With his heart pounding, Harry entered the house. Another confrontation awaited him. It was only now that he seriously began to fear that Tobias might still be angry with the whole "Mr Weasley" incident.

"Hi," Harry greeted tightly. Tobias was lying on the couch in front of the TV, watching a football match.

"Oh, the prodigal son has finally deigned to show up at home," the man said, taking a long gulp of beer from the bottle. Without looking away from the T.V., he added: "Get upstairs and don't disturb me. You can see that I am busy."

Harry swallowed loudly and felt a pang of regret as he remembered what he had been telling Sirius not even an hour earlier.

"Sorry about the other day," he said, even though he felt absolutely no guilt. However, he did not want the man to keep holding their recent fight against him. "Can you not be angry with me anymore?"

Tobias looked at him as if considering the question.

"Alright, alright. But, go now. I brought you some paint; you will start painting the house tomorrow. And tomorrow, well ... you can tell me how it was at that ginger friend of yours. Now, there is an important game on T.V."

"Okay, sure." Harry sighed and slowly walked up to his room.

He was tired. Both his confrontation with Dumbledore and Lupin and his time with his godfather cost him a lot. In the context of the conversation with Sirius, Tobias' behaviour hurt even more. Still, at least the man was no longer angry with him.

Despite the exhaustion, he kept rolling from side to side, unable to sleep. He had to find some way to catch Pettigrew. Of course he could not count on help from the Order...or Dumbledore. Harry was frustrated by the Headmaster's behaviour. He wondered why the man was trying to hide information at all costs from him. For the first eleven years of his life, the boy had no idea that magic even existed. And from what he found out, it was the Headmaster and Hagrid who had left him on the Dursleys' doorstep.

Just like a newspaper or a bottle of milk, he thought bitterly.

What would happen if he woke up in the middle of the night and went somewhere? After all, one-and-a-half-year-old children can walk or at least move on all fours. Not to mention the legality of dumping an unwanted, magical kid on the Dursleys.

Dumbledore was definitely interfering in his life too much. Still, only now had Harry realised that the man didn’t necessarily have his best interest at heart. Harry felt somewhat betrayed.

Or maybe, as Lupin had said, maybe Harry was too demanding? After all, Dumbledore was just the Headmaster of the school Harry attended, so he shouldn't expect any special treatment, such as extra defence classes.

Over the past week, Harry had flipped through the book Sirius had given him for his birthday. He had practised all the spells' movements without actually doing any magic. Still, it wasn't even a little as good as casting actual spells. He would be lying if he said he was not afraid of Voldemort. The teen was aware that he had survived only thanks to his luck so far, and he knew that one day it would leave him as well.

The boy sighed. He got up from the bed and started pacing the room.

Suddenly he felt pretty lonely. The most powerful psychopath in the world, someone/who he had no chance of winning against, wanted to kill him, and he could only count on himself. Yes, Sirius would do anything for him, but today the teenager saw with his own eyes how bad the man's mental state was. Harry had no right to cause him any more worries—what's more, he should be the one who supported his godfather and did anything to help him. The teen wondered what was in those potions the man was drinking. When he and Sirius had been sitting in the attic, he had been struck with an impulse to place the empty vials in his pocket. Maybe he will ask Nott about them. The Slytherin owed him a favour for the Plangentine anyway, and this was an opportunity for him to pay back.

As for Ron and Hermione and the twins, well… he knew they would go through fire and water for him. But they were currently locked up at Grimmauld Place. Besides, the Headmaster heavily influenced them, and they did what he asked them to do.

There was also Tobias. Harry laughed bitterly. Going to Tobias with a problem like this seemed just ridiculous. The man was a Muggle, and he certainly wouldn’t understand the complexity of the situation  the wizarding world was in now. Not to mention that it could make his father mad and could easily end up with a few extra bruises for Harry.

Harry also thought of the Potions Master. The teen closed his eyes. The last two weeks had changed a lot in their relationship. It wasn't easy to admit, but he really liked being at Snape's house. He felt strangely safe when the man was around. However, Snape wasn't Sirius, and Harry couldn't afford to start relying on the man. One stupid mistake, some idiotic thing he would do sooner or later, and everything would be back to normal. He knew that the more he became emotionally invested and began to trust Snape, the more the rejection would hurt. But would the Potions Master go against the Headmaster's orders and agree to give him defence lessons? Certainly not if Harry told him that about his plans to hunt Wormtail down.

