Nexus (The Demigod Wizard)

Tom Riddle

The rest of the month passed mostly the same for Percy. He had detention with Umbridge every night, writing the same line. He now had deep scarring on the skin, but thankfully had been able to pass off his bandage as getting bitten by a bowtruckle during Care of Magical Creatures.

Harry and Ron had been talking endlessly about Quidditch. Percy had decided to drop the sport that year, as he didn't want to have to worry about the team while also working for the Order. Hermione has take to making clothes for house elves in the Gryffindor common room. Percy couldn't knit but had provided her with yarn for her efforts. He had been shocked and disturbed to see Ron and Harry straight up blowing her off. Was that normal? Did the two boys often disregard Hermione, and take her for granted? Percy couldn't believe they didn't appreciate her more.

His work with the Order and Dumbledore was more eventful. He had evening classes with Dumbledore every Sunday evening right after training in the Room of Requirement. Dumbledore showed him memories of Voldemort using his pensieve. Percy had learned about Voldemort's backstory, from his conception under a love motion and mortal father to his unfulfilled desire of being a Hogwarts teacher.

Percy considered that last memory he had seen the previous week as he headed towards Dumbledore's office on that last Sunday of September. Inside, the old man was petting his phoenix.

"Perseus," he greeted upon seeing the demigod.  "Come, come."

Percy walked over to the pensieve, ready for the next memory.

Dumbledore smiled, dropping his hand away from his bird. "Ah yes, you know the rhythm. I must tell you that the memory you will see today will be different than previous lessons."

Percy frowned. "How so, sir?" He asked curiously.

The old man plucked a vial of silver memory from his rack and held it light in his frail fingers. "This is not of Voldemort, but of a prophecy concerning him."

Percy stared, the pieces connecting in his head. Annabeth had always called him a Seaweed Brain, but he was clever when it went beyond school. He had never been book smart, but she never gave him credit for being able to talk his way out of many fights. Percy had been noticing things like that recently, realizing how unhealthy his relationship—and friendship—with Annabeth had been.

"Is this the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries?" Percy asked.

Dumbledore dipped his head as he unstoppered the bottle. "Indeed, Perseus. And you shall see now why it is imperative that neither Harry or Voldemort see this."

Percy was apprehensive. He watched Dumbledore tip the memory into the pensieve. He made determined eye contact with the old man before dipping his head into the memory.

His body was pulled down, swirling like shadow travel. He formed inside a room in the Leaky Cauldron, a younger Dumbledore by his side. The vision blurred, and then Sibyll Trelawney was there, Smokey and dazed.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," she hissed in a raspy voice. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord shall 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."

Percy jerked his head up, gasping. Water dripped from his soaking hair—that was part of the pensieve no one talked about. He turned and stared at Dumbledore, eyes wide.

"What—?" He gasped, wiping his face.

"The prophecy speaks that the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born at the end of July," Dumbledore began.