Chapter 27
Prophecy Revealed
The next couple of weeks were some of the hardest and darkest of Harry’s life. Immediately after reading about the Dementor attack he felt a felt a wild, desperate desire to track Voldemort down and make him pay for what he had done. He might have tried it, had he any idea where the Dark Lord was located or how to find him. Fortunately the anger died down enough for Harry to realize that such an action would be extremely foolish.
Following the attack at the orphanage came a succession of killings, kidnappings, and tortures that further horrified everyone in the wizarding world. Giants attacked a remote Muggle village west of Bristol, killing the villagers and toppling over their houses as if they were nothing more than toys. One of the Ministry’s top aurors had been found dead in an old Muggle church, apparently the victim of a vampire attack. Worst of all, a group of Death-Eaters broke into the home of a high-ranking foreign official, holding him and his entire family hostage for two days before slaughtering them and disappearing into the night. They were never caught.
In addition to all these attacks, the Goblins made matters worse by continuing their own unique kind of onslaught against wizards. Apparently, in addition to Gringotts, they owned quite a few other financial institutions and their stubborn stance of not doing business with humans until past wrongs had been righted had thrown the economy into disarray. At first Harry didn’t see why this was such a big issue (weren’t Voldemort and the Death-Eaters a much bigger problem?), but the number of articles in the Prophet dealing with failed businesses, starving families, and widespread robberies quickly changed his mind. Nearly every paper brought pictures of Amelia Bones and her assurances that food and other supplies were on the way.
As if that weren’t bad enough, it now appeared that the house-elves were turning their backs on wizardkind as well. One morning the front page of the Prophet blared the headline: “Death-Eaters Attack: House-Elves Watch as Masters are Murdered” Underneath this was the now-familiar picture of the Dark Mark hovering ominously over an empty house. The article went on to describe a grizzly attack by three Death-Eaters on a wealthy family in Stratfordshire. The family’s nanny, who had been in an adjoining room and heard a struggle, ran to see what was going on only to be stupefied and forced to watch, helpless on the floor, as her masters were murdered. Most disturbing of all, she reported that the family’s two house-elves, Jinky and Poppy, watched the whole thing happen from the hallway without ever lifting a finger to stop it.
“‘They just stood there! Stood and watched!’” Hermione read out loud from the paper at breakfast. “‘…watched as those horrible…demons…taunted and murdered Mr. and Mrs. Honeycutt!’ recounted a hysterical Gretchen Hollinger, nanny of the deceased Honeycutt family, not long after the attack. ‘I never would’ve imagined it. I mean, a house-elf’s whole duty in life is to serve their master. You would think that would include lifting a finger to help if you were being brutally murdered, but those two vermin did nothing! You can’t trust house-elves! Filthy, ungrateful little ver…’” Hermione stopped reading and folded up the Daily Prophet, a disgusted look on her face.
Harry was startled by the news. Remembering the amount of torture Dobby inflicted upon himself when he thought he was betraying the Malfoys, it seemed impossible that any house-elf would just stand by as his or her masters were killed. Hermione explained that while the terms of their enslavery forbade them from doing anything to harm their masters, it didn’t require them to actually protect them in the face of danger either. Everybody just assumed that they would.
“I hate to say it, but it’s not as though we don’t deserve it, is it?” she said with a bitter, I-dare-you-to-disagree-with-me look at Harry and Ron. “I mean, we’ve treated them so poorly for so long, is it any wonder they wouldn’t want to help us?” They nodded in agreement. It looked as though the house-elves were beginning to get fed up with the way they were treated.
The whole house-elf issue turned out to be rather tricky, as many wizard families who owned them no longer trusted them, but were even more afraid of giving them clothes for fear of what they would do once they were freed. House-elves held powerful magic, but they were restricted to using it for simple house keeping chores. Harry thought back to his second year when Dobby had blasted Lucius Malfoy, a fully trained dark-wizard, across the hallway and down a set of nearby stairs. If Dobby could do that when he was trying to protect someone, Harry couldn’t help but wonder what he could do if he fully unleashed his powers.
The giant attacks, goblin indifference, and revolt of the house-elves were all met with what could best be described as chaos by the wizarding public. If Voldemort’s goal was to strike fear and confusion into the hearts of the wizarding public, his plan was working admirably. Most people criticized the Ministry, finding it easier to find fault with someone else than actually doing something themselves. A few brave ones called for an all-out war against Voldemort, though they were outnumbered by the ones who felt the whole thing would just blow over if they waited long enough. Worst of all was the small group who suggested that they share power with Voldemort, that all he really wanted was to have a voice in the government. The end result was a lot of bickering and internal fighting among the wizarding public, leaving little chance of any progress being made.