Suddenly it dawned on Harry. He remembered the letter from Ghost that he had received at the very beginning of the summer.

It seemed more and more justifiable to accept the proposition of defence lessons. It was something Harry really needed in order to survive, and no one else could or would give it to him. And the more Harry thought about it, the more he was inclined to agree to the Ghost's suggestion. He knew that he could only count on himself when it came to it. Dumbledore was blatantly ignoring him, but just as Harry had no right to expect any special treatment from the man, it worked the same the other way. He owed nothing to the man who was only his school's headmaster. The teenager did not belong to his secret organisation and swore loyalty to no one. So, he had no intention of worrying about what the older man had to say about his plans.

However, it occurred to Harry that it would be good if Snape didn't find out what he was planning. Nevertheless, the boy hoped that the ceasefire between them would last as long as possible.

The teen sat down at his desk, pulled out a sheet of parchment, and began writing a letter. He didn't have the money to travel to London, and he wasn't going to hitchhike, so at least Snape wouldn't be angry about that if he found out. Ironically, Dumbledore's anti-magic barrier made him feel safe enough to meet with the mysterious Ghost here at the edge of the Spinner's End park. Due to where Snape lived, he chose a place closer to the river than the city.

He hesitated for a moment, but finally, he tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. After he petted his owl, she flew away. His eyes fell on the book he received from Nott for his birthday, and he lay down on the bed and began to read it.

Monday, August 14th, 1995.

Nott was right about Dickens. The book was so gripping that, fascinated by the main character's adventures, he just couldn't put it down. He read it all and fell asleep only in the morning.

Half-past eleven, yawning every now and then, he hid his wand in his sleeve, put on his Invisibility Cloak, and left the house. He decided to arrive early and wait in hiding so that he could see who would appear. As the meeting itself might not seem entirely wise of him, he tried to take all the precautions he could.

Upon arriving, he paused at the end of the last house on Spinner's End. The asphalt road ended there, and the path leading to the forest and the river began. He placed himself in such a way to keep an eye on everyone who might show up.

After a few minutes, he noticed an elegant dark haired man, about fifty years old, dressed in a grey suit, with a wooden cane in his hand and a top hat on his head. The man looked around carefully, then walked to the nearest bench and sat down on it. Sitting practically motionless, he checked his watch every now and then. He didn't look too threatening.

After eleven o’clock, when no one else was around, Harry decided to approach the man. The teen took off his Invisibility Cloak, hastened it into his pocket, and then headed towards the man.

"Good morning. Er, Mr. Ghost?" he asked unsurely.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you." The man stood up and held out his hand, and Harry squeezed it. "Please, sit down," he said, sitting down himself as well.

"Why do you want to help me?" Harry started right away, without any preamble. Small talks have never been his forte.

"There are several reasons, but most of all, of course, because of Voldemort."

"What exactly do you mean?" Harry didn't miss the fact that the man didn't even stutter while saying that name.

"The events of June. Voldemort poses a direct threat to our world. As you are probably well aware, the Ministry is reluctant to accept and announce this fact." When Harry nodded, he continued: "I also work in the Ministry, but our Department is in a sense independent. Have you ever heard of the Department of Mysteries?"

"No," Harry replied shortly.

"First of all, we research various fields of magic. Recently, however, there have been slight changes in our structures. Let's call it reorganisation. And it just so happens that I became the head of the Department.” The wizard paused for a moment as if wondering how he should continue. “One of the many changes I'm planning is creating a special force that could start actively working against Voldemort."

"And you would like me to work for you?" Harry smiled broadly. This was just what he needed; he would finally feel that he was doing something.

"Mr Potter," a little smile appeared on the man's face. "I see that you are a man of action, and of course, I would be pleased to accept you on the team. However...how old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

"Exactly. Our door will be open to you in two years, although I would advise you to pass your OWLs first.”

Harry groaned internally. Why did everyone care so much about his age when he had more experience than many adult wizards?

"Why would you want to see me then," he said, a little sharper than he intended, unable to hide his irritation.

“Even though I cannot hire you, I would like to establish cooperation with you somehow. I think we could help each other.”

