Harry Potter and the Re-Discovery of Magic

11: The Betrayal of the Gaunt Ring Continues

"It's different." Tom stated softly, being the first to speak after an extended period of silence. Harry's unfocused gaze drew onto Tom who was frowning at the parchment that lay in front of him.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, only slightly louder than the crackling of the fire nearby, and from the silence received, Harry was unsure Tom heard him.

"It's completely different. The only part similar to what I heard before was that you were born at the end of July." Tom said, anger bleeding through his voice, and Harry watched the other man's knuckles turn white from clasping the edge of his desk.

Harry wanted to be angry at Tom for running after a child with a fake half prophecy, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to be so as another point floated in his head.

"You told me Snape was the one to overhear the prophecy in a pub in Hogsmeade for a job interview. You also told me that the prophecy was told months later than when it was registered in the ministry." Harry looked at Tom, who'd finally taken his eyes away from the transcript of the prophecy in front of him, his eyes burning with an such intense anger that Harry would fear for his life if it was directed at him.

"You think it was fake." It was a statement, rather than a question, which was confirmed at the small nod of Harry's head.

"I mean, it's unlikely anyone would conduct an interview in a rundown pub." Harry shrugged, which was a fake show of nonchalance, because inside Harry was battling an overwhelming anger for a certain meddling fool, along with confusion and a healthy dose of sadness.

"That would mean..." Tom trailed off, and Harry knew he wasn't unsure of himself, he just didn't want to voice what they were both thinking, being that Harry's parents died for nothing.

"I know" Harry whispered, tracing the small patterns in the wood of the table, a quiet melancholy settling around him.

"You're still here," in front of the man who killed your parents were the words left unsaid, and Harry was completely thrown off by the barest trace of vulnerability he heard in the others voice.

"I am." Harry said softly, looking up at Tom. "I think you're also forgetting that I'm not the only one whose been misled."

Harry gave a pointed stare towards Tom who looked halfway about to say something, but then sighed and ran a hand through his hair, as he twisted around to grab the bottle of whiskey, and after a couple more glances between the two of 'do you want some?' 'no, I'm still underage' 'fine, whatever' Tom flicked off the lid, and drunk straight out of the bottle, while he picked up the abandoned quill and started writing.

Harry just sat and stared blankly into space running over the thoughts in his head.

At the moment it didn't really matter what the prophecy said, he wasn't a huge fan of Divination and the whole fate determines your destiny thing, so he was happy to just let it go. The main problem was the fact that someone, not mentioning any names, was clearly messing with the entirety of Harry's life, and he had little doubt that the man had done the exact same to Tom.

It was then that Tom placed his quill down and pushed the drying parchment towards Harry.

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.

Harry assumed this was the two lines that the Dark Lord had heard and Harry could see what Tom meant when he said it was completely different. They bore almost no similarity to the first lines of: