--Hog's Head Pub/Inn, Hogsmeade Village, Early 1980--
Albus Dumbledore, better known as the Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, apparated in Hogsmeade Village. It was nighttime, and it was eerily silent in the Hogsmeade village.
It was not strange in these turbulent times. Despite having the support and assurance of the nearby school, Hogwarts, it was hard to trust external elements. People who had bravery and trust in those assurances had vanished into the dark night, never to be seen again. Fathers, mothers, friends… you didn't know who to trust.
"Such dark, troubled times," sighed the wizened old man to himself. "But no matter," he thought, "the children at least should have the right to learn. Hogwarts must stand." He stopped in front of the dingy and dark inn. "And that brings me here."
He knocked on the inn's door, and it abruptly opened. Dumbledore was greeted by a grumpy, old man looking not unlike himself. He stared at Dumbledore for a moment and then let him in. He just turned around and went behind the counter, back to whatever he was doing.
Dumbledore sighed and closed the wooden door. He started walking toward the tables where the shady, gray people sat, drinking their cheap mead. He stopped in front of the counter and turned to the man.
"Anyone I should be concerned about, Abeforth?" asked Dumbledore quietly.
The man, Abeforth, snorted at that. He placed the cup and cloth on the counter and said, rather quietly but with a growl in his voice, "And what could trouble the great Albus Dumbledore? There are nothing but a bunch of rag-tags and petty thieves who are in for a drink and a place to stay."
Dumbledore sighed at his reply. After a moment, he asked, "She is here then? How is she?" peering at Abeforth.
Abeforth made a sound in his throat. "Nuisance!" he said, picking up the cloth and aggressively cleaning the cup. "Hasn't paid for her sherry for two days! Just keeps mumbling about divining my future and death! A goat, my arse!" he huffed at that.
Dumbledore smiled slightly. He surveyed the people sitting there and said, "A quiet and private place would be appreciated."
Abeforth grunted and pointed at one of the doors on the other side of the room.
Dumbledore nodded and proceeded to the door, but Abeforth called out, "You're paying all the extra coin! You hear me?!" Dumbledore gave a slight nod without turning and entered the door.
--After some time--
Sybil Trelawney entered the private stall and sat opposite Dumbledore. Trelawney was a witch coming from a family, which, at a time, had produced a great Seer, Cassandra Trelawney. As such, she viewed herself to be someone who would be a revered figure in the wizarding community.
"Sybil Trelawney, I presume?" Dumbledore asked the eccentric woman in strange clothes, sitting opposite to him.
"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore. Indeed I am," answered the woman in an ethereal voice.
Dumbledore smiled at her choice of words. "Headmaster? Surely Ms. Trelawney, you couldn't have predicted your acceptance so early, yes?" he asked, a little amused, hoping to test her.
"The Inner Eye does not lie, Dumbledore… I see myself in those halls, classrooms, exploring the realms of the mystic with the students," Trelawney replied in a soft whisper, caressing her hands.
"I see," said Dumbledore. Divination was a branch of magic he wasn't well-versed in. Certainly, he had closely observed someone who could… no matter. He had come prepared. He had referenced many memoirs left by those associated with mystics and Seers.
As the interview went on, Dumbledore became increasingly disappointed. Sybil Trelawney did not possess the gift of a Seer. There were no signs that she could divine, much less give a prophecy. He sighed. This trip had been unfruitful. It seemed that Divination would not be taught at Hogwarts.
"Ms. Trelawney—Sybil," he said, getting the attention of the woman, who was going on about the possible locations of Death Eaters.
"Sybil," said Dumbledore softly. "If you are interested in teaching any other courses at Hogwarts, in the future, you would be welcome to do so. Your expenses here, waiting for me till today, would be paid. Have a good and safe night." He turned to leave, but he heard a soft thud behind him. He looked behind and saw Sybil sitting in her seat, as if in a trance.
"Sybil, are you—" he was cut off as she started speaking in a strange 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 the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have 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…" her voice died off as her eyes closed, and she fell asleep. Unaware, she had changed the course of the future.
For a moment, Dumbledore stayed still, stunned. He was weighing the implications behind it, but a loud yell was heard from outside. He immediately cast a protective spell on Sybil and hurried outside.
