Portended Prophecies by WiCeBa

Snape’s eyes flickered toward the decorative ceiling tiles and he appeared to be caught in a thought.

“You said we’d need to be careful before talking to him.” Harry started as he tucked the knit cover tighter around himself. He couldn’t seem to shake the cold that sank through him at the thought of having been perceived as truly dangerous. For years Harry’d danced around the public’s blurred perception of the danger he posed, but he’d never been too bothered by it before. He knew himself well enough to know he was harmless.

Unintentionally speaking parseltongue and alarming Snape wasn’t harmless though.

“We need more information. This,” Snape began softly. “This can’t happen again.”

Harry gave him a wild look. “Could it happen again?!”

He didn’t know why he felt so horrified at that thought. If it had already happened once, the chance it could happen again was growing by the minute. It was a logical assumption to make. There was no rhyme or reason to why it’d happened though, as Harry felt Snape’s two examples were worlds apart.

The nausea in his throat tightened at the thought.

One involved Harry’s cupboard and Dumbledore’s reaction, and the other, Snape and Umbridge’s assumption about him working for her. Aside from Harry being angry about both instances, there wasn’t a grand amount to be shared.

“You’ve gone through it several times already, there’s no denying it could happen again.” Snape said, almost as if he read Harry’s thoughts. His dark eyes dropped from the ceiling and landed on Harry.

“But that was nearly two months ago!” Harry said nervously.

Two months ago and entirely separate from what had happened today.

“Two months ago it happened twice in a row.” Snape said sharply. “We don’t know if this is the second time this has happened today either, as you are unable to recall exactly what happened between yourself and Mr Malfoy.”

Harry slumped against the back of the tufted couch and tried to sort through their interaction once more.

He’d been angry and Malfoy, but that wasn’t unusual. He’d been angry at Malfoy loads of times in the past and he’d never cast spells he didn’t know or unintentionally speak parseltongue. His anger might tie the instances together, but that alone felt like a weak connection. Being angry at someone couldn’t make Harry speak parseltongue. It was the appearance of Nagini, real or imagined, that’d caused that. There were no snakes near Malfoy when they’d spoken either.

“What if you made me angry?” Harry asked, though the thought turned to ash in his mouth. “I dunno what Dumbledore will ask or do when we talk to him, but what if you make me angry and we see what happens?”

Harry wondered if that idea was too similar to something Sirius might suggest.

Snape’s eyes flashed over Harry once more. “I worry about intentionally making you angry. That, as a clinical trial, has too many subjective variables. You may not react naturally, first of all, as your reaction to stimuli will be heavily altered by your expectation of what you and I are searching for.”

Harry blinked dumbly and wound his hand around his mum’s pendant.

“How successful has your occlusion been lately?” Snape asked.

Harry blinked again. “Well, I thought I’d succeeded just before I came to visit you, but, erm.”

“But?” Snape asked.

A childish urge to whinge washed over Harry. He never knew if he’d occluded successfully or not. Snape had stressed how important it was for Harry to practice, and he could honestly say he’d tried. He’d tried to keep his emotions in check, along with his expectation and fears, but nothing seemed to work when it came to actually restraining himself. He’d hardly had a chance when it came to success either, given how much everyone seemed to want to bring his anger out of him.

“It’s,” Harry started as his fingers clenched around the pendant. It beat a warm rhythm into his palm. “It’s not really,” He dreaded the thought of admitting to his failure. Snape had spent ages teaching him and guiding him through the steps, but it often only felt helpful just before he went to sleep or directly after he screamed himself awake. Nausea rolled through him once more. “I just, I don’t think I’m always doing it correctly.” He said weakly.

Aunt Petunia’s voice hissed in the back of his mind and berated him for failing at seemingly simple tasks.

Snape inhaled slowly. “You’ve practiced clearing your mind before going to sleep?”

Harry nodded.

“And when you encounter Umbridge?” Snape asked.

Harry nodded again. “I picture the snitch, or sometimes just flying.” He said in a hopeful and convincing voice. “I try to calm myself down—” He explained.

