A Trio of Serpents

51: Hedwig Gives a Hoot

*gestures vaguely to title* I don't even know anymore...

Summary: Dumbledore reveals the prophecy; first week of the summer holidays

The Quidditch stadium had never looked so interesting than at that moment, although Harry wasn't really paying it much attention. He could feel Dumbledore's eyes boring into his head but refused to turn around.

"Your friends will make full recovery," he said.

"Even Sid?" Harry asked.

"Indeed. I believe Remus is talking to him now."

Harry closed his eyes. Now that the danger was gone, he was feeling the full effect of Bellatrix's words. "He begged to be killed."

"Pardon?"

"Remus. In the graveyard." An image of the bleeding, broken body in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom flashed in his mind once more and he thrust it out. "I don't get it. What was so important about that prophecy anyway?"

He finally looked up at Dumbledore, whose face was unreadable.

"Do you recall what it said?" he asked.

"It got smashed."

"On the label."

Harry thought for a moment. "S.P. something to A..." The realization crashed over him. "To you. Albus whatever-your-middle-names-are Dumbledore."

Amusement flashed in the headmaster's eyes briefly. "Indeed. On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head Inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave."

"And then she gave the prophecy," Harry guessed. It didn't take a genius to know who he was referring to.

Dumbledore nodded once and went to retrieve something from a cabinet. It was the Pensieve. He pressed his wand to his temple and removed silvery strands before placing them into the Pensieve. Then he lightly tapped the surface.

The scars on Ron's arms would never go away completely, Harry had been told. The thought that he had been the one responsible for this, plus the curse Hermione had taken and Sid being put under the Cruciatus, did nothing to lift his mood.

And to top it all off, the memory of Ron pushing Harry aside was still fresh in his mind.

"You still think I'm a prat for doing that," said Ron.

"Mhm."

"So get off of me."

"No." Harry curled up even further against him. He hadn't spoken to anyone after returning from Dumbledore's office, but as soon as he had come up that morning, he had settled himself next to Ron in the bed and refused to budge.

"You're like a cat," Hermione remarked.

"Or a puppy," Sid joked. "Like father, like son."

He nudged Jayson, who cracked a small smile. Apparently, not even the revelation that Harry was indeed telling the truth about Voldemort's return had mellowed his parents. Their only son was still gay, had officially been going out with Logan for three months now, and was still very much not interested in having children. It left Jayson rather bitter, especially since they were acting as though he were the one being out of line. Teenage rebellion and all that.