Harry Potter and the Legend of the Twelve

The Prophecy of the Twelve

Hermione sat in her office behind her desk. She was marking some assignments Lily and Hugo had done for their elementary lessons. It was May second, just about ten o'clock in the morning. She couldn't help but think of the anniversary. Twenty years ago that day, Voldemort had fallen.

As Hermione contemplated the turns life had taken since that day, the fire in the fireplace erupted in emerald flames, and out stepped Kingsley Shackelbolt.

"Kingsley," said Hermione. "What a pleasant surprise."

"It's nice to see you, Hermione," said Kingsley. "I wish I could stay, but I only have a minute. I'm late for an appointment, but I wanted to deliver this book Harry wanted. I finally managed to get it. I made sure no one has examined it. Please tell Harry I'm sorry it took so long, and if he needs anything else, he shouldn't hesitate to ask."

With that, Kingsley placed a book on her desk, threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire, and stepped back into the emerald flames.

Hermione picked up the book and looked at the title, 'The Prophecy of The Twelve'. She almost opened it, but didn't. Whatever this was all about, it involved them all, but Harry most of all. He needed to be there when it was opened. She put it down on her desk and hurried off to find the others.

In the Potions classroom, an argument, like so many that had occurred that year, was underway between father and son. Draco had tried everything he could to control Scorpius, but there was no use. He was uncontrollable. Draco was left with little choice.

"That's it," bellowed Draco, losing his temper after promising himself over and over that he wouldn't. "When the term is over, and we leave, your wand will be broken and we are not returning to school. I will not allow you to continue to act this way!"

"I'll do whatever I like," screamed Scorpius viciously.

"You will go to your dorm and stay there until I come for you," yelled Draco.

Draco knew he had no other choice. Scorpius was a troublemaker and a bully, but it was even more than that. Even the Flint brothers had abandoned him because of his behavior. Scorpius was cruel to people and went out of his way to be mean and nasty. Draco loved his son dearly, but he had done everything he could, and thought Scorpius might be beyond help.

"Why should I do anything you say?" demanded Scorpius. "Mum left because you're spineless and weak."

"Maybe I am," said Draco trying to remain calm. "I made mistakes, and I will pay for them for the rest of my life. I want better for you. Go to your dorm and calm down, and I will come speak with you shortly."

"I will not," bellowed Scorpius. Scorpius drew his wand and pointed it at the dagger on the wall. "Accio dagger."

The dagger flew from the wall to Scorpius' hand. Scorpius lunged toward his father, burying the dagger deep in his father's chest. Draco staggered back as Scorpius let go of the dagger, and Draco landed against the wall and slid to the floor.

Draco drew a ragged breath. A breath he knew would be his last. He felt his life draining from the wound, his blood soaking into his robes. The last thing Draco saw in this life was his son whom he loved so much, walk up to him and unceremoniously withdraw the dagger from his chest.

"Pathetic," Scorpius mumbled. "I should have done that a long time ago."

It was the last thing Draco ever heard.

In the Headmistress's Office, the six adult members of The Twelve gathered around the desk. For a few minutes, they all stood there and stared at the book, lost in thought. It was Harry who finally broke the silence.