“I think it would be best to do so, now.” Snape said with a slow nod. “That you’re trying should make these episodes less likely, but in order to question Dumbledore, we’ll need to present as a calm and methodical unit. The issue with discussing this with Dumbledore is that we will likely be unable to hide what happened.”

“Why are we talking to him then?” Harry asked as he sat up. “You said we wouldn’t need to ask him outright last time we talked about this.”

Snape nodded. “I did say that.” He stood and stepped toward his cluttered desk.

The last time Harry’d been in Snape’s sitting room, the desk had been a cluttered mess. It didn’t look as if it’d been cleaned since then either. In fact, Harry wondered if Snape had charmed the stacks of books to not tip over, given how tall they’d grown.

“However, Dumbledore does not exist in a bubble. He has likely investigated what happened since then, just as we’ve tried to curb any potential recurrences with Occlumency.” Snape said before grabbing several battered textbooks. “But we are now at a distinct disadvantage. While I have relied on second hand evidence through your interpretation of what occurred at Privet Drive, Dumbledore will have utilized direct evidence as well as prior experience. You worried about him cursing you and you ran away, rightfully so.” Snape’s soft footsteps brushed over the carpet as he made his way back toward the couch. “But this is something worse than I’d imagined.”

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. “Because I spoke parseltongue without realizing it?”

“No. Speaking parseltongue is not the symptom I am worried about.” Snape dropped the collection books onto the coffee table and took one from the top.

“It isn’t a good symptom though.” Harry said as something close to bitterness rose through him. He wished he could go a few years in the past and erase his encounter with Tom Riddle and the basilisk. The only instance he knew of where parseltongue hadn’t been directly related to something inherently evil was during Dudley’s eleventh birthday. “It’s dead awful.”

One slim dark eyebrow rose on Snape’s face. “Parseltongue has a complex history. It isn’t awful, your interactions with it haven’t shown it appropriately.”

“I wonder why that could be.” Harry snapped.

“Breathe.” Snape said in a forcibly calm voice. “Who do you think was the villain in the story of Adam and Eve?” He asked.

Harry stopped short at the out of place question. “Like Adam and Eve from the Bible?”

Snape nodded.

“Erm,” Harry started. He hardly remembered anything that had happened aside from there being a garden and Adam and Eve living within it. The Dursley’s weren’t religious and hadn’t put any emphasis on the lessons from the story. “I dunno?”

“The snake.” Snape said. “Eve spoke with the snake and was misled. Is she evil for having the ability to speak with snakes, or is the snake evil for misleading her?”

“That proves my point!” Harry said in a rush of anger. “The snake was evil!”

“Exactly.” Snape hissed. “Eve wasn’t, just like you aren’t! You are a person who can be coerced and misled, but not because you are inherently evil.” At some point he’d circled the coffee table and now towered over Harry as he pointed his book at him. “Being a parselmouth does not make you evil. What you choose to do with that skill can!”

Harry’s head hit the back of the couch and he realized belatedly that he’d been backing away throughout their conversation.

Snape blinked at Harry before abruptly swinging away. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” He asked in a softer voice as he slowly sat onto the couch.

Harry nodded wildly.

An odd mix of fear and comfort wove together through his thoughts. Seeing Snape tower over him felt almost as if he’d reverted to their previous dynamic before their relationship had changed, but his logic argued too fiercely in favour of Harry.

“Good.” Snape said with slow inhale. “As I said, your use of parseltongue isn’t the issue. Why you said what you said, is.” He added.

“I wanted to know why Umbridge thought you’d be helpful.” Harry said weakly.

“You did.” Snape nodded. “That is why I believe we should visit Dumbledore.”

“Because I was angry you were working with her?”

“Because you were angry I wasn’t working for you.” Snape corrected before swallowing heavily. “You and the Dark Lord sound different when you speak parseltongue, but you are similar with other behaviours.”

Harry shook his head ‘no’.

His fingers tightened around the pendant once more as a cramp split along his stomach. He’d hoped their similarities ended with their shared miserable childhoods and driven sense of purpose, he despised the idea of having another thing in common.

“You are highly skilled at legilimency when you choose to use it.” Snape said.

