Fated Encounter

December 24, 3:30 PM, Great Hall, Hogwarts

Adam Clarke

The twenty fourth found the Great Hall buzzing with festive energy. Despite the cheer around me, my plate was filled more out of habit than hunger. The whispers and sidelong glances felt like a constant needling, poking through the calm demeanor I presented to the world.

Still, I kept my composure as much as I could.

Seated at the Ravenclaw table, I ate quickly, not because I craved the food, but to distract myself from the gazes around me. The Great Hall, once a place of warmth, now felt like a stage where every single move I made was under scrutiny.

The festive decorations, the laughter, the general merriment— all of it blurred into a background of discomfort. Each moment seemed to stretch as I hurried through my meal, and the frustration finally began to bleed a little through my feigned calm.

As I hastily consumed my meal, the familiar voice of Su cut through the ambient noise from my left.

“Adam, what’s wrong?” She asked, concern etched in her soft features.

Stopping mid-bite, I glanced at her in silent acknowledgement before nodding to the side.

She followed the direction of my nod, tuning in to the whispers and the occasional stares directed my way. Su’s eyes widened with realization, and she lowered her voice. “Is it because of… Them?”

I frowned and nodded, my eyes displaying the tension broiling in my body for a moment.

But only for a moment. As quickly as I let my guard down, I reined my emotions back in, putting up those walls once more. The vulnerability retreated, replaced by a stoic mask.

They can’t hurt me.

I resumed eating, hoping that the façade would be enough to shield the turmoil within.

“Adam…” Su tried again, reaching out to me in a gesture of comfort. Before her hand could make contact, Tony intercepted, placing a firm hand on her shoulder and shaking his head subtly. His silent communication conveyed an understanding— a recognition that I wasn’t seeking pity in that moment, or perhaps ever.

He knows me better than I give him credit for. I thought. Grateful for Tony’s intervention, I gave him a nod, appreciating his respect for my desire to navigate the situation on my terms. The unspoken exchange carried the weight of our friendship, and for a moment, I felt a flicker of positivity amid the sea of disdainful eyes.

It would carry me forward.

I took a few more bites, the food now a formality rather than a source of sustenance.

“I’m going to get ready for the Ball.”

“So early?” Tony said, blinking for a moment before his gaze moved about in suspicion. “Want some company, Adam?”

Is he scanning for enemies? I thought, touched by his following gesture. He really is growing up without me noticing. Though I wish it wasn’t because of what was happening to me.

Still, I considered the offer for a moment before declining. “Thanks, Tony, but I need some time alone.”

Packing my things, I shot the two a grateful nod before exiting the immediate premises. My aim? Nowhere in particular.

As I roamed, the occasional group of students passing by shot me disdainful glares. The unspoken tension hung in the air, thick with their unwarranted, baseless judgments. I knew better than to let my guard down in this atmosphere.

Wand in hand, I moved with purpose, ready for any sign of trouble. The memory of being taken unawares before lingered in my mind like a harsh, cautionary tale. I had no intentions of being caught off guard again. No repeat performances. Not from me.

The stink eyes from the passing groups were met with a steely glare of my own, a silent declaration that I was neither oblivious nor defenseless to their attempts at shunning me.

Just try me. I thought, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction as they averted their gazes. Didn’t think so.

With every step, I maintained a vigilant awareness of my surroundings. The halls may have been in the process of being decorated in preparation for the Ball, but my focus remained on the corners and shadows, attuned to the unspoken threats that may yet linger in the corridors.

My thoughts turned inward for a time. I couldn’t shake the annoyance stemming from the persistence of the stares and whispers despite my exoneration. I had assumed that once the truth came to light, people would move on.

Yet, the reality was far more complicated.

People, I mused, were fickle beings. I had known that truth well before my tumultuous journey at Hogwarts. However, the depth of their fickleness struck me anew. The scars of accusations and false narratives lingered, even after I was let go and no charges were raised. The stain of the experience was harder to scrub away than I’d expected.

It made sense, in a way. The human tendency to judge others always clashed with our innate desire to be accepted by the group.

More than that, I understood why people would still believe as they did.

