Warnings: Slow build, very eventual romance, wuxia/xianxia AU, Master-of-Death!Harry

Pairing: eventual LV/HP (Voldemort/Harry Potter), eventual TMR/HP (Tom Marvolo Riddle/Harry Potter)

Summary: In a world where magic doesn't exist, supernatural power goes by another name. Hogwarts is not a school of witchcraft and wizardry but of cultivation, and new student Harry Potter has been scouted by the venerable Grand Master Riddle for his mysterious potential in martial arts.

Little does he know, the 'power the Dark Lord knows not' takes on a different meaning.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling

This fic was inspired by Chinese web-novels Tales of Demons and Gods by Mad Snail, and Coiling Dragon by I Eat Tomatoes. You can read their translations on wuxiaworld(-dot-)com!

Additional Notes: This work will contain the occasional Chinese term, which I will explain in the text. If you have any questions about these terms or the AU in general, feel free to PM me/leave a review with your question and I'll get back to you about it to the best of my ability.

Two years passed by.

Hogwarts was not exactly the same Hogwarts he knew, but the castle still had enough familiarities that Harry was comfortable. The more he learned about the world, the better he got—it was by this time, two years after he 'failed' the examinations, that Harry felt settled enough to take the next step.

Tom had not visited him once. He had not seen hide nor hair of the Grand Master—not that it really bothered him any; Harry kind of expected this—and by this time, most of the interest in him had faded. Harry Potter was, aside from his soul realm, completely ordinary and as implied by his potential, a poor student.

None of the professors ever liked him because he never took notes. His serene expression in the face of everyone else's struggles made him appear as if he didn't take his classes seriously. On top of that, not only did he not begin cultivating a technique yet—which left him off the rankings—but he also had not discovered his element yet. In terms of his age group, Harry was far behind. Purple soul realm? In the eyes of his fellow classmates, it didn't mean much!

There was a very small select group of people who still bothered to talk to him. It included his dorm mates—who, in the face of Harry's bullying, grew as thick as thieves to 'protect' him—as well as Hermione Granger, who found camaraderie with him as her zealousness alienated her from her peers. Harry's completely indifferent attitude served to balance her out in some respects; she found his company could be as relaxing as it could be frustrating.

Everyone thought Harry was a failure. "Dead Wall" they called him; "Dead Wall" Harry Potter, who couldn't do anything and never even tried to. How pitiful that Grand Master Riddle had a disciple like him. The only proof that Harry still had some sort of connection here was that he was still enrolled; otherwise, after spectacularly failing the examinations, why else could he be here?

Harry didn't care. He continued to attend his classes, smiled when he met eyes with someone, spoke when he was spoken to. If he knew about his nickname, he certainly didn't show it. Even Daphne found him so pitiful that she abandoned her grudge and walked right past; it had been a fluke. Everything about Harry Potter had been a fluke. She didn't need to be concerned about him anymore; he was so beneath her that her eyes slid by him like he was a rock—not worth her time, just part of the background.

"I'm telling you, mate, you're taking way too many classes!"

Ron groaned from his spot on the plush sofa. Harry laughed, walking in empty-handed as always. He was away from the dorm the most out of all of them just from the sheer amount of classes he had on his schedule.

"This is a school. There's no such thing as too many classes," he replied. "I'm sure Hermione would agree with me."

"The difference is that she takes notes," Ron pointed out. When Draco emerged from his room, the two casually bumped fists in greeting. "I've never seen you use a quill, never mind carry a bag."

"Bags are barbaric!" Draco sniffed haughtily.

"Not everyone can afford an interdimensional ring!"

"Hmph. I won't have my roommates lacking such basic necessities. If you needed one, why not say so?"

Harry laughed again as he watched their back and forth. Ron turned his head away and mumbled something under his breath, and Draco took that as his cue to grab a drink from the cooler.

"Welcome back, by the way," Draco continued, this time to Harry. He handed him a cold bottle of water. "What class was it today? Darkness?"

"Light," Harry corrected. Because he hadn't discovered his main element yet, he was expected to take all rudimentary elemental courses. They were basically hour-long lecture classes. Both Ron and Neville had groaned when they first found that out, but Harry, like usual, had only smiled. "We got out a bit early. I think I saw Neville out in the fields during his earth class."

