Year 6-16: Suspect Seeker

GREAT PYRAMID COLLAPSE SPARKS INTERNATIONAL INTRIGUE

By Sabrina Vane, The Daily Prophet

"The wizarding and Muggle world alike were shocked by the news on Saturday evening that one of the Great Pyramids of Giza had partially collapsed. The Muggle President of Egypt said in a statement that the collapse was caused by arsonists lighting fires within the structure, but the official account of events is far more sinister in nature.

'Our Auror forces were alerted to a Fiendfyre outbreak within the pyramid yesterday afternoon,' said Egyptian Minister of Magic Rami Nabil in a statement on Sunday morning. 'Upon investigation, we discovered the remains of wanted necromancer Rakhaman the Defiler amidst the wreckage, as well as evidence of hundreds of Inferi. We suspect that Rakhaman was confronted by mercenaries seeking to claim his bounty, triggering a deadly fight.'

The Minister also noted that a Portkey activation was detected in the area, transporting an unknown person(s) to the Gringotts branch in London. It is unknown if the two events are related. Gringotts has been accused in recent months of providing specialized Portkeys to mercenaries seeking to enter the country illegally, an accusation that the bank has vehemently denied.

'Gringotts does not employ mercenaries,' said bank president Ragnok the Ruthless. 'Nor do we provide Portkeys to anyone but our most trusted employees. We reject the notion that anyone under our employ was involved in this incident – it is just as likely that they were merely present at the Pyramid and sought to escape the Fiendfyre, as the Pyramid is a common site for curse-breaker activity and research.'

No claim has yet been made on Rakhaman's bounty, which ranges from five to ten thousand Galleons across various nations in the Mediterranean region. For more on the necromancer's alleged crimes against humanity, see pg. 11."

"I didn't know necromancers were still a thing," Sue Li shuddered. "Thank Merlin someone like him isn't around anymore."

"My father says they're quite common in that region," said Anthony Goldstein. "The ancient Egyptians were obsessed with death and rebirth, so it only makes sense."

"That's just a stereotype," protested Padma Patil. "Plenty of cultures were fascinated with death."

"Sure, but they didn't all build massive pyramids to honor death, did they?"

Harry tuned out his classmates' chatter and glanced around the Great Hall. Nearly everyone was discussing the Prophet article, as the Great Pyramids were clearly as culturally beloved among wizards as they were with Muggles. Fortunately, most of the conversation seemed to be centered on Rakhaman rather than the Gringotts Portkey, which was being dismissed as a red herring.

He glanced up at the Head Table, where his mother was quietly eating breakfast beside Snape. It seemed that her weekend with James had calmed most of her nerves following the hit piece the previous Friday, and she was ready to get back to work. That was one benefit of the Egypt news: it had overshadowed the drinking scandal that days prior had seemed likely to dominate the rumor mill for weeks.

Harry froze as his eyes scanned the rest of the Head Table. Dumbledore was peering curiously at him over his copy of the Prophet, his piercing blue eyes surveying Harry. He quickly looked away, rejoining his classmates' speculation over the article to appear nonchalant. Did the Headmaster suspect Harry was involved in this somehow? Had he known that Harry was not in the castle on Saturday afternoon?

But Harry didn't really care what the Headmaster knew or thought he knew. What was the worst Dumbledore could do, expel him? That would only accelerate Harry's war plans, as there was little keeping him here in the castle anyway. Expulsion would just mean more time to dedicate to the horcrux hunt, and with his seventeenth birthday just three months away, he would be freer than ever to pursue his goals.

There was one matter Harry wanted to attend to before leaving school, of course. His Veritaserum would finally be finished brewing this week, and he could get answers from his Slytherin classmates. Draco being gone from the castle would only make this task easier, as it meant Snape was no longer hovering over Harry's shoulder every ten minutes and preventing him from getting to the boy. He doubted Snape had made similar Vows to protect the other children of Death Eaters in the castle.

Harry knew that Dahlia would murder him if he didn't involve her in the completion of the potion, since powdered moonstone was an extremely rare ingredient to get to brew with. He stopped by the Hospital Wing that afternoon, where to his surprise, he found her tending to a familiar patient.

"Hey, idiot," he greeted his sister. "What happened here?"

"Oh, Luna here just slipped and hit her head," said Dahlia, as she tended to a nasty bump on Luna's forehead.

"Clumsy me," Luna sighed tiredly. "I just haven't been getting much sleep lately, that's all."

"She fell down a flight of stairs," explained Demelza Robins, who was sitting at Luna's bedside. "And it's not the first time...I've told her to use the hand rail for weeks now. Maybe next time she'll listen."

"Yes, you're right, Dem," said Luna. "I just wish you would stop fussing over me – honestly, I'm fine."

Harry and Demelza shared an uncertain look. He'd asked the girl to watch out for Luna, and apparently her strange behavior hadn't let up in the past month. But he gave Demelza a reassuring nod, hoping that she would continue to keep an eye on the blonde for him.

"Need something?" asked Dahlia, turning to Harry as she finished patching Luna up.

"Just wanted to see if you were busy Wednesday night," said Harry. "I have a...Potions project you might be interested in helping me with."

Dahlia's eyes lit up at this; she clearly recognized what he meant by this. "Yes, I should be free," she said nonchalantly. "Shall I meet you in the usual place after dinner?"

"That works for me," said Harry. He said goodbye to Luna and Demelza before departing the Hospital Wing. But a voice called out after him as he headed down the corridor:

"Hey, Harry, wait up!"

He turned; Neville hustled to catch up with him. The boy had obviously been lurking around the Hospital Wing again, making good on his promise to watch out for Dahlia.

"What's up, Nev?" Harry greeted him.

"Not much," Neville shrugged as he fell into step with Harry. "What was that about a Potions project?"

"Just some extra credit work to help out my Mum," Harry lied smoothly. "I figured Dahlia would like the opportunity to join, given that's her specialty."

"Right, right," Neville nodded. "You hear this news about the pyramid? Wild, isn't it?"

"Sure is," Harry agreed. "Sounds like that Rakhaman fellow was up to no good."

"What do you make of that whole situation?" asked Neville. "You think it was mercenaries?"

"Makes sense," Harry shrugged. "Plenty of people wanted him dead."

"But the Gringotts Portkey…" said Neville uncertainly. "You don't think that's related?"

"No clue, Neville," Harry sighed. "Why do you ask?"

"Just thinking out loud," said Neville. "Speaking of, where were you Saturday? I asked Terry Boot, and he said you weren't in your dorm that night."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine, but he kept his composure. "I fell asleep in the library," he lied. "Late night study session."

"I see," said Neville. "And aren't you and Ron's brother Bill working on some project together? He works for Gringotts, doesn't he?"

"Do you have something more specific you wanted to ask me, Neville?" Harry snapped.

