Severus woke with a groan as remnants of last night’s torture made themselves known. He glanced at his clock, surprised to see it nearing nine-thirty. Between the torture and the late-night conversation with Potter, he must’ve been exhausted. He wondered if the boys were up. Normally they would be, but mostly because he woke them each day. As he woke further, he began to feel the tugs and swirls of power, telling him Potter and Malfoy were, indeed, awake and in the middle of training with Leif and Alexei.

He dressed quickly, going more casual in just a grey long-sleeved Henley and black slacks as had become more common in recent days. He made a beeline for the kitchen and made a pot of strong coffee, draining one cup in seconds and pouring a second for slower consumption. He spotted Potter and Alexei through the kitchen window and headed out the back door to observe. He stepped off the back porch and walked around the manor, stopping once he found the two. He put one hand in his pocket while the other held his coffee.

From what he could tell and what Leif and Alexei had told him, both Potter and Malfoy had finally gained basic control of their magic. Both could direct their magic wherever they wanted, Potter kept his from wanting to mix with his and Malfoy’s, and Malfoy no longer automatically connected to signatures. He remembered the first day of training, the feeling of Potter’s exploding magic and of Malfoy draining some of his own. It had been startling, but impressive to feel such power from ones so young.

Leif and Alexei had also told him of the hesitations the boys had regarding the use of their magic. Both boys still had a deep-seated fear of being beaten by him in particular and of being sent away should they do anything wrong or hurt any of them. Despite any progress that had been made, he knew it would be some time before they finally believed in their safety. However, he supposed it wouldn’t be necessary to convince them once they returned to Hogwarts. They would be safe there and with plenty of others to look after them.

He turned his attention away from their return to Hogwarts and back to Potter and Alexei. Now that Potter had basic control, Alexei had moved the Gryffindor onto specific element use. He took a sip of his coffee and watched the session. A pile of leaves sat on the ground in front of Potter who was staring at it with his hands out towards it. Even from where Severus stood, he could see the green shimmering strands weaving through Potter’s fingers, indicating their focus on Earth Magic.

He could feel the power pulsing through the air and watched, intrigued. The green threads began to leave Potter’s hands and travelled down to the leaves, wrapping around a few. The targeted leaves shook slightly in the pile as the magical strings continued to encompass them. After several seconds, the magic moved to the stems of the leaves and, after even more time, he was stunned to see the stems begin to slowly lengthen. They grew centimeter by centimeter, beginning to curl the longer they became. Eventually the stems were guided and twisted with each other, creating a slowly growing braid. It was incredible to witness and he found himself in awe of the boy he once hated. Potter was truly something special and, as he remembered the worry the boy seemed to have for him the previous night, he realized it wasn’t just in terms of his magic.

He was startled when power rushed across the grounds and a few leaves suddenly whipped around him. Looking at Potter and Alexei revealed the pile of leaves had been dispersed across the property, unintentionally if Potter’s expression was anything to go by.

“Sorry, Professor!” Potter called to him.

“No harm done, Mr. Potter,” he said. “Do not push too hard.”

“Yes, sir!”

“You have nothing to worry about, Severus,” Alexei said.

“From you, perhaps.”

“Hey!” Potter said, affronted.

Alexei laughed while Severus smirked. He watched Alexei guide Potter to try again and returned to the manor. He finished off his coffee and sent his mug to the kitchen before heading up to the third floor. He opened the door to the training room and leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms as he watched Leif and Malfoy. Leif spotted him over Malfoy’s shoulder and gave him a wink and a grin, making him raise an eyebrow.

“We have an audience,” Leif said to Malfoy.

Severus expected the boy to turn and face him, but was surprised when he saw the silvery-white strands float around him. His skin tingled where the magic brushed him.

“Professor,” Malfoy said, still without turning around.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Severus acknowledged.

“You have someone else’s magical residue on you,” Malfoy said, making Severus’ eyebrow jump again.

“Is that so?”

