Chapter 9: Aftermath
He pulled out of the pensieve, taking a seat on the wooden chair next to the desk inside of the hidden room of the Black library, just staring forward for while, thinking.
That... had been enlightening. Somehow. It was hard to believe, but it seemed valid.
And also insanely frustrating! If that was everything Voldemort had heard of the prophecy it was no wonder that he had tried to kill him. It didn't make the fact that the man had killed his parents any better, or his overall actions any more tolerable, but at least it helped him understand a few of Voldemorts motives better.
Maybe not the killing, but... something.
Though that couldn't be everything, he was sure the prophecy contained more. Something Snape hadn't heard since that barkeeper had gotten him before Trelawney was finished.
"Would you mind explaining to me what on earth just happened?" a voice suddenly came from next to him as Shiva - who he had almost forgotten again! - spoke up. "One second you look into that stone thing and the next you seem almost as lifeless as a rock!"
He smiled apologetically and stroke the back of her head. Of course, she couldn't know about pensieves, it was probably quite a shock for her.
"I'm sorry. I just visited the memories of another human to understand what was written about that prophecy in the letter," he explained to her, showing her the letter again to emphasise on that.
"Quite a scary way to do that. But did it help?"
Harry then proceeded to tell her what he had seen inside of Snapes memories. She listened patiently but chose not to comment on it, instead she slithered out of under his shirt and on his shoulders.
"So... what's with that letter? Let's see what it will tell you," Shiva hissed and Harry nodded, looking at the parchment for another second before speaking to it - not without feeling slightly ridiculous while doing so.
"Severus Snape."
Surprisingly - or maybe not so much - the parchment began to shimmer slightly as more text in the same handwriting as the rest appeared.
Curious, though apprehensive, he looked at the newly written part to read.
I am assuming you saw the memory now. Not very satisfying, is it?
The full prophecy isn't either, though:
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...
and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...
the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
I have never been a big fan of seers. I am sure you now know why. Incomplete prophecies are dangerous.
I apologise if I made you uncomfortable or seem too rash, but I think it is safer if you know the content of that prophecy now. You might prefer that to Dumbledores idea of the 'perfect time' to tell you things like these.
Regards
Harry stared at the words. Read them once more, before staring again.
If that was true... was he... practically destined to kill Voldemort? He knew that many people seemed to expect it from him - if they weren't busy hating him for some reason or another - but if he was to believe these words, he was the only one that was even able to do it.
He shook his head. That so couldn't be true. He didn't even have a power Voldemort hadn't... at least nothing he knew of.
What a great outlook, wasn't it?
Though honestly? He wasn't sure if that prophecy was really that important anymore. The way it seemed now Voldemort wanted to see him dead anyway. They would have to fight sooner or later...
Even though the text was really vague. But of course, the first part did seem quite clear... Oh he was hating divination more and more.
Why did other people have to screw up his life so much? Couldn't he at least do that himself?
He sighed. But it was probably really better to know it now then to be told whenever Dumbledore thought he was ready. He had the distinct feeling that his headmaster wouldn't think so for a very long time, as long as nothing drastic would happen. He was never told anything more than absolutely necessary anyway...
"I hate my life," he grumbled, mostly to himself.
Of course, Shiva answered anyway. "Oh come on, it is not so bad right now."
"Well, I don't know... being kept in the dark if it's concerning important information, a psychopath who wants to kill me because of a stupid prophecy and people who can't decide if they want to hate or love me even though I'd prefer it if they wouldn't even know my name..."
He felt her muscles contract slightly, increasing the pressure on his neck by only a fraction. He blinked confused, before realising something. Was that meant as a... hug? The pressure lessened again and despite his mood he smiled slightly.
"Thanks..."
"You are welcome. And do not worry too much, I am sure everything will work out. You have many resources here, you can find your information yourself. Rely on yourself, that way you can't get disappointed."
Harry chuckled slightly. Shiva was a snake, snakes almost always relied only on themselves, that was different. He told her he'd think about it anyway.
Not wanting to go back to the others now he went to the small bookshelf inside of the room and looked through the titles. As he had assumed, the books all dealt with the Dark Arts, even their titles suggested as much. And most of them seemed pretty old, too. What else were books that called themselves Magick Moste Evile?
He knew that this stuff was probably disgusting, but he couldn't help wondering if Voldemort had read some of these books too. Because really, it was clear that one needed to know what to fight. Defence Against the Dark Arts was only possible if you knew about the Dark Arts... even if you'd never use it.
So after hesitating a few more moments he finally pulled out one of the books, called Secrets of the Darkest Art. Might as well begin with the worst stuff, it could only get better then.
That night, as he left the hidden room to finally go to sleep, he felt sick.
He had been right. The first book he had read really had been the worst. The rituals that had been described there... why anyone would do that voluntarily was beyond him!
