Prologue

Though not a religious man, he couldn't help the smirk that formed across his face as he looked up at the sky—the bright blue, sun-filled sky—that provided the backdrop for the service.

"Your sense of humor is impeccable," he muttered, squinting as a large puffy cloud amble its way into the sun's path, making its rays more piercing than before.  A sudden wind swept across the land and he shivered, drawing his cloak closer to him as he broke out of his reverie.  He looked down, seeing the dirt disappear into the six-foot-deep hole.  The clumping sounds of the dirt hitting the casket made his eyes fill again and he closed them, determined not to breakdown in public.  After all, he had had a reputation to uphold.

"I know you loved her," a husky voice said from behind him.

He said nothing and did not turn around, intently staring at the coffin being buried.

"Turn around a look at me," the voice said. 

Sighing heavily, he turned towards and looked at the man who had all but become his father.  The older man's eyes were flat and emotionless, void of their usual twinkle.

"Severus, say something please."

"What a nice day for a funeral.  I should think after she's properly covered we can have a picnic in the park," Severus said acidly. 

Dumbledore sighed, knowing this would be exceptionally difficult on the younger man.  "Severus . . ."

"God mocks me, you know; creating such a gloriously sunny day as my life goes further into the abyss of darkness.  Apparently I haven't been sufficiently punished for my . . . indiscretions," Severus interrupted, lazily running his thumb over the skin inside his left wrist. 

Dumbledore knew the significance of the action but decided to ignore it.  "Jamilah wants to speak with you."

Severus nodded curtly before turning his attention back to the almost-covered grave.  His eyes softened and in a rare display of public tenderness, he knelt down to the headstone and kissed it.

