The Lost Prophecy

Dean sat on the floor, still holding Cas's hand. Luna and Hermione were still unconscious, Neville was still trying to stop Ron from being suffocated by the brain's tendrils wrapped around him, while Ginny watched, unable to help with her broken ankle, and Sherlock was sitting with his eyes closed.

The room had been eerily quiet since Dumbledore had rushed past after Harry and John, but Dean knew the Death Eaters were still only in the next room. Cas weakly squeezed his hand again.

'That's right,' Dean murmured. 'I'm still here. Don't let go.'

The door to the room burst open, and Dean jumped to his feet, wand in hand.

'It's all right,' said Mycroft, hurrying over to where Sherlock was sitting.

Two other wizards passed him to apprehend the Death Eaters in the next room, and Madam Pomfrey appeared shortly after, much to Dean's relief.

'What happened?' Mycroft muttered to Sherlock, restoring his eyesight.

'John had a vision,' Sherlock mumbled, blinking rapidly. 'We thought Harry had the same one, and John wanted to help.'

'You didn't ask Harry?'

'John's vision-'

'You should have asked,' Mycroft said sharply. 'Always make sure you have the facts before doing something so unbelievably stupid as this.' He got up and went over to Ron, finally disentangling him from the brain, throwing it to the ground where it made a horrible squelching sound and lay still, then conjured ribbons of bandages that wrapped themselves around Ron's arms, covering the deep cuts left by the brain.

Sherlock pulled his knees up to his chest. With John already back at Hogwarts, so far away, he suddenly felt quite small and alone.

Madam Pomfrey made short work of Ginny's broken ankle, and Neville's broken nose, before moving on to revive Luna.

'You're gonna be fine, Madam Pomfrey's here,' Dean whispered to Cas, watching her tend to Hermione before she came over to Cas.

Madam Pomfrey knelt down beside Cas and ran her wand over him, muttering rapidly. The sores on his face cleared up instantly. She frowned slightly and pointed her wand at his stomach.

All of a sudden he began to convulse, and Madam Pomfrey rolled him onto his side. Viscous black fluid bubbled from his mouth.

'That's it,' said Madam Pomfrey. 'Get it all out.'

Cas retched and the black fluid splattered on the floor before he fell still.

'What happened, is he okay?' Dean said, alarmed.

'He's fine,' Madam Pomfrey said soothingly. 'Nasty curse and he might still be unwell for a few days, but he'll be all right.'

Dean sighed in relief and looked down at Cas. His face was still covered in a thin film of sweat, but he looked much more peaceful than he had only moments ago, and sleeping soundly. Dean gently dabbed at the black liquid on his face with his sleeve.

Once Madam Pomfrey was satisfied that they were all either healed or stable, she disappeared into the next room to treat the injured Order members.

'Do you think Harry's okay?' Ginny asked.

'He's fine,' Sherlock told them, not looking at any of them. 'He's back at Hogwarts.'

'I don't think he's fine,' Dean muttered, having seen the look on his face when Sirius fell through the veil.

Lupin was the first to emerge, looking exhausted.

Dean looked up and grimaced. 'I'm sorry about Sirius,' he said.

'Thank you, Dean,' Lupin said quietly.

'Can we go back to school now?' Luna asked.

'Yes, of course,' said Lupin. He grabbed a few quills that had been scattered over the floor and whispered, 'Portus' to each in turn, then pressed them into everyone's hands.

Dean scooped Cas up from the floor, while Ginny and Luna grabbed Ron, and Neville lifted up Hermione.

'One… two… three…'

Dean held Cas tightly as they flew through the swirl of colours, stumbling slightly when his feet hit the ground of the hospital wing. They had been underground at the Ministry for so long it was now dawn, morning sunlight peeking over the horizon.

Dean carefully lowered Cas onto the nearest bed, dragged a chair next to it, and sat down heavily, letting out a long, deep sigh.