Ron lit up. "When he's finished, let's all go to the Great Hall and get something to eat! I'm dying of hunger here!"

"You'd think you were a homeless beggar with how often you say that," drawled Draco.

"I'm growing and I have an appetite. Hermione says cultivating consumes calories, so it's only natural I eat more! Problem, Malfoy?"

"You'd consume calories if you actually bothered to cultivate. Still stuck at 1st rank?"

"Only along with ninety percent of our age group."

Draco smirked. "Hm. Better catch up then, weasel."

Harry shook his head at the two. Draco had just broken through to 2nd rank three days ago, and he took any opportunity to brag about it. No one actually minded—they had even thrown a bit of a celebration when it happened—but seventy-two hours of bragging made one wonder how many more times he could bring it up.

"Home is nice," Harry said, plopping onto the sofa beside Ron. He stretched out much like a cat before curling in on himself again. Though the sofa was small, he was even smaller, and so there was enough space for another person at the other end.

"Shoes off!" Draco squawked. "Don't be a barbarian!"

Harry hummed. "Yes, mother," he said, and then compliantly stuck out his feet for Draco to pull off his shoes one by one. They were tossed haphazardly toward the door before the blonde Slytherin shoved his legs over to take a seat. This was the scene that Neville walked into—Ron sprawled out like a couch potato at one end, Draco sitting upright with his legs crossed one over the other at the other end, and little Harry curled in a ball laying down between them.

If he was any bigger, then his head would be in Ron's lap and his feet would be in Draco's, but he was just small enough to fit perfectly in the leftover space.

The first thing Neville said was, "I didn't know I adopted three cats."

"Finally! Your earth class takes an eternity! Let's go eat now—"

"You should've been born a pig, Weasley."

"Shove off, corn head!"

Harry yawned. "Let's go eat before Ron accidentally becomes a cannibal."

They were out the door in a minute.

On top of the elemental classes Harry was required to take, he also picked up a few others as was normal for a second year. Second year, the students were just discovering their cultivation paths and beginning on training their elements—it was good to test and see what else they might have talent or interest for.

It was, of course, mostly theory. Some fields were too dangerous for children to practice without some form of cultivation. That was also why a physical training class was required for all lower years. The body was as important as the soul when it came to martial power.

Harry picked up rudimentary inscriptions as well as agriculture, refining, simple magical beasts, art, and specialized histories. Basically, anything that he could get his hands on, he would take. Alchemy was unfortunately later (much like potion making, things could go wrong and fast), but he was planning on taking that, too. These classes weren't for grades or supplementary lessons or anything like that; it was purely for knowledge.

Hermione had at first wanted to follow his plan, but when she saw how ambitious it was if she wanted to keep up her grades, she controlled herself and only took half as much. She was a diligent note-taker and put aside time after class to review the notes she took. Harry, on the other hand, never took any notes (that they could see, anyway), which meant all he did was attend.

Of course, attendance wasn't anything to shirk at, either. The instructors may all think he was a no good troublemaker, but they had to admit that his attendance couldn't be faulted. Harry never missed a single class, be they special classes or basic lessons that all students were required to take. Sometimes he sat in the back, sometimes he sat in the middle, sometimes even in the front—but he was always there, no matter what.

Homework was another matter. Harry never turned in homework. For every class he attended, every single paper and assignment was left untouched. At first, all the instructors were expecting him to fail and get kicked out of Hogwarts that way…until he took his first quiz. All quizzes, tests, and exams came back with a perfect score. They couldn't even catch him cheating, because he wasn't!

The result was Harry cruising by with at least an average grade in everything. They docked points on participation, classwork, anything, but when his tests came back, it was clear to everyone that Harry was not going to get expelled for his grades.

"Harry!" Hermione saw him first. When she noticed the rest of the boys she waved them over, too.

Ron wasted no time in stuffing his face at the table.

"Did you understand the lesson today?" was the first thing Hermione asked. "For water. I understood the concept, but then when she gave us that assignment it didn't connect at all!"

Hermione's second element was water—though it was far below her primary element, wind. She didn't want to give up on it though, so she signed up for the rudimentary water class that Harry would be attending. After rudimentary came basic classes, which was a more hands-on experience aside from lectures. Only those who could use the element could attend basic courses.

That meant Harry attended none of them.

