Prophecy

7 Advanced chapters on Patreon: Fiction Haven

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A hooded figure sat on the throne in a dimly lit room somewhere in the middle of who-knows-where. He was emitting a pale grey aura around him, making his surroundings bleak and depressive. His face was obscured by the shadow his hood profoundly cast, but one could tell where his eyes lay.

"Help me now, wouldn't you?"

A crow spoke in a raspy human voice. The hooded figure didn't show any reaction, but one could somehow tell he was amused. The crow, possessing a face that didn't belong to one, scowled. The recently defeated Dark Lord didn't like being looked down upon.

"Tommy," the hooded figure drawled. "Haven't I taught you how to address your God?"

Potent Magic swept across the room, suffocating Voldemort. For all the indifference and leisure the hooded figure had shown, Voldemort was reminded he was his God.

"I am sorry, Master."

The hooded figure remained silent for a few seconds before speaking.

"I am disappointed and embarrassed for you, Tommy. You needed an improved vessel that could bolster your Magic, and I gave you that, sacrificing a little bit of my Authority. Lo and behold, here you scampered to me, suffering another defeat."

"Pardon me for my unsightly performance," Voldemort gritted out.

The hooded figure focused his gaze on Voldemort. The unsightly crow lowered his head, pushing down his grudge. For all the pride he had, he knew when to back down. His journey 50 years back was an arduous one. He didn't get strong overnight. He had cheated, lied, and bowed his head to survive before getting his due revenge.

"Are you so naïve to think I can't hear what you are thinking?"

Voldemort stiffened but quickly relaxed. He had an inkling that the hooded figure who proclaimed himself to be their God was capable of such. Voldemort had felt his power. Such a high level of Legilimency was not the most amazing thing the self-proclaimed God could do.

"But I am sure you know the revenge I mean, Master," Voldemort smoothly intoned.

"To be on the same plane as my existence—to show me you could do it too." The figure chuckled in amusement. "That is why I let you have free will. Though I know how it would devolve into a spectacular debacle, I still want to see the farce firsthand."

Voldemort kept his beak shut. His Occlumency barely held down his unbridled indignation. However, he held through in the end. Silence filled the room before the hooded figure addressed him again.

"I don't have enough Authority over this world yet to conjure an enhanced vessel for you, Tommy. We haven't sacrificed enough people. Therefore, a sacrifice must be made for you to gain a vessel."

"My followers shall prepare the sacrifice," Voldemort readily responded.

"It shan't be anyone other than you, Tommy." Voldemort looked up in confusion. "A fragment of your soul will be enough to conjure a better vessel for you. In other words, your Horcrux."

Nodding in understanding, Voldemort shouted, "Regulus!"

The Black Heir swiftly entered the room and knelt before the hooded figure. He presented the Slytherin Locket in his hands. The hooded figure raised his hand, causing the locket to levitate. The locket was quickly engulfed by a black flame. At the same time, Voldemort's soul escaped the crow's body. The two combined, forming a black capsule of two meters tall.

The capsule shattered, revealing Voldemort in his glory, now stronger than before. Regulus looked at the scene in awe. Voldemort breathed deeply, filling his lungs with Magic-filled air. His body was brimming with power, and he couldn't wait to unleash it.

"Robe me, Regulus."

Regulus did as he was told.

"Now that you are done with your theatrical performance, give me the prophecy."

"As you wish, My Lord," Regulus bowed. "Rookwood!" he shouted.

Augustus Rookwood, deathly pale, entered the room. Everyone could tell he was dying because of the Basilisk venom, but no one said a thing. Voldemort would have done something about it if he hadn't been disappointed by Augustus' failure to kill the traitorous Severus.

"H- Here, My Lord," Augustus rasped with a bow.

The hooded figure extended his hand and took the offered orb with his pale, slender fingers. He examined the orb for a moment before returning his attention to Augustus.

"Thank you for your endeavour. As a reward, I shall grant you a quick and painless death."

The hooded figure flicked his wrist, and Augustus turned to dust. Voldemort marvelled at the scene. He hadn't felt the self-proclaimed God utilised Magic. Authority, he surmised. He wanted that.