Ron and Hermione were also placed onto beds. Despite no longer being injured, Ginny, Neville and Luna made no move to leave, instead all either lying down on a bed or getting a chair to sit in. No one said a word.

Ron was the first to wake, sitting up abruptly and looking around in confusion. 'W-what's going on? Hermione!'

'It's all right, Ron,' said Ginny. 'She's fine, we're back at school.'

Ron rubbed his arms over the bandages. 'Where's Harry?' he asked.

'With Dumbledore,' Ginny said soothingly.

Ron leaned back, propping himself up with pillows, but seemingly placated.

Cas was the next to wake up, his face scrunching, and groaning quietly.

'Hey,' Dean grinned, elated.

Cas's eyes fluttered open, but he grimaced, curling up slightly and clutching his stomach.

'It hurts?' Dean asked.

Cas nodded. 'What happened?'

'Everyone's fine, Harry and John are fine, they're with Dumbledore, everyone's fine,' Dean said. 'Except… Well…'

'What?' Cas said anxiously.

Dean sighed. 'Sirius didn't make it.'

'What?' came Ron's voice.

Dean looked up and realised this was the first time most of them were hearing the new. 'Maybe - maybe we should wait until Hermione's awake.'

'Hermione's not awake?' Cas said, pushing himself up painfully and looking over at Hermione.

'She's fine,' Dean said, putting a hand on Cas's arm. 'Madam Pomfrey said so.'

Cas hesitated, but shuffled over to get out of bed.

'Cas, come on, you were just spewing black goo, don't get up,' Dean protested.

'Ew,' Cas said, wrinkling his nose, but getting up anyway. He shuffled over to Hermione and put a hand on her forehead.

Hermione inhaled deeply and opened her eyes, looking up at Cas in confusion.

Cas smiled weakly, and turned back to his bed, still clutching his stomach. Dean hurried over to help him, and lowered him gently back into his bed. He too propped himself up with pillows, but as soon as he did, he turned ghostly pale again. He heaved and coughed up more black fluid that dribbled down onto his chest before he rolled over and threw up on the floor.

'Madam Pomfrey!' Dean called, alarmed.

Cas gagged again, but waved Dean off. 'I see what you mean by black goo,' he mumbled.

'It's all right,' Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over and waving her wand to clean up the mess. 'The curse just needs to work its way out.'

'Like that time I was throwing up slugs,' Ron interjected.

'Exactly,' Cas mumbled.

'What?' Dean said. 'Nevermind, I don't want to know.'

Madam Pomfrey checked on Hermione, then went to collect some potions for them all.

'Tell us what happened to Sirius,' Cas said, settling down once again while Dean gently wiped his face for him.

Dean glanced up at Neville, who looked uncomfortable, then at everyone else staring at him. 'He came with the Order to rescue Harry,' Dean told them. 'He was fighting Bellatrix, but he - he didn't win.'

Ginny put a hand over her mouth, and tears gathered in Hermione's eyes.

'He's really gone?' said Ron.

Dean grimaced, but nodded. 'He fell through the Veil. Harry and John chased after Bellatrix and bumped into Voldemort, and I guess Dumbledore chased him off. That's what Sherlock said anyway.'

'Where is Sherlock?' said Cas, and they all turned to look at the now empty space he had been standing in.

Dean shrugged. 'He probably went up to Dumbledore's office.'

Cas reached out and squeezed Dean's hand, sniffling slightly. 'We didn't save him,' he said.

'No,' Dean mumbled, squeezing Cas's hand in return. 'But we did our best, and I think that Sirius would be grateful.'

Cas nodded and sighed. 'I hope Sherlock's all right. He didn't look too happy the last time I saw him.'

'Who even knows with that guy,' Dean chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood.

'I do,' Cas said solemnly. 'He's my friend.'

Dean sighed. 'I think he's as okay as any of us are.'

Sherlock had, in fact, left the hospital wing the moment he had an opening, and ran all the way to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle let him up without the password, but the door was locked, and all Sherlock could hear from the inside were Dumbledore and Harry's voices.