Neville did not looked cowed by Harry's snippy tone; if anything, he scrutinized Harry even closer. "No, nothing," Neville shrugged. "See you around, Harry." And Neville parted ways, heading down a nearby stairwell and out of sight.

Does he suspect I was involved in the pyramid incident? Harry wondered. Did he arrive at that conclusion himself, or had Dumbledore suggested it? Harry was glad to be back on good terms with the trio as of late, and it saddened him to think that they might be gossiping about him behind his back once again. And for once, the gossip was warranted – Harry was up to some shady business behind the scenes, and the last person he could explain himself to was Neville.

He'll never know that Rakhaman's death saved his life, Harry thought, somewhat bitterly. You're welcome, you prick.

That Wednesday night was a full moon, and after dinner, Harry summoned Dobby to take him to Raven House. Dahlia arrived half an hour later, looking somewhat cross.

"Sorry I'm late," she huffed. "Neville kept badgering me about coming along to our 'extra credit' Potions session...what did you tell him?"

"He's just being paranoid," Harry groaned. "Don't worry about it. Now come on, the materials are ready."

Dahlia insisted on adding the powdered moonstone to the brew herself. Harry transfigured a skylight onto the roof so that the full moon could beam down into the lab, causing the moonstone to glow a bright shade of blue. Using dragonhide gloves for protection, Dahlia sprinkled four pinches of moonstone into the cauldron, causing it to bubble vividly and change color to a pale silver.

"Stir that counter-clockwise seventeen times," she instructed Harry, as she moved on to the cauldron beside it. "Now for the antidote." She added one more pinch to the smaller brew, which also bubbled heavily and took on a milky white consistency. Once Harry finished stirring his cauldron, the bubbling had ceased, and the surface of the potion shimmered brilliantly, looking identical to the Veritaserum he'd been given by Moody two years prior.

"Looks finished to me," Harry remarked. "How will we know for sure?"

"One of us will have to test it," Dahlia pointed out.

"I'll do it," said Harry at once, reaching for a ladle to scoop some of the Veritaserum into a vial. He handed it to Dahlia and sat tentatively in a chair as she fitted a stopper to the lid of the vial. She tilted his head back and applied three drops of the silvery potion onto his tongue. At once, Harry felt the familiar sense of vague unreality, of being disconnected from his senses.

"What is your name?" Dahlia asked.

"Harry James Potter," he answered dully.

"What year are you at Hogwarts?"

"Sixth."

"Were you in Egypt last Saturday?"

Harry's face twitched as he tried to resist the question, but the Veritaserum would not allow him to. "Yes," he grunted.

"Did you kill Rakhaman the Defiler?"

"Yes."

Dahlia gave Harry an exasperated look before dropping the antidote on his tongue. At once Harry sprang to his feet angrily, rounding on his sister.

"That was a serious breach of privacy," he snapped.

"Don't give me that," Dahlia glared, not shrinking from his anger. "Would you have lied if I asked you without Veritaserum?"

"I...probably," Harry admitted. "You didn't need to know that."

"No, of course not," Dahlia huffed, throwing her arms up in frustration. "You just expect me to fix you up and keep quiet whenever you get into fights with necromancers. Maybe I'm tired of keeping your secrets for you and getting nothing but excuses in return!"

"Look, there's a lot going on behind the scenes of this war I can't tell you," Harry sighed. "It's too dangerous. How did you know I was there, anyway?"

"There are...rumors," Dahlia said vaguely.

Neville, Harry thought bitterly. He'd clearly pieced together Harry's involvement and blabbed to his close friends and girlfriend about it. He needed to have a strong word with the boy about keeping his mouth shut with such damaging information – did he not realize how risky it was if anyone else knew about his presence there?

"It's not that big of a deal," Harry sighed. "We didn't plan on it getting that intense...we had to fight back in self-defense. I don't go around planning on blowing up pyramids in my free time."

"Can't you ask Dad to help you?" Dahlia sighed. "If it's for a good cause, he'd understand."

"He's got enough on his plate as it is," said Harry. "Have you seen him lately? The job is beating him down to a pulp, and all the shite the Prophet has been saying isn't helping. This is my way of easing his burden without fighting on the front lines. Would you rather I join the Aurors and fight Death Eaters head-on?"

"No," Dahlia grumbled unhappily. "I'm just worried about you. And I'll never be able to forgive myself if something bad happens and I have to tell Mum and Dad I didn't stop you."

"I'll be fine," said Harry, wrapping his sister in a hug. "And I'm not alone, either...I have Bill and Fleur helping me. We're watching each other's backs. Did you know Fleur is the Secret-Keeper for this safe house?"

"She is?" said Dahlia, surprised. "I always liked her. How did she get involved in this mess?"

"She wanted to help me after I saved her life in the Tournament two years ago," said Harry. "And we've become close friends since then. I would trust her with my life."

"I see," said Dahlia. "Well, I'm going to write her a letter. If you're biting off more than you can chew, I'm sure she'll set the record straight."

"That she will," Harry chuckled. "And can we please keep this Egypt business to ourselves? The last thing Mum needs right now is to fret over me."

Dahlia scowled at this. "Fine," she muttered. "But next time, I want to know when you plan on doing something dangerous like this again. I don't want to hear about it first from the bloody Prophet."

"That's fair," Harry nodded. It posed a potential issue down the road, as he was still planning to break into Nurmengard Prison in a few short weeks and knew Dahlia would not like that one bit. But she had a point – he needed to be more cautious and not leave himself exposed to serious danger.

Speaking of which, the planning for the break-in was going more slowly than he anticipated. He was still researching the construction of the prison and past incidents in which people had gotten caught attempting to get in. While initially kept hush-hush, the prison had recently been seen as more of a curio than a danger, given Grindelwald's advanced age and lack of threat level in the modern day. There were even talks that the prison might be converted into a museum after the man's death, and already various "secrets" had been leaked in various magical architecture publications.

The main thing that gave Harry confidence he could pull it off was the lack of human guards on-site at the remote prison. The surrounding area was guarded by territorial mountain giants, and the prison itself drew on a complex series of runes and enchantment fields to deter visitors. Most of the people who had been caught before had unwittingly tripped some alarm ward en route to Grindelwald's cell – Harry was more confident he could disable such wards thanks to his attuned magical senses.

But that could wait until he was ready to make the trip. He still needed to experiment with creating a Portkey of his own, which he knew was possible thanks to Borgin. His understanding of how they functioned was pretty advanced – now he just needed to apply his theory into practice. He certainly didn't want to craft an intricate prison break-in, only for his Portkey to malfunction and strand him in the cold Austrian Alps with no escape.

And now that his Veritaserum was complete, Harry could focus on a more immediate threat: that against his family. He kept the vial of truth serum in his pocket in the coming days, waiting for his opportunity. And after much deliberation, he had a plan.

