The Child of the Seventh Month

1. The Regained Prophecy

"Why did he try and kill me as a baby?" asked Harry. "He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then—"

"That might, indeed, have been the more practical course," said Dumbledore, "except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete.

"He heard only the first part, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait or to learn more. He did not know that you would have 'power the Dark Lord knows not' —"

– Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, chapter thirty-seven, The Lost Prophecy

. . .

. .

. . .

It was a cold and wet night, storms brewing on a dark horizon, droplets of water shattering across the rooftops of the village of Hogsmeade. Enchanted candlelights levitated behind the glass of the shop windows, their warm glow reflected in large puddles by the side of the main road. The wind howled and thrashed against the buildings, splattering icy rain across the windows and targeting any lost souls that dared to travel during such terrible conditions.

A lone figure crossed the road, muttering curses under their breath. A long cloak clung to the person's body, adorned with various pendants and colorful straps. A hood covered their face, shielding it from the rain and prying eyes, while a glittering necklace wrapped around it a few times kept it secure. The person sook cover under an awning to avoid the approaching harsh blow of the wind before continuing on their journey towards a rather unfriendly-looking back alley.

They tightened their hood and navigated through the shadows cast by the stores, approaching the end of the narrow street. A small, shady-looking establishment stood at the end of the alley, its wooden sign depicting a severed wild boar's head leaking blood onto the white cloth. "Hog's Head" the inscription under the animal's snout proudly stated.

The person hesitated and tried to glance inside the building through one of the opaque windows, but a layer of dust and the complete darkness inside wouldn't allow them to catch a glimpse of the bar. With a shaky breath, they pushed the main door open. It croaked terribly in the complete stillness of the inn.

The pub was void of people, and its steady calmness bordered on disturbing - the Hog's Head was well-known for its recurring fights, interesting clientele, and overall wild atmosphere. A few candles laid on the bar, marking a path towards the staircase at the back of the room. The unusual lack of customers and the more than alarming lack of the barman didn't stop the hooded person from climbing the staircase to reach the sitting room upstairs.

The first floor was almost as dark as the bar with the exception of the fire burning in the mantle. The hooded person saw the backs of two armchairs surrounding the source of light, and a youthful face of a girl who stared at her curiously from the portrait hung above.

They unwrapped the necklace from around their head and pulled the hood over their saturated form, revealing a head of flaky hair and huge spectacles covering large, owlish eyes. The eyes that swept frantically around the room in search of another living being.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Miss Trelawney," a smooth, low voice said.

She nearly jumped, startled, her shoulders tensing, hand reaching under her cloak to draw her wand. She adjusted her fogged glasses and saw the outline of a man sitting in one of the armchairs. Long, spidery fingers were spread out above the crackling fire as if he were trying to warm them.