Summary: Meet Aldred, the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy. As he is puzzling out a cryptic prophecy regarding the downfall of Lord Voldemort, an old friend comes to visit, hoping to better understand the mysteries of the enigmatic message Fate has left them. A year and a half later, it would appear that the prophecy has been fulfilled. But Aldred’s visitor returns with grim news, and they discuss the twists of fate that swirl around a young boy named Harry Potter, now destined to vanquish the Dark Lord in an uncertain future.
This is a one-shot story written for the Harry’s Hospital Wing Project by Gmariam of Ravenclaw.
Categories: Historical Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 1
Completed: Yes
Word count: 3790
Read: 1429
Published: 07/23/06
Updated: 07/25/06
1. Chapter 1 by Gmariam
Part One: The Prophecy Received
Spring had finally arrived, though it was exceptionally cool and rainy. Deep in the Department of Mysteries, a short, thin man with grey hair and a trim beard sighed as he looked out of the window in his office. Magically spelled to mimic the weather outside, the window showed him yet another morning of dark skies and wind-whipped trees: even underground he couldn’t escape the bleak weather of springtime London.
Leaning back in his cushioned desk chair, the small man narrowed his shrewd blue eyes as he studied the glowing orb on his desk. It was lit within by a strong emerald green light which pulsated at regular intervals, hypnotizing anyone who watched. The man was used to working with these orbs however, and he was unaffected, though exceptionally fascinated. This newest prophecy had arrived two nights ago, and he was still puzzling over its mysterious message, as well as how to catalogue it. During his fifty years as Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy, he had not come across a prophecy quite like this one.
A small silver instrument on his desk began to chime; he had a visitor. Standing carefully, he adjusted his sapphire robes and waited for his guest to arrive at the door. A tall man wearing a purple cloak and maroon robes soon entered, adjusting his half-moon spectacles over a crooked nose as he smiled at the Keeper.
“Aldred!” exclaimed the visitor, as he took the smaller man’s hand and shook it vigorously. “How are you doing down here?”
“Albus,” the Keeper replied genially, as he led his cousin toward a set of Victorian armchairs in the corner of his office. “Please come in, come in! Terrible weather, but I’m doing well, and you?
“As fine as could be expected, given the state of things,” said Albus Dumbledore somewhat gravely.
“Yes, well, have a seat, relax for a moment.” Aldred indicated one of the chairs and walked over to a small cabinet. “Something to drink then?”
“Thank you. Hot tea would be lovely, it’s dreadful outside.” Dumbledore sat down and glanced around the room; his eyes fell on the glowing glass orb still resting on the Keeper’s desk. “Ah, just the reason I came. I take it that is the prophecy regarding Voldemort?”
Aldred looked back toward the globe and began to pour two cups of steaming hot water. “Yes, it came in two nights ago. How did you know?” He handed Dumbledore a cup and a teabag. “Milk or honey?” he asked as he sat down in the other armchair.
“I was there when it was made. Milk, thank you,” replied Dumbledore.
“Of course you were!” Aldred laughed. “You have a knack for turning up at the right time for these things, don’t you?”
“Ironic, considering my thoughts on the subject,” mused Dumbledore as he drank.
“Yes, but you must admit this one is rather remarkable.”
“Indeed it is,” Dumbledore agreed. The two men sat silently for a moment as they sipped their tea and contemplated the unusual prophecy.
“So why does this prophecy bring you down here?” asked Aldred. “Not checking up on me, are you?”
Dumbledore laughed. “Of course not! You do excellent work down here. I merely wanted to inquire something of you.”
Aldred studied him for a moment. “Order business? Or another family favor?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.
“A little bit of both, Aldred,” Dumbledore replied, setting down his tea and leaning forward. “Have there been any other prophecies about Voldemort recently?”
The Keeper shook his head. “You know I’m not supposed to share prophecies with those outside of their jurisdiction. It’s private - I’m protecting the future, you know.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” said Dumbledore, waving him off. “But that hasn’t stopped you helping me before. And this is vitally important “ we are talking about the fate of the entire wizarding community. I must know: have there been any other prophecies regarding the Dark Lord?”
“No, I’m sorry - there haven’t been any others.” When Dumbledore sat back in frustration, Aldred continued, “Why do you ask? This one seems quite significant.”
“Oh, it is,” replied Dumbledore, taking up his cup again. “But I’m having trouble puzzling it out. I could use more information.”
Aldred couldn’t help but sniff inelegantly as he poured more hot water for both of them. “The Fates rarely oblige us with more information, Albus. Prophecies don’t come with instructions. I’m having trouble with this one myself, cataloguing it properly.”
“I imagine you would be. That’s why I had hoped there would be more prophecies, something to tell us who this mysterious savior is, and how he will defeat Voldemort.” Dumbledore sighed, and sipped at his tea.