Harry had spent the past week watching the Marauder's Map carefully, studying the movement patterns and behaviors of his Slytherin classmates. His initial plan had been to get Crabbe and Goyle alone, as they were closest to Draco; however, they rarely went anywhere alone, only entering or exiting their common room with Mulciber and/or Nott. Snape also often lurked near the two boys, as if suspecting Harry would target them in Malfoy's absence. Harry also considered targeting one of the girls Draco often cavorted with, like Pansy Parkinson, but they too traveled in large packs and would be a hassle to get alone.

That left only one viable option: Theodore Nott. He was often with his fellow sons of Death Eaters, but he clearly had aspirations beyond his dim-witted peers, taking several advanced courses that they were not, such as Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. That left Harry with a brief window of opportunity to get him alone. Hopefully with the right timing, and a subtle Obliviation afterwards, he could question the boy without raising any alarm bells.

He settled for the following Tuesday to spring his trap. After lunch, rather than join his classmates for History of Magic, Harry feigned a stomach ache and pretended to return to Ravenclaw Tower. He snuck off and nestled into an alcove on the third floor, near the portrait concealing a hidden passageway that he knew Theo Nott used to shortcut his way to Arithmancy class. Harry Disillusioned himself and waited for the boy to appear.

Right on schedule, the boy appeared minutes later, climbing out from behind the portrait. As he turned to close the passageway behind him, Harry hit him with a silent Stunner and caught him with a Levitation Charm before he hit the ground. He then quickly transported Theo down the hallway towards an empty classroom, guiding the boy inside and shutting the door behind them.

After throwing every repelling and silencing ward he could think of at the door, Harry propped up Theo into a chair and bound him in thick ropes. He then revived the boy; Theo startled awake, thrashing about in his chair, eyes wide with fear when he saw Harry standing before him.

"Hello, Nott," Harry greeted him coolly. "Got a minute to chat?"

"Let me go!" Theo grunted, struggling against his restraints. "Or my father—"

"Your father will never hear about this," said Harry menacingly. "I can either Obliviate you or kill you to ensure your silence – that depends on your cooperation today. Got it?"

Harry, of course, had no intentions of killing the boy, but he might as well play up his dark reputation a little. It seemed to work, because Theo trembled with fear at this open threat.

"P-please don't hurt me," he quivered.

"That remains to be seen," said Harry, pulling out his vial of Veritaserum. "Open up."

Theo eyed the potion warily. Perhaps recognizing what it was, or else fearing what the alternative would be, he obeyed, opening his mouth. Harry placed three drops of the liquid on the boy's tongue; seconds later, Theo had slumped back in his seat, staring blankly ahead, under the control of the potion's effects.

"What is your full name?" Harry asked.

"Theodore Quincy Nott," Theo said dully.

"Are you a Death Eater?" Harry demanded.

"No," Theo said at once.

Skeptical, Harry slashed his wand at the boy's right arm; the sleeve tore away, revealing the boy's forearm. Sure enough, the skin was bare, proving that he had not yet taken Voldemort's mark.

"Are any of your classmates Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

Theo's face twitched slightly as he fought against the question. "Y—no," he mustered.

He's been trained against Veritaserum, Harry realized. And why wouldn't he be? His father was a prominent member of the Wizengamot and a Voldemort supporter...of course his son would be prepared to answer unwanted questions under duress.

"Has Draco Malfoy accepted the Dark Mark?" he asked instead.

Again Theo's face twitched, but there was no escaping the direct question. "Yes," he grunted. Perhaps he had twisted Harry's original wording by reasoning that Draco was no longer in classes with him, satisfying the condition of truth. Harry would have to be more specific and direct with his line of questioning.

"Have Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, or Ivan Mulciber accepted the Dark Mark?" Harry pressed.

"No," Theo said at once.

"Have you accepted the Mark, or do you intend to?"

"No."

"Do you support Lord Voldemort?"

"No."

That surprised Harry to hear. "But your father supports him, financially or logistically, doesn't he?" he demanded.

"Yes," Theo grimaced.

"So why don't you?"

"I don't want to be a part of this war," said Theo. "My father's mistakes are his own. I just want a normal life away from this madness."

Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for the boy...he could certainly understand that position. But he couldn't afford to show mercy now.

"Has Draco Malfoy been given a job to perform on behalf of Voldemort?" he asked.

"N...yes," Theo blurted out before he could stop himself.

"What has he been tasked to do?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," said Theo at once.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Harry frowned.

"He won't tell me what it is," said Theo.

"Has he told anyone else in your dorm?" asked Harry.

"No."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked skeptically.

"All of our dorm mates complain about being left in the dark by Draco as well," said Theo. "He always says it's something he has to do on his own, and refuses all offers of help."

Harry pondered this, not sure what to make of it. "Do you know who was responsible for my mother's poisoning?" he asked.

"No."

"Do you know who was responsible for cursing my sister?"

"No."

Harry pondered his next question carefully. Clearly Theo was not entirely in the know, but that didn't mean he had no idea what was going on. "Do you suspect that Draco was responsible?" he asked.

Theo grappled internally with the question, trying to interpret his way out of it. "I don't know," he eventually mustered.

"You don't suspect him, or you don't know if you suspect him?" Harry pressed. "Elaborate."

"Draco has been acting strange all year," said Theo. "I suspected him after both incidents, but he did not react the way I would expect if he did it. He seemed fearful more than anything."

"Fearful of what?"

"You," said Theo. "Draco is terrified of you. After your mum and sister got hurt, he reacted like the world was going to end. Like you were going to burn down the Slytherin dorms out of revenge. Surely he would have accounted for that already."

Harry considered this answer. Theo had a point: why would Draco act so horrified if he meant to harm Lily or Dahlia? Wouldn't he have expected Harry's reaction well in advance? He clearly knew how much Harry's family meant to him, and how he would react with bloody vengeance if they were to die. So why would he try to hurt them? And if he was forced to, why would he act so surprised when it happened? Unless…

"Have you been in contact with Draco Malfoy in the past six weeks?" Harry demanded.

"No," said Theo.

"Has he been in contact with anybody else at the school in that time?"

"I don't know."

"Does anyone else at the school intend serious harm to myself or my family?"

"I don't know."

Harry sighed; clearly this was as far as the Veritaserum would get him. Even when forced to cough up answers, Theo clearly didn't know about Draco's true plans, and nor did Mulciber, Crabbe, or Goyle. Still, it was somewhat reassuring to know that there wasn't a full-fledged conspiracy against the Potters brewing within Slytherin – even if Theo wasn't involved, he surely would have heard of one by now given his major connections to the House.

"Very well, Nott," Harry sighed, reaching into his robes for the antidote. He placed a drop on Theo's tongue, causing him to come to from his trance-like state, panting and sweating profusely.

