The Prophecy That Never Was: Book 1

Prologue

I apologize in advance for the gigantic AN.

This is a new Fanfiction that I've been thinking about for a while. It will mostly switch between the POV of Hermione, Harry, and Neville. This is an Alternate Universe where the prophecy was never made, and there is no Boy-Who-Lived. Voldemort is defeated approximately 7 years later than in cannon. It will feature a Manipulative!Dumbledore who thinks he is doing the right thing, but he is corrupted by dark magic

The events before Chapter 1 will cause far-reaching consequences, so you can only assume that what happened before the Prophecy is true. Anything after that may be different. I will try to keep characterizations fairly consistent, but these characters grew up differently than in cannon. They won't be exactly the same, and many will hide surprises. Take nothing for granted unless I say it in the AN.

Horcruxes are still in play, so Voldemort may return. Harry, Hermione, and Neville will be important to the story. Expect about half of the chapters to be from the POV of Hermione, a quarter will be Harry's perspective, and the remaining quarter will be Neville. There will be other POVs, such as Voldemort or Dumbledore as side chapters, but these won't be used for the timeline other than the prologue.

I don't think there will be significant bashing of the Ron, although he won't be a main character. No other Weasley bashing.

Warnings: Death, Fighting, Sporadic Updates. The prologue is very dark, but short, and death and torture will be discussed.

Ships: So far, none. And it will remain this way until at least 4th year (I think).

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter Universe. At all.

It is a dark night, the darkest of the month as well as the longest night of the year, and Albus Dumbledore knows that today is when his magic is at its weakest. The moon is new; not even a tiny sliver of light shines in the sky other than the cold, unfeeling stars. Tonight is the Winter Solstice, normally a time for celebration around a nice warm fire, inside of a cozy house. If it wasn't for the war, he himself would be curled up on a sofa with a mug of hot cocoa and a good book on Alchemy. But tonight, when light magic is at its weakest, the dark rules. Tonight is when Voldemort is at his strongest. And Albus Dumbledore is certain that tonight would be the night he attacks Hogwarts.

It is a good place for a last stand, if any such place could be called good. The caverns and crevices in the mountains provide good places to hide and break up the soon-to-be battlefield. Voldemort's troops are be useless here – giants cannot fit where Dumbledore would hide, and infantry would be hindered by the rugged terrain. Once, Dumbledore would have preferred a battlefield where he could use large amounts of troops, but alas, the Order of the Phoenix is nearly destroyed. The Ministry is overrun, barely holding out to see another sunrise. Tonight, it will likely fall.

Diagon Alley is gone. All that remains is rubble and ash, covered in tents where refugees live, a few solitary buildings rising out of the ruins, Gringotts among them. Hogsmeade is controlled by Voldemort, and is where he made his gleaming fortress. The light side still holds St. Mungo's, but not for long. Not many people remain to fight back.

Dumbledore breaths in deeply. Tonight may be his last night alive. If he loses this battle, Voldemort will gain the Elder Wand, and will be able to conquer all of magical Britain, and probably the world. Contrary to the legend, the Elder Wand does not make one invincible. It is simply an incredibly powerful wand. However, if Voldemort controls it, then he would practically be invincible. The Elder Wand has been all that allowed Dumbledore to fight against the dark wizard, although it was the thing that held him back all these years. He had told himself to wait, for he could not risk the wand. Even as Voldemort swept through the country, unleashing chaos and destruction across the land, Dumbledore waited. But now he can wait no more.

No matter what, he must protect the school.

And that is why Dumbledore stands, alone, in the mountains, not far from Hogwarts, looking down upon Hogsmeade below. Soon, Voldemort will come, and they will fight. Dumbledore only hopes that the last members of the Order of the Phoenix will be able to hold out for long enough for the outcome to be decided. Brave Amelia Bones, who had survived despite the deaths of her brother, mother, and father. She would fight hard for her niece back at home. Sirius Black, who continued on in the face of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal and James's death. Lily Potter, who would fight alongside him and Remus Lupin. Molly Weasley would stay at home, at Dumbledore's insistence. She has children to look after, now that Arthur Weasley had died in the Battle for the Ministry. It was likely that she would attempt to sneak into the fighting along with her usual rant about sexism, but Dumbledore had told Dirk Creswell to be on the lookout for her. Professor McGonagall would fight to defend her home and her students, who were nearly her children. As would many others. But it may not be enough.

Dumbledore waits for what feels like years, until there was a cracking sound behind him. He spins around, wand raised, to see Voldemort. Just as he had suspected.