“What do you mean by this cooperation then?” Harry crossed his arms, still feeling offended. However, he did not want to show that he had taken offence like a child and thus keep the man convinced that he was really too young.

"You see, Mr Potter, there is a prophecy about Voldemort and you.”

“A prophecy?” That got his attention. “And he knows it?” Was that the reason why he wanted to kill him?

"Yes. So, it is very likely that you will be at the centre of the events in the upcoming war. If you agree, Mr Potter, I would like to show it to you and offer you training.”

“What if I don't agree?” he asked though he didn't even consider refusing.

"Nothing. If you don't agree, I will just ask you to just take an oath of discretion, and our paths will part.”

Harry nodded and bit his lip.

“And what will you get out of it?”

"We also want to defeat Voldemort, so by helping you, we're helping ourselves.”

Harry nodded. It made sense. He looked at the man who was watching him closely.

“Okay, I agree.”

“Wonderful, Mr Potter. I have a portkey ready for you to lead you straight to the Ministry of Magic.”

Hearing that, Harry paled slightly, and an unpleasant shiver ran down his body. After June’s events, the boy was a little uneasy about portkeys, and at this point, he was no longer so sure about his decision. Harry knew, of course, he had to get into the Ministry somehow, and it was the easiest way. He swallowed.

"And...and could you please swear that the Portkey will take me straight to the Department of Mysteries and...and that I will be able to return to Spinner's End without any problem whenever I wish?"

Ghost laughed softly.

"Of course. We just have to go a little further because this is where the anti-magic field won't let me do that. It's not easy to break such security; Albus Dumbledore is a truly powerful wizard. By the way, it took us a long time to find a hole in the protection to be able to send you a letter.”

“Does it mean that the headmaster is the reason why most of the letters do not reach me?”

"Of course. Otherwise, I'm sure you would be inundated with correspondence, both with fan gifts and threatening letters.”

Harry froze. So, it was the Headmaster who prevented Sirius's letters from being delivered to him. He shouldn't have done so without first informing him, whatever his intentions were.

“Please follow me; the barrier ends here at the edge of the forest.”

Ghost stood just beyond its border. Just in case it all turned out to be one big trap, Harry decided to stay within the barrier. The man turned to face him and raised his wand upwards, saying the words:

"I solemnly swear by my magic that I have no evil or harmful intentions towards Harry Potter, and I want to offer him defence training. The reusable Portkey I'll give him leads to the Department of Mysteries, and it will bring him back to where he came from. I also swear that Harry Potter will be able to leave the Department of Mysteries whenever he wishes.”

A silver mist emerged from the end of his wand and surrounded the man, then vanished after a moment.

"Thank you," said Harry.

“Here, your portkey.” The man pulled a pendant from his pocket. “When you squeeze it in your hand and say the password: Mí Casa Segura, it'll take you to the Department of Mysteries. When you want to come back, just say Vuelta. You do need to be careful with Muggles, though; as I said, it'll take you exactly where you came from, so choose that spot wisely.” Harry studied the pendant on the chain. It was shaped like a silver sun. “It has one more function. When you say the word Obscuritus, it will change your facial features so that no one will recognise you. In our Department, we take great care to maintain anonymity. So always use the Obscuritus before you come. To get back to your appearance, just say Aperio.”

“Thank you.” Harry hesitated a moment, then added: "Could you tell me more about this prophecy?"

“I think we can leave it till tomorrow. It's a long story, and it's worth knowing the context. So, be in the Department tomorrow at nine. Unfortunately, I must be going now. It was nice to meet you, Mr Potter.”

“You too, sir.” Harry smiled slightly.

The older wizard nodded and disapparated.

Talking to Ghost put Harry in a good mood. He was excited and felt that things might eventually start to fall into place. He headed toward his house, and he wanted to eat something and nap for a few hours. In the evening, he had his last football game before Friday's final, so he wanted to be fully rested in order to give his best.