“I’m not.” Harry curled into himself. “You said I wasn’t because I can only see through Nagini’s eyes.”

Snape shook his head. “You’re quite skilled, despite what you may think. You cast it successfully on me after you asked me about Umbridge. My skill in Occlumency was the only thing that kept you out.” He said before looking at the book in his hand. “You aren’t skilled in Legilimency though, nordo you have a masterful degree of control over Occlumency. I have researched every reputable and disreputable author I could find since you’ve brought this to my attention. These are the few that offered even a glimpse of what you may be experiencing, but none of them can define it.”

Harry crept forward and nudged one of the books with a careful finger. The titles Snape had collected ranged from a friendly sounding ‘Mental Magic’s, a Compendium’, to the worrying looking, ‘The Ruin of Dark Magicks on the Mind’.

“Take a breath and occlude.” Snape said as he flipped through his book and seemed to search for a specific page. “Then we will speak with Dumbledore. We can use the instance with Mr Malfoy, rather than what occurred in my office.”

“Will that work?” Harry asked as the reality of what happened weighed on him.

“It’s an inevitable meeting.” Snape said. “Whether or not it will work, we need to know what he knows.”

For some reason, Harry’d thought this issue would go away on its own. He didn’t know why, as nothing had ever just gone away on its own in Harry’s experience. Even if it didn’t, he hadn’t thought anything could wake it up.

He didn’t fancy meeting with Dumbledore again. They didn’t know what he might say or do, and they were unaware of any conclusions he might have drawn since the meeting at Privet Drive.

The prophecy loomed over Harry. It sank like poison through his thoughts and blackened everything it touched. He’d tried to avoid ruminating on it in the past, as once he started, it was very difficult to stop. Every interaction shriveled into dust beneath its shadow, reminding him in an abstract way, that Voldemort targeted Harry for something neither of them fully understood.

Dumbledore knew what happened, though he hadn’t told Harry.

“Harry.”

Harry breathed sharply as he blinked around the cluttered sitting room. A tight pinch cut between Snape’s eyebrows as his face appeared in Harry’s line of sight.

Snape’s finger had floated near his nose, but pulled away quickly.

“Occlude.”

Harry gave it his best shot, but sooner than he’d have liked, he found himself staring into Dumbledore’s twinkling blue eyes.

He thought idly about when he’d last seen a genuine twinkle.

“Good evening Harry.”

Harry mumbled a greeting and brushed at the ash coating his school robes. He wanted to rub at the bruise forming along his hip from where he’d fallen coming out of the floo, but worried it would make him look too vulnerable.

A colourful evening sunlight bathed the old wooden floor and made the office seem far more harmless than Harry knew it was. Dumbledore blended into his delicate instruments and baubles almost as if he were one of them. Harry felt distinctly out of place, yet welcome in a somewhat secretive way. It was uncomfortably pleasant and it made Harry curious if Dumbledore charmed his office to set visitors at ease. It’d certainly explain the immediate relaxation that’d soothed his shoulders when he’d arrived.

It didn’t much matter what Dumbledore cast on his office, because it wouldn’t work on Harry.

Harry wouldn’t let it, more specifically.

“Severus.” Dumbledore greeted Snape as he entered the room in a flash of green fire. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The shiny curios littering the desk and bookshelves chimed and spun in quiet, slow movements. It seemed almost as if they were in league with Dumbledore in keeping his visitors calm, as Harry felt his breathing fall in line with their rhythmic back and forth ticking.

“I’ve no doubt you’re well aware of why we are here.” Snape said. “Or has Madam Pomfrey not spoken with you yet?”

Snape’s hand slipped over Harry’s shoulder and led him toward a high backed chair.

“Rather the opposite Severus,” Dumbledore said as he closed what looked like a journal and stowed it in a drawer. The orange and yellow stripes on his glittery purple robes swapped colours as he moved. “Poppy has spoken with me, but she neglected to provide me with a very clear explanation. Am I to assume you’ve procured one?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Snape said.

Harry wondered if they were speaking a different language, despite the fact that he knew all the words they used.

