Summary: A dinner with family and friends and a prophesy.

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A Prince Rising

By Syl Francis

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Chapter Twenty-four

Tuesday evening, Colin and Bridget Murphy treated everyone to dinner, as it was their last night before they had to return to Washington, D.C. Mr. Murphy somehow managed to reserve a table for them in the exclusive Rainbow Room at the top of the NBC Tower in Rockefeller Plaza. The sophisticated interior of the 1930s dining room, with its many Art Deco design features, delighted the group. The revolving dance floor—completely Muggle in engineering—especially intrigued the magical tourists.

The panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline at night encompassed them from all sides, shining like the finest cut diamonds set on a black, velvet background. Jennifer and Anne 'oohed' at the sight below them. Severus and Eric were just as awed as the girls, but managed to maintain a stoic front. Mr. Wiggenweld and the Whites made no attempt to hold back their appreciation of the view.

"Colin, I don't know what the cuisine will taste like here, but the view alone is worth the trip," Mr. Wiggenweld opined. "Thank you."

"Here, here!" Mr. and Mrs. White said in agreement.

"A toast!" Mr. Murphy called, raising his glass. "To friends and family! They know the worst of us but believe in the best of us. May friendship and good fellowship surround us to our last days."

They each took a long draught from their respective drinks. Smacking his lips in pure enjoyment, Mr. White held up his glass of wine. "Now that's an excellent vintage," he said.

"Oh? Are you a wine connoisseur?" Mr. Wiggenweld asked politely.

"Yes, he is," Mrs. White responded with a straight face. "What Jim knows about wines is mostly self-taught. He believes strongly that wine improves with age. The older he gets, the better it tastes."

Mr. White turned red at the others' good-hearted laughter. He quickly put his glass down and before she could react, he grabbed his wife and kissed her passionately in retaliation. The others cheered loudly, except for their children. Eric and Jennifer made gagging noises, embarrassed over their parents' antics.

"Daaa-aad!" They cried out in mortification. Laughing, they ordered from the a la carte menu, each of the youngsters selecting something different in order to share with one another. When their orders finally arrived, everyone again 'oohed' at the mouthwatering dinners before them. For the next few minutes, they each savored their food and enjoyed the company of friends and family.

Eric shared a small sample of his lobster pot pie with Anne, while Jennifer insisted that Severus try her Beef Wellington. Severus, in turn, offered her a sample of his roasted duck.

"Tell me, Severus," Mr. Murphy asked, "how would you compare the instruction here in the States to that of Britain?"

Severus gave him a perplexed look. "Compare? In what way do you mean, sir?"

"I suppose I'm asking about the level of instruction...challenging curriculum? Instructor knowledge and teaching methodology...extracurricular activities?" Mr. Murphy paused. "Whatever you feel is different."

"Salem definitely has better potions instructors than Hogwarts. I think Professors Carrier and Haliwinkle could brew circles around my old teacher back home." He paused thoughtfully, thinking of his other instructors. "And while I think some of my other teachers back in Hogwarts may be equally good to the ones here, I feel that I'm learning a lot more material here—and more challenging—than back home."

Severus shook his head somewhat pensively. He knew instinctively what the major difference was: 'My instructors this summer encouraged me to be creative and acknowledged my accomplishments, something which none of my teachers back home ever did.'

Mr. Wiggenweld caught his eye and smiled knowingly. He understood what Severus was referring to, the fact that the Hogwarts faculty neither appreciated his genius nor acknowledged his creativity. For six years his classroom instructors had relatively ignored him and his accomplishments. Now for the first time, Severus was receiving the accolades he should have been receiving from the start.

"Young Severus here is already credited with a couple potions that have been approved by St. Mungo's—Britain's premier wizarding hospital—and a third that's currently undergoing trials," Mr. Wiggenweld said proudly.

"Severus, tell us about them, please!" Mrs. White said. The others joined in, urging him to talk about his inventions. Blushing, Severus shrugged.