"You could ask me," Draco sniffed. He had dual primary elements water and darkness—certainly impressive enough to earn considering looks from Hogwarts' experts.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Promise you won't make any yamen comments?"

"No promises."

"Then Harry it is," she declared. While they were all on friendly terms, some bonds were more fragile than others. Hermione and Draco tended to butt heads because of their different backgrounds, and though they could be cordial at lunch, it could all go to hell by the time dinner came around.

Harry shrugged. "Just do the assignment."

"But you never do the assignments."

"So?"

"If you can understand without doing them, why can't I?"

Ah, Harry thought. A frustrated Hermione was a petulant one. "You probably could, but the assignment makes it easier. Think theory last, purpose first."

Draco made his way into the conversation again. "Is this the river watching assignment?"

"Yep."

Hermione still looked disgruntled. Neville casually bumped her shoulder and murmured, "It'll be like the wind blowing assignment—you liked that one, didn't you?"

"That was easy," Hermione said, nibbling on a piece of bread. "I understood that one before the instructor even explained it. But this time I don't get it at all!"

Neville tried again to comfort her. "It's not your primary element, so you shouldn't worry about it. Happens with everyone's secondaries. Er, well, not that I know, but that's what I heard…"

"Let's all have a picnic next to the river tomorrow," Harry offered. "We'll be moral support as you do your assignment."

"Our."

"Our," he agreed. "…But you know I'm not going to do it, right?"

"Fine."

Severus Snape didn't understand why Harry Potter bothered him so much.

Well, no. In all honesty, he did. Completely. But the reasons didn't make sense, so he didn't like to think about them. Sensible things pleased him—the bubbling of a cauldron, the harmony of ingredients, the colors of potions and their scents wafting up to his nose. Those made sense. He could explain those, and everyone would agree with him because it was factual information. Proven information. Things that had evidence past his own personal experiences.

But he couldn't prove Harry Potter's existence.

Severus was an expert of advanced 10th rank, close to his break through into Master tier. However, cultivation wasn't nearly so easy as it sounded, and the terror that quaked in his heart didn't help matters. He supposed it only served him right, some divine justice sent down to punish him for his misdeeds of the past.

Harry Potter. Harry Potter. He had Lily's eyes, James' face, and nothing else.

Well, that was also false, Severus supposed. When he first saw the boy, hadn't he been reminded of himself? Harry Potter was a sailor in a storm. Calm and deliberate, he navigated the world not with the curiosity of a child but with the consideration of an adult. Severus saw his own hands when he looked at the boy; callused from where he held the rough stirring stick, thin knife scars from where he had nicked himself in the past.

Harry Potter was the eye of the jianghu hurricane, he was sure.

"Enter," Tom said at the first knock. Severus inwardly started—had he been expected? Was this Albus' game, or Marvolo's?—but showed nothing as he obeyed and entered.

Seeing the man sitting there in an arm chair screwed rivets of emotions into his head. The pain he felt was not all of the heart; it was of the mind, because he knew this man and he was no longer allowed to. It was Hogwarts that kept him safe, Hogwarts that made him rash and foolhardy to instigate this meeting. He shouldn't be here.

"Master," Severus breathed. He bowed his head and lowered his eyes on instinct. These motions were ingrained into his very being—his lips moved out of habit, his neck bent like a thin branch that had been blown by the wind. It was natural to submit to this man.

But he was no longer allowed to.

Tom's gaze was not warm, unlike the boiling temperature of the room. Severus swallowed and knew it was no longer his place to call him by that title. He righted himself under that stare, looked forward and hid his fear. Was he welcome anymore by this god-like man? Would he be crucified where he stood for his impudence? Dumbledore could not protect him, not here in Grand Master Riddle's personal room.

"Severus," Tom finally acknowledged. "Old friend, are you feeling nostalgic?"

Severus did not reply.

"Come. Sit. Have some tea," Tom offered. But Severus knew him, or at least he did long ago, and so he knew it was more of a demand than whatever soft guise his once master masked it with.

The chair was soft and comfortable but it still felt like a million needles pierced his body when he sat down. It was like sitting on icicles in the caldera of a volcano, trapped not by tangible shackles but a paralyzing fear. In much the same way, the tea was perfectly bitter to his tastes but it went down like drinking poison. Severus had never been so tense in his entire life.