“Mr Malfoy behaved in an abominable fashion.” Snape said as he sat in his own chair. “For which, Harry defended himself, but was as unaware of what was cast upon Mr Malfoy as Mr Malfoy was himself.”

The brightness in Dumbledore’s eyes faltered briefly as they slid from Snape to Harry.

“Harry, is this true?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry swallowed heavily and looked away from Dumbledore’s eyes. There was something hypocritical about hiding from potential legilimency when Harry’d forced it on Snape earlier. It would probably help their case if he let Dumbledore know what he was thinking. He abhorred the very idea of it though. Despite how Snape had worded it, he knew visiting Dumbledore was their way of admitting to needing his help.

Harry hadn’t quite decided if they needed his help, as he was still sure Snape could solve most anything.

He was reminded quite suddenly of the night he’d had a vision of Bellatrix Lestrange and how Snape and Sirius had gone to Dumbledore for help.

Who could say if Dumbledore had been helpful at the time though?

No one had helped Harry escape Privet Drive until Snape came along. Dumbledore had known Harry’d been treated poorly and never attempted to rectify his mistake. Why did Snape always run to Dumbledore when he was well aware of his failures? Why didn’t he go elsewhere? What use did Dumbledore offer him?

A soft voice argued about how he provided a century of education and research, but Harry mentally sniffed at it.

Dumbledore’s century of existence led to fourteen miserable years for Harry and a hidden prophecy.

“I see what you mean, Severus.” Dumbledore said, jerking Harry from his thoughts. “Harry would you mind allowing me into your thoughts for a brief moment?”

Harry gave a harsh sounding laugh before shaking his head ‘no’.

“Not with magic, Harry.” Dumbledore said as he folded his hands over his desk. “I only wanted for us to have a discussion. I am aware of who I’ve made myself to be in your eyes, and I shall endeavor to atone—”

“You can’t.” Harry said as his eyes drifted around the bookshelves. “You’re a liar.”

Dumbledore’s striped purple shoulders fell and Harry couldn’t tell if he felt awful or vindicated for saying that.

How many years had Harry swallowed his title as ‘Dumbledore’s man’ through and through, though? How many years had Harry championed a man who’d acted so far against Harry’s best interests? He’d been played and Dumbledore hadn’t been on Harry’s side for even a moment, had he?

He tried to remind himself, however distantly, of how kind Dumbledore had been to Harry since he’d been at Hogwarts. No matter how much trouble Harry’d gotten into, he’d always listened to him and tried to help him. Harry knew he could come up with examples of Dumbledore’s kindness if he tried, but they paled in comparison to what had been uncovered over the summer.

A man who locked children in cupboards and claimed it was for the best wasn’t a kind man. Ms Eileen’s calm voice echoed in his ears and reminded him of Dumbledore’s lack of understanding when it came to Harry’s experiences.

Harry wondered idly if Dumbledore might be like the snake from Snape’s earlier story. He seemed to constantly mislead everyone around him.

“For the time being, I’m going to ask you to suspend your anger so I may better help you.” Dumbledore said in a weathered voice.

“The two are interwoven, Headmaster.” Snape said. “You cannot separate previous experiences and request a clean slate despite how much you may wish to.”

Harry’s eyes flickered downward and landed on Dumbledore’s face. The careful mask Harry’d seen twice before flashed across his face in spite of the kind, grandfatherly way Dumbledore spoke. It wasn’t cracked like it had been in Grimmauld Place, rather, it appeared in perfect condition.

A shiver ran up Harry’s spine at the sight of it. It moved with Dumbledore and blinked when he did, but it was present all the same.

“Nonetheless, I will endeavor to atone for my behaviour Harry.” Dumbledore gave him a soft look. Harry struggled to guess what his reasoning behind that might be, but before he could think on it too long, Dumbledore spoke again. “Did you cast a curse on Mr Malfoy?”

Harry blinked and realized he’d had yet to look away. “I didn’t.” He said quickly. “I pulled my wand out and then he was on the ground.”

“You don’t recall casting anything or you didn’t cast anything?” Dumbledore asked.