“Dark Magic, a harmful spell,” Malfoy said and Severus realized the boy was likely seeing the remnants of Voldemort’s Cruciatus that was still causing him pain that morning. He looked at Leif curiously.

“We are currently learning to identify signatures, types of magic, spells, and intent,” Leif explained.

Severus nodded, understanding. As he felt and watched Malfoy’s magic continue to swirl around him and the room, he had the same thought he’d had about Potter. Malfoy was something special, both magically and in general. This boy had defied both his father and the Dark Lord he’d been promised to. It was a strength he’d barely had himself until the mistake with the prophecy. At fifteen, Malfoy had managed to turn away from the temptation that was the Dark, something he himself had failed at the same age.

The thought brought him back to the previous night’s meeting. Two weeks remained in which Malfoy would be accepted alive and recruited into the Death Eaters. After that, he knew the boy’s retrieval would still be demanded, but not to Mark him. The boy would likely be in serious danger after September first. He frowned slightly, wondering what could be done to protect the boy. As Dumbledore said, he could do little come their return to Hogwarts. Aside from being Malfoy’s professor and Head of House, he had no claim to Malfoy.

Come September first, it ends.

He was pulled from his ruminating when he felt a short, sharp, slightly painful tug in his chest. A ripple of power rushed through the room.

“Sorry, sir!” Malfoy said, finally turning around. “Our magic got tangled.”

“Not to worry, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus said, waving off the apology.

“No more hiding,” Leif said, grinning. “Draco will find you anywhere now.”

“You’re the only one I wish to hide from,” Severus said, smirking back at his friend.

“You wound me, o fílos mou,” Leif said, placing a hand on his heart dramatically.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Continue. Perhaps Mr. Malfoy is not completely hopeless.”

“I am not!” Malfoy said, offended, making Leif laugh and Severus’ eyes flash with amusement.

He left as the two resumed their training, heading back downstairs to have a late breakfast. He made himself a simple omelette with some buttered toast and ate leisurely as he read through the Daily Prophet. There were no notable stories aside from the usual calling Potter a liar and Dumbledore desperate for control of the wizarding world. He put the paper aside, allowing his thoughts to wander as he ate.

He could still feel the magic roaming around from Potter and Malfoy, and he couldn’t ignore how…normal it felt. It was as though the two and their magic were meant to be there, and, he had to admit, he’d honestly gotten used to having the boys around over the last five weeks. He could feel his magic reach out to theirs at any given time, just wanting to feel and interact. His magic seemed to surround theirs as though protecting them and there were times he swore he felt their magic settle upon proximity with his. It hadn’t been wholly terrible to have them there even with the issues they’d all run into. It would be strange to go back to how it used to be once they returned to Hogwarts, but it was necessary. He had no ties or claims to the boys, and he had to protect his role as a spy. No one could know about that summer and there were far too many enemy eyes at Hogwarts for them to act remotely differently. As much as he hated to admit it, perhaps Dumbledore was right and it all had to end on September first. A slowly growing part of him just hoped Potter and Malfoy would find safety at Hogwarts and another, even more slowly growing part of him didn’t want to let them go.

“Um, Professor?”

He looked up at Potter’s voice, spotting the Gryffindor slipping into the dining room with Alexei. Potter was lightly flushed from his magical exertion and he tapped the table to make a light lunch appear.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?” he asked as Potter slid into his usual spot, Alexei beside him.

“Am I able to change a class?” Potter asked, taking a long drink of water. “I know there’s only two weeks left and I’m in fifth year when classes were chosen in third, but, can I?”

“A request can be made,” Severus said. “You would need permission from the professor of the class you wish to take, the headmaster, and a parent or guardian.”

He watched the boy’s face fall.

“Given your situation, you would only need the professor and the headmaster as Professor Dumbledore is your magical guardian,” Severus said.

“Wait, really?” Potter said. “I thought it was you because I’ve been here for the summer.”

“My guardianship was unofficial and temporary, just for the summer,” Severus said, curious about Potter’s odd expression and tone. “What classes were you wanting to exchange?”