It was only when Tom said no more that he realized the man's attention was directed somewhere else.

Instead of calling attention to himself, Severus followed the man's gaze to a large frameless mirror. It reflected nothing; the images being shown was not of the room they sat in. A scrying window made from advanced water arts—naturally, Grand Master Riddle would have something like that. If he had talent in the water element then he would have made it, and if he didn't then he very well could've bought it like a trinket at a street stall.

Though, scrying windows were much more than trinkets. Especially one so large. Severus blinked and focused on what was being shown.

He recognized his godson, Draco Malfoy, first. And then he saw the children Draco associated with—Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, and…Harry Potter. Of course, of course. That was why he was here, wasn't he? Because so long as Harry Potter was kept as Grand Master Riddle's disciple, then he would be at Hogwarts to stay. If Harry Potter was at Hogwarts, Severus' night terrors would never vanish. He would be haunted, tormented for years on end—

Lily. James. Potter. If only.

"Will you expel him?" Severus asked.

He didn't know what type of answer he was expecting, but it was certainly not laughter. Tom leaned back his head and laughed long and hard, like a joke so horrid it was hysterical had been told.

"I thought of it once or twice," Tom said when his laughter ceased. "Hogwarts is not enough for him. Imagine what he could accomplish if he was locked away in my manor? Ah, but it is my affection for this place that stayed my hand. I wish he will grow to love it as much as I do."

…Pardon me, but have you gone insane didn't slip past Severus' lips, but it was a close thing.

"Or did you mean to expel him as my disciple?"

The question was said with a honey-coated dagger. Severus swallowed and carefully avoided giving a direct answer.

Tom appeared amused. "Severus, my slippery friend, you haven't changed in the slightest. Tell me, are you here because Albus sent you?"

"…The Headmaster did not send me."

"Oh? So you haven't come with an ulterior motive? To wrestle this treasure from my hands and give it to your liege?"

Severus struggled. "I beg your pardon, Marvolo, but I don't follow."

"You refuse to say what is on your mind," Tom drawled. The tea in his cup stirred as the Grand Master considered it. "One of your less admirable traits, I suppose. Well, that is how you won my favor, so perhaps I can't say."

It was also how I lost it. Severus despaired before he spoke again. "Marvolo, are you saying that the boy is…"

"The winning lottery ticket," Tom confirmed. "Do you see him? Have you watched him? He's amazing, is he not? My little sapling, with enough patience to move mountains! And luck! It's as if the world is enamored with him and seeks to cater to his every whim. If it were not so baffling, I dare say even I would be jealous." He chuckled again, and the sound echoed in Severus' mind like the shink of a knife being sharpened.

He came here to inquire about the boy's fate. What he heard instead was his old master singing praise after praise of him! The world was too strange—no, Harry Potter was too strange. Severus felt slightly nauseous.

"His instinct is razor sharp," Tom continued. "I don't even have to do anything—he feels the world as if there's no difference between it and the clothes on his back. It's absurd. And he's either humbler than an ant or as oblivious as dust because he seems to have no idea what he's doing! I would steal his blood if it were to work for me. Surely someone has injected a luck potion into his veins at one point or another…"

Tom sounded like he was bragging. Grand Master Riddle, bragging. The world was going to end; Severus just knew it.

Surely if Harry Potter caught his attention so completely, Tom would've done some research? At the very least, a background check? Severus took a breath and asked. "Do you know his origins?"

"From the yamen," Tom said in the same tone. "He ran away from home to get to the jianghu. I have my suspicions why…but you ask too much."

"No," Severus said quickly, "He is yours. Albus concedes the point, I'm sure—"

"Albus never concedes anything. You understand, don't you, Severus?"

He shuddered at the dark twist Tom's voice had taken. "I do. My interest is personal—the boy reminds me of…" Lily. James. Potter, and yet not.

"It doesn't matter," Tom said.

"Even if the boy proves a threat to yourself, Marvolo?"

For a second, Severus thought he hit something. He waits for the metaphorical pin to drop, but nothing comes. Once upon a time, maybe his master would've demanded he leave—given him extra drills, ordered his isolation for his insolence. His master had been quick to rile with an even quicker temper, flames fanning at the briefest spark. But Tom was not the same, Lord Voldemort was no more, and—

Tom laughed. "My sapling, a threat to me? So you've finally learned how to joke, old friend. If Harry Potter is a threat to me, then I am a threat to myself. You simply wouldn't understand."

