The Prophecy's Shadow [1]

Despite Dumbledore's growing hostility, sharpening like a blade with each passing day, Marquas was still required to visit his office daily to examine the condition of his cursed hand. Each time, he braced himself, wary that the old man might once again try to pry into his mind. He had no intention of revealing his transmigration knowledge, not until he stood at the brink of life and death. Only then, when everything hung in the balance, would he unleash that knowledge, because in that moment, it could change the entire course of the battle.

He stood in the dimly lit office of Albus Dumbledore, watching as the Headmaster carefully examined the destroyed ring Horcrux. Even shattered and magically inert, the item radiated a lingering darkness that seemed to absorb the light around it.

Dumbledore looked up, his hand still showing signs of the curse that had nearly claimed it, the blackened skin now contained thanks to Marquas's intervention, but not completely healed. "Now, what are your thoughts on managing the affairs of Herpo? I've already written to the Department of Mysteries, urging them to keep a close watch on the Veil of Death. But if you continue to withhold the secret you're keeping from me, it could prove dangerous, perhaps even fatal."

Before Dumbledore could press further, the office door burst open. Professor McGonagall entered with uncharacteristic haste, her expression tense.

"Albus, Sybill is having some kind of episode in the North Tower. Not her usual... performances. Something different."

Dumbledore rose immediately. "Different how, precisely?"

"Magical emanations unlike anything I've observed from her before," McGonagall replied. "The tower room's windows are glowing, and she's speaking in a voice that carries through solid stone. Several students have already gathered below."

Marquas felt a chill of recognition. In the original timeline, Trelawney had delivered her prophecy about Harry Potter in early 1980, which Snape had partially overheard and reported to Voldemort. But this was still February, months too early, and the circumstances sounded far more dramatic than the private prediction she'd made to Dumbledore in the books.

"We should investigate immediately," Dumbledore decided, already moving toward the door.

As they hurried through the castle corridors, Marquas's mind raced with possibilities. Timeline alterations were inevitable given his interventions, but significant changes to pivotal events like the prophecy could have far-reaching consequences he couldn't predict.

The North Tower was indeed emanating an eerie blue light that pulsed from every window. A crowd of students had gathered at its base, pointing and whispering as the light flashed in rhythmic patterns. Filch was attempting unsuccessfully to disperse them while looking nervously upward himself.

"Everyone return to your common rooms," McGonagall ordered with the kind of authority that brooked no argument. "Prefects, escort your housemates immediately."

As the students reluctantly began to disperse, Dumbledore led Marquas and McGonagall up the winding tower stairs. The magical emanations grew stronger with each step, culminating at the entrance to Trelawney's divination classroom, where the door vibrated with concentrated magical energy.

"Most unusual," Dumbledore murmured, examining the phenomenon with academic interest despite the obvious danger. "Minerva, establish a containment perimeter in case this is some form of magical discharge. Severus, your expertise in protective wards would be most helpful."

Working together, they created a series of magical barriers around the door before carefully opening it. Inside, they found a scene straight from a classical painting of divine revelation.

Sybill Trelawney hovered three feet above the floor, surrounded by swirling mist that seemed to emanate from her very skin. Her eyes were open but completely white, and her arms were outstretched as if embracing some invisible presence. Most disturbing was her voice, not her usual mystical whisper or even the harsh tones of her previous prophecy, but a harmonized chorus as if multiple entities spoke through her simultaneously.

"The one who wears another's face approaches... Neither born to this world nor bound by its predestined paths... The Dark Lord's nightmares manifest in human form..."

Marquas froze, each word striking him like a physical blow. This wasn't the prophecy about Harry Potter, this was something new, something that sounded disturbingly like a description of him.

"His knowledge sunders fate's design... What was written shall be unwritten... What was certain becomes mutable..."

Dumbledore had gone completely still, his eyes darting briefly to Marquas before returning to Trelawney's suspended form.