But as he entered the kitchen, he groaned. There were two buckets of white paint standing against the wall, foil, and a paintbrush. It completely slipped his mind that Tobias had asked him to paint the house. Therefore, he could forget about any rest, and he only had three hours to start anything. Having no choice, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

Tuesday, August 15th 1995

Harry set his alarm to four o’clock, deciding to get up earlier and start painting the walls. He didn't know how long the visit to the Department of Mysteries would take, so there was a good chance he wouldn't have time for it during the day. Fortunately, thanks to the Dursleys, Harry was used to a huge amount of hard work and little rest. He was able to use a painting brush efficiently. It didn't matter if the heat was pouring from the sky or if it was so cold that his fingers were getting numb, whether he was painting outdoors, high up, or indoors. The job was to be done neatly and quickly. And Merlin forbid he leave any paint stains or if he splashed anything. Although he was sure that Tobias would not have such requirements or standards as the Dursleys had, he had to do anything.

He knew an exhausting last two weeks of vacation awaited him. But he would have to grit his teeth and somehow survive it. He would get to sleep at Hogwarts. After all, it was his decision to accept the training at the Ministry.

The closer it was to the hour to leave, the more worried Harry became. What if, after all, it turned out to be a trap? What if the Portkey took him straight to Voldemort? Harry shuddered. It was unlikely that Ghost would have risked becoming a Squib. Or maybe he already was, and that's why he swore on his magic? But Harry had seen the spell had worked. What if Voldemort forced him somehow? Maybe he was threatening Ghost’s family?

His instinct told Harry he should go. And usually, he could rely on it. In case of emergency, he would quickly grab the Portkey, which would take him back. Just like he did in the cemetery.

Cedric.

No, Harry wasn’t going to think about the Hufflepuff now. He looked at his watch, and it was only before six, so he had two more hours.

“What are you doing here so early?” his father's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“I couldn’t sleep. And I decided to paint a little. Maybe I'll get tired and fall asleep later on?” Harry had absolutely no intention of informing Tobias that he was going to the Ministry to learn to do more magic.

“You're a strange kid, but do whatever you want as long as you finish painting by the end of the summer.”

“I will.”

“I'm going to have breakfast. Do you want something?”

“A sandwich?”

Tobias nodded and returned to the kitchen.

HPHPHPHPHP

Harry had half an hour to get to the edge of the woods to use the Portkey. Suddenly something occurred to him. Since Nott couldn’t see the basement at first, it meant that it was magical, and Dumbledore's spell might not work there.

He ran downstairs as quickly as possible to test his theory. He decided to try the Obscuritus spell first. He held the pendant and closed his eyes as he chanted an incantation. He felt a wave of chill seep through his face. He ran to the hall as quickly as possible to see himself in the mirror. The spell was working as it should. His hair turned blonde, but not Malfoy's platinum; it was two inches long and no longer sticking in every direction and contrasted with the dark chocolate eyes. His eyebrows were a shade darker than the hair, and the eyelashes remained as long and thick as before. His lower jaw grew a little tighter. His face was still thin but not so skinny anymore. The mouth was narrower, and the nose elongated, but Harry was pleased that it still didn’t look like Snape's or Tobias' nose.

Most importantly, the scar was gone entirely.

He smiled to himself and looked at his watch. There were still twenty minutes left. Harry went back to the basement. If the camouflage spell worked, maybe so will the Portkey?

He was right.

HPHPHPHPHP

He apparated into a small, square room. A moment later, the door opened, and Ghost came in; however, he no longer resembled an elegant, friendly elderly man. The unbuttoned robes over a tight-fitting shirt, black pants and high boots gave him a much more formidable appearance.

“Hello!”

"Good morning," Harry replied, looking around.

There was a wardrobe, a coat rack, and a mirror to the right of the door. The rest was completely empty and so white it looked completely sterile, like a hospital wing.

“I can see Obscuritus is working. How do you like it?”

"It looks good." Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“Now, we just need to give you a name.” The boy raised his eyebrows. “Security reasons. Any ideas about what you would like to be called?”

Harry pondered for a moment. He remembered the book he had read the previous night.

“Maybe Oliver Twist?”

The man smiled hearing this.

“Do you read Dickens?”

“Not really. I only read this.”

“Well, it’s a start. So, okay, let it be Oliver Twist.” The man cleared his throat and continued. “You will always arrive in this room, and you can change here. Remember to never leave this place without an Obscuritus charm on. The door”, the man pointed at it, “can be opened only by you and me. These are also basic precautions. Come on, I'll show you around."

Harry nodded. He was curious about what this place looked like, so he followed the man.

They walked down a long, semi-circular corridor. There were similar doors on either side, some of them with nameplates. There was a huge lounge at the end.