"They're not really anything exciting," he demurred. "I developed a pediatric version of Pepper-up potion. The regular version isn't recommended for children under three."

"That's right," Mrs. White agreed. "I remember when Eric and Jennifer were two, they developed a severe case of whooping cough. The healers could only treat the fever and chills, but the cough—we basically could do no better than a Muggle children's cough suppressant."

Severus nodded. "The combination of bicorn and Mandrake, which results in steam coming out of your ears when you drink it may look funny, but it's dangerous for an infant's inner ear. Without going into detail, the magical steam that's ejected can negatively impact the ear's ability to convert sound vibrations into nerve impulses—which can result in severe hearing loss."

"I knew it wasn't recommended for young children," Mrs. Murphy said, "but I'd no idea it could affect their hearing." She looked over at Anne, and on impulse hugged her daughter to her. "Thank goodness I was almost anal when it came to reading labels and directions."

"Was? Almost?" Anne said ironically. Mrs. Murphy gave her a mock glare. "What about the other potions, Severus?"

"Well, you know that there's a potion that's a cure for common poisons?" At the others' nods, he shrugged, "I thought it was ridiculous not to have a potion to cure un-common poisons or minor magical ones—like the bite of a Doxy. So, I developed one."

"Whoa! Waitaminute!" Mr. Murphy exclaimed. "You? You're the potioneer that invented the Antidote for Uncommon Poisons? I read about it two years ago—" He stopped. "You're what—sixteen, seventeen? How old were you when you invented this?"

Severus blushed. "Actually, I thought of the initial formula my second year, but I didn't develop the final version until that summer. So, I was...twelve, I think. But, I didn't meet Mr. Wiggenweld until my third year, and he's the one who encouraged me to submit it to St. Mungo's for approval."

"Severus owns the patents to both potions, and St. Mungo's paid him a nice upfront fee for brewing rights," Mr. Wiggenweld said.

"The antidote paid for my fourth year at Hogwarts. The children's Pepper-up helped pay for my fifth and sixth years." Severus made a face. "I only asked for what I needed to finish school. It didn't seem right making money from a potion that could help sick infants. The third potion is just a magical version of smelling salts—or at least that's how it works. It's similar to the Wiggenweld potion—" He grinned when Mr. Wiggenweld rolled his eyes. "—in that it's an antidote to Draught of the Living Death. But it's in solid form, like smelling salts, so it has a longer shelf life. When I left England, it was still being tested."

"Those are amazing credentials, Severus," Mr. Murphy said, sounding impressed. "Are there any projects you're working on at the moment? That is, if you feel free to talk about them, of course."

"I don't normally discuss my projects, sir. Please understand; I don't mean any offense, but I've had my ideas—in both spellcraft and potions—stolen from me in the past. So, now I hold everything pretty close to the vest until I'm ready to publish the results."

"Hey, no offense taken," Mr. Murphy said. "My wife and I are both lawyers and can certainly understand where you're coming from."

"Severus has been selected by Dean Haliwinkle to assist with the Lycanthropy potion human trials at the end of July," Anne said, proud of her friend. "Only a handful of students were selected to assist, and Severus is probably the youngest—"

"—And most talented of those selected to participate," added Jennifer.

"Here, here!" agreed Eric, raising his glass to his younger friend. The others followed suit. "To Severus Snape—Britain's best and brightest!"

"To Severus!" the others sitting around the table echoed. Blushing furiously, Severus ducked his head and hid behind his curtain of dark hair.

"Oh, no, you don't, my young genius friend!" declared Anne. She reached over, and with a single finger under his chin, lifted Severus' face. With her other hand, she pushed back his raven hair behind the ears. "No hiding tonight! Or at anytime, for that matter." Smiling gently at him, she kissed him on the cheek. "It's time to embrace your genius, Severus."

Looking into Anne's eyes, Severus returned her smile, acknowledging what she was saying to him. The next instant, he felt a cold chill shoot down his back. Anne's eyes had taken on a faraway, glassy look, her expression suddenly blank.