He shuddered. Though the following books hadn't been much better. Even Shiva had commented on it, wondering why humans would think of rituals and spells like that. He had no idea, but he guessed that this stuff really was the more fucked up branch of dark magic. The worst of the worst, so to speak. At least he had never heard anything like that before... he shook his head. Hopefully not even Voldemort would use spells like these... at least he hadn't done so at the graveyard, sticking to the Unforgivable Curses.
If it was true that the Avada Kedavra killed painlessly... well, it seemed friendlier than any of the spells Harry now knew. And would never ever tell anyone about, let alone use them!
He really needed to go to bed and stop thinking about it...!
The next days were filled with harmless research. He had decided to avoid the Dark Arts section for a while, opting to sit with Hermione instead, researching things about prophecies and their correctness.
He had told her about Sirius' idea and though she was reluctant she had agreed eventually, probably because her curiosity was stronger.
Also, she was still researching, telling him that newer books didn't include that topic at all, but a few of the older ones hinted that magic couldn't come out of nowhere and she was beginning to think about genetics.
He had made the mistake of asking, which had led to a complex explaining session. Something about a magical gene that was passed on to every child a magical person had and it being the cause for one being able to use magic. And with squibs it... somehow changed or anything, so that it was still present, but inactive.
That way there was a possibility that descendants of Squibs still had that inactive magical gene. And if it changed again, after a few generations, and became active once more, that child was called a 'muggleborn'.
She told him that there were still a few inconsistencies in her theory but she was positive to work it out before the weekend.
And he was positive that he had no idea what she was talking about. One of the side effects of a purely magical education (after elementary school that was, but they focused on reading, writing and the basics of maths). Sure, a little bit of Biology was taught in Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, but about humans and genetics? Nope, nothing.
No wonder purebloods still valued their 'purity' so much if they had no idea about incest and it's aftermath.
But despite him not really getting what she was talking about, at least it helped distracting him. Not that the books about prophecies didn't, too.
By Friday he had found out that prophecies didn't have to be fulfilled, that, in fact, many prophecies never happened. As divination was a very vague branch of magic it wasn't uncommon to misinterpret things.
Sadly, this probably wasn't the case with 'his' prophecy. But something else he found proved more or less fitting. It said that one could deliberately go against a prophecy. There was no Fate forcing their hands, if there was a prophecy about someone doing something and that person chose not to do it, it became void.
He wondered if that meant - just in theory - if Voldemort and himself would stop trying to kill each other they wouldn't have to do so?
Not that 'No one can live while the other survives' strictly told them 'One has to kill the other', but... it was his closest guess.
He had even let Hermione in on that prophecy, though it was mostly because she had insisted on knowing why he was researching prophecies if he hated divination so much.
But it proved to be a good idea in the end, as - even though she was entirely distrustful as to how he had gotten that prophecy - she got him the final proof that this wasn't a hoax.
As she had taken divination herself in third year she had read quite a few books about it, some of them not available here - the Blacks probably didn't like divination either. And one of these books had clearly stated that, though most seers fell into some kind of trance while making a prophecy, every person was different when predicting the future.
That meant at least the memory part had to be true, as Harry had recognized Trelawneys 'trance voice' since he had heard it once before. Snape couldn't have heard it otherwise though, because Dumbledore himself had told Harry Trelawney had only made two true prophecies yet.
Sure, there was always the chance that there had been another prophecy around Snape, without Dumbledore knowing about it, but... that was very unlikely.
No, even Hermione had reluctantly agreed that this prophecy seemed plausible. But she had still insisted on telling an adult and since Dumbledore was out of question they chose Remus. He seemed to be the most impartial person right now and wasn't as hot headed as Sirius.
But that had to wait, as time flew by and suddenly the weekend was there.
Both Harry and Hermione were equally nervous - they had tried researching the ritual but it seemed that this was a purely verbally relayed information as they had found nothing.
Sirius seemed only mildly concerned though, casually telling them what Hermione had to do and how she should stop herself if she started feeling weak, but that he would stop her by force if necessary.
He then took out his wand and locked the door behind them - even though they used a room that no one normally visited as it was still quite dirty, it was better to be safe than sorry - before beginning to chant the words needed for that procedure.
Compared to other rituals it was quite short, but Harry still watched nervously as Hermione drank one of the potions Sirius had brewed and began to emit a soft glow. As Sirius finished the spell she took the knife that they had nicked from the kitchen and cut her index finger lightly, before pressing the small wound on the prepared parchment.
The effect was instantly.
She gasped as the magic began to be draw her blood out of her finger and onto the parchment, forming a small line that soon split up, writing the names of her parents, followed by more lines, the names of her four grandparents, and so on. It was really fascinating to watch as the red lines spread further, forming names after names.
Of course, since every generation was twice as big as the one before and therefore needed more blood Harry could see by now how it wasn't exactly safe...
But Hermione seemed to concentrate, her eyes hurried over all the names, hoping to see anything familiar. They had found an old book with a list of pureblood names and memorised them. A few names had been familiar to them - like Malfoy or Longbottom - but there were others too.