"The Greengrass girl," Severus hurried to change the subject, "Is she not a 'ticket' as well?"

"Oh, her." Tom finally took another sip of tea, and it looked like dismissal. "I suppose. Had she continued to antagonize my sapling, I wouldn't have cared—but it appears she's had a change of heart, so I suppose I should pick her up soon."

Severus blanched. The idea that Tom had anything near an emotional attachment to the boy was too earthshaking to think about.

"You know I dislike dissension in my ranks," the Grand Master continued. "Albus will not take her because she has no talent in light. Flamel has gratuitously decided to keep out of our games—this round, at least. Black has not taken a disciple in centuries, and Ollivander is haply absent. I supposed I could take her—but then my sapling sprouted, and I didn't want to take chances that the flower was actually a weed."

"So—"

"Another expert could've taken her. I don't care. But my sapling has given them quite the scare so they all hang in the shadows, too scared to stake a claim. The 'Everlasting Blizzard' technique is fairly potent; if I invest a few decades she could be a little inferior to Bellatrix."

"With her talent, I assumed it would be more…?"

"Talent isn't everything," Tom said. "Her potential is a bit of a crutch. The Greengrass family is too greedy—they eat with their eyes before their meal has even been cooked. That's why my sapling is a hundred times more interesting."

It all came back around to Harry Potter. Severus watched the moving image in the scrying window—they were on a picnic of some sort, just children being children. No matter how he stared or from what angle he approached, he couldn't see what was so amazing about the boy…but then his eyes landed on Draco. Draco, his spoiled little godson who was slowly growing up.

If it was from these eyes that Tom saw the boy, then Severus theorized he might understand.

"You're wrong."

"…I beg your pardon, Marvolo?"

Tom's lips curled into a smirk. "Don't be misled. Sapling he may be, but his future is a tree. Trees provide shade from the sun, wood for a fire, a home for animals that will seek him out. Trees are very useful things, and they don't need to love to be of use to be made use of. As long as he's able to grow without anyone cutting him down, I'll naturally profit by association. That, Severus, is how rich of a resource he is."

Harry thought he felt something watching him.

It wasn't a particularly new feeling, but it usually only happened during class time. That his watcher had decided to spectate him outside of class gave him mixed feelings—he thought he knew who it was, but in this world he was neither strong enough or knowledgeable enough to say for sure.

The only reason he knew something was watching him at all was because of his gut. Instinct told him something was watching him, but his senses—immature as they were—never caught a wisp of anything.

But it was disturbing. He didn't want to be watched all hours of the day; a respect for privacy would've been welcome. Well, it wasn't like he was doing anything illegal (yet), but it was the idea behind it that meant the most. That decided, Harry turned his head to where his gut told him he was being watched from—a random spot in the sky, empty of course—and pointedly waved his hand in greeting.

His friends noticed. Of course they did.

"…Harry? What are you doing?"

"Hmm? Oh, I thought I saw a little bird in the sky."

Bemused, they all tried to follow his line of sight but came up with nothing.

"…Mate, you're weird."

"Hey, I happen to like birds, alright?"

"Cross your fingers to reveal as a wind element, then."

Severus almost spat out his tea.

Tom had a different reaction—he grinned, a smile full of teeth and double-edged satisfaction—before saying, "See? He makes anyone else pale in comparison!"

"Severus—did you just say Tom has not instructed him for the past two years?"

He shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have gone to Grand Master Riddle's room either, but it was an even worse decision to come see Albus right after. True, he had been called, but he could've refused—said he had a headache, papers to grade, a potion cooking on the stove! Something. Anything.

Albus' previously calm demeanor had melted like a popsicle in a forge. Why was that so important, that Tom had not taken his disciple's education by the reigns? If anything, Severus thought Albus would be pleased, but he wasn't, definitely wasn't. In fact, the old headmaster looked like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

"That was what he implied," he said. "But I do not think it was out of a lack of interest—" the opposite, actually, "—he has been…observant."

"Interested."

"Like a cat at a mouse hole."

