Voldemort returns and is intent on revenge, preventing the prophecy from coming true and ensuring his reign over the wizarding world. But everything changes when he realizes the girl who lived, his ultimate nemesis...is actually a Horcrux...
Voldemo...
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(19 YEARS AGO)
Severus Snape slipped into the Hogs Head pub, hood drawn low to conceal his face. His loyalty to Voldemort drove him to gather intel, and Dumbledore's presence here intrigued him. The Headmaster rarely visited this seedy bar in Hogsmeade. Was it merely a stop for a drink, or something more?
"What are you doing here, old man?" Severus muttered to himself. He positioned himself near the door, watching as Dumbledore made his way to a private room in the back of the pub. When he opened the door to enter Severus saw a frail, bookish woman with thick glasses and frizzy hair sitting at the table just inside. The crowded bar buzzed with shady witches and wizards as he slipped inside.
Severus ordered a whiskey at the bar, dropping a few coins before slipping into a table just outside the room. He cast a charm to enhance his hearing, ensuring he could eavesdrop without detection.
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The woman was being interviewed for a position at Hogwarts...Divination, it seemed. Severus rubbed his temples wondering how much longer he would ensure this fruitless exchange. Dumbledore didn't seem too impressed; Severus even chuckled at the woman's ridiculous answers.
"You say you believe you have the gift of foresight?" he asked, his skepticism was palpable.
"Oh, yes Headmaster...I have the sight...I can see things...terrible things...before they happen...just as my great-great grandmother, Cassandra Sybill." she said cryptically. He raised his eyebrows, leaning back, steepling his fingers.
"Indeed, and what sort of things have you seen?"
Her gaze shifted beyond the room, as if seeking answers in the very air. Dumbledore's eyes followed hers for a moment and then looked back at her curiously.
"Visions, Headmaster...visions of death and tragedy....I once predicted the demise of a students pet goldfish!"
Dumbledore raised his eyebrow. "A goldfish?"
"Yes," the woman said, her voice quivering. "I saw it....in my crystal ball...floating belly-up in his bowl. A dire omen, surely."
Dumbledore sighed, his patience waning. "Miss Trelawny, Divination is a delicate art. It requires intuition, yes, but also a grounding in reality...tell me, have you ever predicted anything...useful?"
Her eyes misted over as she clasped her hands. "I once foresaw a student dropping a teacup...it shattered you see! A sign of impending doom, I'm sure."
Dumbledore resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "A broken teacup hardly qualifies as useful prophecy," he said, his tone gentle. "Divination must transcend trivialities. Tell me, have you glimpsed anything beyond porcelain fragments? Anything that might guide our path?"
Sybil hesitated, her cryptic demeanor faltering. "I...I once sensed a gathering storm, a tempest brewing in the Forbidden Forest. But the details elude me."
"Miss Trelawney," Dumbledore continued, his voice a blend of kindness and resolve, "I appreciate your time and your...unique perspective. As of this moment, we have not made a final decision regarding the Divination position at Hogwarts. Your application shall remain on file, and should we find ourselves in need of a professor with your talents, we shall be in touch. Thank you, and best wishes to you."
He rose from his chair, robes billowing like the wings of a majestic phoenix. Sybil nodded, her smile timid yet hopeful. Dumbledore turned to leave, his footsteps echoing against the ancient floorboards.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
As he reached for the doorknob, Sybil's voice shifted—a subtle transformation that sent shivers down Severus's spine. It was as if two entities spoke through her...one mortal, the other touched by realms beyond.
"The one with the power to conquer the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies....."
Severus's breath hitched. He had dismissed Trelawney as a charlatan, a mere pretender to the art of Divination. Yet now, her words resonated with an eerie clarity. The hairs on his arms stood on end.
He leaned closer, straining to catch every syllable. The prophecy...the elusive thread of destiny...wove itself before him. The seventh month, defiance, a harbinger of doom. His mind raced, connecting dots he hadn't known existed.
And then, as if mocking his newfound intrigue, fate intervened.
"Hey! You're not supposed to be in here, Death Eater!"
The bar's owner materialized, his grip firm on Severus's arm. Annoyance flashed across Severus's face. He had no patience for interruptions, especially when the veil of prophecy hung so tantalizingly close.
The man propelled him out of the pub, and Severus stumbled onto the cobbled street. He straightened his robes, eyes darting back toward the room where Trelawney's voice still echoed. The prophecy...the incomplete revelation...burned within him.
What he did next would haunt him for years to come.
He relayed the prophecy to Voldemort.
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