Thankfully, the lines were slim and as Hermione took a surprised breath and stopped touching the parchment she seemed only slightly paler than usual.
Sirius came up to heal her finger but she had only eyes for the parchment.
"Look there!"
She pointed with her free hand at a name. A maternal great-great-great-grandmother of her.
Larissa Greengrass.
The parchment showed Hermiones ancestors with their maiden names, meaning that she was probably the squib, seeing that she had a Greengrass-father - though it was the last Generation depicted by this family tree now - and a Malfoy mother.
"It's true...!" Hermione whispered, quite shocked. It was clear that, despite her research, she hadn't thought it was possible. "I know for a fact that the names of my parents and grandparents are correct, the chance is low that the magic jumbled up the others. And Greengrass was definitely on that pureblood list we had. I'm sure of it, because I was thinking of Daphne Greengrass, one of the Slytherins in our year, and wondered if her family was still pureblood."
She sat down on the bed that was occupying the room, taking the blood replenisher potion Sirius was handing her as a precaution and drinking it silently.
"So... do you still want to do it, too?" Sirius asked cautiously, obviously unsure after he had seen Hermiones reaction to it.
Harry nodded anyway. He was really curious now. But he also hoped, that he wasn't actually related to Malfoy too. Not that he wasn't already because of his paternal grandmother that had been a Black, but that wasn't directly, as his family had married into another branch than the Malfoys. And he really didn't want to be a descendant of a Malfoy family squib or anything.
So he took a deep, calming breath as Sirius took Hermiones family tree away, making room for another big parchment, before drinking the second ritual potion his godfather had brewed after the chanting had begun.
It tasted weird, almost like liquid rubber, but he had already drunken worse. So he just scrunched up his nose before cutting his own, now glowing index finger and pressing it on the fresh parchment.
Instantly, he understood why Hermione had gasped before. He did too. It was a really weird feeling to feel ones blood being sucked out.
As the first names appeared, he tried ignoring the sensation, reading them to look out for anything of interest. But it was quiet hard to focus on that task, actually, especially after he had read the first names. His parents, who he had never really known... his grandparents, one of which was Dorea Black... and then his attention was already lost as he saw parts of the Black family tree spreading out from his fingers over the parchment, which thankfully grew magically as the family tree expanded.
He was completely enthralled and didn't even realise how he felt increasingly dizzy.
Only a worried "Harry!" and Sirius, who forced his finger from the parchment, pulled him out of his trance-like state.
He blinked, surprised, looking at his family tree. While Hermione had depicted just about one hundred names - six generations - his family tree was, with only two more generations, almost five times as big as it held more than five hundred names.
At least the writing was small and it hadn't drawn too much blood, but the dizziness still crashed down upon him as he turned to look at his godfather. Who luckily had good reflexes, catching him before he hit the floor.
"Harry! Honestly, I like your curiosity, but one or two more generations could have killed you!" Sirius muttered, silently summoning another blood replenisher potion and making Harry drink it more or less gently.
That stuff tasted icky too...
Still, a few minutes later he was feeling slightly better and now the three of them looked at his family tree, searching on his mothers side for anything interesting.
And again, it was Hermione who found something first.
"Look, isn't that...?"
She didn't have to finish her sentence. The name she pointed out - about five generations away - was pretty easy to recognize.
Alastor Moody.
Harrys eyebrows shot up. "You can't mean... he's not that old, is he?"
Now it was Sirius spoke. "Oh come on, that generation is more than one hundred years away. I know he looks old but... that's probably his grandfather or anything."
"Or a brother of his grandfather, which is more likely," Hermione chipped in. "That Alastor Moody was probably a squib too, otherwise Lilys grandparents should have been magical. And I don't really think so."
Sirius chuckled. "So Harry could be the great-great-grandson of Mad-Eyes great-uncle?"
Hermione nodded. "Basically, yes."
"That's wicked!"
Harry nodded slowly. It really was kinda cool, even though Moody always seemed so paranoid. He hadn't seen the ex-auror very often as he was mostly busy with missions for the Order, but the prolonged stay in his own trunk probably hadn't done him any good.
"So... now that we have this knowledge, what do we do?", Hermione finally asked, voicing out the question Harry had asked himself in his mind already.
Sirius shrugged. "Dunno. I guess we can't do much right now, since there probably are reasons no one knows about this anymore. There might be a possibility someone wanted that information to be unknown. I guess we should wait, maybe one day there will be the perfect opportunity to publish a theory like that."
Harry nodded again. That seemed plausible. For now it should suffice to know about it, it shouldn't really change anything.
The three of them concluded to keep their knowledge for themselves for now, with the exception of Remus and Ron, before parting ways. It was almost lunch time anyway and they needed to interact with some other people again. Especially Harry and Hermione, who had been in the library way too often lately.
As Sirius made his way up to his and Remus' room - though why they shared a room even though there was plenty of space in the house Harry didn't know - both students went downstairs to look if they could help Mrs. Weasley with anything in the kitchen.
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