As I understood it, the narrative surrounding my name seemed to have taken a twisted turn; a tale of someone with a “special status” who had once again managed to escape the consequences of his actions, just as he had for both of the events that had unfolded in Village Du Phantasime in the summertime and the rather violent end of the previous school year.

It was too widespread, and too well put-together.

This deliberate misinterpretation was not the work of children. Weaving an intricate web of perceptions and biases was indeed something in the realm of what teenagers were capable of, but none save a few could do it with such complexity while still keeping it believable.

More than that; the only people who were in a position to give life to rumors so accurate had been in that interrogation room with me.

The only one with motive— with skin in the game, so to speak— was the Blackthorn parent.

She seemed to have woven a new narrative, one that painted me as a figure with privileges beyond the reach of consequences, and disseminated it into her circle of friends, who ‘paid it forward’, so to speak.

Before long, it was widely believed that I simply held sway among the authorities, and only got a slap on the wrist for a crime I was clearly guilty of— damn the fact that it had been four on one and I’d been ambushed and turned wandless within the first few seconds.

In the court of public opinion… I thought with a dismayed shake of the head. Facts don’t matter. People will believe what ‘seems’ right to them at the time. The uppity Mudblood who’s been outshining others around him and getting special treatment escaping the consequences of a crime? Must be Dumbledore and his faction doubling down to champion an obvious criminal so they don’t lose face.

I could even imagine the scenes in question. Why admit your own noble-born brats are absolute shits when you can lay the blame at the feet of a filthy Mudblood?

The vocal minority would spout their nonsense, and the reasonable ones would keep their mouths shut either out of disinterest or a need to maintain the status quo of their political and social relationships— thus perpetuating the seeming truthfulness of the rumors.

Lies are always challenged by the truth, aren’t they? I thought viciously. What was that saying? ‘Lies thrive under the cover of darkness, but perish in the light of truth’.

I shook my head. I’d probably misquoted it.

Turning a corner in annoyance, my mind preoccupied with frustration and the weight of judgment, I nearly collided with someone standing in my path. An exasperated sigh escaped me as I saw Professor Trelawney, a sight only adding to my annoyance.

Because of course I have to encounter this lackwit.

Her usual dotty demeanor was replaced by an unmistakable drunken haze, making this moment doubly worse.

She had a distant look in her eyes, carrying the glaze of someone who had indulged in more than a few spirits. Her robes hung in a slovenly manner, the fabric crinkled and disheveled as if she had been wearing them for weeks.

She at least now looks the part of a fortune teller in the woods. So drunk that she’d mistake a tree for a chicken. I thought, mocking amusement replacing my annoyance for a few moments as I stopped and slowly began to move past her.

“You…” She said, trying and failing to keep the slur out of her words. “I know you. I have Seen you.”

Annoyance etched across my face, I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath at the inconvenience of her arrival. “The things I have to deal with…”

I raised my voice so she could hear. “Yes, Professor. You can certainly see me, as I am right here. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

As I tried to navigate around the inebriated woman, she stumbled in my way and attempted to speak to me again, her smile as lopsided as she likely was feeling.

“Where’s the loo?” The question came out of her randomly.

“I— um…” I said, confused for a moment before my brain caught up with me. I pointed off to the other end of the hall. “Over there, Professor. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

My response had been short, cold, and polite, as I aimed to take my leave without further engagement. However, just as I was about to skirt around her, she surprised me with unexpected alacrity.

Professor Trelawney reached out and snatched my hand with a grip far stronger than I would have anticipated. I attempted to pull my hand away, but her grasp proved surprisingly unyielding.

The alcohol-induced haze in her eyes seemed to dissipate as she held onto my hand with a strength that belied her weak form. Any attempts to free my arm were met with almost insurmountable resistance, and a sense of bewilderment crept over me.

Professor Trelawney’s sudden, unexpected grip defied her seemingly inebriated state. Still, I had let too many people run roughshod over me, recently.

I’m ending this. Not going to deal with some drunk-off-her-ass bitch right now.