"Until later, my love," he whispered, before standing up quickly and walking away, not once sparing a glance to the other man.

~~~~~

She brought the covers over the sleeping child, rubbing her wrinkled hand over soft curls.

"Mama's here, Mama's here," she cooed, listening to the child's steady breathing.  Today was a day no child should go through—watching a parent being buried at such a young age.  Neither should a parent bury a child, Jamilah thought bitterly, wiping an errant tear from her cheek. 

"Jamilah."

At the sound of the voice, her tears came in earnest.  She turned, not bothering to dry her eyes.  Wordlessly she went into Dumbledore's arms, feeling a security she'd been hard pressed to find during the last few days.  Severus felt as if he were intruding on a tender moment and went to the bed Jamilah had just left.  The child lay on her side, her back facing him.  Severus gently sat on the bed, trying not to disturb her slumber.  He ran the back of his finger over her cheek, surprised at how soft her skin was—just like her mother's.

"Malika," Severus breathed, his voice full of longing for the woman he could never have again.  Apparently the child heard his soft plea for she shifted to her back, eyes opening to stare into his—Malika's eyes.

"Hi there, Little One," Severus said gently.

Nia merely stared at him, her golden eyes seemingly piercing into his very soul.  She briefly glanced over to where her grandmother stood with Dumbledore before turning her attention back to him.

"How long y'all stayin' this time?" she asked, her Southern accent thick with sleep.

"I don't know, Little One," Severus said, his thumb idly running across her chubby cheek.  "We're on holiday right now, but soon we'll have to go back to England."

"It's not fair that the school where you teach at gives students a month off.  I wanna go there," she pouted, a full bottom lip poking out cutely.

Severus smiled.  "We'll see, Little One."

"Am I going with you now?"

He moved his hand from her cheek to her head.  "Do you want to come with me?" he asked gently.

She glanced over at her grandmother again and hesitated, before finally shaking her head slowly.  "Grandma needs me," Nia said quietly.  Severus was torn between feeling relief and disappointment at Nia's answer.  "You'll still come visit me, right?" she asked anxiously.

"Of course, Little One," he replied, putting her fears at ease.

"Will I ever visit you in England?"

"We'll see, Little One."

"Severus, it's time," Dumbledore said, walking up to the bed.

"Hi Grandpa Albus," Nia said sweetly.  Dumbledore bent down and kissed the little girl's forehead.

"Hello my dear Nia," Albus said tenderly.  She smiled at him, comforted by his soft smile and twinkling eyes.  "Do you mind if we steal Severus away for a spell?"

Nia shook her head sleepily.  "Are you coming back?"  Her eyeslids began to droop as sleep threatened to overcome her.

Severus smiled and kissed her forehead.  "I'll come back, Little One," he whispered against her forehead.  He pulled way to see she was already asleep.  With one last caress of her cheek, he nodded to Jamilah and Dumbledore, indicating he was ready.  They nodded in return and Jamilah led them down three sets of stairs—one to the ground floor, one to the basement, and the final to a secret room through which only magical folk could enter.

"Lumos."

The once dark room now filled with the soft light of candles placed throughout it.  It was modestly furnished; a round table with a white silk cloth covering it was placed in the center of the wood-paneled room.  There were three seats, as if the room knew exactly how many guests it would be having during this particular meeting.  They said nothing as they sat in their seats, the gravity and the urgency of the situation leaving them not knowing how to start.  Severus took the time to look at the woman before him, whose body seemed to have finally caught up to the years she had lived.  Jamilah was a young 66, her hair still maintaining the color of her youth, and exactly what her namesake meant—beautiful—even in her age.  But the current tragedy upon her family was taking its toll on her.  There were sags under her amber eyes and her café-au-lait skin seemed paler than normal.  Severus noted that she'd lost considerable weight since he'd last seen her; she clearly wasn't eating.  Jamilah was unnerved by his perusal of her and she cleared her throat in discomfort.

"She predicted this," Jamilah began without preamble.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, forefingers in a steeple.  Severus looked at his older colleagues in confusion.

"Who predicted this?  Do you mean Malika?"

"Nia," Dumbledore replied, concentrating hard on a spot on the table.

"And how do you know this?" Severus asked skeptically.

"Malika told me Nia's dream about 2 months before it came to pass," Jamilah sighed.

"And no one here thought to tell me!  If I'd had known I could've done something!  I could've—"

"Stopped it, and we couldn't afford to let that happen," Dumbledore said seriously.

Severus glared, hating it when Dumbledore did that.  "So you're saying that Nia has the Sight?"

Jamilah shrugged.  "I'm saying, considering who she is, it is a definite possibility."

"Does she even know who she is?" Severus sneered.  Dumbledore looked pointedly at the younger man before sighing and sitting straight again.

"Malika left letters to Nia for her to read three years apart--no sooner and no later.  The first is to be read whenever she gets her first blood, which according to Malika should be around Christmastime during her twelfth year," Jamilah said, handing Dumbledore the letters.

"Why so precise?" Severus asked, though subconsciously already knowing the answer.

"Everything has to be done exactly like my grandmother said, or we'll miss this opportunity.  It only comes once every millennia, and unfortunately my ancestors messed up the last time," Jamilah said sardonically.

"Did Malika tell her anything?" Severus asked.

"Apparently Malika told Nia that she was a special person who would do special things when she got older," Dumbledore said, a small smile forming and the twinkle in his eyes sparkling a bit brighter. 

It was all Severus could do not to roll his eyes.  "She would say something like that," he chuckled.

"Leka didn't want to frighten her anymore than she already was.  How would you feel if you dreamt of your mother's death," Jamilah said heatedly, defending her late daughter's actions.

"Jamilah, love, he wasn't being malicious," Dumbledore said, patting the woman's hand.

"So where will the child be staying then?" Severus asked, redirecting the conversation.

"She will be with me until she turns twelve, then she'll got to Hogwarts to begin her training," Jamilah replied.

"We should tell her who she is now," Severus said pointedly.  "It's bad enough we kept the secret from her this long.  Look what happened to Potter!"

"Ah, but Harry is his father's son.  Nia is a totally different child," Albus said amusedly.

"No thanks to her father," Jamilah said, looking at Severus in an accusatory fashion.  This time Severus rolled his eyes unabashedly, not willing to hear her opinions of that particular subject yet again.  "Do you really think Nia is the person your Grandmother Saw?" Severus asked, once he regained control of himself.

"Seems that way.  All is happening as it's been foretold.  If things continue on this course, pretty soon Set will be annihilated," Jamilah said. 

Albus sighed heavily.  "But that cannot happen until Voldemort's destroyed."