The public fear reached Hogwarts in the form of a few parents withdrawing their children from school, thinking they would be safer in another country. Other parents felt that Hogwarts was the absolute safest place for their children, even trying to convince Dumbledore to take students older and younger than the acceptable admission age in order to keep them from harm. One man had even tried to set up a tent next to the greenhouses, claiming that living at Hogwarts was his best chance of survival.
If the recent events were hard on the wizarding public, however, it was nothing compared to what Harry felt. The truth was he felt responsible for all the acts of death and destruction that were going on. A small, logical part of him tried to argue that this wasn’t true, that he couldn’t possibly be accountable for the horrible things that Voldemort was doing, but it was no use. After all, wasn’t he the one the prophecy had been made about 17 years before? Wasn’t he the only one who ‘held the power to vanquish the Dark Lord’? Wasn’t it up to him to destroy Voldemort and stop him from committing such hideous acts of violence and murder? He and Dumbledore may have been the only ones who really knew it, but the blame for all the horrendous acts that were going on fell squarely on him, Harry reasoned.
The tremendous pressure caused by these thoughts began to take their toll. When he had first learned of the prophecy just a few months before, Harry had felt isolated from the rest of the students at Hogwarts. That feeling was multiplied several times over now. Even Ron and Hermione seemed part of a different world, a world where they could never understand what he was going through. He found himself withdrawing from them and everyone else, lost in dark thoughts about Death-Eaters, Dementors, and Lord Voldemort.
Classes were torture. All of them “ with the exception of Professor Grendelhall’s Defense Against the Dark Arts “ were meaningless and trivial, teaching him nothing that would help him face Voldemort. And even Defense Against the Dark Arts was beginning to feel useless, as he had progressed so far beyond the other students it would be a better use of time to study on his own.
Quidditch felt trivial and insignificant; he had resigned from the team soon after the orphanage incident. The team had been surprised. Ron had been utterly flabbergasted. He and Hermione had tried to have a heartfelt talk with Harry soon after the decision, but Harry had brushed them off. Telling them the real reason would involve telling them the prophecy, and he wasn’t about to do that. It was a burden he needed to bear alone.
In addition to Quidditch, he had temporarily given up on seeking Wulfric Gryffindor’s tomb, feeling it was a hopeless. They had already tried every tower in the building and still no sign of the cramped room with wooden cross-beams. Harry silently cursed whoever had hid the diaries for making it so hard.
Perhaps worst of all for Harry, however, was the return of the nightmares. He had them after Cedric had been killed and he had them over the summer after Sirius had died, but he had enjoyed a temporary reprieve, which he attributed to increased skill in Occlumency. Now, however, he seemed defenseless against them. Nearly every night they came: Death-Eaters in hideous, blood-red masks, cackling with delight as they stepped through the shattered husks of dead orphans; Harry watching helplessly as Tom Riddle ordered an enormous, skeletal basilisk to kill Ginny, who was lying defenseless and unconscious on the floor; Ron and Hermione being chased through the Forbidden Forest by Dementors, eventually falling to the ground in exhaustion as the legion of Dementors pulled back their hoods to reveal dark, gaping mouths…
He soon found that it was easier not to sleep at all.
So it was that Harry found himself sitting in the Gryffindor common room incredibly early one morning, breathing heavily as he stared into the dying flames of the fire. In tonight’s nightmare he had been forced to relive Sirius’s death in the Department of Mysteries. Instead of dueling Bellatrix Lestrange, however, Sirius had been battling his dead mother; a hideous, skeleton-like woman with wild hair who shrieked like a banshee. Once again Harry had been unable to help, chained into one of the chairs he had seen the Ministry use to subdue Death-Eaters on trial. All he could do was watch and scream as Sirius took blow after blow from his mother, inching perilously close to a gaping black hole in the middle of the room where the crumbling archway should have been. An unconcerned Dobby stood nearby, mumbling: “Master should have been nice to Dobby,” while sweeping the floor. Mrs. Black struck the fatal blow, sending Sirius flying through the air in slow-motion towards the pit, falling, falling...
Harry had woken in a cold sweat, Dean looking at him in alarm. Knowing he would not sleep the rest of the night, he decided once again to visit the common room.
As he gazed dully into the fire, the remnants of the dream slowly fading away, he heard a tired, friendly voice speak from the darkness.
“Hi Harry. Can’t sleep?”
Harry looked up in surprise to see who had spoken. Ginny.
She walked towards him, wearing a set of blue-striped pajamas with her bright red hair pulled back in a ponytail. She took the seat next to him, tucking her feet under her and yawning. She turned to look at him, the dying embers illuminating her red hair and bright eyes, giving them a fire of their own.
“No,” Harry replied quietly, too tired and still too shaken to bother coming up with an excuse. “You?”