My wand, already in hand, seemed to almost beckon me to use it. She hadn’t seized my wand arm, so I could retaliate with ease. It was so tempting to just Stun her and leave her there.

I knew, however, that if anyone were to happen upon us, it would end poorly for me. There was no way I could explain away something like this. I was in enough hot water already, and I didn’t need this to drown me completely.

As I debated the merits of striking this nuisance down, a strange and unexpected sight unfolded before my eyes. Strands of black and white magic appeared and began to weave intricately around Professor Trelawney’s body, forming a dome of checkered hexagons.

The shield around her seemed to pulse, and I could feel the formidable power rolling off of it. Instinctively, I knew that any attack directed towards it would be completely negated— even the Killing Curse.

What the Hell is this…?

The wand in my hand remained poised, but the impulsive urge to strike was completely gone, as I realized that part of my arm was under the shield’s purview.

Belatedly, I realized that I could not feel my hand. It was like it wasn’t even there any longer.

A domain which usurps my own sovereignty over my body…?

The realization gave way to an even bigger wariness, and so I stowed my wand.

Concerned and perplexed, I attempted to get Professor Trelawney’s attention, calling out to her. The attempt to break through her apparent stupor, however, was met with an eerie silence. She kept her head fixed in one direction, straight down; her unkempt hair hid her face from view.

A moment passed, and parts of the protective shield that surrounded her began to unweave, with threads slithering towards her head with an otherworldly intent. The strands entered her cranium through her ears, eyes, nose, and mouth, causing her to choke and spasm uncontrollably for a few harrowing, unsettling moments.

All the while, she maintained her unyielding grip on my hand. Her body convulsed as the magic worked its way within her, transforming the once-inert strands into a part of her being. The spasms subsided, leaving her eerily still.

My gaze was fixated on Professor Trelawney’s soul thread, the ethereal essence that encapsulated her very being. The changes were rapid and bewildering, a kaleidoscope of forms that shifted with such speed that my perception struggled to keep pace.

Cats, dogs, humans, and magical creatures manifested in rapid succession, a mesmerizing display that far defied the limitations of what I thought this power could do. The sheer variety and swiftness of the transformations left me unable to track or count them. The soul thread danced between shapes with an unpredictable fluidity, each form seamlessly giving way to the next.

Finally, as the whirlwind of transformations reached its zenith, Professor Trelawney raised her head. The once-drunk gaze had metamorphosed into eyes as milky white as mine. The eerie luminescence held an otherworldly quality, a stark departure from the dull, dark green eyes that had met my own moments before.

Before I could even properly react to the change, a voice emanated from her transformed being, a chorus of multiple voices speaking in unison. Her words flowed in a haunting and rhythmic cadence, making me shiver in unadulterated fear.

“In the shadows, doom shall rise,
A great divine sundering, the world’s demise.
Dreams forsaken, cast to the depths so wide,
To soar above, one must first abide.

On a knife’s edge, the fate shall sway,
A dance of shadows, a game to play.
The weaver’s hand, both cruel and just,
Decides the future, in whom to trust.

Stars shall weep, and moonlight wane,
As destinies entwine, a celestial bane.
Through the veils of space and time, the secrets lie,
A cosmic dance, an eternal tie.

To forsake to the depths or take to the skies, the choice unmade,
The tapestry of fate, in shadows laid.
Beware the edge where dreams entwine,
For the world’s destiny, on a knife’s edge, shall shine.

In the shadows, doom shall rise…“

As swiftly as the threads had materialized, they dissipated into nothingness, leaving Professor Trelawney in a state of confusion. She released her impossibly strong grip on my arm, stumbling backward until her back met the corridor wall.

Leaning against it to steady herself, she looked around with a bewildered expression, her once-again dark green eyes scanning the surroundings, as if seeking familiarity.

Her gaze eventually settled on me, and she addressed me by name with a perplexed tone. “Mr. Black? When did you get here? Where am I?”

I did not answer for a moment, though I quickly gathered myself and spoke, hoping she did not notice how brittle the figurative mask I had on was now. “P-Professor. You’re on the third floor. I-I imagine you were on your way to the loo?”

