May 4th 1980

The wind was howling like a horde of banshees through the streets of Hogsmeade, as Albus Dumbledore made his way to Hog's Head Inn. Holding his robes together with one hand, Albus mused that the wailing, though unseasonal, quite suited his mood, as well as the mood of Wizarding Britain at the moment.

Voldemort, or as Albus knew him, Tom Riddle, had spent the last decade consolidating his power. Both magically and politically. With clever, well-coordinated attacks, and by using the resources of the pureblood families that flocked to his cause, Tom had managed to cower much of Magical Britain into a very half-hearted fight.

Albus's brainchild, the Order of the Phoenix, which represented the hope and light of goodness, had managed to rescue some people, but had failed in achieving any permanent victories of importance. Though many still stood tall, like the Potters and Longbottoms, many others had already fallen. The pain of their loss still stung Albus's heart. The Prewett brothers, the Bones family, the McKinnons, all lost to Tom's attacks. And every time, by the time Albus got there to try and catch Tom in a fight, and finally end it, Riddle was already gone, the Dark Mark hanging in the sky like a grinning malevolent calling card.

Everyone had asked Albus to end it, and he had tried, but Tom was no fool. Though powerful, Tom didn't want to risk a protracted engagement with Albus. Such a thing would allow the Order and Barty's Aurors to erect an anti-apparition/disapparition jinx to trap and overwhelm Tom with sheer numbers.

And so Riddle, as the avatar of all of Slytherin's worst aspects, used his cunning and connections to infiltrate the ministry from within. To begin to turn the press and populace slowly to his side. To change the weight of numbers and authority, so when Riddle decided to face Albus, he would be the one with backup.

And Albus had no way to stop him.

With Tom's prodigious Legilimency skills, no spy within the Death Eater ranks lasted long enough to matter. And the few times Albus thought he had succeeded in planting someone, that individual was found out and turned, via Imperius, into a double agent, costing many more lives. Albus had stopped trying.

But the truth was, without inside information, Albus had nothing. He had no way to cover the whole country from Tom's attacks, and no way to predict where the attacks would be targeted so as to place people there to protect the innocent, or catch the guilty.

And as the populace suffered, and the dissenting voices were silenced, the resistance was waning. Another year, two at the most, and Tom would win. The purpose of the Order of the Phoenix, to provide and inspire hope, was failing.

Albus, and by extension, the rest of Britain, magical and Muggle, needed a miracle.

There was one place, however, that was still safe. Hogwarts itself. Albus couldn't seek out Tom, but Tom would not attack Hogwarts either. Maybe because of Albus himself, or maybe because Tom still had a soft a spot in what was left of his heart for his first home.

Hogwarts and the students were safe, and to keep the school open, Albus needed to have enough teachers, which is why he was here on this a windy night. He had a candidate to interview.

Though she didn't have much in the way of good recommendations or references, Sybill Trelawney had a lineage. Descended from the famous Cassandra the Unerring, Albus hoped the gift had passed down in some way. Having a verified Seer on staff would certainly be useful, both to the school, and the Order, if he could convince her to join.

And so, despite his inclination to remove Divination from the curriculum, due to the nature of the course not being widely applicable to the vast majority of students, Albus decided to give her a chance.

As he approached the door to Hog's Head, Albus vainly hoped that Abe wouldn't give him too much grief today. Quickly casting a Notice-Me-Not charm on himself, and grasping his robes tightly around him, Albus opened the door to the inn and walked inside. The low murmur of conversation only ebbed for a moment as people turned to see who opened the door to the wind, but quickly resumed as the charm convinced people it was no one of importance. Albus paused for a moment to appreciate the warmth of the low fire, and found a mirror image of his own eyes staring back at him. Aberforth saw past the charm, and was glaring at him with a barely restrained fury, little diminished since the day Abe had broken Albus's nose decades ago.

Nodding his head quickly, Albus walked around and right past the bar to climb the stairs that led to the candidate's room, where the interview would take place. After a quick knock, and an answering call to enter, Albus entered room #7. A slim little waif of a woman stood to greet him, wearing enormously thick glasses that exaggerated her eyes severely. Wrapped in what some of his continental friends might call "gypsy garb", she seemed more like a muggle charlatan pretending to be a seer than an actual one. Albus always strived to not judge people by their appearance alone, but she was not making a good impression.