"I believe you," Albus said quietly. "Severus, my boy…"

In front of Grand Master Riddle, Severus was nothing. In front of Grand Master Dumbledore, however, then he at least had the voice to speak the words he wouldn't otherwise say. "Why is it so important that he hasn't been instructed?"

There was a pause.

"I thought," Albus began, "No, I assumed that Tom was telling him to do it. That Tom was making a gamble…however, it appears that he never gambled in the first place, and has reaped all the rewards of the winning bet."

"Come again?"

"Mr. Potter has not revealed his element yet, yes?"

Severus frowned at the segue. "He has not. It is not unorthodox, but certainly sets him at the lowest group of students. Previous students who have failed to reveal all have been expelled soon enough."

"Not all," the headmaster corrected. "Most."

"…An important distinction to make?"

"Very much so. You know well that one who has discovered their element will quickly find a cultivation technique. Training elemental power alongside martial power eases the burden on the body significantly, and there are many more advantages to practicing both at the same time. But you must also know, my boy, that cultivating a technique has some disadvantages as well."

"Trivial disadvantages compared with the returns," Severus waved off. He knew all this. "The faster one cultivates, the better. Let the soul grow with the body. One is nothing without the other. What is your point, Albus?"

The Grand Master shook his head and plowed on. "A cultivation technique must be compatible with your elements. Once a practitioner begins cultivating, it is very, very difficult—say, impossible—to nurture the other elements. If the technique is only compatible with the primary element, then raising the secondary element is like pulling teeth from a dragon—"

If Albus wanted to discuss theory, then Severus would humor him. "It matters little. Few have secondary elements, fewer have double primary elements. Even at Hogwarts, the number of students that have a second element is half, and the number of students with more than two is at most a quarter of them. It is impossible to naturally raise an incompatible element to secondary level, so the 'sacrifice,' if you insist on it being one, is minor."

"Not impossible. Improbable."

"Fine," Severus snapped. "The chances are infinitesimally small—though they exist—so the loss of opportunity is trivial compared to the gains from cultivating a technique. On top of that, cultivation techniques can add additional elemental power depending on which we are discussing, so losing an innate element is not a big loss in the grand scheme of things."

"The chances are specifically one percent for each level," Albus said.

That…wasn't information Severus had ever heard before, and he was almost Master tier. If he hadn't heard it before—and he lived in a school—then what were the chances of others knowing about it?

"I beg your pardon?"

"For an element to move from incompatible to secondary, the chance is approximately one percent. Nicolas would like to argue it is, in fact, less, but one percent is the accepted theory."

Accepted theory? By who?

"From secondary to primary, it is also one percent," continued the Grand Master. "This is for each element. If we assume a person has one innate primary element, then it i 10-8 percent chance for that person to move all incompatible elements to secondary. To move all secondary elements to primary, it become 10-18 percent chance. You are correct—those are relatively infinitesimally small odds for a growing child. It would be a terrible sacrifice to postpone a child's development and bet on those odds.

"Do you know, Severus, that Mr. Potter did not reveal an element because he asked to be excluded from the test?"

The element test was a private affair. Of course he didn't know, and of course Albus did. Such an unorthodox request would be alerted to the headmaster first, and he had allowed it.

Severus took a deep breath. "Albus. You have a point. I have not heard it yet."

He wasn't smiling. "I could only sense that Mr. Potter had a primary in light on the day of the examination. Tom was always a brilliant student—he would have the ability to tell more, I believe...at any point in time that he wishes. To track his progress, perhaps?"

The winning lottery ticket. Severus thought he would rather like a drink, right now.

"It was a mistake to let him go."

Albus slowly shook his head. "There will be no battles on Hogwarts grounds."

"How much will it matter?"

Instead of answering—which was an incriminating answer by itself, Severus thought bitterly—Albus turned to look at the problem with another eye. "I believe there may be some good out of this. Fate works in mysterious ways, my boy—and we, powerful we may be, are still mortal and incapable of understanding Her. Why were you interested in Harry Potter? Why was I privy to information the rest of the world has been concealed from? Why, on that day, did Tom decide to step forward? Ah…we may never know, dear boy. We may never know…and yet…"

"I saw her," and him, "in his eyes," in his face, "but Lily and James never had a child." I would know. Severus, of all people, would know.

Albus sighed. He was beginning to hate that sound.

"Tell me, my boy, what do you know about prophecies?"