“This is a team room.”

“It looks like the common room at Hogwarts.”

It was indeed the size of their Common Room in Gryffindor Tower. There were couches, a table and chairs, and even a fireplace.

The man smiled.

“I must admit that this was where I drew my inspiration from. There is a passage to the part of the Department of Mysteries where we conduct our research on the left side. That should probably not be of any interest to you.” Hearing his tone, Harry raised his eyebrows. Ghost had no idea that just such words made a teenager's curiosity grow. “There are bathrooms next to it, training rooms on the right, a library in front of it, my and Diana's offices and one of the exits to the Ministry. Let’s go to my office. I will tell you more about our organisation.” The man opened the door in the right corner of the lounge. “Please, sit down.” He pointed to the chair in front of the desk and sat opposite. “Would you like something to drink? Maybe juice?”

“Yes, please.”

The older wizard waved his wand, and coffee, juice, and cookies appeared on the desk.

"Help yourself," the man encouraged Harry, then continued: “At the moment, we are on the ninth level in the building of the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Why is it called the Department of Mysteries?”

“Because virtually no one except our crew knows what we do or even who works here. Until recently, we were only doing scientific research into different kinds of magic and ancient artefacts. As I told you, I took the position of department director recently and decided to make some changes. The latest events—and you know very well what I am talking about—prompted me to expand our activities, and I decided to create a new unit that would actively fight Voldemort.

“So, you don't have to obey the Minister? The entire Ministry denies that he has returned.”

"Unfortunately, Fudge doesn't even want to admit that, not to mention plan any kind of defence. He prefers to live in blissful ignorance. Of course, I do not rule out corruption as it is very convenient for Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Purists have an enormous financial and political background.

“Purists?” wondered Harry.

“A lot of Voldemort's followers among them. Those who don't want to let the blood of Muggle or Muggle-born wizards mix with pure blood.”

Harry nodded.

“What will the training consist of?”

“You will get a teacher who will try to teach you what he can. Honestly, we don't have much time. You start school in two weeks. I think it’s good to start with perfecting basic spells used in duels and maybe a few tricks.”

"What about the prophecy?"

“We'll get to that in a moment. First, I'd like you to read something.”

Ghost got up and told Harry to follow him once again. They went to the library. The man chose one of the books, handed it to Harry, and gestured to an armchair. Harry groaned internally. He had to read? He hoped for more practical lessons.

HPHPHPHPHP

Two hours later, a rather irritated Harry sat in an armchair finishing a Muggle book. He really didn't have time to read such boring stories written in complicated language. Besides, he didn't see the point. There was nothing about strategy or spells of any kind in it. Complete waste of time.

At this point, a very pretty blonde woman of about forty entered the library. Her hair was pulled up in a loose bun, and a smile was on her narrow lips.

“Hello, Oliver, right? My name is Diana.”

"Good morning.”

“Have you finished reading?” She asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes, but to be honest, I don't know what for.”

“Let's say you are in a similar situation to the main character.”

“Am I supposed to kill my own father?” wondered Harry. Sure, he had a hard time getting along with the man lately, but he couldn't imagine that he could kill him, or for that matter, anybody else.

"No. But there is also a prophecy about you, and I wanted you to read “Oedipus the King” to introduce you to this topic. Come with me. I'll show you something.”

They walked across the living room to the part of the Department where they worked, as Diana put it, the researchers. They walked along a long corridor until they found themselves in a massive room with several dozen rows of shelves on which stood thousands of small crystal spheres.

"What are these?” He walked over to one of them and read the plaque: Herpo the Foul and Mopsus.

“These are prophecies. All ever foretold. Currently, there are forty-six thousand two hundred and seventy-one of them, of which twenty-four thousand three hundred and fifty-five have not come true, nine thousand two hundred and fifty-six have come true, and twelve thousand six hundred and sixty still have a chance to come true.”

Diana led him to alley ninety-seven and pointed to one of the spheres.