"Tom. I thought you would come." Voldemort just smiles – an evil expression, that makes his eyes look as if they are not on fire, but made of fire itself.

"You insist on calling me that ridiculous name, old fool." Voldemort says quietly. His voice is almost whisked away by the wind, and yet Dumbledore can hear it clearly. "No matter. You shall die soon, so it shall not harm anyone for you to have that last pleasure beforehand."

"So confident that you shall win. Remember that such is the attitude of the fool. Fate plays games with us all." Dumbledore says softly, but sternly. He knows that this fight needs to be finished quickly for the defenders of Hogwarts to hold out, but he cannot let Voldemort discover this. If he does, then Voldemort would make sure to draw the conflict out. And so he continues the usual conversation, the usual attempts to play teacher, in hopes that he will seem as if he cares nothing for the time.

"Eager to duel?" Voldemort asks. He laughs quickly. Not the maniacal laughter that one would expect, but rather the soft sound of someone that knows they are the only one who understands the joke, and is amused. "I suppose I shall have to oblige." Quick as lightening, Voldemort shoots forth a beam of darkness, which Dumbledore easily dodges despite his old age. Like thunder, his attack lags behind, but it makes up for its in power. The ceiling of the cave begins to collapse on Voldemort, rubble the size of cars threatening to crush the dark wizard under its weight.

Yet Voldemort easily shields against it, and when the dust has cleared, him and Dumbledore are standing high on the mountain, alone. Dumbledore sends forth a torrent of water, which Voldemort turns into fire. Neither wizard seems remotely taxed by this. Dumbledore conjures a barrage of daggers; which Voldemort turns into snakes. Those snakes are in turn burned by purple fire that comes pouring forth from Dumbledore's wand. Within those flames, a ghostly phoenix is visible, urging the fire onwards, destroying all that it touches.

"Fiendfyre." Voldemort says, seemingly impressed. "So you wish to play that game." He too conjures fire, this a deep red, the color of blood, which is lead by a dark snake. The fire turns black in a few moments, meeting the purple flames head on.

Dumbledore casts a beam of light at Voldemort, but it is met head-on with an identical beam of darkness. Both wizards push, with all their might, all their magical strength. For a second, it seems that pure light has won, but the darkness pushes through, wrapping itself around Dumbledore, strangling the life out of him.

The space around Dumbledore explodes, and he emerges, covered in a bubble of light. Dumbledore now causes the ground below Voldemort to collapse, who does the same to Dumbledore. They both fall into the cavern below, landing on both feet, though now they are separated.

"Even the great Dumbledore, protector of the light, hides from me!" Voldemort crows, weaving among the stalagmites. A burst of energy shoots forwards, causing Voldemort to dodge. He conjures a snake, which slithers forth from his wand, leading him to the place under where the old wizard is hiding. Dumbledore drops down from the ceiling, conjuring a wave of pure light as he does. It seems as if Voldemort will be swept away, but he pulls himself out, directing blasts of energy at the stalactites on the ceiling. They fall down, hitting the ground with large crashes, several of them nearly missing Dumbledore.

"It's not to late, Tom!" Dumbledore cries, sending a bolt of lightening at Voldemort. "You can still redeem yourself!"

"Do you really think that I would ever do that?" Voldemort asks, disgusted. He counters the lightening with a conjured shield and sends forth his own attack, a burst of black energy. Dumbledore blocks it with a shield of light giving him enough time to get out of the way before the dark wins out, gouging a deep hole in the cavern floor. Voldemort casts another spell, and enchantment, and from below them rises a gigantic creature, breaking through the cavern floor. It is made of stone, and incredibly large, and it scoops Dumbledore up in one hand. Dumbledore creates a shield of light, which keeps him from becoming crushed, but the strain in his face is visible as the shield begins to fail. The unyielding stone hand with a rune carved in the palm begins to close around him. It seems like Dumbledore is dead, but he makes the figure disintegrate with a torrent of flame. It crumbles into black dust, and he and Voldemort rise through a hole in the ceiling.

"You're losing." Voldemort says, sending his Fiendfyre at Dumbledore again. Dumbledore counters it, but just barely.

"Someday, even if I fall, someone shall destroy you." Dumbledore promises.

"Never." Voldemort says, shooting forth from this wand an advanced thirteen spell chain all three of the Unforgivable Curses at astounding speeds. "I have made myself immortal!" Dumbledore dodges twelve of those in the spell chain, but dives straight into another one. He is wracked with pain – his blood seems to be on fire as he screams. And then it's over, and Voldemort is standing over him, victorious.