“Are there any wizarding families expecting a child this summer?” asked Aldred, hoping to both offer and gain some sort of insight.
“Yes, several, including the Longbottoms and the Potters.”
Aldred nodded. “Both formidable families. You think the prophecy refers to one of them?”
“I think it very likely,” said Dumbledore.
“Then they must be protected, at all costs.”
Dumbledore sighed again. “We are already stretched thin, it will be difficult. And I fear we have a spy in our midst as well. I admit I am worried.”
Aldred studied his cousin and friend. The Hogwarts headmaster rarely confessed any anxiety; the situation must be grim indeed. “Does He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named know about the prophecy?” he asked.
Dumbledore shook his head. “Not exactly, though I believe he will know half of it by now. There was a Death Eater caught eavesdropping just as Sybill went into a trance. Aberforth threw him out, but he heard enough.”
“Who was it?” asked Aldred, curious.
“Severus Snape, actually.” Dumbledore set down his teacup. “But I have my doubts about his loyalties; I think he may be wavering.”
“Albus, once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. It is very difficult to leave You-Know-Who’s service.”
“Aldred, I have said again and again that we should be using his name: Voldemort. Avoiding it grants him power over our fears.”
“There is much to be fearful for,” said Aldred softly. Like so many others, he had lost friends and family to the war with Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
“But there is reason to hope now, as well!” said Dumbledore. “Unfortunately, we can’t share that hope with others, we can only encourage it.” He rose, and Aldred stood to see his visitor out.
“The wizarding world believes in you, Dumbledore. You are doing a far better job than the Ministry at holding back You-Know-Who.” As they left the small office and moved into the Hall of Prophecy and toward the exit, Aldred added, “In fact, I still think you should have accepted the Minister’s position.”
“You flatter me,” replied Dumbledore. “But I can accomplish much more where I am, both within the school and without.”
“Yet without a strong Minister, more and more wizards may turn to You-Know-Who out of fear, or even for protection,” said Aldred, voicing a very real concern.
“Oh, I find it to difficult to believe the wizarding world would shackle itself to the dark leadership of someone like Voldemort in the long run. He will not win in the end, though I do fear the cost of victory.”
Together they walked down the long aisle, blue candlelight leading their way. Thousands of prophecies glowed eerily down hundreds of rows. At the door leading out of the Hall, Dumbledore turned to the Keeper and shook hands once more. “Aldred, thank you for the tea, and the kind words. Will you let me know if any other prophecies come in about this?”
Aldred sighed and nodded. “Though it’s against my better judgment, I certainly will.”
“You remember how to communicate with the Order?”
“I do, and I will - you have my word.”
“Thank you,” replied Dumbledore. “I appreciate your willingness to help, and the risk you take in doing so. But it is a necessary risk, and we are all taking them.”
“I understand,” said Aldred gravely. “Travel safely, and please give my best to Minerva,
won’t you?”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. “I certainly will, old friend. Take care down here. Destiny is in good hands with you.” With a last firm handshake, he left the Hall of Prophecy to make his way out of the Department of Mysteries and return to Hogwarts.
Aldred returned to his office, and shut the door behind him. Sitting down at his desk, he once more began to examine the glowing orb that was so mysterious, and so important. With a tap from his wand, the glow intensified, and a disembodied voice began . . .
“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…”
Part Two: The Prophecy Revealed
Aldred Dumbledore sat at his desk, tapping his fingertips together as he contemplated a prophecy in front of him. A quick glance out of his magical office window told him the sun was just beginning to set; it would soon be time to return home and join in the festivities the rest of the wizarding community were enjoying. But first he had to finish with this last prophecy.
It glowed with a pulsating pink blush, and concerned the fate of a star-crossed couple in Kent. Taking up his quill, Aldred noted the Seer, the recipient, and the couple concerned in thin, spidery handwriting on a square label. Then he stood to place the orb in its appropriate place among the rows of prophecies stored in his hall.
Before he reached the door, the delicate silver instrument on his desk that signaled visitors began to chime. Surprised, he returned to his desk and placed the pink orb down. He wondered who would be visiting him, deep underground in the Department of Mysteries, at the end of a day when just about everyone was celebrating above ground.
He was not surprised when a tall thin wizard with half-moon spectacles entered his office. The Hogwarts headmaster was wearing a purple cloak over blue robes and black buckled shoes, and he looked far too serious for a day of celebration.
“Albus!” Aldred exclaimed, welcoming his cousin into the room. “What brings you down here? Why aren’t you out celebrating?”
“Good evening, Aldred,” said Dumbledore gravely. “There is too much to do for celebrating. I am sorry to trouble you, but do you have a minute?”