On the sign below, there was a caption: S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D. The Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter

“Take it, and let's go to my office. I'll explain everything to you there.” Harry nodded, took the prophecy and followed the woman. Diana motioned the boy to an armchair when they got there while she sat down on the other one. Between them was a coffee table with a plate of cookies and two teas. “Help yourself.” Harry sat back comfortably, the white sphere still in his hand, filled with the glowing mist. “We’ve been researching prophecies for over a hundred years and have concluded that it is impossible to clearly and precisely define the future. Imagine a road network. You are at some point on one of these roads. Behind you, there is your past, and ahead of you, there is your future. The road splits into a huge but finite number of paths. These are your choices and decisions, so you must choose one of them to go forward. Of course, the way of life branches off all the time, and you have to make choices every now and then.

On top of that, there are paths of other people's choices that are tied to yours. It so happens that many roads lead to one place. Statistically, if you have more than a twenty percent chance of getting to that place, then the prophecy is made.

“How can I find out what my prophecy is about?’ Harry asked, trying to shake the ball.

“You have to break it. But wait a bit longer. Do you know what a self-fulfilling prophecy is?”

"A prophecy ..." he thought for a moment, having no idea. “Which somehow fulfils itself?” He finished rather awkwardly.

Diana smiled understandingly.

"Suppose someone makes a prophecy that the branch of Gringotts Bank on Diagon Alley will collapse any time soon. Do you know what the chances are right now?”

Harry shook his head.

“Two years ago, it was half a percent. Now, with Voldemort's return, the risk has increased to three percent. There is a possibility that, despite all security measures, he will destroy the building, take control of the bank, or some other random event will occur. And tell me, what will people do when they hear the prophecy that the bank will collapse?”

“They start withdrawing money?”

"Yes. And suppose some customers will start to transfer their money to the banks abroad or just withdraw it to keep it in their houses. In that case, others will start following the crowd, and the bank will have no money for trading.

"And then it will fall, and the prophecy will come true," finished Harry.

"Yes, Harry. The same is the case with Oedipus. If Laius hadn’t heard the prophecy that he was to die at the hand of his son, who would later marry his own mother, he would not have had him killed and perhaps would have lived longer himself.”

"But maybe he would have slipped on a banana peel accidentally thrown by Oedipus, fell down the stairs, smashed his head and couldn’t be saved," Harry pointed out.

“Yes, but it would be unlikely that Oedipus would fall in love and marry his own mother, knowing of their kinship, living with her all his life. Usually, horoscopes and predictions are very vague and only become obvious after the fact.”

“Well, but what about my prophecy?”

“Go ahead, smash it.”

Harry threw the ball on the ground, and it shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. The mist that was inside formed into the shape of a woman, which, to his surprise, Harry immediately recognised. It was the divination teacher Professor Trelawney. She spoke in a voice similar to what Harry had heard the year before, the day Wormtail escaped.

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.

Hearing these words, Harry paled.

"What... What does that mean?" He asked very softly.

"It means a boy born in July of that year is likely to get heavily involved in the fight against the Dark Lord."

"Then I must kill or die," he muttered to himself.

"Harry!” Diana exclaimed to get his attention. “Absolutely not! Haven't I spent the last fifteen minutes explaining the nature of the prophecy to you? Nothing is for sure. Before Voldemort heard the prophecy, there was a twenty percent chance it might happen. You weren't the only child, it might have concerned. Voldemort made a choice. Let's say he did what Laius did. He might not have attacked your home if he hadn't heard the prophecy. The woman looked at the teenager, whose face turned the colour of the wall. "Harry, listen to me. You will be one of the most powerful wizards when you grow up. You were born with tremendous magical potential. Perhaps, when your power reaches maturity, it will be equal to Dumbledore or Voldemort's. Suppose neither you nor Voldemort knows the prophecy. He is trying to take over Britain, killing everyone, your friends, and your family. Would you run away from the country? Or instead, you would be trying to fight him?

"Of course, I would fight him," he growled.

“So, you see, the prophecy doesn't change anything, and it shows just one of the many possibilities. But it doesn't have to turn out to be true.”

“But it might.”

“It might”, Diana repeated after him. “I heard you aren’t very good at Potions. Let's say you accidentally made poison, which a house-elf will accidentally add to Voldemort's food which will kill Voldemort instantly. Will the prophecy come true?”

“On the one hand ... but it was the elf who gave him the poison ...”

"Yes, but the prophecy came true because it was thanks to your poison that Voldemort was defeated."

"So, it would be as if I accidentally threw a banana peel to make Voldemort slip and smash his head and die," Harry smiled slightly.