“Oh, uh, Alexei mentioned how runes can be used with Elemental Magic, so I thought I could take Ancient Runes instead of Divination,” Potter said.

Severus hummed, thinking. “Again, the request could be made. However, you would be two years behind and would be expected to catch up on your own.”

“I could help,” Malfoy offered as he and Leif joined the rest of them.

Severus was surprised at the boy’s offer. He’d noticed the two seemed to be getting along better, but hadn’t expected it to continue beyond the summer holidays.

“You would?” Potter said, also obviously surprised.

Malfoy nodded. “I’ve taken it since third year and I’ve done pretty well.”

“Oh, well, okay, uh, thanks,” Potter said somewhat awkwardly and Malfoy just nodded again, turning to his small salad.

“I will send a request to the headmaster for you,” Severus said.

“Thank you, sir.”

What a wonder that summer had become.

Harry chewed his lip as he perused the massive library, consumed with the vision of last night. He couldn’t stop thinking about it; the danger Malfoy was in, the risks Snape was taking, and Voldemort’s mention of a prophecy in response to learning of the Ministry disturbance. He was confused at his apparent concern for the two Slytherins, but he was more preoccupied with the mention of a prophecy. It wasn’t the first time he’d overheard talk of a prophecy that summer and he was convinced something important was being kept from him. Not that it was anything new, but he was sure this prophecy could have something to do with him and Voldemort. Why else would Voldemort be after it?

However, he also realized he knew nothing about prophecies in general so he didn’t actually know what it could mean if a prophecy existed involving him and Voldemort. He wanted to ask, but he didn’t know who he could trust. If a prophecy was the cause of the disturbance in the Ministry, then the Order knew about it and were choosing to keep it from him. That included Snape and, while he didn’t really trust the professor, it had felt like enough changed that he could have considered trusting him. After all, Snape had defied Dumbledore to keep him and Malfoy for the summer, surely, he would defy Dumbledore for them on other matters as well. Yet, it seemed that wasn’t the case for Snape had not addressed Lucius’ mention of the Ministry disturbance or Voldemort’s mention of a prophecy. He didn’t know why Snape had chosen to keep him that summer, but he was doubting it was truly for his safety. He was sure there was something else driving Snape.

Get what redemption you can from this.

Harry frowned as he remembered Dumbledore’s words. Was that it? Was Snape using him as redemption for something?

He had a hard time ignoring the little pit in his stomach giving him a bad feeling about the whole thing. He tried to for the moment, though, and returned to searching the library. He hoped to find anything about prophecies, needing context beyond the drivel Trelawney had spouted the last couple years in Divination. The woman was a fraud.

He paused as he thought back to third year, the night in the Shrieking Shack. He’d had an odd interaction with Trelawney earlier in the day. He’d brushed her off as mad, but…

She had said innocent blood would be split and that the servant would return to the master. It had seemed crazy, but, when he thought about it, it had happened. Pettigrew had escaped and returned to Voldemort. Ron had been hurt and so had Snape. He also couldn’t help but draw a connection between what she’d said that night and the graveyard. She’d said that ‘he will return tonight’. What if she hadn’t been talking about that night, but the night of the graveyard instead? That night Voldemort had returned, the Death Eaters had reunited with him, Cedric had been killed, and Harry had bled.

Was Trelawney capable of real prophecies? Were prophecies real in general? Could life be predetermined, predestined in that way? Could prophecies go unfulfilled?

Frowning even deeper, he resumed his search with more fervour. He glanced up at the very top shelves, remembering Snape tell him and Malfoy to never touch those books. They were filled with Dark Magic and some were dangerous to even touch, let alone read. Prophecies didn’t seem like Dark Magic, so he turned away from the top shelves.

He blew out a breath, for a moment wishing Snape didn’t have so many damn books. He was losing hope as he got to about halfway around the room when a silver title on a dark blue spine finally caught his eye.

The Divining Arts.

He pulled the book down and flipped to the table of contents. He was excited to find a chapter specifically on prophecies and quickly turned to the correct page. He moved absently to sit at one of the tables as he began reading.