"Please, Potter," Theo pleaded with him. "I swear to you I wanted nothing to do with this. Please don't hurt me."

"Then give me something I can work with, Nott," said Harry menacingly. "Who's hurting my family?"

"I d-don't know!" Theo protested weakly. "My father doesn't tell me what's happening, and I'm terrified every day he'll be arrested again, or worse—"

"Then he shouldn't have followed a madman," Harry shrugged, feeling no remorse for the elder Nott. "He warned you about the dementors and werewolves last year, didn't he? Has he warned you about anything this year?"

"N-no, honest!" said Theo. "He just said to stay away from you, that's all! I would never touch you or your family – it's suicide!"

Theo was no longer under the effects of Veritaserum, but Harry believed him. "Thank you for your time, Nott," Harry nodded, pointing his wand between the boy's eyes.

"Don't kill me!" Theo shrieked, struggling desperately against his bindings.

"Not today, Nott," said Harry. "Stupefy."

Once Theo was unconscious again, Harry Obliviated the memory of the entire interaction from the boy's mind, making him forget everything that happened after leaving the Great Hall for lunch. Harry then retreated into the corner and Disillusioned himself before reviving Theo and casting a mild Compulsion Charm on him. The boy exited the classroom in a daze, headed for the Hospital Wing with what he believed to be a headache that had compelled him to skip class. That should cover Harry's tracks well enough.

Harry puzzled over what he had learned, or at least, what he could interpret from Theo's semi-practiced answers. Draco was up to no good on Voldemort's behalf, that much was now confirmed. But whatever it was, he seemed to be at it alone, or at least not relying on his classmates for help. All signs still pointed to him for Lily and Dahlia's accidents, but were they intentional attacks? Or had they simply gotten in the way of the true target?

Should he attempt to question Mulciber, Crabbe or Goyle next? Harry considered it, but figured it was probably not worth the risk. They might be more sympathetic to Voldemort's cause than Theo was, but they seemed to be no more privy to Draco's plans. At the very least they didn't seem likely to hurt Harry or his family...whatever Draco had done, he did of his own volition.

Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map to ensure he could leave safely. Snape was fortunately far away, teaching Defense in another wing of the castle. But to his chagrin, there was another dot just down the hall from the classroom: Neville Longbottom, rapidly retreating for the secret passage. With a groan, Harry pulled out his wand and hurried to the door, but the boy was already gone when he stepped out into the corridor.

Still spying on me, is he? Harry thought, disgruntled. It was one thing to have Neville snooping in his personal business – to do so using his own family Cloak just added insult to injury. His patience with the boy's shenanigans was waning quickly, and he knew he would be claiming the heirloom back for himself sooner rather than later.

The question was: had Dumbledore ordered him to spy on Harry? Was this a coordinated effort to learn what he was up to? Neville had taken Harry's side at the last Order meeting...was Dumbledore now making the extra effort to get the Boy-Who-Lived back on his side? Casting suspicion on Harry's whereabouts and activities would definitely accomplish that goal. And Harry could hardly refute them, only making him look more guilty in Neville's eyes.

What had Neville seen before Harry realized he was nearby? Had he witnessed Harry capturing Nott, or merely the boy departing the classroom after the fact? What did he make of the interaction? And what would he say about what he had seen to others around him?

But that part didn't bother Harry so much. Let him talk...if anything, it might help to keep the other Slytherin instigators in line. If they caught wind that Harry had cornered Nott and wiped his memory, they might be extra cautious around him and his family for the rest of the year. That was one silver lining Harry would cling to – Neville could be dealt with later if he became a true nuisance.

It allowed him to focus on other matters as April drew to a close. Suddenly a new topic of conversation dominated the halls: the Quidditch final between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Both teams were undefeated, with the winner of their match determining who would hoist the coveted trophy. Excitement was high as the entire school buzzed about who would emerge victorious.

Harry had come to appreciate the hostility of Quidditch match week for what it was: lighthearted banter and intimidation tactics to play up House rivalries. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were the two oft-overlooked Houses at Hogwarts, but with the two teams facing off in the Quidditch Final three seasons in a row now, their rivalry was as heated as ever.

As for the match itself, Harry was not sure how things would go. The only thing he knew for certain was that he could out-fly the Hufflepuff Seeker, Casper Summerby, with no problem. But the rest of the team was a different story…Ravenclaw simply didn't have the talent to compete at every other position. They'd skated past Slytherin due to their virtual forfeit, while they'd only beaten Gryffindor thanks to Harry's heroics. And Hufflepuff had trounced Gryffindor soundly, meaning their prospects would be even worse.

Still, it was a nice reprieve from everything else going on in Harry's life right now. Between fighting necromancers and hunting Voldemort's Horcruxes, a little trash talk from his peers was good fun. The weather was gorgeous, and Harry looked forward to a day of flying before he had to hunker down and study for N.E.W.T.'s in a month's time. So Harry elected to set aside all of his side projects and just enjoy the week, knowing this might be his last opportunity to enjoy his childhood properly.

That Friday, Harry enjoyed dinner with his classmates in the Great Hall before retiring to bed early. But he was intercepted on the stairwell before he could escape to his dorm…

"Harry! A word?"

Harry turned, Dumbledore was approaching him from down the hall. "Good evening, Headmaster," he said calmly. "Just going to get some sleep for the match tomorrow."

"Naturally," said Dumbledore, inclining his head. "It will only be a minute."

Harry sighed, but followed Dumbledore down a quiet corridor. Once they were alone, the Headmaster turned to face Harry.

"You were in Egypt earlier this month," said Dumbledore, surveying Harry carefully.

"Is that a question, sir?" Harry asked innocently, leaving the obvious challenge unspoken: Prove it.

"The Ministry asked me to assist in the investigation," Dumbledore continued without missing a beat. "To keep my eyes and ears open for any sign of who might have been involved. I declined to raise my suspicions about yourself, Mr. Bill Weasley, and Ms. Fleur Delacour causing the incident at the pyramids."

Harry said nothing, impassively meeting Dumbledore's gaze. He would neither confirm nor deny his suspicions, merely waiting for the Headmaster to continue. Dumbledore appeared to be waiting for a response, and sighed in disappointment when he did not receive one.

"Harry," he said, "I have given you tremendous leeway to do as you please this year. I have declined to go to the Ministry with your blatant disregard for not just school rules, but the law of the land. I hoped that you would repay that trust by not testing those limits and endangering yourself at every step of the way."

"Frankly, sir, I don't need a lecture," said Harry. "What I do away from campus on the weekends is my own business."

"I'm more inclined to remove your weekend privileges altogether," said Dumbledore. "If you plan to use them for such dark activity."

"You're welcome to," Harry shrugged. "I won't be returning to school if you do. I have more important things to attend to anyway."