“I don’t remember casting anything.” Harry said as he tried to hide his clenched fists in his lap.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Mr Malfoy is in good condition according to Poppy. Whatever it was you cast was reversible, though I am aware of it’s darker nature.” He added with a cautious tilt of his head.

Harry blinked at the careful movements and wondered if Dumbledore was consciously treating him as if he would explode any second. He mentally berated himself for that thought moments later. Dumbledore knew precisely what he was doing because he did everything with precision and conscious thought. Harry was almost curious about when the last time Dumbledore had acted without an ulterior motive had been.

“Perhaps you could inform us as to why Harry would cast a spell of a darker nature without prior knowledge.” Snape asked.

“Are you aware of any other instances where this may have happened?” Dumbledore asked as he looked at Harry.

“Maybe when you were about to curse me.” Harry said in a tight voice. “Back in Privet Drive.”

Dumbledore’s eyes flew wide. “Curse you?”

“Yes!” Harry snapped as a floodgate of badly controlled anger boiled in his stomach. “When you told Aunt Petunia you didn’t care about whether or not I was hurt!”

“Harry!” Dumbledore said loudly. “I have never in my life wished for you to come to harm.”

“But you did nothing to stop it!” Harry shouted back. “You knew! You knew it was bad!” He kicked his chair back as he stood.

Snape slipped between the two of them though it didn’t seem to help. Harry couldn’t tell if what thrummed through him was fear at confronting Dumbledore or righteousness for speaking about what bothered him.

The realization that Harry’d derailed and likely ruined their chances to get information out of Dumbledore without alerting him to any suspicion nearly had Harry stopping and apologizing. He couldn’t ignore the way Dumbledore acted about his hand in Harry’s childhood though.

Dumbledore’s crooked nose twitched as inhaled slowly and held his hands aloft in a pacifying manner.

“Harry, I have never attempted to curse you. Please believe me on that.”

“You’re lying.” Harry said as he peered around Snape and recalled the terrifying way Dumbledore’s eyes had hardened on him at Privet Drive. “Tell the truth!”

Dumbledore’s wand flashed into his hand and Harry dodged backwards.

The rhythmic instruments and baubles littering the shelves whirred to life as Harry came closer. They began to scream his position despite it being obvious in the small office.

“Wands away, Albus.” Snape said in a soft voice. Harry wasn’t sure how he’d heard him over the din echoing around them. Snape crept backwards as he moved closer to Harry. He seemed well aware of how to position his tall frame to cover Harry’s.

Dumbledore stood in a slow, careful movement that had nothing to do with his frail age. His shoulders straightened and he began to appear decades younger by the second. He neglected to put his wand away as he moved.

“Did you attempt to curse Harry?” Snape asked as he clenched his wand tightly. Harry realized belatedly that he hadn’t noticed when Snape pulled it out.

“Your assistance is unnecessary here, Severus.” Dumbledore said sharply.

“I will be the judge of that.” Snape said. “The truth, please.”

“I quite agree.” Dumbledore said. “Though, I don’t believe Tom will be open to it.”

Harry blinked confusedly for a brief second before his own wand appeared in his hand in a rush of anger. He wasn’t sure how useful it would be against Dumbledore, but he’d used magic he didn’t know earlier today, so there was a distinct chance it could happen again.

He wasn’t positive he wanted it to happen again, but if it did, he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I am not Tom Riddle!” Harry said fiercely. “When you wrong two people and they both call you out, it doesn’t make them the same!” He added as he thought of the uncomfortably similar way Dumbledore treated Tom’s request to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays to Harry’s. He sometimes struggled to recall everything he’d learnt from the memory within Tom’s diary, but he clearly remembered his plea to stay somewhere safe. “You’re the one that stayed the same! You’re the problem!”

Harry could admit to having learnt of a few more similarities recently, but there weren’t enough to rename him as Voldemort and treat him as if they were the same two people. The urge to look Dumbledore in the eye flew through him, but he remained safely behind Snape, for all the good it would do.

“Severus, I cannot judge this situation without investigating thoroughly.” Dumbledore said as he rounded the corner of his desk. “Please let me through.”

The noisy collection rattling over the shelves began to settle into a dull, blurry sound.

