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Monday November 1st, 1993

No one saw it coming.

EXPLOSION IN AZKABAN!

WEREWOLVES ON THE LOOSE! ATTACK OR ESCAPE?

"What the ever-loving fuck?!" Melissa stared at the rotating headlines. The entire school screeched and roared as the headlines blasted the tragedy to the masses.

"Do they know how it happened?!" Jacinth asked as he looked over Domonkos' shoulder.

"They're still looking," Domonkos answered. "They say that a poison mist followed the explosion, so they're having trouble investigating. A lot of people are dead, though."

"And what's that about werewolves?"

"It was a full moon last night," he explained. "The explosion broke their cells loose and they got out."

"But what about the poison?! Wouldn't that have killed them?"

Jacqueline answered that one. "Werewolves can be more resilient. It must not have affected them. …Oh, no! One of the guards was bit!"

"It says that she's in St. Mungos, but not in critical condition."

"That's good at least."

Melissa stayed focused on the main subject. "Okay, but how did this happen in the first place? And why? Why break into Azkaban just to poison people?"

"Maybe it wasn't a break in. Maybe someone was trying to escape?"

"With poison?"

"For the guards," Jacinth justified.

"With an explosion? That place is draughty as hell. It'll just as easily kill you, too!"

"Heh. You'd know, wouldn't you."

Her answer came cutting. "Yeah, actually. I do." She looked over the headline. A picture of Azkaban, once a sheer, imposing tower, now had a hole blasted in the side. "But it doesn't make sense. The place is full of anti-travel wards. Not to mention the dementors. The only way in is by boat. They must have found who was trying to escape, right? Or who broke in?"

No one had good answers to that. Investigations would reveal more, in time. Until then, they were out of ideas. Instead, they forced themselves to finish breakfast. Not many in Slytherin managed that. Those with relatives in Azkaban left early. Malfoy, in particular, had bolted practically at the start, but the rest of the Slytherins mulled over their meal in perturbed silence. Even when they finished and made for the doors, their minds swirled over the dark news and the mysteries of it all. So many ideas of how any of this could happen, yet there were none that made proper sense.

And then-

"YOU!"

-a high-piercing shout halted them to attention. A young girl with dark, curly hair stomped over to the doorway, and her eyes were fixed with rage. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

All followed the girl's pointed finger towards Melissa, whose face dropped with shock. "E-fucking-scuse you?!"

"You're the reason this happened! You should have warned them!"

"The fuck are you- No, no, I'm gonna stop you right there." Her hands waves in front of her chest. "I'm not fucking omniscient! I didn't know this would happen. So get off-"

"YOU DID!" The girl stomped petulantly. "YOU DID! YOU DID! YOU DID! You said Azkaban would be attacked!"

"What?! When did I say that?!" She looked over at her friends with exasperation. "What the hell is wrong with this kid? Seriously."

"I remember!" the kid shouted. "You said that on Halloween something bad would happen; and- and- a prison falling!"

"No I didn't!" Wait- is this the same kid from the music club? She looked around for Merton, spotting him among the growing crowd. "Mert, back me up on this. That's not what I said, right?"

"I…" He went ashen, looking nervous. "I think you did mention something about a prison."

Ah, fuck! The crowd around them was growing.

"Melissa…" Jacqueline spoke quietly. "Do you remember what you said?"

"No, but-" Several of her group inhaled sharply, "come on guys, I was just playing around. She asked for a prophecy, and I just… whatever came out, came out. It didn't mean anything!"

"Wait!" Garrick's eyes went wide. "You forced yourself to make that prophecy?!" A smattering of gasps followed that. "Melissa, there's a reason you're not supposed to force Seers to tell the future! It always leads to trouble."

"What? Wait-" He can't be implying- "Come on, you can't actually be saying that this is my fault!"

"That explains it!" a voice broke through the crowd. It was Parvati Patil, her fingers pressed together near her lips. "You said that all you remember about it was there being men in black. That must be the Dementors!"

That is a… fucking stretch. She can't seriously believe that?!

The crowd ate it up.

FUCK!

Garrick muttered quietly. "We have to get her out of here. Now!"

She sat quietly in Herbology, paying zero mind to today's lesson. Not that many would pay attention after the insanity that just took place.

"Melissa?" Jacqueline put a gentle hand on her. Melissa didn't respond, her eyes in a daze. "Melissa, how are you feeling?"

"Just… having an existential crisis. Give me a minute…"

Across from her, though beyond her dazed sight, Garrick shook his head. "I understand you've been hiding your powers all of these years, so you must not have known about it; but it's imperative that you never force yourself into making a prophecy again. They're dangerous. Ones made by force, especially."

"But I… I don't even remember what I said." I was just a rehashing the book, for fuck's sake!

"That's normal with prophecy," Garrick said gently. "You can't help but not recall it."

"He's right." Weirdly, that voice was Rusalka's. "My Babushka knew a family of seers in the old country. Every once in a while they'd burst into prophecy, then continue whatever conversation they were having as if nothing had happened."