"You would willingly sacrifice your academic career over this?" Dumbledore asked sadly. "And turn your back on your own family's wishes?"

"I would," Harry said firmly. "And that outcome would make everyone unhappy, wouldn't it? My parents probably wouldn't be too happy that you let their son abandon school while still underage."

"Must you twist my words and intentions, Harry?" said Dumbledore, looking hurt. "And take advantage of my kindness?"

"It's nothing personal, sir," said Harry. "There's a war on, and I could get a lot more done if I dedicate my full attention to it anyway. But I'd prefer to stay close to my family for the time being."

"I wonder how your parents would respond to what you've been up to," Dumbledore remarked. "The news that their son illegally traveled thousands of miles away, destroying priceless ancient artifacts and making headline news?"

"Is that a threat, sir?" Harry said hotly.

"It is not," said Dumbledore placatingly. "I simply hope that you will see things from their perspective. That they would want better for their sixteen-year-old son than to shoulder such burdens alone."

"I am not alone," Harry retorted. "You said it yourself: I have Bill and Fleur. And who are you to talk, giving war-critical missions to Neville, Ron and Hermione without telling anyone else about it?"

"They are under my guidance," Dumbledore said calmly. "And as I have shown discretion with your secret activities, I too must show discretion with Neville's."

"Understood," Harry said coolly. "Then I will also elect for discretion in this matter. Now, is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

Dumbledore looked disappointed by Harry's answer, but he relented. "I want to wish you best of luck in your match tomorrow," he said.

"Thank you," Harry said, inclining his head.

"I was approached by several professional scouts about this weekend's match," said Dumbledore. "Many were interested to recruit you to play Seeker for their club. I informed them that you were unlikely to pursue the sport beyond Hogwarts, of course."

"What?" said Harry. "Why did you do that?"

"I just presumed," Dumbledore shrugged. "Considering that entering the professional league would mean disclosing any and all blood rituals you have undergone. Any personal augmentations are forbidden at the pro level, as I'm sure you know."

Harry had vaguely been aware of such regulations, but it was a dull blow to the stomach all the same. He knew that playing Seeker professionally was unlikely in his future, but still, it was a childhood dream officially squashed. He would not be allowed to play for a professional team given what he had done to himself.

"No such rule exists for the Hogwarts Quidditch program, of course," Dumbledore went on. "Though that is partly due to the fact that blood rituals are illegal for underage wizards to perform, not to mention throughout Britain in general. An oversight, perhaps, but one that works in your favor, it would seem."

Harry narrowed his eyes as Dumbledore. Where was he going with this? Why bother bringing this up now?

"Anyway, I look forward to watching you play tomorrow," said Dumbledore. "Your prowess on a broomstick is remarkable for someone your age...what a joy for the other children to get to behold." And he walked off, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

Is he trying to make me feel guilty? Harry wondered as he headed for Ravenclaw Tower. He can't officially prevent me from playing Quidditch, but he wants me to know he disapproves? Then again, maybe the Headmaster had a point for once...Harry had augmented his body to such an unfair degree that he could probably beat most professional Seekers in the league this very moment. Was it fair for him to face other teenagers trying to improve their craft the traditional way, when he was taking shortcuts to gain supernatural strength and reflexes?

But there was nothing to be done about it now. The match was tomorrow, and it was likely to be the final one of Harry's career. He was going to make the most of it and enjoy what just might be the last happy day of his life before he threw himself headlong into the war effort.

The next morning, the Great Hall was abuzz with chatter about the match. As was tradition, the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were shifted to opposite sides of the Hall for the day, to avoid any skirmishes over breakfast. The Slytherins and Gryffindors were mostly split between supporting the two rival Houses, with some sporting Ravenclaw blue and bronze and others rocking Hufflepuff's yellow and black.

Ron Weasley had assumed the mantle of leader for his House, as even from the opposite side of the Hall, Harry could hear the boy boasting loudly about Hufflepuff's chances today. And his confidence was well-founded – he had raised a formidable squad, one that looked even better than last year's when Cedric Diggory was still their Seeker. Sure, Summerby was a downgrade at the position, but all other six starters were head-and-shoulders above the rest of the school.

That of course left Harry as the figurehead for the other side. He was mobbed by well-wishers and supporters from multiple Houses, including, to his surprise, many Slytherins. "Kick their arses today, Potter!" Mark Davis smirked as he greeted the boy. "I bet McLaggen ten Galleons you'd pull off the perfect season today – I can't wait to see his face when you do it!"

"Thanks," Harry chuckled. He'd heard plenty of chatter in the halls about the possibility of a 'perfect season', in which one team's Seeker catches all three Snitches in all three matches in a single year. It had apparently never been achieved since the rules change, with only Charlie Weasley coming close the year before Harry entered Hogwarts. He didn't care much for made-up stats like this, but it would be an undeniably cool accomplishment.

As Harry made his way out of the Hall towards the pitch, he spotted a familiar pair seated at the end of the Slytherin table: Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. The latter looked absolutely miserable, picking listlessly at her plate while the former offered quiet words of encouragement.

"Ladies," he greeted them, sitting beside Tracey. "Everything alright, Daph?"

"Don't mind her," Tracey grinned. "She's just moping for no good reason."

"No good reason?" Daphne huffed. "It's my birthday, Tracey!"

"Many happy returns," Harry offered.

"I come of-age today," Daphne said miserably. "And I haven't secured a marriage contract yet, which means my chances of marrying well have all but evaporated overnight!"

"Right," said Harry. "Well, why don't you come to the match to take your mind off of it? Could be fun."

"Ugh, I hate sports crowds," Daphne groaned. "So uncivilized."

"C'mon, this could be your last chance to see me play!" Harry chuckled. "I'll do a fly-by over the stands just for you."

"But aren't you playing in seventh year?" Tracey frowned.

"Unlikely," Harry said vaguely. "So what d'you say? Come root on Ravenclaw?"

Daphne gave a belabored sigh, but did look amused by the thought. "Maybe I'll root for Hufflepuff instead," she retorted. "I've heard that Weasley is a fair Keeper."

"You're on," Harry grinned. "As long as you're there."

"Good luck," said Tracey, kissing Harry on the cheek. And he bid them farewell, exiting the Hall and heading to the stadium.

The Ravenclaw team looked nervous as Harry gave them their pep talk in the locker room. They weren't as prepared as Harry would have liked – he had canceled several practices in the lead-up to the match due to his busy schedule, and their play remained sloppy and undisciplined even as recently as this week. Was that a reflection of Harry's poor captaincy? Or was the team simply not good enough?

Madam Hooch came to fetch the team soon after, and they took to the skies, facing off against Hufflepuff. By contrast, they looked determined, showing no fear or uncertainty as they stared down their opposition. Ron and Damian in particular wore looks of pure resolve, and Harry knew they would both be on the top of their game today. That could not bode well for his teammates (or himself).