"Murphy? What's the matter?" Severus asked.

"Oh, no," Mrs. Murphy said worriedly. "Colin—look at Anne! Her expression—just like your Grandmother Celeste." As she spoke, her daughter began to speak in a strange, singsong-y voice, empty of inflection.

"On the eve of the darkest night yet to come, Magic's Heir will arrive when the Lords of Order and Chaos meet in conflagration...Light versus Dark...war and destruction...From the ashes of unspeakable tragedy, One will rise and take his rightful place as the Heir of Magic...On the eve of the darkest night yet to come, Magic's Heir will arrive when the Lords of Order and Chaos meet in conflagration..."

Anne repeated the refrain once more before she trailed off into silence. The others sat still, unsure of what had occurred, while Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, clearly upset, hugged their daughter to them. At last, Anne took a deep breath and slowly opened her eyes as if waking from a long sleep. Confused, she looked around, blinking blearily.

"What happened?" she asked.

"You don't remember?" Eric took her hand in his and gently stroked it. Anne shook her head, and then became very still.

"Mom? Dad? What happened?"

"I think you know, Pumpkin," Mr. Murphy said soothingly. She gave him a stricken look. "Now, don't be that way, sweetheart. You've known for years about the Gift. You knew that sooner or later, it would start being more than just vague feelings and lucky guesses. Grandma Celeste talked to you about it."

"I know...but I don't want it, Daddy." The tears began at that point. To no one's surprise, Eric automatically took her in his arms and held her.

"I think, Colin, that that's our cue to call it a night," Mr. Wiggenweld said.

"I agree, Jonathon," Mr. Murphy said. "Excuse me while I take care of the check." The others nodded in understanding. While the Gift of Prophesy was both wondrous and mysterious, it was also frightening and oftentimes confusing.

"But what does it mean?" Jennifer asked. She looked around the table, her questioning eyes curious.

"I believe that it's pretty much open to interpretation," Mr. White opined. "I mean 'Magic's Heir' could refer to anyone in the wizarding world."

"But what of the part about 'on the eve of the darkest night yet to come'?" Eric demanded. "That sounds fairly specific—the eve of darkest night of the year..."

"And what would be the darkest night, genius?" his sister asked rudely.

"The Winter Solstice, perhaps?" Severus said softly. The others exchanged looks and slowly nodded in agreement.

"But that's less than a year from now, isn't it? The Winter Solstice is in December—only six months from now," replied Jennifer.

"You're right, sis, but I don't think this is meant to be taken quite so literally. I mean, she didn't say this year...or even next year. She said 'on the eve of the darkest night yet to come.' What's to say the prophesy isn't about some Winter Solstice in some far off future?"

"But what if it's referring to the Southern Hemisphere?" Jennifer said with a shrug, unwilling to let her brother win the round. "Isn't their Winter Solstice in July or so?"

Eric glared at her. "Why don't we just include the Winter Solstice on Mars? Or Venus for that matter?"

"I'm just saying," she smirked.

Eric rolled his eyes and then summed up. "So, then—if the prophesy is referring to something that's going to occur in the Northern Hemisphere, then someone who is 'Magic's Heir' will appear on some as yet undetermined evening of the Winter's Solstice."

"Maybe...but I don't like the sound of the 'war and destruction' that brings about an 'unspeakable tragedy'!" Mrs. Murphy added.

"Nor do I, Kathleen," Mr. Wiggenweld agreed.

"A war brought about by the 'Lords of Light and Chaos'—whoever they are," Mr. White muttered.

Severus exchanged a knowing look with Mr. Wiggenweld. Neither liked what they were naturally concluding—Dumbledore and Voldemort were the obvious choices. Could it be possible that the war everyone was anticipating would break out in some yet to be determined eve of the Winter Solstice?

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Later, in their hotel suite, Severus and Mr. Wiggenweld discussed the prophesy over tea in the sitting area.

"What do you think, sir? Do you believe that this prophesy is referring to the probable war between the forces of Light and Dark in England?" Severus took a sip of his tea to hide his growing unease.