“Of course, of course,” Aldred replied. He once again led the way to the Victorian armchairs. But instead of offering tea, as he had on his cousin’s last visit, he offered something a little stiffer. “Brandy?” he asked, taking out two snifters.
“Yes, please,” said Dumbledore, passing a hand over his eyes. Glancing up, he took the snifter from his cousin.
“To the end of You-Know-Who,” said Aldred, raising his glass in a toast. Dumbledore raised his as well, though he did not say anything; he looked troubled.
“What is wrong? I should think you would be glad. The prophecy you last visited me about seems to have come true.”
Dumbledore shook his head. “Alas, I do not think so. I believe it is just beginning. Have you checked on the record today?”
“I have not,” Aldred confessed. “I just assumed . . .”
“May we go look at it?” Dumbledore asked, standing up.
“Of course.” Aldred set his glass down and led the way to row thirty-two. He walked about halfway down the row and found the orb in question exactly where he had placed it on the third shelf eighteen months ago.
To his surprise, it was still glowing.
The light from the globe was a steady green now. Normally when a prophecy had yet to be fulfilled the light pulsated rhythmically; once realized, the light dimmed and went out. In all his years watching over thousands of prophecies, Aldred had never seen one glow steady. It almost unnerved him, but he was too intrigued. “Fascinating,” he murmured.
Dumbledore stopped beside him, a grim look on his face. “I was afraid so,” he said softly, sounding weary as well.
“How did you know?” asked Aldred.
“It is a long story,” replied Dumbledore. “I would suggest you bring the orb with us, you may find it easier to catalogue after I tell you what has happened.”
Gently taking up the orb, Aldred absently pondered the strange ability that allowed him to do so; any other person attempting to retrieve a prophecy that was not meant for them would suffer madness as the consequence for tempting fate. But there was always one wizard born each century who possessed the ability to manage the orbs without losing their sanity. That one person was destined to become the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy. Aldred had realized his fate while at Hogwarts, and had come to the Department of Mysteries as a young wizard, eager to fulfill his destiny.
Shaking away thoughts of the past, Aldred returned to the present with the future he held in his hands. He walked back to his office and placed the orb on his desk with the one he had been studying earlier. Albus Dumbledore returned to his place in the Victorian armchair and took up his brandy again; he appeared deep in thought.
“All right, Albus. Tell me what you know about my prophecy.” Aldred crossed his hands over his chest and looked pointedly at his cousin.
Dumbledore set down his snifter. “I assume that you heard what happened last night?”
Aldred nodded. “I did. The word is You-Know-Who was finally defeated. So why is the orb still glowing? Come, Albus, tell me this long story.”
“Voldemort went to the Potters last night, with the intent to kill their young boy, Harry. He was one of two boys born last July, as the prophecy foretold.” Dumbledore’s voice wavered slightly, and he paused to gather his thoughts. “Voldemort killed James and Lily. He tried to kill Harry as well, using a Killing Curse, but it backfired and destroyed him instead.”
“And the boy?” asked Aldred, shocked and saddened at the loss of such a prominent and well-regarded wizarding family as the Potters.
“He lived.”
Aldred gasped. “How is it possible? No one can survive the Killing Curse, and there is no known shield or charm to protect against it “ how did a young boy manage what so many others have not?”
Dumbledore appeared to ponder the question for a moment. “I have many theories, Aldred, none of which I am prepared to share at the moment. I’m sorry.”
Aldred waved him off. “No matter, you are usually right with your theories. He will be a famous boy someday. So where is he now? And what will happen to him?”
“Hagrid is with him and meeting me in Little Whinging this evening. Harry will be living with his remaining relatives.”
Aldred raised his eyebrows but did not say anything about that. Instead he returned to the subject of the prophecy once more. “And so you believe that their son is the one to whom the prophecy refers?”
Dumbledore nodded. “I do. I had warning that Voldemort was targeting them specifically.”
“Your spy?” asked Aldred, and Dumbledore nodded again. “I am still amazed that you trust your Death Eater not to double-cross you, Albus.”
“Oh, I trust him completely,” said Dumbledore. “If it hadn’t been for him, we would have never known that Voldemort was preparing to come after the Potters.”
“How did he find them? I should think wizards like the Potters would use strong magical protection.”
“They did: they used the Fidelius Charm. Unfortunately, Voldemort appears to have a spy as well. The Potters were betrayed.” Dumbledore sighed heavily. “I blame myself for not insisting on being their Secret-Keeper. But they would not be persuaded, and assured me theirs was trustworthy.”
“Who? Not Remus Lupin - ”
“No,” replied Dumbledore, looking suddenly older and very sad. “Sirius Black.”
Aldred gasped again. “I thought Sirius had broken from the Black family and their ties to the Death Eaters. He was a strong member of the Order, highly outspoken against You-Know-Who and Dark Magic.”
