She asked, sounding alarmed.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Dumbledore asked politely, though his mind was clearly elsewhere. Trelawney stared at him.

"Did I do it?" She asked, her voice tense with anticipation. "Did I… prophet?" There was a pause.

"No," Dumbledore said eventually. "No, I'm sorry, I believe you may have blacked out for a moment. Here, have some tea, you'll feel better." And the scene faded.

"I had a lot to think about," Dumbledore said eventually. "But first I needed to decide what to do with Sybil. My first thought was to let her go, seeing as she had no recollection of what she'd foretold, but you undoubtedly noticed the eavesdropper." Harry met Dumbledore's eye. "Yes, he was a Death Eater, and though Aberforth caught him early he still heard some of the prophecy and I knew he would go straight to Voldemort. So, for her safety, I hired Sybil Trelawney and she's been at the castle ever since."

Silence fell between them. Harry was working hard to get his head together, and it seemed Dumbledore was prepared to wait.

"The label had my name," Harry said eventually. "Born to parents who had thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies?"

"Your parents were working for the Legion by this point and had, as stated in the prophecy, defied Voldemort three times," Dumbledore told him. "When I received word of your birth, on the very last day of the prophecy, I immediately convinced James and Lily to go into hiding."

"But you said that prophecies aren't always right," Harry protested. "You told me -"

"I was not about to take chances," Dumbledore said firmly. "As I said, the war was at its worst and even hope of a saviour was worth protecting."

"So you think that's it?" Harry asked. "That I'm the saviour, the 'one with the power to vanquish'. You think I have to kill him. Either that or no one can."

"Harry, please, stay calm," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Stay calm?" Harry repeated incredulously.

"Yes, stay calm," said Dumbledore. "We won't get anywhere unless we can think rationally. As for the prophecy who knows whether it is true or not but know one thing, Harry. You are a smart, powerful, principled young man and, prophecy or not, you will not stand by while Voldemort spreads fear and terror. You do not have the ability to sit back and do nothing whilst atrocities are being committed. And quite frankly this prophecy will likely come true if for no other reason than the fact that Voldemort believes you to be his potential downfall and will not rest until he kills you, much like you will not rest until he is defeated." Harry didn't say anything. "Tell me I'm wrong, Harry. Tell me you'd just let Voldemort be and then we can talk about destiny."

Harry couldn't, of course he couldn't. Dumbledore had him pegged right down to his socks. It was just who he was, for better or for worse. When he'd thought the Sacred Ash was in danger he had gone down after it. When Ginny was taken to the Chamber of Secrets he'd gone in after her, even after he'd been separated from Ron and Hermione he'd continued on without thinking twice.

It didn't make things easier. The fact that Dumbledore had come out and said it, told him that Voldemort wouldn't rest until he was dead, sickened every pore of Harry's body. Even after so many encounters death by Voldemort's hand had never seemed so inevitable. But one must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. Harry swallowed.

"So, Voldemort," Harry said, his voice cracked. "He believes in the prophecy?"

"In the small part he knows, yes," Dumbledore told him. "Not knowing the rest I imagine has been a major annoyance, especially with each encounter that passes with you emerging unscathed."

"And who does know?" Harry asked. "How many people know the full prophecy?"

"Just two," Dumbledore said simply. "Me, and you."

"You haven't told anyone?"

"The part Voldemort knows has been shared with the most trusted of Legion members," Dumbledore told him. "Alastor, Professor McGonagall, Kingsley… but prophecies are tricky, easy to misinterpret, and may not even mean anything at all. I tell you this, Harry, not to teach you of some destiny laid out for you, but to help you understand how you came to be in the middle of this war. I don't know what's in store, you could very well defeat Voldemort for all I know, but in the meantime I'm not going to stop trying."

Silence hung in the air between them. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"So you think the prophecy is nonsense," Harry concluded.