The Prophetic Arts are some of the most complex within the Divining Arts. Only those born with Seer abilities can utilize the Prophetic Arts.

He turned the page, not caring about Seers and who could create prophecies. Skimming a few paragraphs, he stopped on one that seemed to be on the nature of prophecies.

The simplest definition of a prophecy is ‘a prediction’ and, due to the fluid nature of time, humanity, and freewill, it is important to recognize any prophecy as just that: a prediction. Prophecies tell of a possible future event if certain natural circumstances occur and align. This does not mean this is what will happen, only what could. No actions should be based around a prophecy. In fact, it is well known that no prophecy is fulfilled or even valid if deliberate actions are taken to set up the circumstances required for prophecy fulfillment. Such actions make a prophecy become void and nothing more than meaningless words. Any possible futures it spoke of will no longer happen or occur in a positive way because the journey to complete the prophecy was unnatural.

Life is natural, even foretold life. However, it is possible for prophecies to go unfulfilled as they often refer to people and things in vague terms and cannot be applied to any given time or persons. A prophecy will remain unfulfilled until the proper natural circumstances occur, which can take centuries from the time of the prophecy’s creation. No impacts are made on potential times or people if they are not the ones to fulfill the prophecy. It will simply wait for the natural moment. Additionally, unless anyone is aware of the prophecy, it will be completely unknown when a prophecy is fulfilled.

Harry looked up from the book for a minute to think, chewing his lip again. Prophecies seemed more like a hobby than something to be taken seriously. Why would anyone take them seriously if you couldn’t do anything with them without making them null and void? He continued reading.

Unfortunately, there are hundreds of reports and stories in which a person or persons have taken prophecies into their own hands. While prophecies themselves are not dangerous, an overreliance on and obsession with them can be. Witches and wizards throughout history have done everything they could to make prophecies take place, going so far as to control the lives of those prophecies could refer to. Reports describe anything from making someone live somewhere specific to what they study to torture and even murder to get what they want and believe is necessary for the fulfillment of a prophecy. This is where the danger lies and is the reason all prophecies are required to be kept within the Hall of Prophecies in the Ministry of Magic to prevent anyone from hearing the dozens of prophecies that are told each year. Unfortunately, Seers often do not know when a prophetic vision is going to occur and are unable to stop it when it does occur. As such, anyone who may be in the vicinity at the time of a prophetic vision can hear it and be left to interpret it however they wish.

Harry frowned, tapping the page absently and his leg bouncing anxiously. So, prophecies themselves were really nothing but words, but, if someone believed it to be more than a prediction, then it could be an excuse to control to get the outcome someone wanted.

Voldemort had said he didn’t want to lose the prophecy and he knew it was in the Department of Mysteries. If there was a prophecy involving Voldemort, how did he know about it? He assumed this prophecy was what the Order was trying to protect, but how did they know about it? And what was going on with it given the disturbance that seemed to have rocked the Ministry? Why would the Order feel the need to protect a prophecy, unless they worried Voldemort would act on it? What did it say that could be so dangerous?

Snape was in the Order and a Death Eater. He had to know about the prophecy. He threw the book shut and dashed downstairs, determined to get answers. He found the professor in the study, standing at the fireplace and speaking to someone through it. He ignored the man’s occupation.

“What’s the prophecy and how does Voldemort know about it?” Harry said, drawing Snape’s surprised attention to him.

“Excuse me?” Snape said.

“The prophecy,” Harry said again and he saw Snape’s face tighten.

“I do not believe—”

“No, do not keep this from me, not anymore,” Harry interrupted. “I am tired of secrets. Tell me. How does Voldemort know about it? How does the Order? What is it?”

Snape sighed and turned to fully face Harry, crossing his arms. “Only a couple of members know about it. There is a prophecy that speaks of a boy that will be marked by the Dark Lord and have the power to defeat him.”

Harry felt his stomach drop and he touched the scar on his forehead. Voldemort believed him to be the boy in the prophecy. “Is that the whole prophecy?”