"And the Quaffle is away!" shouted Dean Thomas excitedly. "It's Ravenclaw with possession, as Chang passes to Selwyn, over to Kim, back to Chang—ooh, a nasty shot from Dursley breaks up the play!"

The Hufflepuff faithful roared as Damian pumped his fist at the successful disruption. Cho had dropped the Quaffle after being pummeled in the arm by a Bludger, and now play was moving in the opposite direction.

"I'm fine," Cho grunted angrily as she flew passed a concerned Harry. He watched as the Chasers mounted a desperate defense, but it was fruitless in the face of Hufflepuff's stout offensive trio.

"CADWALLADER SCORES!" Dean exclaimed as the crowd roared. "He slips it past Fitzpatrick to give Hufflepuff the lead, 10-nil!"

Harry was powerless to do anything but watch as his team continued to get dominated on both ends of the pitch. Despite devoting both of their Beaters to the cause, Ravenclaw simply could not disrupt Hufflepuff's seamless system. On offense they were a well-oiled machine, and on defense Ron was putting on quite the show, barking orders and organizing his troops as if playing a chess match. And his saves were just as spectacular.

"Another save by Weasley!" shouted Dean as Ron made an impressive finger-tip grab to prevent the goal. "Ravenclaw remains scoreless as Hufflepuff pushes in search of their fourth goal!"

Harry's only chance was to end the match quickly with the Snitch. Luckily, the first one appeared shortly after Hufflepuff scored again; he dove after it, snatching it out of the air before Summerby (or anyone else) realized it had even happened.

"That must be a new record for Snitch reaction time from Potter!" exclaimed Dean. "He gives his team the lead, 50 to 40!"

But that lead did not last long. Hufflepuff scored twice more as soon as play resumed, and Ravenclaw simply had no answers. "Tighten up those formations, Kim!" Harry shouted as the Chaser dropped yet another Quaffle from his teammate. The entire team already looked defeated, struggling to keep up with the faster and more talented team in yellow. Only Cho was able to slip a goal past Ron, who only missed it because he'd been celebrating another heroic save from seconds prior.

Meanwhile, Hufflepuff's Beaters seemed to be taking a new approach. With their lead ballooning, Damian had shifted his attention exclusively to Harry, knowing that he was Ravenclaw's only hope at victory. Harry was forced to duck, roll and dive from a Bludger seemingly every five seconds, each hit with more precision and accuracy than the last. The teen had a determined look in his eye, as though pouring his frustrations with his home life into every single hit, trying to knock Harry out of the air.

When the second Snitch appeared, Harry had no choice but to dive past Damian to get to it. The boy reacted quickly, sending a Bludger into his path to force Harry to roll away. He did so, but immediately sensed danger from behind and yanked his broom handle up, as a second Bludger screamed past his ear, missing by millimeters.

"How on earth did Potter avoid that Bludger?" said a bewildered Dean as the crowd roared in appreciation. "He should've been dead to rights there – eyes in the back of his head, he has!"

In truth, Harry probably would not have seen the Bludger coming if not for his augmented magical senses. Dumbledore was right: he was not playing fair here. Damian had timed his hits perfectly, and if Harry had not undergone an illegal ritual to improve his reaction time, he'd likely be waking up in the Hospital Wing right about now. It gave him a twinge of guilt knowing that he'd effectively just cheated his cousin out of the winning play.

But he stamped down on the feeling as he zoomed off after the Snitch again. Summerby had spotted it and was giving chase, but he simply could not catch up to it in time. Harry outstripped the poor boy on his Firebolt seconds later and snatched the second Snitch for himself.

"And Potter has another!" shouted Dean as the crowd erupted once more. "Ravenclaw now leads 110-90, with the perfect season still in sight!"

But the other Ravenclaws didn't appear enthusiastic about this feat. Harry saw how downtrodden and defeated they all looked, as if they just wished this miserable match would be over. He called a timeout, summoning his team back into the locker room for a pep talk.

"We're still in this," he reassured them. "Chins up, everyone. Frasier, Boot, let's keep up the pressure on their Beaters, yeah? And Chasers, your passes are getting sloppier – we need to tighten those up if we want to win."

"Nothing we do is working," Cho lamented. "Everywhere I turn, there's someone there to disrupt the play. I just got lucky with the one goal we scored."

"Just hang in there," Harry shrugged as Madam Hooch signaled them back into the air. "We can do this."

But his pep talk didn't seem to help much. Hufflepuff tied the game in short order, then took the lead after Ryan Fitzpatrick lazily drifted away from the center goalpost in the middle of a play and gave up a freebie. Ravenclaw had all but checked out, and he could feel all eyes upon him to end things.

But the final Snitch was not forthcoming. Harry kept his eyes peeled, hoping for a chance to finish the match for his team. And the longer he waited, the more it felt like it would be a hollow victory. He could feel the negative energy of his teammates, contrasted with the bright-eyed determination of the enemy. Hufflepuff was dominating this match, physically, mentally and spiritually...their only flaw was that their Seeker was not a cheater, illegally augmenting his abilities for personal gain.

So Harry made up his mind. He didn't want to claim a false victory for himself. The better team deserved to win today, and he would ensure that they did.

He hesitated when he saw the third Snitch appear. He pretended to be searching the opposite end of the pitch, drifting away from the golden ball that would spell glory. Summerby dove after it, and Harry gave chase, as the crowd murmured in excitement.

Harry sensed the Bludger coming from the moment it left Damian's bat. It was perfectly placed, and would require a superhuman reaction to avoid it and still keep up with Summerby. So rather than roll underneath the Bludger at speeds that would cause any normal human to black out, Harry put on the brakes, dodging it the traditional way as Summerby closed in on the tiny golden ball and grasped it tightly in his palm.

"I don't believe it!" Dean shouted over the roaring crowd. "Summerby has done it! He's disrupted Potter's perfect season and given Hufflepuff the win, 180 to 110!"

Summerby looked stunned as his teammates mobbed him on the pitch. Students swarmed the field as both sides landed, hoisting Ron onto their shoulders for his impressive defensive efforts that had won them the match.

"Good try, everyone," Harry greeted his team as they sulked towards the locker room. He didn't feel too guilty about depriving them of the win...they had given up, and he would not feel right sharing the glory with them for winning on his own (illicit) terms. None of them deserved to hoist the trophy, including himself. That honor belonged to the team that had outplayed them fair and square.

"Good try, Harry," said Tracey Davis, making her way through the crowd towards him and planting a kiss on his cheek. "I guess even Quidditch gods are mortal sometimes."

"Can't win 'em all," Harry shrugged with a grin. "Don't expect me to go crying into your shoulder about it."