10 minutes later, he was even less impressed.

Albus knew of the reality of prophecies, and the fact that a hall of prophecies existed, but the rest of the subject of Divination was one that he found way too vague to be of any use. Unfortunately, Ms. Trelawney was living up to every stereotype of that subject. There was no way of verifying even one of the predictions she made, and nothing at all that would be even close to useful.

Some of Albus's feelings must have shown on his face, because Sybill became progressively more shrill and apocalyptic in her predictions as the interview went on.

There was a scraping sound outside the door, followed by the sounds of a scuffle. Albus stood suddenly, intent on checking for the cause of the sound, when Sybill, mistaking his motion for dismissal, cried "No, don't leave! I can See you are in grave dang…" before her eyes suddenly rolled back and with a grunting noise she stood and spoke with a harsh voice:

"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...

and while the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, the phoenix will mark him as the champion…

thrice and thrice again will he then be marked…

once by the phoenix to survive the unsurvivable…

twice by the phoenix when returning to his world…

thrice by the phoenix in the serpent's abyss…

fourth by the phoenix to reignite the ancient light…

fifth by the phoenix when hope's light redeems the innocent…

sixth by the phoenix when the darkness is reborn…

seventh by the phoenix when True Love is embraced…

Seven times will he be marked before he holds the power the Dark Lord knows not...

and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...

the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Albus stood transfixed.

That was real.

"…er! You are in grave danger Headmaster! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is coming for you! I see him!" cried Sybill, seemingly oblivious to her transcendental state of the past minute.

"I would really hope so" whispered Albus.

"What do you mean?!" gasped Trelawney.

"Because no one else would then get hurt." answered Albus. "As for your application… You are hired."

No one could know of this prophecy, and Sybill had to be protected, just in case she started remembering her trances. What other choice did he have?

"Really?! Oh thank you!... But of course I knew you would… No doubt in my mind. After all, I had Seen this long ago" exclaimed Sybill, quickly recomposing herself from her apparent shock.

"Of course my dear" said Albus kindly "Please feel free to head into the castle and seek out Minerva McGonagall, she'll help you settle in, and we will work out the details in the morning. I will see you tomorrow, good night."

While she bustled around to gather her belongings, Albus gathered himself and left the room, his mind analyzing the prophecy he just heard. His perfect recall allowed him to see Sybill pronounce it again and again, and though the overall meaning seemed clear, like all prophecies, it was vague enough to mean many things. Heading downstairs, he saw Aberforth motion towards the back office of the inn with a curt jerky motion of his head. Message understood, Albus headed there quickly.

Entering the back office, Albus saw a young man of about 20, with dark, lanky hair and pale skin laying on the floor, bound in conjured ropes. As the young man turned to look at him, Albus recognized him immediately. Severus Snape, the potions prodigy from Slytherin, who had graduated 2 years prior, and like many of his house, joined Tom as a Death Eater. With a jerk of his wand Albus unrolled Snape's sleeve, revealing the Mark underneath. With a look of pity, disgust and disappointment Albus looked into Snape's eyes and asked "What were you doing outside of that room?", while simultaneously probing his mind with a silent Legilimens.

"Nothing, I was simply walking by to get another room!" said Snape.

"You are lying, Mr. Snape." said Albus, clearly seeing in Snape's mind Tom's orders to gather information about Hogwarts. "Do you truly underestimate me so much you would attempt a blatant lie?"

"Fine..." answered Snape "I took the opportunity to find out something about you for the Dark Lord... Your time is nearly up Old Man. My Lord's victory is near at hand."

"That is yet to be seen, boy" answered Dumbledore. "Now what was that spell of James's that you were so fond of? Oh yes, Levicorpus!"

Snape was jerked upward and hung by his ankles, with his face at head height with Albus. The only thing that kept Snape modest were the Incarcerous ropes holding his robes around his body.

"Do your worst old man! That spell is mine, and one day everything of Potter's will be mine too!" yelled Snape, as his face was finally gaining color, albeit a bright red one as his blood rushed into his head.