"I have waited for this moment for so long," Voldemort begins, "and yet I am not quite sure what to say." Dumbledore grunts in pain as Voldemort wrestles his wand from his grip.

"Normally, the villain gloats when he has defeated his foe." Dumbledore suggests faintly, stalling for time as he attempts to think of a plan. But he has no wand, and Voldemort is to powerful. He's lost. It's over.

"You've lost." Voldemort says, echoing his thoughts. "I shall destroy everyone who dares to stand against me. I considered letting you live to watch it, but I am no idiot. You are too dangerous to be left alive."

"Please." Dumbledore pleads, reaching into his robes discreetly for his original wand, the one that he used in the battle against Grindelwald. But Voldemort notices, and steps down on it, hard, breaking it. The phoenix feather core snaps in two, and something in Dumbledore feels as though it's died. Tears fill the old wizard's eyes. This is not how he wanted to die, on the ground, at the mercy of one of his old students.

"Goodbye." Voldemort says, smirking. "I suppose that if you're beliefs are true, you're about to see Arianna and Aberforth now. I wonder what they'll think when they hear you failed. I suppose we'll just have to see. Time to join them, old man." And at that moment, something inside of Dumbledore snaps.

"NO!" Dumbledore cries. The killing curse disappears in a massive surge of black energy – power that Dumbledore had held in, no matter what the cost, power that had been too terrifying to ever use, that was best left alone. Power that no decent witch or wizard would ever consider using. The Darkness.

The whirlwind of nothingness surrounds Dumbledore, who leaps to his feet, eyes blazing. The Elder Wand returns to its master, and Voldemort is overcome by the swirling vortex. Dumbledore rises in the air, eyes seeing the very magic coursing through the world. Power, once locked away, is now at his fingertips. Voldemort has finally met his equal.

Now Voldemort is lying on the ground, and Dumbledore does not hesitate for a moment. It only takes a little bit of cracking in the soul to cast the killing curse. And Dumbledore has more than enough. Voldemort collapses, lifeless, mocking eyes now silent and glazed over. But the Darkness continues to swirl around, fueled by Dumbledore's righteous anger with the world that crippled and killed Arianna Dumbledore, that forced him to kill Gellert Grindelwald, that made the dead members of the Order of the Pheonix sacrifice their lives to a cause because Dumbledore said it was worth it. Worth the death. Worth the pain. Nothing can stop the anger now. It sweeps through the ranks of Deatheaters, waiting at the foot of the mountain in case Voldemort may need reinforcements. All of them fall dead in an instant, but the Darkness continues on.

From within the spiral, Dumbledore senses it nearing the battle, and tries desperately to reign it in. He cannot let it reach the fighting, or else everyone, Order members and Deatheaters alike, will die. He screams, trying with all of his might to control the Darkness, trying not to let it control him. It is a constant battle, an eternal struggle between light and dark, that lies within his soul. It only takes a little bit of cracking. And Dumbledore has quite a lot.

The Darkness seeps into those cracks, making them widen and grow, taking more and more control as Dumbledore continues to fight. But it's the same thing that started the Darkness that reigns it in. A little girl, no more than 12, is out in the Hogwarts courtyard when a Deatheater breaks through. She screams in fright, blonde pigtails flying as she stumbles backwards. She reminds Dumbledore of Arianna, and he is consumed by pain, pain and love that blocks out all else, leaving no room for the anger and the destruction.

The Darkness ebbs away, leaving Dumbledore in the middle of a circle of destruction, crumpled on the ground atop rubble and dead bodies. Deatheaters. Voldemort is no where to be found. Dumbledore comes to his senses, and struggles to his feet. At Hogwarts, the Deatheaters retreat, learning of their dead master, cowards racing away from the fight. The members of the Order of the Phoenix begin to tend to their wounded, helping the Hogwarts students fighting in the battle. Dumbledore breathes a sigh of relief.

And then he sees what he has done. Seven Deatheaters lay dead on the ground, bodies broken and lifeless, skin burned away by the pure darkness as if they came from the aftermath of a nuclear explosion. Voldemort gone, presumably vanquished, his robes and wand lying on the ground. "No." Dumbledore whispers, sinking to his knees as he sees the circle of destruction before him, his creation, undeniably his fault. "No. What have I done?"

There will likely be a long wait before any other chapter. I checked – the moon was not new at this point in time, but it works for the story. Let's just say it's magic. I'm using the soul the way it's used in the books, but if you don't want to think about it like that pretend it's the mind.