"Well that's just… inconvenient." Cuz if I don't go along with this I'll go back to prison. Fuck!

Jacqueline patted her shoulder. "It's alright. You'll get used to it."

Melissa shrugged off the girl's hand. "Knowing the future isn't the problem, though. Thanks to Little Miss What's-Her-Face, the whole school is going to think that what happened is my fault. As if I can magically explode Azkaban, of all places!"

"I mean…" Rusalka's voice strained, "you were there for a while. It wouldn't be hard to imagine you had some way of doing it. Even if you hadn't predicted it."

"That's ridiculous! Sure, it's a hellhole, but not everyone there deserves death. My wing had petty crime inmates for the most part, and some of the guards are decent people."

Rusalka made a face, unnoticed. "What about Simon Pritchard and Katherine Montague?"

"Pritchard? Pfft! Oh man, that guy's a prick. Prick-Pritchard, that's what he is. Montague's a bitch, too. What about them?"

"...They were the ones on duty last night."

"Oh," Melissa finally looked up, noticing the surrounding stares. "That doesn't do me any favours, does it?"

Their heads shook in a negative way.

"Greeeeat."

At the end of transfiguration she was summoned to Dumbledore's office, which was both a blessing and a curse to be away from most prying minds.

"I swear I didn't know!"

Snape wasn't buying it. "You've spoken of the future in confidence, before. You expect us to believe you had no knowledge of this?"

"Futures change! They change all the time!" Her arms waved wildly. "Just look at the rest of this term! Ron's taking ancient runes, Draco never got attacked, Lupin's not a professor here-"

"What?!"

Dumbledore chimed in, "We are straying from the matter at hand." He focused his attention on Melissa. "Miss Bennett, perhaps it's best that we hear this prophecy ourselves. Do you recall which students witnessed the full prophecy?

"Um, there was Astoria Greengrass, that curly-haired kid in the great hall, and two other girls from Gryffindor. One was named Harriet."

Snape rolled his eyes. "There are three Harriets in Gryffindor." Melissa snorted at his exasperation. "I'll send for Greengrass and extract her memory of the event."

Good. Then I can prove that Curly's a moron. "Works for me."

Twenty minutes later, the three wizards pulled themselves out of the memory with a grimace.

"Well," Snape spoke silkily, "that settles the matter. You predicted it's fall."

"Says you," she huffed. "I clearly said 'the prison falls behind', not falls!"

"'Behind' was said as part of the next line," he countered. "The former is a singular statement that the prison falls."

"I just needed to fill the pattern-!"

"Severus! Miss Bennett!" Both quieted as Dumbledore chastised him. "If you are quite finished, there is more to this prophecy than either of you are paying mind to. This is not only about Azkaban, but of a dangerous criminal's escape."

Snape paled at the reminder. "The werewolves! A Beast calling for blood!"

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded. "They have yet to be found. I will floo the Minister and alert him to have the waters searched. Miss Bennett, I thank you for your cooperation. You have my leave to go."

"Thanks." Honestly, if this is going to be the official interpretation, she's all for it. "Is it alright if I let people know?"

The men looked at each other in silent conversation before Dumbledore answered. "I see no harm in doing so. Just be mindful of such occurrences in the future."

"Right. I'll do that."

Good. Maybe now people won't act like this is all my fault.

When the door closed, Snape broke the silence. "They plan to attack the school, don't they?"

"...That appears to be the situation." He gave a weary sigh. "Though, with the emphasis of futures changing, there is hope that none will be harmed."

"I don't put much stock in hope. If they aren't found, we need to be ready."

"Most certainly."

So… That was wishful thinking.

"Alright, let's hear it," Melissa gestured to Sierra, today's Divination buddy, as they walked up the North tower.

"Well," the girl smirked, "we already have the obvious truth, that you forced out a prediction of terrible destruction."

"Mhmm." Obvious truth. Sure.

"Some are saying that you made a ritual while inside of Azkaban that timed itself to go off on Halloween. Others say you brought in an actual bomb."

"Would that even work?"

"Of course not," Sierra rolled her eyes. "They also say you summoned demons to carry out your vengeance against the prison, and that the Ministry's next. Oh! And that you used some kind of special wandless magic to pull it off."

"Yeah, because doing wandless magic from a distance is so easy!"

Sierra laughed. "Like any kind of wandless magic is easy. Only the strongest wizards can do something like that!"

"...Right." Well, at least with Sierra's tendency to gossip, the werewolf stuff will detract most of this nonsense.

WEREWOLF FOUND DEAD! SECOND WEREWOLF STILL AT LARGE!

POISON REVEALED! THE WIDOW'S REVENGE!

The Widow's Revenge, Harry read, a noxious potion designed to kill any man who breathes in its fumes. As most of Azkaban's inhabitants were men, only the handful of witch inmates remain alive.

Harry lowered the paper.

Designed to kill any man who breathes it in.

The words sunk in.

Any man.

Uncle Vernon is in Azkaban.