As Professor Trelawney responded with an affirmative, my mind raced, the weight of the prophetic words lingering in my thoughts.

Divine Sunderer. Those two words echoed in my mind, and a shiver of fear traced its way up my spine. It’s always those two words…

Despite the unease settling within me, I gathered myself and redirected my focus to the present.

Turning my attention back to the Professor, I realized she had just asked me another question.

“I’m sorry, Professor.” I said with an apologetic look. “Could you repeat yourself?”

“I-It’s quite all right, dear.” Professor Trelawney said, and I noticed she was leaning a bit too heavily against the wall, like she wasn’t quite at a hundred percent. “I may need some assistance. I do not feel very well. Please?”

Sighing inwardly, I nodded and moved to her side, offering support. “Of course, Professor. I will help you to the Hospital Wing.”

She expressed her gratitude, and so we walked forward. I did my best to ignore the awful smell of alcohol and sweat covering the woman’s body and bear through it.

The day just can’t get any worse than this, can it?

Of course, I regretted that thought immediately. As the Professor attempted to express her gratitude, her complexion turned pale, and she abruptly went green.

The sudden nausea overcame her, and she vomited right onto the stone floor in front of us. Suppressing the urge to swear, I held her steady, ignoring my own instinct to eject the contents of my stomach, even as the vomit splashed everywhere, including my clothes, filling the air with the awful stench.

Shaking my head, I made sure to assure the woman that everything would be alright before helping her to the Hospital Wing.

Of course it could get worse— good fucking job, Zero. You just had to say it, huh? Dumbass.

oooo

A While Later…

Exiting the Hospital Wing, the echoes of Professor Trelawney’s gratitude lingered in the air. I acknowledged her thanks before stepping out into the corridor.

Once I was outside, the urge to preserve the prophetic words finally overwhelmed me. I’d kept it down the entire time, not wanting to say anything to the prophecy’s source. Aware of the fickle nature of memory, I kept a strong hold on the words I had heard. Now that I was free, I hurriedly searched for an empty classroom.

It did not take very long, though I made sure to check for any other occupants as I entered. There were none.

Wasting no time, I took a seat at the closest table, pulling out pen and paper, intent on transcribing the whole thing. I took a breath, and then began. The sound of pen scratching paper filled the room as I wrote down the prophecy’s verses with as much clarity as I could.

As I wrote, a sense of wariness settled within me. The prophecy hinted at a looming cataclysm, a destiny entwined with choices yet to be made. 

“Beware the edge where dreams entwine, for the world’s destiny, on a knife’s edge, shall shine…” I muttered as I finished writing the rest. I looked it over several times, comparing it with my short term memory before nodding and leaning back. “Alef, did you hear the prophecy too?”

I got an immediate buzz of confirmation before asking him the next question. “Did I write it correctly?”

Another singular buzz.

“At least there’s that.” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What the Hell does it all mean? Did you see what happened— the threads and the power?”

Alef gave two buzzes in quick succession, signifying a negative; then, however, he began to buzz animatedly for a few moments before stopping.

“I… What?” I said slowly, trying to make sense of the impressions I had been fed by the school’s spirit of knowledge— awe, fear, power, wariness. “You didn’t see it, but… You felt the power?”

Alef buzzed in the affirmative.

I looked down at the piece of paper, my eyes roving over the words of the prophecy given but not reading it at all. “The collection of power required to invoke a prophecy is phenomenal, and the threads which bind that power… Those weren’t like any threads I’d seen before.”

The memory of Grindelwald’s words echoed in my mind— the notion that soul threads were the very fabric of existence itself, binding fate. The threads I witnessed in the corridor seemed to align with that concept, a manifestation of magic that extended beyond the realm of mere wizardry.

“No.” I said, leaning over my desk and making it creak with the sudden change in pressure. “It’s more than that…”

Did I dare to give life to such thoughts, though? Could it be that fate itself was the threads, and it was moving against me?

The words I heard— Divine Sundering— they had not been chosen randomly or idly. No, this was a conscious decision. It was by design; it could not be otherwise.

It could not. So, what did that mean for me?