"I have no idea," said Dumbledore. "But we should bare in mind that Voldemort does not, so it would be unwise to ignore it completely."

Harry nodded. "Okay, then there's some stuff I don't understand. The prophecy said he'd mark me as his equal."

"Not so much in the physical sense of a mark," Dumbledore said. "No scar or label. The marking in this instance is Voldemort's choice. You weren't the only candidate for the prophecy, Harry. Your friend Neville had parents in the Legion too, and was also born at the end of July."

"So Neville…"

"Wasn't marked," said Dumbledore. "Voldemort had options for who he believed to be the one destined to defeat him and he chose you. He singled you out and, in doing so, admitted to himself that you were the one with the ability to one day defeat him. Had he heard more of the prophecy he might have been more circumspect. After all, his attempts to prevent the prophecy left him without a body for thirteen years."

"And this power he knows not, what is that? Is it something I can use? Is it Mega Evolution?" Harry scrambled.

"It is something altogether more powerful than mere Mega Evolution, and you use it every single day," Dumbledore told him. "It is love."

"What?"

"Something you have that the Dark Lord does not?" Dumbledore said. "You saw what happened at the Ministry. Voldemort's inability to trust even his top lieutenants nearly led to his capture, after a whole year of fooling people into believing he wasn't there."

"But how does that help me?" Harry asked. "I've never been in love."

"But you have loved," said Dumbledore and his eyes grew teary. "And it isn't just Sirius, it is everyone around you. Your friends, the innocent, your capacity to love them is incredible and a power you'll likely never fully be able to understand."

Harry didn't understand. Love? How could love help against the Death Eaters? Unbidden flashes of the night came to him, memories of himself surrendering to the Death Eaters for the sake of his friends. Was that what Dumbledore meant?

Dumbledore shifted, his gaze moving to the clock on the wall. "It's late," he said. "And after the events of the day we all need some rest. I'll leave you to think about what we discussed here tonight. And if you ever need me, to talk or to ask a question or even just to argue, just let me know and I will be there."

Harry nodded stiffly. He did not see how he was ever going to take up that offer. The only one Harry wanted to talk to was gone.

He turned to leave then hesitated. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I left Pikachu with Moody."

"I will ensure he gets here safely," Dumbledore promised. Harry nodded, paused, and then left Dumbledore's office.

The castle was dark, not a light to be found, but even so Harry's eyes adjusted quickly. Dumbledore's office had been dark too. He started his way back.

It was a bizarre feeling to be walking the castle halls at night, at least so openly. Usually late night excursions involved a lot of sneaking around but now Harry walked purposefully, even the video cameras present not causing him pause. Let them stop him. See how that works out for them.

He paid no mind to where he walked, he could be going anywhere for all he knew. The only thing he was conscious of was the rush of thoughts flowing through his head.

Love. The Prophecy. Trelawney. Voldemort. Sirius…

And that was it, wasn't it. It was with painful irony that Harry remembered the first time he'd heard about the Veil, talking to Professor Lupin in the wake of the announcement that that would be Sirius's punishment. He'd once thought Sirius deserved it. Now he was the one to have pushed him through.

Love, powerful? What was Dumbledore thinking? Love was what led Harry down to the Ministry, had led to the ambush and Sirius's death. If that was the effect of Harry's love on people then they were better off without it. Who would his love claim next? Remus? Ron and Hermione? Dumbledore? If love was the power the Dark Lord knows not then Harry didn't want it either.

The common room was empty when Harry got there, and so it should be, the hour late, but Harry's dorm room, on the other hand, was filled with light.

"Harry!" Seamus called out as Harry pushed into the room, remembering his remaining dorm mates too late. "Man, you look wild. Taking the after exam party seriously then. You got Ron with you? And Neville, I'd like to see him messed up. Wouldn't have known he was the wild type but it's always the quiet ones."

Harry didn't respond, crossing the room and turning a deaf ear and a blind eye to his dorm mates, his pulse quickening.