“Oh, I’ve been up for a while, thinking I’d run into you if I waited long enough,” she said simply, as though staying up until 3:00 in the morning to catch someone in the common room was the most normal thing in the world.
Harry looked back into the fire, trying to work out the meaning of what she had just said. She had been waiting? How did she even know he would be here? Why would she wait up just to run into him?
Then it all made sense. Ginny was bound to have noticed the change in his behavior lately, just as Ron and Hermione had. Unlike Ron and Hermione, however, Ginny wouldn’t easily be shaken off. She regarded him silently for a moment, then asked the question he had known was coming.
“Harry, what’s going on?”
Her voice was calm but firm. He could feel her eyes on him, boring uncomfortably into the side of his head. Part of him wanted to be left alone, but a different, smaller part was glad for her company. He had become better friends with Ginny this year; Ron and Hermione’s “Prefect Duties” causing them to be gone more than usual, and somehow he didn’t feel as distant from her as he did with others. Perhaps it was because she knew what it was like to be up against Voldemort, having faced him herself in the form of Tom Riddle during her first year. Harry felt his determination to keep the prophecy to himself soften.
But only slightly.
“There’s a war going on,” he replied.
“What’s going on with you? You’ve completely withdrawn yourself. You don’t talk. You quit the Quidditch team”I don’t think I’ve seen you laugh since Halloween.”
“There’s not much to laugh at, is there?” he replied darkly.
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean we have to make ourselves completely miserable. You seem to be doing a pretty good job of that though,” she replied, her voice still calm but with a bit of an edge to it.
He looked up at her, a short burst of anger flaring up inside of him at the remark. Did she think he wanted to be like this? That he enjoyed feeling the weight of the entire wizarding world on his shoulders? She looked at him expectantly, her brown eyes shining in the darkness.
“You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand Harry?” she pried.
He didn’t answer, knowing that it was a weak claim. Ginny would understand. But he couldn’t do it, couldn’t drop the weight of the prophecy on her.
Shaking his head, he looked back into the fire. “Nothing. Look, I’m ok, all right? I just need to be alone.”
“No Harry, the last thing you need is to be alone,” said Ginny, her voice becoming more forceful. “I know how your mind works. Whenever you are dealing with something hard you shut everyone out, thinking you are protecting them instead of actually talking about what is bothering you. Just like you did last year at Grimmauld Place when you thought Voldemort was possessing you.”
She looked at him, her expression scolding yet caring. He quickly thought back to Grimmauld Place the year before, when he had locked himself in his room for two days thinking that Voldemort was possessing him in order to attack his enemies. Ginny had been the one to snap him out it, bluntly telling him he had been stupid not to come to her as she had been possessed by Voldemort and could tell him what it felt like. He realized later that he had been stupid for not confiding in her. Perhaps he should confide in her now…
But still a part of him resisted.
“Look, it’s none of your business, all right?”
“Whose business is it then Harry?” Ginny retorted, her voice becoming angry. A few strands of scarlet hair had come loose from her ponytail and were hanging over her face. “Hermione’s? Ron’s? You aren’t talking to them either! Ever since you saw the paper about the orphanage you’ve withdrawn. Why?”
Harry didn’t respond. He sat and stared angrily into the fire.
She waited a few moments. When he didn’t answer she spoke, her voice once again calm, almost flippant.
“Ok then, how about this. I’ll just start guessing what’s wrong. Let me know when I hit it, will you?”
Harry cast a sideways glance at her but didn’t respond.
“Er….let’s see…what could be making Harry act like such a git…” she said in a tone of mock-concentration, as though she were thinking really hard. “I know, Quidditch! You realize quitting the Quidditch team was a mistake, but you’re afraid to ask Ron to take you back because he might say no. Is that it?”
Harry didn’t bother responding. Quidditch? She thought he was concerned about Quidditch?
“No? Hmmm… something else then,” she said lightly, as though they were playing a game. “How about…classes! Classes haven’t been going well and you’re concerned Hermione is going to lecture you because your grades aren’t good enough? That’s it, isn’t it?”
Hermione most likely would lecture him on his poor grades, but that was beside the point. Harry got the distinct impression Ginny was toying around with him. He ignored the last comment and continued starting into the fire, thinking he might prefer her to leave after all.
Suddenly Ginny’s voice became soft and completely serious, all hint of teasing gone from it. “Not that either, huh? Well, how about this: you feel like everything going on in the war is your fault, you feel guilty for not stopping it, and you think you’re the one who has to stop Voldemort from hurting people.”
Harry glanced up at her in shock before he could stop himself. How did she know?
Seeing she had hit home, Ginny shook her head sadly at him and frowned in exasperation.
“Oh Harry, why do you do it?”