The tables in the room were in a disarray. The cups and the mead in them were all over the place. He turned to find Abeforth returning while breathing heavily. He summoned a cup and conjured some water and handed it to Abeforth.
"What happened, Abeforth?" he asked anxiously as Abeforth downed the cup.
"After the girl went in, I cleared the tables near your stall. But sometime after this bloke comes in, wearing his hood and all dark. Orders something and sits conveniently near ya door. One moment I'm gone, and when I return I see him peeking in your stall. He immediately makes a run for it when he sees me. I yell for 'im and go out, but he's gone. And when I come back all these bastards are gone! Scums!" Abeforth spat as he recounted what happened.
"Did you recognize this man?" asked Dumbledore gravely.
Abeforth gave him a look. "That bad, eh? But it's one of yours, of course," he said derisively.
"Name, Abeforth," repeated Dumbledore, somewhat sternly this time.
"Severus Snape. Hear he is in the inner circle of those low-lives," grunted Abeforth.
Dumbledore exhaled heavily. This meeting had taken a turn for the worse. He had gotten a clue to possibly end the tyranny of the Dark Lord, Voldemort. But was it going to be ruined? No, he won't let that happen. He had to start a search and alert the Order.
"I'm taking the lady with me to Hogwarts, Abeforth," Dumbledore informed.
"You pay first for all of this and then do what you want! I need money to—" As the conversation between the two brothers progressed, they didn't hear the mutterings of the woman inside the stall.
"To fulfill the fate that was already written… And another chance at life that was mistakenly taken…"
Unknown Location, Britain, The same night
Severus Snape stood before the Dark Lord, head down, breathing heavily. The remnants of the Cruciatus Curse still sending tremors through him. He didn't dare look the Dark Lord in the eye. He waited for the man to speak, lest he be whipped for his insolence.
"Ah, Severus," the man finally spoke, albeit softly. His voice was accompanied by the soft hiss of great dread. It made Severus sick to the stomach. Wondering what went through the Dark Lord's mind was a pastime he would not have.
"You need not mind my little punishment. Pain, as I've seen, is a great motivator for excellence. I hope you will learn, Severus," spoke the Dark Lord, Voldemort, clearly expecting a reply.
"Yes, my lord," replied Snape, exhaling softly through his nose, so as not to show weakness.
After a while, Voldemort recited the prophecy, which was only the first half. His "little punishment" had been the result of the incomplete intel.
"It's amusing to see how quacks such as this woman could predict the downfall of, I, Lord Voldemort. But nonetheless, her blood comes from a gifted Seer. It would be unwise to ignore the signs, no, Severus?" said Voldemort almost rhetorically.
"My lord is wise," said Snape, bowing a little.
"I'm aware, Severus. And that is why you shall be rewarded for your efforts. You seek the half-blood girl, no? My Death Eaters tirelessly find her, Severus. She would be yours," said Voldemort, magnanimously.
"I'm grateful, my lord," Snape replied, a little tense. Hearing about the woman from Voldemort didn't make him happy, no, it put him on edge. It was as though he was tainting her.
"No matter," Voldemort waved his hand. "Start the search, Severus. Find the fools who have defied me…Those who may or may not birth a child. I shall quell the fire before it spreads."
"Yes, my lord. It shall be done," replied Snape, apprehensively, bowing and hurrying outside.
--October, 1980--
After a thorough search of the entire wizarding community in Britain, both sides in the war, who were aware of the prophecy, realized there were only two families who fit the description: the Potters and the Longbottoms. The Dark Lord had gained a spy on the other side, which he deemed a threat: the Potters.
Snape was distraught. Despite repeated reassurances from his lord, he continued to be uneasy.
The information had stopped the search, and Voldemort's unrestrained killings of the families who had defied him.
--31 July, 1980, Godric's Hollow--
James and Lily Potter welcomed their son, Harry Potter, into this world with great happiness.
--The Same Day, Longbottom's Home--
As the 30th day of July died, Neville Longbottom was born, unknown to the fact that sharing the day of his birth had saved him from death. But Fate always finds a way… and the price shall be paid.