John was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest, his cheek pressed against them. He was surrounded by the shattered pieces of Dumbledore's instruments that Harry had smashed up.

'Voldemort tried to kill you as a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth,' Dumbledore was explaining to Harry. 'He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from him last year, he has been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since his return: the knowledge of how to destroy you.'

John looked up at Dumbledore, who finally looked him in the eye. 'That's why you were brushing me off,' he murmured.

Dumbledore nodded. 'If you saw the prophecy, you would be in even more danger than you already are. I hoped you and Sherlock wouldn't dig too deeply into the workings of the Order, or Voldemort himself.'

'The prophecy's smashed,' Harry said blankly. 'I was pulling Neville up those benches in the - the room where the archway was, and I ripped his robes and it fell…'

'The thing that was smashed was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly.'

'Who heard it?' asked Harry.

'I did,' said Dumbledore. 'On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer and I thought it common politeness to meet her.'

Professor Trelawney's face flashed before John's eyes, and he sighed. At least he now knew why he had been so desperate to keep her at Hogwarts.

'I was disappointed,' Dumbledore continued. 'It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave.'

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked past Harry, to the black cabinet John was sitting next to. He slid back the catch and pulled the Pensieve from inside. He returned to his desk, placed the Pensieve down, and raised his wand to his own temple. From it, he withdrew silvery, gossamer-fine strands of thought and deposited them into the basin. He sat back down and watched his thoughts swirl and drift around for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he prodded the silvery substance with the tip of his wand.

The figure of Professor Trelawney rose out of it, her feet in the basin. When she spoke, it was not in her usual ethereal, mystic voice, but in harsh, hoarse tones.

'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…'

John felt it coming, but did nothing to stop the visions that came to him, nor was he particularly intent on catching hold of them. He recognised Voldemort, along with the sickening, cold fear that came with him, but everything else flashed past. He saw glimpses of Sirius, Wormtail, Harry's parents, and various Death Eaters that he had never seen before, before he was once again landed in the middle of the night Harry's parents were killed. John turned away, unwilling to watch it again. When it was over, he returned to Dumbledore's office, still in the same sitting position.

'But he might have chosen wrong!' Harry was protesting. 'He might have marked the wrong person!'

'He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him,' said Dumbledore. 'And notice this, Harry: he chose, not the pure-blood but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far - something that neither your parents, nor Neville's parents, ever achieved.'

'Why did he do it, then?' Harry asked. 'He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then.'

'That might, indeed, have been the more practical course,' said Dumbledore, 'except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My - our - one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building.'

'So he only heard-?'

'He heard only the beginning, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you, and marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be a danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait, to learn more. He did not know that you would have power the Dark Lord knows not -'

'But I don't!' Harry said in a strangled voice. 'I haven't got any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or - or kill them -'

'There is a room in the Department of Mysteries,' Dumbledore interrupted, 'that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. That power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you.'

Harry closed his eyes. 'The end of the prophecy… it was something about… neither can live…'

'...while the other survives,' said Dumbledore.

'So… so does that mean that… that one of us has got to kill the other one… in the end?'

'Yes,' said Dumbledore.

They sat in silence for a long time.

The voices of students rising and making their way to breakfast drifted up to them. It all seemed so far away.

'I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry,' Dumbledore said eventually. 'You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as prefect? I must confess… that I rather you had enough responsibility to be going on with.'

They sat silently for a little while longer, until Dumbledore finally got up and opened the door.

Sherlock barrelled in, pushing past Harry who was trying to leave, and knelt in front of John.

'Hey,' John mumbled.

Sherlock cupped John's face, pressing their foreheads together. 'I'm here,' he whispered.

'I know.' John let Sherlock lift him to his feet. 'What do we do now?' John asked Dumbledore before they left.

Dumbledore sighed, a single tear running down his cheek. 'Your best.'

Welcome back everyone :) Thanks to Morgan Teri Befan for the review! See you next time!