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"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 ..." The words of both the prophecies had been seared into his mind, a result of repeating them many a time on the nights he couldn't sleep, trying to make some semblance of sense out of them. Was it better to know of your future or be blissfully unawares until it became the present? So far, his ponderings had only caused him headache; as much as he would wish to just lead a life not constantly marred by the shadow of fear these prophecies had cast upon him, he knew he wouldn't have had the life he led now without them. Finally, he had simply decided that "forewarned is forearmed" and had left it to that. What was the point in hoping to change something that had already happened?
"What?" Neville asked, mulling over the prophecy. "Who made that prophecy?"
"This prophecy was made by our very own Professor Trelawney, Nev, and to none other than Albus Dumbledore." The dizziness seemed to make a vicious comeback as Neville clutched his head in his palms.
"I can't bloody believe it!" He exclaimed, even if his demeanor clearly stated he had already started to, hence the headache.
"I couldn't at first either." The greened eyed wizard admitted, a hand rubbing the left side of his face tiredly. "If you'd like, after I finish explaining everything, I could show you the memories of how I came to know of both prophecies; hell, I could even repeat everything I'm about to relate under Veritaserum, if you'd prefer it…"
"There won't be a need for that." Neville assured him. He didn't really doubt Harry. But, Merlin, he had so many questions begging to be asked, his mind was buzzing in anticipation! Prudently he chose to let Harry continue with his narration. Maybe he would answer some of his unasked questions by himself.
"Thank you, Nev." Harry stated sincerely; having Neville's trust was one of the things that mattered more to him than words could ever hope to express.
"Now, could you, please…"
"Yes, of course." Harry stated, continuing with his narration. "As you understand, that prophecy made it to the ears of Voldemort." How and by whom was not a secret he was not prepared to share, simply because it wasn't his to tell. And his father had suffered enough for it as it was. "At least the first part did, from what I understand; the part that speaks of a child that will be born as the seventh month of the year ended, born of parents that had stood up to him thrice and lived to tell the tale." Neville nodded. "The problem was that the prophecy didn't specify who that child was." He frowned and added; "Clarity is not something prophecies are known for, I can assure you." In the meanwhile, Neville's head spun. The prophecy didn't specify who that child was, Harry had said. As the seventh month died, the prophecy offered. How many times had his parents stood up to the Dark Lord again?
"What do you mean "it didn't specify who the child was"?" Harry sighed tiredly, his shoulders slumped and Neville was struck again with how his friend seemed to carry the weight of the world sometimes.
"There were three candidates, three boys that had been born on the last day of July that satisfied all the criteria. Born first on July the 31st, was you, Nev." The boy blanched but nodded affirmative. He had half expected that. "Second, born around eleven in the afternoon was Adrian. And then, a few seconds before the clock chimed twelve, I was born." A few seconds before the clock chimed twelve, Neville thought. How much closer to the death of July could you get? He shivered; but it had been Adrian that had stopped the Dark Lord, right?
"But it wasn't me the prophecy spoke of." Neville deduced, not daring to venture any further; it was all quite surreal.
"No." Harry offered. "No, you're in the clear." He added smirking ever so slightly, a hand tousling his hair. "So, I fear, despite circumstantial evidence, is Adrian." And Neville wondered why he even bothered gasping in surprise as everything the wizarding world of this country had based its newfound freedom on during the past thirteen years collapsed in one short sentence.
"But Harry… The prophecy said the one meant to… do away with the Dark Lord would be marked as his equal. Adrian's scar…" Harry simply lifted his shirt and pointed at the mark there he hadn't bothered to cover with a glamour this once. Neville could only stare as if thunderstruck.
"As I said; circumstantial evidence, Nev." He sighed, covering his mark once more. "Even if this emblem wasn't visible until I turned seven, the fact is that nobody has bothered to look besides the obvious since. Well, Dad did, but he's just… oh, he's just my Dad, I suppose. He knows this kind of stuff; don't even ask me how."
"Are you referring to professor Severus?" Neville asked, already knowing the answer. "But you just said… James is your father."
"Biologically. At this point, I'm afraid, that's just a technicality." Harry stated simply.
"Merlin, I'm confused!" Harry nodded in understanding; he knew the only way to help was to keep explaining. So he did. He spoke of how Severus and he met, how his parents started paying less and less attention to him over the years, how he was left in the shadows as Adrian trained and how he started spending more and more time with the man he had come to consider his rightful father. And he talked and talked, until he reached that fateful day, a little after his seventh birthday.
"Adrian had just acquired his wand, you see." Harry stated, taking a measured sip of water to calm his rapidly parching throat. "Getting me one too wasn't even considered, so Dad had taken it upon himself to teach me some sort of magic and take my mind off things. He has a habit of doing that." Harry smiled fondly as Neville merely nodded in mild numbness. "So, we were working on a potion, a blood replenishing potion, I think, when an owl decided it would be prudent to fly over the fireplace to deliver a letter. In the process, it managed to throw Dad's complete stash of mandrake root into the boiling cauldron." Neville winced as he imagined the outcome; mandrake root was a very volatile ingredient as was every single part of a mandrake. "As you can imagine, boom." Harry offered chuckling once.
"How much mandrake are you talking about?" Neville asked, thinking of the mess such an accident could make.
"Enough to almost bring down the fireplace and the wall beneath it." The green eyed wizard supplied. "I still remember feeling petrified as the flames drew nearer and thinking how I just wanted them to bloody stop, when it happened; I threw my hands forward and shielded Dad and myself from the explosion. I figured that, wow, accidental magic rocks, right?" He shook his head. "Wrong; as Dad immediately stated, accidental magic isn't supposed to be so advanced. That still left the question of what the hell was wrong with me. And thinking of that, to Dumbledore we went. Or at least, we meant to go."
"Meant to?"
HI GUYS IF YOU WANT READ 300 + CHAPTERS THEN VISIT
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