Hello, all! Oh, I am SO happy to be back! I know I said my next effort would probably be a sixth year fic. Surprise! It's seventh. It started out as a sixth year, really! However, my pesky muse once again decided to broadside me, and I appear to be left with this. I have it outlined, but it's rather different than my previous efforts, so please, constructive criticism would be much appreciated!

To those of you who have reviewed my previous stuff after it was complete, I have to thank you all. I am VERY aware of some of the discrepancies, but occasionally (like at three in the morning!) some of this stuff slides past me. Apologies! You'll all be relieved to know that I've acquired a beta to make sure these little problems don't happen. James Milamber has graciously agreed to beta my stuff – isn't he wonderful?

As the title indicates, this fic is about trust. It will be a theme running throughout, and there may be times when you feel your favorite character is not performing true to canon. I have found, however, that when faced with damaged trust, we are ALL capable of reacting in ways that are not true to form. Bear with me, please, as I attempt to tell the story.

Again, I am not, nor have I ever claimed to be, the wonderful JK Rowling, so therefore, her characters are not mine, and I claim nothing as my own except the extreme pleasure I get from playing with the magnificent world that she has created.

CQ

Chapter One: Prophecies

"They will come, three together

Four, five, six shall follow.

One begins what they together must complete.

Four and two, three and three,

two, two, two.

Six together, in their power.

As in all things, the end is the beginning,

the beginning, the end.

For one to lead, another must follow,

For one to succeed, another must fail,

For one to live, another must die.

For balance must remain in all things.

To find the power to vanquish hate, he must know love.

Of friends, of comrades, of mate.

They will come, three together

Four, five, six shall follow.

One begins what they together must complete.

Four and two, three and three,

two, two, two.

Six together, in their power.

As in all things, the end is the beginning,

the beginning, the end.

For one to lead, another must follow,

For one to succeed, another must fail,

For one to live, another must die.

For balance must remain in all things.

To find the power to vanquish hate, he must know love.

Of friends, of comrades, of mate.

They will come, three together..."

"Do we have a name?"

"Nope, someone said they thought she was a muggle..." the mediwizard pushing the gurney stated.

The mediwitch from St Mungoes leaned over and looked down into the catatonic eyes set in the pretty face. The girl was dressed in bright clothing, and looked as though she'd been out clubbing in muggle London.

"Why did they bring her here, then?"

"Two aurors at the scene, said the club is burned to the ground. Death Eaters. And they found this one wandering around the outside of the building, bleeding and chanting," the second mediwizard said. "They said that Dumbledore needed to see her. They think it's a prophecy."

The mediwitch immediately began scribbling down what the young woman was saying. It wasn't difficult to catch, as she was repeating it over and over again in the same soft, droning voice.

The same mediwitch was sitting with the patient later, after they had healed her injuries, and watching her closely. She had her quill and parchment ready, although there didn't seem to be a real need. The girl had continued to repeat the same thing, and she'd already written it down three times. She was now merely mumbling, but the same words, again and again.

The door opened and a tall, elderly wizard came through. He glanced down at the mediwitch and smiled.

"Professor Dumbledore," she smiled back. She'd only left Hogwarts three years before, and remembered the headmaster with affection.

"Julia Spinnet. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you, sir," she blushed at his remembering her name.

"And your patient?"

"Well... she keeps repeating this, over and over..." Julia handed him the parchment.

"Ah, yes..." the old wizard nodded as he read. "I do think..."

He was interrupted by a scream. They turned as one to see the young muggle woman sitting up straight in bed, her eyes wide and frightened, staring straight ahead.

"She is born this night.

The mate to the One is born.

Seven of seven of seven of seven,

She carries the magic of the ancients.

Her likeness to give him life,

she to hold it."

And with this, the young woman crumpled into a heap on the bed.

"Get the healer," Dumbledore spoke calmly, his eyes not meeting those of the young mediwitch, but his words seemingly deliberate. "These young muggles and their muggle drugs... messing about in things they don't understand..."

And Julia fled.