“Explain why you believe the Dark Lord is present.” Snape said sharply. “And why my dark mark isn’t burning despite your belief that he is here.”

Dumbledore paused. “Harry, does your scar hurt?” He asked.

Harry looked upwards despite knowing he couldn’t see his scar. It hadn’t burned in the last few hours, nor had it woken with any truly angered response in the last week. It burned on and off, but no less than what Harry’d grown accustomed to.

“No.” He said as he trailed an oddly stiff finger over the jagged scar. It hadn’t hurt when he’d seen Nagini, and Harry wasn’t sure if he should be worried about that or not.

“You have no answer for that question then?” Snape asked. “Answer the next one instead, did you attempt to curse Harry at Privet Drive?”

“No.” Dumbledore said.

Harry finally felt safe enough to peer around Snape, though he wished he hadn’t. Dumbledore’s blue eyes had flattened and no longer seemed to suit him.

“Then what were you about to do?” Harry asked, unable to look away from Dumbledore’s eerie expressionless face.

He wondered if he’d fallen into his thoughts, as a stiffness trailed from his fingers and into his chest.

“I was going to investigate to what extent Tom is able to possess you.” Dumbledore said in a frail voice. “You ran away before I could help you.”

“You intimidated and scared a child after having ensured they’d grow up in an abusive household.” Snape snapped. “You have no right to be upset.”

Harry nodded despite his tight neck and he wished he could argue against having been called scared. He had been scared of course, but not enough to let it get the better of him. Everyone acted as if fear stopped Harry in his tracks when really, all it did was add one more thing to suffer through.

“Harry, I cannot apologize enough for my actions.” Dumbledore said as his shoulders softened and he began to age before their eyes. “If I had known what it would come to, I would have been more careful.”

“Meaning?” Snape asked with a careful twirl of his wand.

Harry blinked as he realized the stiff feeling was loosening with each twirl. He realized with a sudden horrible feeling that he’d forgotten to keep track of Dumbledore’s wand. Something had kept his eyes firmly on the old wizard’s face despite his fear about what Dumbledore might do if given a chance to act.

“Severus, I must see him.” Dumbledore said, rather than answering. “I can see him on your terms, when he is unable to fight back, or I will send you away and see him all the same.”

Harry flinched as his neck cracked in an uncomfortably painless way from the tension warring across his shoulder blades.

“Have you tried asking for permission?” Snape asked.

Dumbledore folded his hands in front of himself. “Harry, may I perform a highly invasive magical procedure in an attempt to ascertain whether or not you’ve been possessed by Voldemort? I can promise you it will be painless.”

Harry shook his head ‘no’ in a wild movement. He couldn’t imagine a worse sort of experience. What if Dumbledore learned he knew of the prophecy?

“Ah, you see, Severus.” Dumbledore said.

Snape scoffed.

“I will not tolerate any more delays in ensuring Hogwarts’s safety, Severus.” Dumbledore said as his eyes found Snape’s. Whatever had trapped Harry’s attention earlier, broke without his eye contact to maintain it. “Harry, prepare to shrink to the floor in a short moment, I do apologize, but I will be removing anything masking your appearance and that will include the potion Severus has kindly brewed for you.”

Snape’s wand jerked as Harry shouted and reached for his mum’s necklace. His hand froze in its tracks and the floor rushed to meet him as he fell to the floor at a steep incline. Snape’s dark cloak surrounded him and he was caught seconds before slamming into the floor.

Vertigo swung through him as his arms and legs shrank in on themselves in an almost sluggish afterthought.

“Albus!”

Snape shouted as he flicked his wand in a quick arc and shrunk Harry’s uniform to fit him. Harry covered his ears at the sudden noise surrounding him and desperately wished he’d remained fifteen. Fear exploded through him and left his tongue numb and dots glittering in his eyes. Dumbledore’s quick, clinical treatment of him carved a hollow and rotten feeling through his insides.

It was logical for Dumbledore to want to protect Hogwarts, but Harry felt that as a student within it, he should be awarded the same protection.

“Harry, open your eyes wide for me, please. This will be painless, I promise.” Dumbledore said as he stepped closer.