"The one who wears another's face shall be the Dark Lord's undoing... Though victory demands a price in blood "

The blue light intensified to blinding levels, forcing them to shield their eyes. When it subsided seconds later, Trelawney collapsed to the floor, unconscious but apparently unharmed. The magical discharge had completely dissipated, leaving only the faint scent of ozone and old tea leaves.

"Well," McGonagall said after a moment of stunned silence. "That was considerably more dramatic than her usual predictions of student misfortune."

Dumbledore knelt beside the unconscious professor, checking her vital signs with practiced efficiency. "She appears to be merely exhausted. Minerva, please arrange for Madam Pomfrey to examine her once we've moved her to more comfortable surroundings."

As McGonagall conjured a stretcher for Trelawney, Dumbledore's gaze found Marquas, who was still processing the implications of what they'd just witnessed.

"Severus, I believe we have matters to discuss once Professor Trelawney is properly attended to."

The tone was gentle but brooked no argument. Whatever fragile construction of half-truths Marquas had maintained about his knowledge was clearly crumbling in the face of this new prophecy.

••••

Hours later, they reconvened in Dumbledore's office. Trelawney had been moved to the hospital wing, still unconscious but stable according to Madam Pomfrey's assessment. More concerning was the fact that despite their efforts at containment, rumors of the incident were already spreading throughout the castle.

"It appears we have a new prophecy to consider," Dumbledore began without preamble. "One with rather specific imagery that bears examination."

"If we assume it's genuine," Marquas countered, attempting to maintain some defensive distance. "Trelawney's reliability is historically questionable."

"The magical manifestation suggests otherwise," Dumbledore replied mildly. "As does your reaction to its content."

There it was, the direct challenge Marquas had been anticipating and dreading. Dumbledore had noticed his response to the prophecy's words, further confirming the Headmaster's growing suspicions about his true nature.

"The phrasing was... unusually specific," Marquas acknowledged carefully.

"Indeed. 'The one who wears another's face.' 'Neither born to this world nor bound by its predestined paths.' 'Knowledge that sunders fate's design.'" Dumbledore recited the phrases with perfect recall, watching Marquas intently. "One might almost think it described someone who possesses knowledge they shouldn't have, knowledge of events yet to unfold."

Marquas weighed his options rapidly. Complete honesty about his transmigration from another reality where this world existed as fiction seemed both unbelievable and potentially dangerous. But continued deception was becoming increasingly untenable, especially with a prophecy now explicitly identifying him.

"I've been forthcoming about what matters most, Voldemort's Horcruxes and how to destroy them," he said finally. "The source of my knowledge is less important than its application."

"Under normal circumstances, I might agree," Dumbledore nodded. "But when a prophecy identifies someone in my school as 'the Dark Lord's undoing' while warning of 'blood,' the details become rather significant."

Before Marquas could formulate a response, the office fire flared green, and a head appeared in the flames, Alastor Moody, looking even more grim than usual.

"Albus, we have a situation. Death Eater attack in progress at the Ministry. They've breached the Department of Mysteries."

Dumbledore moved immediately to the fireplace. "Casualties?"

"Unknown. Fighting is ongoing. They came in force, at least twenty identified Death Eaters including Malfoy and Lestrange. They're after something specific in the Hall of Prophecy."

The timing couldn't be coincidental. Somehow, word of Trelawney's prophecy had reached Voldemort with impossible speed, triggering an immediate response.

"We have a leak," Marquas stated flatly. "Someone within Hogwarts reported the incident directly to Voldemort."

"Or we're being monitored through means we haven't detected," Dumbledore countered. "Regardless, the immediate concern is the Ministry. Alastor, alert the Order. We'll come through momentarily."

As the fire returned to normal, Dumbledore turned to Marquas. "Our conversation will need to continue later, Severus. For now, your skills may prove essential at the Ministry, if you're willing."