"Harry, are you alright?" Dean got a word in edgewise, cutting through Seamus's sleep deprived and intoxicated ramblings. Harry nodded curtly but did not speak, opening up his trunk instead and busying himself trying to find pyjamas. Behind him he could feel his dorm mates watching.

"Ya know, now I look you don't seem too good," Seamus commented warily. "I know you tend to be a bit rough and tumble but even by your standards…"

"Get out," Harry muttered.

"What?" Seamus stopped dead. Harry's jaw clenched painfully, an internal war raging.

"Get out," he repeated, louder. "Please."

"Harry?" Seamus's voice was alarmed. Harry just wished he would leave. "Mate, what…?" A hushed whisper interrupted and Harry couldn't have been more grateful for Dean's intervention. He kept his back to them, hunched over his trunk, waiting in agony.

"Harry, mate," Dean's voice was tentative, though with the veneer of normality. "We're going to the common room so… if you want to talk…" Harry gave a firm nod, screwing up his face. Just a bit longer.

The dormitory door opened and then, a moment later, it closed once more. Arms shaking Harry reached into his trunk and picked up his Physiology textbook, satisfyingly heavy in his hands, and, with an animalistic cry of rage, Harry threw it with all his might.

It struck the wall, falling heavily to the floor with a thump.

It wasn't enough. Harry's statistics textbooks was next, and then the Pokémon battling one, but still it wasn't enough. He tossed his clothes out of his trunk, and his potions kit, threw his bedding away and kicked and slammed the frame of his four poster bed. Everything within arms reach was picked up and discarded, some things multiple times such that loose pages and pillow feathers started to fall around the room. He threw, punched and kicked until all the anger and frustration pent up inside him was spent and he slumped to the floor next to his now empty trunk.

He tipped his head back, taking solace in the pain of it striking the bed post and the tears in his eyes that most certainly had not been there before, and he cried, cried until there was nothing left to cry.

Sometime later he became aware again, his tears dried up, and his eyes dully looked at the mess that surrounded him. Textbooks, old homework assignments, nothing to excite his interest until his eyes fell upon a thick leather bound tome.

Almost nervously Harry scooted towards the photo album, a large part of him feeling unworthy to even touch it, yet despite this he still managed to crack it open, and set it in his lap.

And there was Sirius, smiling broadly up at him, dressed in a fine suit and standing next to his equally well dressed best friend and his new, beautiful bride. And as he looked Harry's heart broke. Sirius would never smile like that again. He would never do anything again.

He shut the album. Unable to move, so tired, physically and emotionally, Harry leaned back against the side of the bed and, cradling the photo album to his chest, he drifted off to sleep.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

To rmhoag: I'll be putting a list of the Pokémon owned by the main characters on the last chapter (which comes out next week).

By main characters I'm sure you mean Harry, Ron and Hermione but what other characters do you want to see the teams for. Everyone let me know in the reviews of characters other than the main trio that you want me to give the Pokemon teams for so far.

Thanks to DelugeLeader 666 for answering the question of the day. Your answer of Ditto is an interesting one, though I would say that since all Pokémon are supposed to be descended from Mew then I'm not sure that logic holds. Anyway, Ditto is a great Pokémon, and especially useful for breeding. Latios is a very cool Pokémon as well.

This chapter's question of the day is below.

QOTD: How good of a Chosen One do you think Neville would have been if Voldemort had gone after him instead of Harry?

For me I feel like Neville has just as much in the way of skills and talent as Harry has but I do think Neville would have struggled more with his lack of confidence. I'd imagine it'd be even harder living up to his grandmother's expectations if he was the boy-who-lived and he would struggle even more to find himself than he does in the books. Harry, meanwhile, learned to have confidence in himself from an early age because he was the only one who was going to look out for him with the Durlseys.

So, that's what I think. What do you think about Neville being the boy-who-lived? Leave a comment in the reviews.