"This spell may have been your invention, but like many of your decisions over the last several years, it has now been turned against you by your own foolish, arrogant and spiteful choices" answered Albus cooly. "What did you hear?" asked Albus, as he was again simultaneously probing Snape's mind to get the truth.

"I heard everything! The whole prophecy! You'll have to kill me if you don't want the Dark Lord to find out!" spat Snape at Albus. But Albus saw the truth in his mind. All Snape had heard was the very first sentence, before Aberforth caught, bound and stunned him.

Albus let Snape rant for a few minutes as he thought of what to do next. Should he release him? Was it worthwhile to allow Tom the knowledge that a prophecy existed at all? Albus was confident that he could protect Sybill in the castle, and only he knew the full prophecy.

He tried to foresee the plays.

The coming champion was already alive, possibly within the womb of one of two women he knew personally and well. Lily Potter and Alice Longbottom. Both were due to give birth in late July or the beginning of August... And both the Potters and Longbottoms had indeed 'defied' Tom three times in six different engagements, most recently when both James and Lily memorably gave Riddle the two-finger salute as they managed to escape a trap he had set for them when targeting Lily's parents.

The boy must be protected. But how?

Tom needed to be distracted from his plans. In his current pace, Tom would win well ahead of any chance for the boy to grow into whatever power he is supposed to have. The Potters and Longbottoms would perish just as the McKinnons and Prewetts did. If Albus imprisoned Snape, or even just wiped his memory, what would be gained? Nothing.

On the other hand, releasing Snape would allow Riddle to know of the existence of a prophecy... And what would be a greater distraction than a vague partial prophecy about a prophesied savior to battle him? Tom was obsessive. Any threat, or potential threat to his growing power would take first priority in his mind. Tom would stop at nothing to find out about the whole thing, which meant he had to do one of two things. Defeat Albus, or infiltrate the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. Even with all of Tom's current connections, that would take time. Time that would make Tom impatient, and cause him to make mistakes.

With all luck, Tom would be foolish enough to attack the castle to get at Sybill, just to get the rest of the prophecy. Albus could have the entire Order there in minutes with Sirius's communication mirrors.

Yes. This was the best option. He will secure Sybill in the castle, and hide away the Potters, Longbottoms and any other family that fit the parameters of the prophecy. With Tom driven to obsession by the pursuit for the prophecy, Albus and the Order could capitalize on any mistakes made by Riddle to turn the tide of the war. The value of prophecy as propaganda was also not lost on Albus. People believed in them, even when they didn't understand their true meaning.

Yes. This was the right thing to do.

Albus tuned back into the ranting and raving Snape, now quite purple, still yelling obscenities at him. With a thin smile, Albus released the Levicorpus, allowing Snape to drop to the ground unceremoniously, smacking his face on the hard floor. As Snape was catching his breath, Albus released the ropes as well, allowing the boy to slowly rise to his feet.

"Run back to your master, boy... and let him know his days are numbered." Albus chuckled. "A true Seer is never wrong, and Tom will not win. Run back and lick his boots, silly child. You will never deserve Lily, especially as you continue this ill-thought quest for power through a master who does not share any... Run. You'll find your wand outside of the inn door, in the water barrel."

Snape appeared to fume for a moment, then considered his chances quickly before turning and running straight out of the door and out of the inn.

'There's quite a bit of work to do' thought Albus, as he walked out of the inn after nodding his thanks to Aberforth. 'If all goes well, the champion might not even be necessary' he thought 'maybe the power Tom knows not is the love of a family that would fight for the champion. After all, prophecies are vague things, and the "champion" might simply be a harbinger of victory for the Light'...

Little did Albus Dumbledore, the wisest and most powerful wizard of the age, know that he would be proven very wrong, yet again. And yet, he wasn't completely wrong. The little dark haired, green eyed boy born to James and Lily Potter on July 31st of 1980 would indeed bring a reprieve and salvation to Britain, but not in as neat a way Albus had hoped. Between July 31st of 1980 and Oct 31st of 1981 many turns would be taken in the war. Many things would happen.

Secrets. Mistakes. Betrayals. Sacrifices. Miracles.

And the legend of the Boy-Who-Lived would begin.