I stared at the words, reading through the prophecy again, and again and again. Why are these things always given in riddles?!

Immersed in the deciphering, I lost track of the time, the words I’d written down absorbing my attention with an almost magnetic pull. I hated this— not because I hated puzzles, but because I realized that I wouldn’t be figuring this out anytime soon.

The sudden and sharp ring of my pocket watch jolted me out of my reverie, the sound echoing in the quiet classroom. Startled, I retrieved the watch and checked the time, only to find that there was a mere half-hour left until the festivities were set to begin.

With wide eyes, I glanced out of the window and was met with the realization that the sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting the magical world into the embrace of twilight.

Taking a final glance at the prophecy, I carefully stowed it away in my backpack. The words I’d written held the promise of knowledge on a possible future, but I realized that it would not serve me to continue to waste time trying to make sense of them.

Prophecies have a way of coming true no matter what I do, anyway. I thought as I exited the room, hastening to the dorms to change. Besides, my focus was demanded elsewhere. I had a date with Helena, and a ball to attend.

The prophecy would have to wait for a more suitable time— a moment when I could devote the necessary attention to suss out its meanings both overt and subtle without the interference of imminent celebrations and any further drama.

Entering the Ravenclaw Common Room, I found Tony and Su already there, their expressions shifting from worry to relief upon seeing me. Concern still etched their faces, and they immediately came to me.

“Adam!” Su said as she came close. “I’m so glad you’re fine!”

“What?” My eyes widened. Did she know something?

It seemed my reaction spurred Tony into action, stepping a little further in front of the girl and putting his hand on her shoulder to soothe her worry. “What Su means is that we thought you’d have been changing… But you weren’t anywhere to be found.”

“Oh.” I said, taking the moment to wrestle with my thoughts. “Yeah. I just wanted some air, some time alone. You understand.”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded, and so did Su. “I get it; but, you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time, you know?”

“Tony’s right!” Su said, nodding twice emphatically. “You can rely on us.”

Can I? I thought to myself, giving myself a mental shake of the head.

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her. Su truly believed in what she was saying, and I had no doubt that Tony felt much the same. The problem was that information like this, in the wrong hands, could cause some trouble on a scale so monumental it was hard to wrap my head around.

Plus, how would I explain that Trelawney’s words were true Prophecy and not the slurred words of a raging drunk?

I hesitated to confirm or deny their concerns, leaving the air thick with uncertainty.

“Sorry, but I really need to go change.” I gestured at the ticking clock in the background. “I’ll be late—”

“It’s okay.” Tony said, nodding. Though my excuse to change only heightened their worry, he accepted it all the same. “But we will talk about it later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I said without thinking, but then I smiled a little as the idea started to grow on me. “Yeah, we’ll talk about it later.”

Moving away from them, I headed to my dorm room and wasted no time in slipping into the dress robes. The fabric fit me well, and I found that its design— velvet black with white trimmings— was simple, yet refined at the same time.

It, I dared to think in a single moment of self indulgence, reflected a keen understanding of my preferences. “Not too bad.”

The mirror reflected an image of understated refinement, a fitting choice for the upcoming festivities. I moved my limbs around, smiling slightly as the fabric easily accommodated movements which would have torn any other similar set. It was a testament to how well Sirius understood me as a person.

“Practicality over aesthetics.” I repeated the old mantra, and found that it calmed me down significantly. I closed my eyes.

A heartfelt mutter of thanks escaped my lips, directed towards Sirius. The understanding reflected in the choice of dress robes resonated as a symbol of familial support, greatly easing the worries that had lingered in the recesses of my thoughts.

Tony’s words of encouragement echoed further in my mind, a gentle reminder that I now had people to rely on— individuals who cared and stood by me. The realization slowly re-settled, offering me a sense of solace in the wake of the uncertain future ahead.

Looking at myself in the mirror one last time, I nodded, feeling my resolve strengthen once again.

I would tell Tony and the others that I had something to divulge, but not tonight. Tonight would be about joy, friendship, love, and shared laughter.

I won’t let Fate, Death, or whoever else ruin this for me.

I had a lovely date to impress, after all.