He wasn't sure how to feel about that. If what it's saying is true… even if he's a muggle and not a wizard… Did he..? Worse, did he deserve to die like that?

Harry shivered. No. No one deserves that. Even- Even Uncle Vernon.

Right?

Maybe?

He felt very confused by all this.

A distraction broke Harry out of those thoughts as people reacted to a sound of retching coming from the Slytherin table. Harry followed the sound like everyone else. The result landed him at the sight of Draco, looking a pale green and having bits of sick on his tie. Beside him, Greengrass magicked away the mess. Though that act seemed to snap the boy to reality. Before Harry could blink, Draco pushed away from his seat and bolted out the door. The reason why was clear, which explained why Harry found himself following after the boy before being consciously aware of his own actions.

It was intuition and coincidence that helped Harry catch Draco. Being Slytherin aside, they share double potions this morning, so it didn't take much to find Draco racing through the dungeon looking for a safe haven. Draco reached for a door to an abandoned classroom. Before going inside, he must have caught Harry's run towards him, as he whipped his head in that direction. There were tear-tracks on his face, countered by a burst of anger.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Harry slowed down as he reached him. "Draco-" The blond turned away and walked inside. "DRACO!" The door slammed shut, but Harry burst through before the door could be locked. "Look, I know it's bad, but-"

"BAD? MY FATHER IS DEAD!" More tears slipped, and Draco started to shake. "He's- He's dead, and I-" his back fell against the wall, "I killed him."

"Draco, you didn't-"

"But I did! I'm the one who told the Ministry what he did! I- If I hadn't, he wouldn't have gone to Azkaban." He slid down to the ground, head curled and buried within his arms.

"You can't know that," Harry tried to reason. "He was already on trial, there was evidence against him."

"But my testimony swayed them, didn't it?! I'm the one who had Dobby write a list of everything he knew my father was planning! I never should have listened to Mother and Lord Black! I was supposed to save my family's reputation. Instead, I've murdered the only other Malfoy left!"

Staying silent, Harry took a long inhale. How was he supposed to argue against that? Technically, there's some truth to that, but- no. It's not! "I can't say whether or not it would have made a difference," he said slowly, "but you're not the one that made that potion, and you're not the one that killed him. Draco, look at me," he crouched down, waiting on him to look up, "you are not the one that killed him. Some else did. Someone horrible enough to poison an entire building of people. And, even then, you are no more responsible for what happened to your father than I am for what happened to my uncle."

"...Your uncle?"

Harry nodded. "My uncle Vernon was in Azkaban too." It took a moment, but Draco's eyes widened in understanding. "I know it's different, because what happened between me and him was… personal. Still, would you say that I've killed my uncle?"

Draco's tongue seemed lost for words. "Wha- well… no?" He shook his head for clarity. "No, of course not. But he's a criminal!"

So's your dad. That would be the wrong thing to say. "It's not about whether he's a criminal or whether he's guilty or not. I testified against him, and he ended up in Azkaban. So either my actions led him to his death, or not. The same as yours." He sat down, so they were both on equal footing. "So either we've both killed them, or we're both not at fault. Which is it?"

Draco stared at him. Wide, pale eyes that screamed with loss. Bewilderment echoing between the pain.

"You don't have to answer that right now," Harry said, once the silence stretched too thin. "But that is the question you have to consider. …I never knew my dad, so I can't imagine everything you're feeling right now; but… just know you're not alone in this. Okay?"

Draco gave a shallow nod. Then, without prompt, Draco pushed forward and wrapped Harry in a hug. He could feel tears on his shoulder. Harry felt a prickle of tears, himself, but held them back as he patted the boy's back with reassurance. When Draco finally let go, he slid back with his face looking down and away with conflicted emotions. "...Thank you. For… for coming here."

Harry offered a gentle smile. "It's what friends are for. Just, think about it, okay?"

Draco nodded again. This time, he moved to stand up. "We should… go to class, I suppose," he muttered. He walked out the door, and Harry trailed a step behind him.

They managed about six steps before finding their way blocked by Professor Snape. Neither party spoke. Harry couldn't quite describe Snape's expression, but it had some layer of sadness today. Harry wondered how the man must be reacting to all of this? "Mister Malfoy," he said, "in light of today's events, you are excused from attending today's classes. I have sent word to your mother to retrieve you so that your father's affairs can be put to order."

Draco swallowed hard. "...Thank you, professor. I'll… I'll just gather my things."

He walked off without another word, leaving Harry and Professor Snape alone in the corridor. "...Loathed as I am to say this, the offer extends to you as well, Potter. If it is required."

Harry thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "It's not the same for me. I'll be fine."

Snape gave a shallow nod, with a steely shine in his eyes. "As you should be, Potter."

Thursday, November 4th, 1993

SECOND WEREWOLF CAPTURED!

PETER PETTIGREW FAKES DEATH - AGAIN! ANIMAGUS DEATH EATER AT LARGE!

Huh?

Oh.

Wait- shit- FUCK!