“No, there is more."

“That’s why he wants it?”

“Yes.”

“How does he know about it?”

“It was brought to him.”

Harry’s heart began pounding. “When?”

“Nineteen-eighty.”

Harry’s eyes were darting around wildly, but then he brought them back to Snape. The professor’s face was completely blank as he stared back at Harry.

“Is it why he killed them?”

“Yes.”

Harry swallowed thickly. “Who told him?”

There was a brief pause.

“I did.”

Get what redemption you can.

Harry felt everything he knew, thought he knew, and had learned spin out of control. This was the reason his parents had died, leaving him alone and to endure the Dursleys. They had been targeted because of him, because Voldemort chose to act on the prophecy, the prophecy he only knew about because of Snape. It all came back to Snape.

“You got them killed,” Harry muttered, the horror and rage setting in. “This is why you became a spy, why you need redemption.”

Snape didn’t say anything and Harry felt his anger grow.

“She was your friend! How could you do that to her?” Harry said loudly, remembering what Sirius had said about Lily and Snape before and in Hogwarts. “Is that why you helped me, what all of this has been? Some sick way of trying to get her or someone’s forgiveness for what you did to her?”

“Protecting you has been a part of set terms to atone,” Snape said, his voice low and stiff.

“Set terms? By who?” Harry demanded.

The Floo flared brightly and Dumbledore stepped out, clasping his hands in front of him as he gazed at Harry over his glasses.

“By me,” Dumbledore said.

Harry grew hot and he clenched his fists at his sides, hardly registering the pressure growing in his chest.

“You’re a part of this?” Harry said.

“I knew you would need protection and Professor Snape was the ideal candidate,” Dumbledore said.

“You think you’ve protected me?” Harry said, outraged. “What about everything that’s happened the last four years? Voldemort’s been trying to kill me every year because of the prophecy you gave him!” He pointed aggressively at Snape.

“Harry—”

“No! You are no better!” Harry said, glaring at Dumbledore. “You’ve let it all happen! You left me with them! You think I’ve been safe?”

Without thinking, he ripped his shirt off over his head and spun his back to Snape and Dumbledore.

“This is what you left me in! This was safe? Protected?” Harry yelled. He spun back around. “You have controlled my entire life and, for what? A prophecy that’s not even valid anymore?”

“It is valid, my boy. It has activated,” Dumbledore said. “You are the only boy it could be speaking of. You will be the one to—”

“No!” Harry shouted. “I will not do anything for you again! You both did all of this, to my parents and to me! Congratulations, Headmaster. You wanted me to stay away from Snape and I will.” Harry turned to Snape. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to you when you fail to bring Malfoy to Voldemort, but, whatever it is, you’ll deserve it.”

“Harry—”

“Get away from me!” Harry yelled when Dumbledore took a step toward him. “Come September first, it ends. Your words, Professor, and you were right. Everything goes back to normal, Snape, and I will never speak to you again, Headmaster. You wanted me alone and I am. You will not control me anymore.”

“Harry, we must train your magic and stop your connection to Voldemort,” Dumbledore said.

“I’ll figure it out,” Harry said. “Just stay away from me, both of you.”

He turned to leave, but whipped around with a cry when a hand landed on his shoulder. The pressure in his chest exploded and fire engulfed Snape and Dumbledore. It dissipated after only a few seconds, revealing the protective bubble Dumbledore had summoned around them.

Harry felt a touch of fear at the uncontrolled blast, but pushed it aside and fled. He was too hurt and angry to feel or think of anything else. He ran outside, ignoring Malfoy, Leif, and Alexei who had exited the sitting room to investigate. Once outside, he stopped, breathing hard. He could feel the pressure still in his chest and tears pricking his eyes. He gazed down at his hands, finding them shaking and sparking with colours he knew was his Elemental Magic. Feeling the pressure intensify and the tears fall, he let out a prolonged scream. The pressure released and he felt a power surge out away from him before hot air whipped and swirled viciously around him.