"Good, because I do celebrations, not comfort," said Tracey. "But if you feel like celebrating second place, you know where to find me."

"I might just take you up on that," Harry winked. It was a rare moment he was glad he and Tracey weren't truly dating...he didn't want someone to coddle and reassure him right now, like Katie Bell might have the year prior. But maybe he could find a more productive form of stress relief with Tracey later, one with no stupid emotions like disappointment getting in the way.

"Well played, Potter," said Daphne, sidling up alongside Tracey. She looked windswept and taken by the festive atmosphere, despite her attempts to conceal her excitement beneath her usual veneer of indifference.

"Thanks, Daph," Harry grinned. "Glad you decided to come."

"Oi, Greengrass!" came a boisterous voice from nearby; Ron Weasley emerged from the crowd, a wide sloppy grin on his face, throngs of admirers hanging off of him. "Got a present for you. Happy birthday."

And he tossed her the game Quaffle, in all its battered and mud-covered glory. Daphne caught it with surprising dexterity, looking down at it with confusion.

"It's not much," Ron said sheepishly, "but you looked rather down this morning. Hope this helps a little."

Harry groaned internally...leave it to Ron Weasley to think Daphne Greengrass of all people would. appreciate such a grimy relic from a sport she didn't even enjoy! Any number of his Hufflepuff admirers would have appreciated the gesture far more.

But Daphne was looking down at the Quaffle with wide eyes, like it was the best gift she'd ever received. She looked up at Ron with shining eyes, as though viewing him for the first time in a new light.

Then, to everyone's shock, she dropped the Quaffle to the ground and threw her arms around Ron, kissing him deeply on the mouth. Ron looked stunned for the briefest of seconds, before pulling her tight and returning the kiss with vigor. The crowd whooped in appreciation as the two eventually pulled apart; Ron wore a dumbfounded look of awe, while Daphne giggled and smiled broadly, looking happier than Harry had ever seen her before.

"Well, who the hell saw that coming?" Harry chuckled as the two walked off arm in arm.

But Tracey was beaming from ear to ear for her friend. "It's about damn time," she said excitedly. "Those two have been dancing around each other all year...they're perfect for each other."

Harry could see the logic in it now. Ron was the happy-go-lucky type, a tad immature but undeniably a fun personality who brought up the mood wherever he went. Daphne was more by-the-book and not the partying type, who could get inside her own mind at times and needed help breaking out of the mold she expected of herself. Maybe they could be good together...Ron could help Daphne enjoy life more, while she could help bring him down to earth and accept more responsibility as a man.

"Good for them," Harry remarked. "I don't see Ron signing any marriage contracts any time soon, though."

"I bet she could convince him," Tracey giggled. "Anyway, see you later, Harry?"

"Sure," Harry grinned, as he was buffeted away across the field. He accepted more condolences from well-wishers on his way to the locker room, where he reassured his teammates for the close loss. They did not seem to blame him for their defeat – if anything, they seemed resigned to their fate, as none of them had played well enough to begin pointing fingers at their teammates.

Harry's family was waiting for him outside the stadium after he changed: James and Lily, Dahlia, Sirius and Amelia, and Remus and Alessia. Surprisingly, his Aunt Petunia was there too, looking supremely out of place but nonetheless swept up in the excitement of the foreign sport. Dumbledore must have made a special allowance to let a Muggle watch the sport normally concealed from their view.

"Good try, son," said James, wrapping him in a broad hug. "You were the best player out there – don't feel bad about your performance."

"It's okay," Harry shrugged. "They were the better team today."

James gave him a curious look – Harry wondered if he had noticed Harry's delayed reaction to the Snitch and suspected his true intentions. But he said nothing, merely clapping his son on the shoulder proudly.

"That cousin of yours is a right menace at Beater," Sirius whistled. "I heard a scout talking about him a few rows away from me – he came to see you play, but wound up just as impressed by Damian."

"Good for him," said Harry, turning to Aunt Petunia. "He's an amazing flyer." He knew Damian had put his all into the sport this year, dramatically improving and meshing with his team perfectly. He was a talented athlete, growing quite popular within Hufflepuff as a result – hopefully by the time he graduated in three years' time, the war will have ended and his future within the wizarding world would be bright.

"You are both quite talented," Petunia remarked, giving Harry a stiff nod. It was a surreal moment – Harry never once thought his aunt would witness him playing Quidditch, much less compliment him on his play. Such a thought would never have crossed her mind in his last timeline.

"We shouldn't keep him long," Lily smiled. "I'm sure he wants to go be with his House mates."

"He's probably going to snog Tracey in some empty classroom," Dahlia smirked.

"Very funny, Dahlia," Harry groaned, as his family chuckled lightly at his expense. Though truthfully, that did sound like a perfectly good way to spend his evening. He needed something to get out of his sentimental mood, with the realization now dawning on him that his Quidditch career had likely come to a close. Tracey could help him take his mind off of that, among other things.

Harry said goodbye to his family and headed up towards the castle. He intended to make a quick appearance in the Ravenclaw common room before slipping away to find Tracey somewhere quiet. But none of that would come to pass this evening.

"Harry! Wait up!" a voice called after him. He turned to see Demelza Robins running towards him.

"Hey, Dem," he greeted the girl, frowning when he saw the worried expression on her face. "Everything alright?"

"It's Luna," she said breathlessly. "She's...unwell. Can you come now?"

"Lead the way," he said at once. Demelza rushed ahead towards the castle, Harry close behind.

"You said not to take her to the Hospital Wing," Demelza explained. "So I brought her to Professor Firenze's classroom, like you suggested."

"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked, as they reached the Entrance Hall and hurried along down a side corridor.

"You should see for yourself," said Demelza grimly.

They reached the first-floor Divination classroom, which Harry hadn't entered since dropping the class last year. They entered the familiar forest-like environment, which had grown considerably since Harry's last visit. Thick underbrush covered the ground now beneath the towering trees, with a narrow path leading to a clearing at the center of the room. There was a thin layer of fog in the air, and they found Luna lying in the grass, Firenze kneeling beside her.

"Professor Firenze," Harry greeted the centaur. "How is Luna doing?"

"She has entered a trace-like state," said Firenze, getting to his four feet. Indeed, Luna's eyes were closed, and she was muttering under her breath, lightly twitching and shivering in the grass.

"Is she alright?" asked Harry, kneeling beside Luna as Demelza did the same on her other side. "Does she need medical help?"

"I do not believe so," said Firenze. "She exhibits signs of clairvoyance, and I have attuned the room to accommodate her."

"So what do we do now?" asked Demelza nervously.

"We wait," Firenze said simply. "I will step outside." And he turned to head towards the door.

"Wait!" Harry protested. "You're just leaving? Why aren't you waiting and watching her with us?"