He tried to keep his composure, but it was no use. It was as if her words had opened a dam of emotion. Everything he had been keeping inside, all the fear, anxiety, and guilt came pouring out as he sunk his face into his hands, his body racked with sobs.
Her face full of concern, Ginny leaned towards him and placed her hand on his back.
“The orphanage…Dementors…they didn’t have any chance against them…” he managed to gasp out.
“No one thought he would do such a horrible thing. You couldn’t have stopped him even if you were…”
“They were only children! The bastard killed a bunch of children…”
“Yes, he did, Harry!” Ginny interrupted angrily, “Because he’s a filthy evil murderer and they will kill him! But that doesn’t mean you…”
“And he’s out there RIGHT NOW, doing who knows what, and…”
“It’s not your fault!”
“Then whose is it? I’ve been stuck in h…”
“Harry, will you quit being so damned noble!” she cut across him, almost shouting now. She grabbed his arm and looked directly into his eyes. “Look at me! It...is...not…your…job…to…destroy...Lord…Voldemort!”
“YES IT IS, ALL RIGHT! THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT MY JOB IS!” Harry shouted, the sound of his voice reverberating throughout the empty common room.
Ginny looked at him, startled and confused. A strange stillness fell over the room, as if the very walls were waiting to hear what he had to say next. When Harry spoke again he could barely manage a whisper, his voice choking with emotion.
“I am the only one who can destroy Lord Voldemort.”
Silence. Ginny looked at him incredulously at first and for a split second he thought she was going to start arguing with him again. Something in the tone of his voice, however, must have told her there was something she was missing. Her expression turned to one of confusion, then to intense thought. After a moment, her eyes widened and her hand shot to her mouth in startled realization.
“The prophecy!” she whispered.
Harry nodded, surprised at the Hermione-like quickness with which she had put things together.
“You heard it?”
He nodded again, shutting his eyes. He could feel hot tears stream down his face, though he hadn’t been aware of crying. This was it. He had to tell her now.
“But…how? You said it fell out of Neville’s robes, that it was smashed…”
“Dumbledore has a copy of it. He showed it to me,” said Harry emotionlessly. He opened his eyes and looked at her.
The strands of red hair that had fallen loose from the ponytail now hung limply down the sides of her face. Ginny looked down and exhaled sharply, her eyes full of worry and shock. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself. When she looked up her face was set in a sort of rigid determination.
“What does it say, Harry?”
“It says…that I’m the only one who has the power to defeat Voldemort.”
He then recited the prophecy word for word, just as he had heard it in Dumbledore’s office. It came out effortlessly, almost automatically, every word having seared itself into his mind a long time before.
After he had finished they sat in silence. Ginny stared into the black, empty fireplace, letting everything sink in. At length she spoke, her voice flat and emotionless.
“Harry…How long have you known about this?”
The question took him by surprise. He had expected her to ask something dealing with the prophecy itself.
“Er…since the end of last year. Why?”
All at once Ginny erupted like a dormant volcano.
“You prat! You stupid prat!” she exclaimed, hitting him in the arm each time she said the word “prat”.
“Ginny! Stop…what are you…ouch!”
“You’ve known about it for this long and it’s taken you until now to tell someone about it? Are you mental?”
Now it was Harry’s turn to be completely startled. The last thing he had expected after sharing the prophecy was to be attacked. Ginny hit surprisingly hard for a girl.
“No wonder you’ve been acting so weird. You can’t keep something like that a secret and not go crazy! Why didn’t you tell Hermione and Ron about this?” she demanded.
Feeling slightly affronted and completely bewildered, Harry struggled for an answer. It wasn’t easy, as Ginny glared at him in a way that reminded him of Professor McGonagall demanding an explanation from a student for misbehavior.
“They…I…it’s not their business. They would only worry…this is something I have to deal with alone…”
“Harry!” Ginny interrupted him, “Don’t you get it? Hermione and Ron care about you! My Mum cares about you! My father cares about you! My entire family cares about you!”
Her voice lowered gradually. The indignation in her face slowly evaporated, her expression softening into one of sadness.
“We can’t help you if you don’t let us in. You should have told someone after you found out. Anyone. ”
Still confused and slightly offended that he had been yelled at after having revealed the darkest secret of his life, Harry racked his brain for a proper response.
“Er…I’m sorry?”
Ginny shook her head as if the apology wasn’t necessary, then leaned over and embraced him.
Harry sat there, letting himself feel the comfort of human contact. As he did so, the pressure and anxiety he had been feeling for so long eventually began to disappear. Soon he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had shared the prophecy. Someone other than Dumbledore now knew of his horrible destiny. He was no longer alone.
“Harry?” Ginny said after some time.
“Yes?”
“You’re going to win.”