“You watch a little too many cartoons, but in theory, you are right.” Diana smiled back. “Just remember. The prophecy changes nothing at all. We are all fighting Voldemort. According to our statistics, you have a ten percent chance of killing him, and at the same time, he also has a ten percent chance of killing you. But there's the remaining eighty percent that shows that something else is more likely to happen. And as I said, in my opinion, you have more chances of defeating him than the average wizard. And at the same time, you have no better chance than any average Muggle-born wizard to die

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, though he wasn't convinced. “So, Voldemort knows the prophecy ...”

“As far as we know, only the first part of it. And, unfortunately, the Dark Lord wants to know the rest of it, so we are in the process of increasing security in the Ministry.”

Harry nodded.

“But since I broke it, he won't get it?”

“Unfortunately not. After twenty-four hours, the prophecy returns to its place. However, only you and Lord Voldemort can reach for it. So, it is more than certain that he will try to get in here or somehow make you bring it to him. Please keep this in mind and be careful.”

“Then who knows it, except us? Because someone must have been foretold, right?”

“Sibyl Trelawney predict it in front of Albus Dumbledore during her interview for the Divination teacher.”

"Does Dumbledore know about it?" Harry felt hot. "Of course, he knows ..." he muttered. This is where his particular interest in him resulted from. Dumbledore thought Harry was able to defeat Voldemort. But why wouldn’t he help him prepare better for it? The Headmaster certainly knew that additional training would not hurt.

At that moment, the door opened, and Ghost and a tall, dark-haired, handsome man entered the room. He reminded Harry of someone, but he had no idea who.

"Oliver, I'd like to introduce you to someone who will teach you. This is Riki, this is Riki, this is Oliver."

"Er ... hi," Harry said, holding out his hand, but the man didn't grasp it. Instead, his face twitched into anger, and he turned in an indignant voice to the Ghost:

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Forget it. I'm not signing up for this!”

Harry noticed Diana and Ghost exchanging glances as if they weren't surprised by the man's reaction.

“Riki, please.” Diana began.

“No, no, no... No more kids in the Department.”

“Hey, I'm not a kid.”

“How old is he?” The man nodded angrily at Harry, directing the question to Diana and Ghost, treating him as if he wasn't there.

“Fifteen,” the boy answered

“Really, you’re bringing a fifteen-year-old boy here?” Are you completely mad? After everything that happened? You should be ashamed of yourself.” The man's face was furious.

“Riki, you gave your word. He has to learn.” The woman raised her hand, trying to calm down the increasingly agitated man.

“But no one said anything about a kid. I don't want anything to do with it. Not again. Tommy and ...”

“Stop it.” Ghost's voice grew sharper. “It's a completely different situation, and you know it.”

“I don't give a shit that you think it's different. I'm not going to put a match into it. And you,” The man finally turned to Harry, “shouldn't get into that shit, no…” he didn’t finish because Ghost interrupted him.

“Yes, you will.” He hissed to him, his voice was thunderous. “You will help him learn to defend himself.”

"Fuck you. You can't make me. No matter who you think you are now!" The man snapped, turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him with all his might.

"Er ... what's going on? Who is Tommy?" Harry asked, very confused and a little offended by the man’s behaviour Harry.

“Nobody important. Unexplained conflicts from many years ago. Unfortunately, our friend hides a grudge like no one and is unable to work out his own problems.” Harry's expression made it clear that the Ghost's explanation didn't explain much to him. “In any case, these are old disputes, and it is not worth going back to it. I am so sorry for his behaviour. But… well, at the moment, he is the only one who can take the time and teach you something.”

"It's okay," said Harry, still deeply surprised by the situation.

“I think we can finish for today. I'll see you tomorrow at nine.”

“Yes, sure.”

HPHPHPHPHP

After Ghost and Diana were left alone, the man turned to his wife.

“Will you talk to him?”

“Yes, of course.” She nodded, looking sadly at her husband.

"How did the kid take the prophecy?"

“Relatively good, and he shouldn't bother himself with it too much. He seems to be tough enough. He has some shortcomings and a definite problem with concentration, but he's not a stupid boy.”

The man nodded and thought.

"His biggest problem is that Dumbledore and Voldemort believe the prophecy is literal and unambiguous."

"Poor kid," Diana sighed.

 TBC