"I think, young Severus, this so-called prophesy is merely a guide and a possible warning of some future event. The players mentioned need not necessarily refer to anyone we know. As Miss White stated, this could be a prophesy about a future event in Australia or South Africa." Mr. Wiggenweld shrugged. "We have no way of knowing, of course."

"But, shouldn't we at least take it seriously? I mean, 'forewarned is forearmed,' as Mum used to say."

Mr. Wiggenweld smiled fondly. "Yes, and we will take Miss Murphy's words seriously and attempt to decipher them." He held up a hand to forestall Severus' response. "However, we must also take into consideration that prophesies are dangerous in themselves. For example, what if we decide that it actually does refer to Dumbledore and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Then what should happen? We focus all of our energies into trying to 'fit' any future event into our narrow interpretation of the prophesy. And thus, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy."

"I think I understand. If we decide that the prophesy means something specific, then we're in danger of making that specific event come to pass. But, what should we do? Wait for the unknown future events to happen? Allow an unspeakable tragedy before we take action?"

"I am afraid that there is little that one can do to prevent the unknowable, Severus. On the other hand, that doesn't mean that we cannot prepare for the worst outcome of what we do know."

Severus scowled at his mentor, believing him to be speaking unnecessarily in riddles. Mr. Wiggenweld's eyes softened as he gazed on the powerful, yet caring young wizard before him.

"What you are doing already, Severus, will go a long way toward being prepared for the worst. You have the beginnings of a plan to secure the safety of your friends and others who oppose the Dark Lord. Do not underestimate yourself or young Mr. Avery—and those of us who will do everything in our power to support your efforts."

"But surely there's something else that I can be doing?" Severus protested.

"And you are. You are completing your magical education and training to become the best and most knowledgeable wizard that you can be. Right now is a period of quiescence before the coming Darkness. Use it as a time to prepare, to gather knowledge and supporters."

Mr. Wiggenweld stood and walked over to where Severus sat slumped in an easy chair. He placed his warm hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed. "Whatever the prophesy means, it cannot be the driving force for what lies ahead. No, Severus, you set your course the day you said you would follow neither Dumbledore nor the Dark Lord. Have faith in yourself; I know that I do."

Severus looked up gratefully at Mr. Wiggenweld. He had rarely experienced someone in his life who completely believed in him with the exception of his mum and Mr. Wiggenweld. He knew that he now had more people who were slowly coming over to his side, but the Potions Master would always be special because he had believed in him at a time when no one else did.

"Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me."

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Early the next day, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy bade everyone goodbye at the Grand Central Station magical extension. They fussed a bit over their daughter, but Anne had recovered her aplomb overnight and was ready for the visit to her friends' home in Texas. After they and the other adults all promised to stay in touch, and a final round of kisses and hugs for their daughter, the professional couple stepped through the public Floo toward Washington, D.C.

The group then made their way to the Portkey office. In the debarkation room, Mr. White held out a child's Hula Hoop, which made Severus grin to himself. As everyone quickly grabbed hold of it, Mrs. White excitedly began a countdown, and the others joined in good-naturedly. When the count reached zero, Severus felt the familiar pull behind his navel as the nondescript walls of the room instantly disappeared in the mad whirl of almost sensory overload as other places zoomed past.

At last, he felt more than saw that their destination was fast approaching, and quickly began to move his legs in a walking gait. The debarkation point appeared below them, and the next instant the group arrived with minimal difficulty. Mr. White quickly led the group away from the landing zone, and almost as soon they made it to the safe waiting area, another group Portkeyed in...

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Author's Note: I know it's been a long time, but there's been so many requests for me to continue that I thought I'd give a go. I'm still a full time school teacher and finding the time to write is still somewhat iffy. I don't know when I'll be able to update again, but I will try to do so during the coming summer break. So, I hope you enjoy this brief chapter.

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and the characters inhabiting it belong to J.K. Rowling. This story does not intend any copyright infringement.

Copyright: 2015-2017