“I still cannot believe it myself,” said Dumbledore, shaking his head. “Black was also James Potter’s best friend, and godfather to Harry. I find it hard to fathom what could have made him turn, but he did, and the Potters are dead for it. The Ministry is looking for him now.”
Aldred sat in stunned silence; it was a tragic story, one the wizarding world would not soon forget. But it still did not explain everything. “If You-Know-Who went after Harry Potter believing him to be the boy the prophecy refers to, and if he was killed doing so, then why hasn’t the prophecy been fulfilled? Did he go after the wrong boy? Is it the Longbottom child after all?”
“No, Harry is definitely the one now,” said Dumbledore slowly. “I have no doubt of that. Neville Longbottom has escaped that particular fate. However, I do not believe Voldemort is quite dead, and so the prophecy hasn’t been fulfilled, not yet.”
“But Albus, how could You-Know-Who survive his own Killing Curse?” There were ways to escape death, several of which were studied in the Department of Mysteries; but surely even Voldemort would not go so far. From what little Aldred knew, they were terrible, and involved the Darkest of magic.
“I don’t know, Aldred, but again I have my suspicions. Though Voldemort lost his body and his powers, I do believe he is still out there, and that he will return.” Dumbledore gestured to the glowing orb lying on the desk. “Your record seems to prove that. Had Voldemort been truly vanquished, the light would have gone out, would it not?”
Aldred nodded. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen a record behave this way, you know. Quite remarkable. It’s almost as if it is waiting, waiting for You-Know-Who to return, and for -”
“Harry Potter to grow up and embrace his destiny,” finished Dumbledore. “He is now the Chosen One, the one who is marked an equal, with power Voldemort does not even know. I would wish that fate on no one, let alone a small boy who has just lost his parents.”
Aldred felt his heart go out to the young boy who would grow up to battle Voldemort one day: it was indeed a grim future.
“What will you do now? Will he come to Hogwarts when the time comes? Will you tell him about the prophecy?”
“Oh, his name has been down for Hogwarts since he was born. As for telling him “ how can I place this burden on such young shoulders? How can I not? He holds the fate of the wizarding community in his hands now.”
“I don’t know, Albus,” said Aldred sympathetically. “I would lean toward caution and compassion. Knowing that fate has placed you on a specific path can create a great deal of anxiety, and his is a fate with far more consequences than most others. Tell him when he is old enough. But in the meantime he must continue to be protected.”
“Yes, I agree, on both counts. ” Dumbledore nodded, and he stood up to leave. “And that is my next task. He will be well-protected, should Voldemort rise again.”
Aldred rose and shook his hand. “You are doing the right thing. With you watching over and guiding him, Harry Potter will indeed vanquish the Dark Lord someday, of this I have no doubt.”
Dumbledore smiled and placed his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Your faith in me is encouraging and inspiring, Aldred. Thank you.” He gathered his cloak around him and turned to leave.
“I have faith in destiny, Albus,” said the Keeper, walking him to the door. “I do not believe that Fate would choose such a boy only to see him fail.”
“I hope you are right,” said Dumbledore. “Will you contact me if there are any changes with the record? Or if any other prophecies are made about this?”
“Of course I will, you have my complete and continued support.”
“Thank you.” He shook his cousin’s hand and stepped out into the Hall of Prophecy. “Don’t forget to relabel the prophecy. And take care, old friend. Celebrate, while you can.”
“Good night, Albus,” Aldred replied. “And good luck.”
Dumbledore inclined his head and made his way toward the end of the Hall. Aldred watched him go, thinking about all that his cousin had said, as well as what he had kept secret. It appeared that better times were ahead, but that the war was not quite over yet. Voldemort may have been defeated, but he was not vanquished. The green orb on the Keeper’s desk confirmed this, that the final battle between the Dark Lord and the boy destined to destroy him was still far in the future.
With a sigh, the Keeper sat down and took out a blank label, and began to write a new description for the remarkable prophecy glowing in front of him:
S.P.T. to A.P.W.BD
Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter
Standing up, Aldred walked into the Hall and made his way to row ninety-seven, where the prophecy would be stored from now on. It only needed time to realize its potential. And when Harry Potter met the Dark Lord again, Aldred knew he would succeed, and fulfill his destiny.
* * *
A/N: This story was written for the Harry’s Hospital Wing Project. It features my first original character, Aldred Dumbledore, Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy. I quite like him and hope he visits again. I enjoyed this challenge tremendously and hope you enjoy the story I have written.
A big thank- you to my beta, ginnyweasley718, who worked so quickly on getting this back to me quickly for the challenge deadline (and over her birthday, no less!); to the many wonderful authors who participated in the great discussions in the Special Care Units; and to J.K.Rowling, for creating such a fun and mysterious place as the Department of Mysteries.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.