Firenze turned to survey Harry curiously. "Divination is an inexact science," he said. "Particularly the human phenomenon of prophecy. It is the belief of centaurs that they are intentionally vague so as to invite interpretation, and their fulfillment depends largely on the interpreter rather than the prophet. As such, I do not wish to bear witness and fall into the trap of interpretation."

"What about us?" asked Harry, indicating himself and Demelza. "Should we stay?"

"I believe that Fate has brought you both here to bear witness," said Firenze simply. "If you are meant to hear the prophecy, you will. I wish you the best of luck in interpreting its meaning effectively." And the centaur departed, leaving the three students alone with those foreboding words hanging over them.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to, Demelza," said Harry. "I can handle Luna – I've witnessed her prophecies before. I promise I won't let anything bad happen to her."

Demelza pondered this for a moment. "I think I will stay," she decided. "I feel like I am supposed to be here for her."

Harry nodded. He supposed it was nice to have another person to talk to about whatever happened next, even if he didn't know Demelza very well. She seemed to care deeply for Luna, stroking the girl's cheek affectionately as they watched her fidget and mutter beneath them. They watched and waited in silence, wondering what would happen next, if Luna would snap out of her trance or take a turn for the worst—

Suddenly, Luna gave a great shuddering gasp and fell quite still. Harry and Demelza shared a fearful look at one another. Then, Luna's eyes popped open, and she stared blankly to the sky, her eyes milky-white and feature-less.

"The sister stars will soon diverge…" Luna rasped in a hoarse tone.

"Luna?!" Demelza said in alarm. "Harry, what's happening to her?"

"Shh," Harry said quietly, intent on hearing every word of what Luna said.

"The sister stars will soon diverge," Luna continued. "A deathly betrayal shall set them on separate paths, as a trilogy nears its violent end… A false judgment will lead to ruin… A shining light shall be extinguished, while another is corrupted, casting shadows across the land… The sister stars will soon diverge…"

Luna gave another shuddering gasp, her head falling back to the mossy floor. Harry and Demelza watched on, frozen, as Luna blinked rapidly and sat up, her eyes back to their natural blue, looking at the two of them with wide eyes.

"Harry?" she asked. "When did you get here? Where is Professor Firenze? Did he give me something to help with the headaches? I'm feeling much better now."

"What were you talking about, Luna?" asked Demelza shakily.

"Who, me?" asked Luna. "Talking about what?"

"Just now," said Demelza. "About the trilogy and the sister stars and all that."

"Oh, dear...was I talking in my sleep again?" Luna sighed. "Father says I used to do that as a girl. It was pure gibberish, I am sure, I wouldn't put any stock into it—"

But Harry wasn't listening to Luna or Demelza. He was deep in thought, contemplating what the odd prophecy might mean. It was certainly dire, speaking of betrayals and shadows and ruin. But who and what could it refer to? What was the 'shining light' that would be extinguished, and what was this other light, paradoxically casting shadows?

One phrase stuck out in his mind above all others: 'a trilogy nears its violent end'. What trilogy? Was this a literal story being told, or a metaphorical one? Was there some kind of three-part narrative happening, with two parts already complete? Harry knew that analyzing prophecies was often a fool's errand, but one possibility popped instantly into his mind, and he didn't like it one bit.

Twice this year he had nearly lost a family member – first Dahlia to the cursed necklace, then Lily to the spiked mead. Was the third time the charm? Was the plot to kill a member of the Potter family soon to come to fruition? Would the final chapter result in death – perhaps James this time, assassinated for his war efforts? A shining light for the wizarding world, extinguished by Voldemort?

"Now where did I leave my bag?" Luna wondered aloud, shakily getting to her feet and wandering across the forest floor in search of her belongings. As she drifted out of sight, Harry pulled Demelza in close.

"Listen, Demelza," he said in a grave tone. "We should keep what happened here to ourselves."

"What? Why?" asked Demelza fearfully. "Shouldn't her father be notified?"

"You heard what Professor Firenze said," Harry told her. "The act of witnessing a prophecy is often as important as the prophecy itself. The fewer people that know about this, the better."

"But...then what do we do?" asked Demelza.

"We say nothing," Harry said firmly. "That way, we can avoid somebody else attempting to manipulate the prophecy in their favor."

"But what does it mean?" Demelza asked. "And why were we the ones to witness it?"

"Because we care about Luna the most," Harry reassured her. "And we want to protect her secret, don't we? If too many people learned she is a Seer, it could put her in danger."

"Yeah...yeah, I guess so," Demelza frowned. "But what was all that about 'sister stars', and an act of betrayal—"

"Don't spend too much time thinking about the meaning," said Harry quickly. "It might cause you to misinterpret the words and act in a way you wouldn't normally. Trust me – I made that mistake in my third year, and it was costly."

"Okay," Demelza sighed. "What about Luna? Will she be alright?"

"Yes, I think so," Harry nodded. "I'll take her back to Ravenclaw Tower to rest, but she probably won't remember this at all. Just keep an eye on her and make her feel safe in the coming days."

Demelza nodded uncertainly. Meanwhile, Luna shuffled back in the clearing, her bag slung haphazardly over her shoulder.

"I am quite tired all of a sudden," Luna announced, stretching widely. "Take me home, Harry."

Harry took Luna's arm to steady her, and the three of them headed for the door. Harry and Luna exited first, followed by Demelza, who stumbled across the door frame and nearly crashed into the pair in front of her.

"Oh, sorry!" said Demelza. "Looks like I'm the clumsy one today."

"You're normally quite nimble and sure-footed," Luna remarked. "Perhaps you should get some rest yourself, Dem."

"I think I will," said Demelza. "Good night, Luna. Harry."

"Good night," Luna replied as Demelza hurried down the hall towards Gryffindor Tower. "Everything alright, Harry?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes," Harry said absent-mindedly. He was staring contemplatively down the hallway, brow furrowed in thought. "Let's go."

They headed in the opposite direction towards Ravenclaw Tower. Harry listened in silence as Luna chattered happily, half to him and half to herself. His mind was not on Luna at the moment, nor Demelza, nor even the prophecy. It was on a pair of disembodied feet he was certain he'd seen moments prior, when Demelza stumbled exiting the classroom, before disappearing from view once more.

Was there an unexpected third witness to the prophecy? Had somebody been lurking nearby, concealed beneath an invisibility cloak? Someone who was already suspicious of Harry, who had already tailed him to find out what he was up to? Had Neville noticed Harry slipping away from the crowd after the Quidditch match and decided to see where he went? Was he present in the classroom, lurking unseen beyond the tree line?

Harry knew instinctively that nothing good could come of this. Because he already had a strong suspicion who the two 'sister stars' were in the prophecy, and it seemed that both of them had witnessed Luna's dire warning, now left to wonder which would betray the other.