It was phrased as a request rather than an order, acknowledging the complex nature of their relationship. Despite the tension of their interrupted discussion, Marquas nodded without hesitation. Whatever suspicions Dumbledore harbored, the immediate threat took priority.

"I'll prepare appropriate supplies," he agreed, already mentally cataloging which specialized potions and defensive items would be most useful in the coming confrontation.

The Ministry atrium was in chaos when they arrived, debris scattered across the once-pristine floor, magical barriers hastily erected at key junctions, and the sound of spell-fire echoing from deeper within the building. A group of Aurors maintained a defensive position near the security desk, led by a young witch Marquas recognized with a jolt as Alice Longbottom, Neville's mother who, in the original timeline, would be tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Dumbledore!" she called upon seeing them. "They've barricaded the Department of Mysteries. At least fifteen hostages inside, including three Unspeakables."

"What are they after?" Dumbledore asked as they joined the defensive line.

"The prophecy records, according to Intelligence," Alice replied. "Though how they knew to target those specifically, today of all days, is concerning."

Indeed, Marquas thought grimly. The timeline was shifting dramatically now, Voldemort pursuing prophecy records months before the original prediction about Harry was even made, and doing so with a full-scale assault rather than subtle manipulation.

"Do we have a floor plan of the Department?" Marquas asked, already considering tactical approaches.

Alice produced a magical blueprint that hovered in the air before them, showing the complex layout of the Department of Mysteries with its multiple specialized chambers.

"They've established primary position here," she indicated the circular entrance chamber. "With teams securing the Hall of Prophecy, the Time Chamber, and what we believe is the Death Chamber."

Marquas studied the layout, identifying potential vulnerabilities in the Death Eaters' deployment. "They've overextended. Three separate chambers means divided forces. We can exploit that with coordinated strikes through these access points." He indicated several maintenance passages that connected to the main chambers.

Order members began arriving in groups, Moody leading several battle-hardened wizards including a young Sirius Black, whose expression darkened upon seeing Marquas. Whatever timeline alterations had occurred, that particular animosity remained unchanged.

"Tactical assessment?" Moody demanded gruffly.

"Multiple insertion points, coordinated simultaneously," Marquas replied, focusing on the mission rather than personal tensions. "They're searching prophecy records, which indicates they know something exists but not its precise location. That gives us a time advantage."

"Three strike teams," Dumbledore decided. "Alastor, take the eastern approach with your group. Minerva, the western maintenance corridor. I'll lead the central team with Severus to breach their primary position."

The strategy session was interrupted by a magical explosion that shook the entire atrium, the Death Eaters making their presence emphatically known. As debris rained down from the damaged ceiling, Marquas noticed something that sent a chill through him: among the falling dust were fragments of what appeared to be Time-Turners, their golden casings shattered and leaking magical sand.

"They've breached the Time Chamber containment field," he warned urgently. "We need to move immediately before temporal anomalies complicate the battlefield."

Dumbledore nodded grimly. "Proceed as planned. Communication through Patronus messengers only, standard magical channels may be compromised."

As the teams dispersed to their entry positions, Marquas found himself alongside Dumbledore, Sirius Black, and two Aurors he didn't recognize. The tension within the group was palpable, with Black making no attempt to hide his distrust.

"Convenient timing," Black muttered just loudly enough to be heard. "Prophecy appears at Hogwarts, and within hours Death Eaters attack the Hall of Prophecy. Almost like they had inside information."

"Your conspiracy theories are noted and ignored," Marquas replied coolly. "Perhaps focus your limited attention on the actual enemies ahead rather than fabricating new ones."

"Enough," Dumbledore intervened before the exchange could escalate. "We face sufficient danger without adding internal conflict."

They proceeded in tense silence through the Ministry corridors, encountering signs of the Death Eaters' violent progress, shattered displays, disabled security measures, and occasionally, injured Ministry workers whom they paused briefly to stabilize before continuing.