…

"For the last time, Lord Peverell, did you truly never mean harm toward the unfortunate Wizengamot members who lost their lives tonight due to your Dark Spell?"

Harry looked at the questioning Auror sitting across from him flatly. They had been at it for the last hour, and Harry had lost patience to put up with the shit.

"Do you think you can stop me if I decide to burn the whole Britain down with my fire?"

The Auror gasped in terror, and the people in the surroundings stiffened. Everyone knew about the Dark Spell that had almost reduced Paris to cinder during Grindelwald's reign. The young man before them was more than capable of doing the same thing. Unlike the last time, however, they wouldn't have Dumbledore to save the day. Understandably, they were terrified.

"All right. That is enough. Let's just keep these unfortunate deaths under the rug," Bella finally intervened. "Let's shift the blame to the families of the Death Eaters who fell in the Wizengamot courtroom."

"Let's do that," Minister Bones quickly agreed, not wanting to risk Harry turning against them.

"I am sorry for the offence, Lord Peverell. It was only a formality," the Auror who interrogated Harry apologised.

Harry gave the Auror the same flat look, making him scurry away. Harry stood up and received his sword from Bella. Rufus settled his eyes on the sword but didn't comment. For how confident he was in his prowess, he knew the young man could chew him before he could wave his wand.

"I am sorry for our wariness, Lord Peverell. A lot of things happened. The Ministry was attacked when everyone was awake and active. Some of the prominent Wizengamot members fell, and Dementors are haunting everyone. The public is concerned. We have a lot on our plate," Minister Bones apologised. "Some are already calling for my dismissal," she wryly added.

"They can take care of the problem themselves if they are dissatisfied," Harry sneered. He shook his head to rid him of his irritation. He shrunk the Gryffindor's Sword and hung it on his necklace. "Well, I am going to visit Dumbledore at Hogwarts. I'll see you when fate brings us across."

Bella wrapped her arm around Harry's as he took out his wand. With a crack, they disappeared from the room. Amelia could only sigh helplessly at how easily the young man broke the Ward they had created around the room. They were not stupid. They knew what Harry wanted to say. No Ward could stop him, so no one could catch him either. If the Ministry got on Harry's bad side, it could only hope Britain wouldn't disappear overnight.

Harry didn't mean that. He just didn't want to bother himself with utilising the Floo Network in the Ministry headquarters. He certainly didn't care what impression he had made on the Ministry. He went straight to Dumbledore's office with Bella trailing beside him. His hand was idly fiddling with the orb in his pocket.

"Cockroach Cluster."

The gargoyle before Dumbledore's office moved and revealed the way into his office. Upon entering the office, he surprisingly saw Narcissa and Lily inside. Severus was also there, but he was not important. Dumbledore seemed to have asked them to help him with his ailment and Severus with his injuries. It was quite surprising that Dumbledore let Narcissa in on his secret.

"What about Charlus and the others?" Harry casually asked.

"The Order is looking after them. They will be fine. Now, Dumbledore, would you bloody stay still?" Lily answered before scolding her patient.

"Hi, Harry. Impressive display you showed back then," Dumbledore greeted with a twinkle in his eyes.

Harry took the seat across from Dumbledore. Only then did he acknowledge Severus' cautious gaze at him.

"Would you stay still, Severus?" Narcissa hissed.

"I AM staying still, woman," Severus hissed back.

"And I can just let you die," Narcissa huffed, forcing Severus to swallow whatever he wanted to say.

Harry snorted lightly in amusement before returning his attention to Dumbledore. He took the orb out of his pocket, idly noting Severus' jumpy reaction, and put it on the table. Dumbledore looked at it curiously before understanding crossed his eyes.

"This prophecy is different from the one I know," Harry calmly said.

He tapped the orb with his wand and projected the memory it contained.

"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..."

Although Harry had already known about this prophecy, thanks to his previous life's knowledge, he had thought this universe had a different prophecy. After all, the one that was revealed to him was this one.

"There can only be one boy who lives to defeat He-Who-Embodies-Darkness. Should another live, a distance is what you should seek. For the being who ends all shall never be notified. Whoever his eyes lay upon, death shall pluck him from the cycle."

Dumbledore caressed his beard and sighed. His eyes flashed toward Severus before the story of the fateful night unfolded.