Notes: Warnings you should heed are AU!Harry manipulative!Dumbledore, soulmates, strong language, violence.

1

Don't believe in miracles - depend on them

- Laurence J. Peter

"Are you absolutely sure it'll bring forth who we want?" Severus asks, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as the sun peeks from the open curtains of 42 Spinner's End.

There is a thin film of dust on the couch Severus sits on as he watches Dumbledore draw out an extricate rune on his tiled, living room floor. "Those will come out, correct?" he adds, skeptically, eyeing the etched marks with narrowed eyes.

He's still not quite sure how he feels about it all, it was a desperate plan spun by desperate people, after all. Who knew what the true repercussions could be for messing with something of this magnitude.

"These are dire times, Severus," Dumbledore says, his wand moves, meticulously, as another line of the rune is etched on his tiles and Severus flinches as he observes each deep line. And no, those would definitely not be coming out. "We have come to an agreement that we have to do something about our current circumstances."

"We are losing the war." Severus states.

"Yes."

"The Ministry has been compromised."

"As has our defenses," Dumbledore sighs, "We are desperate, Severus."

"And this is the only way?"

"I believe so," Dumbledore nods as he draws another line, "This rune will bring forth the strongest wizard in the world—in any world, it will allow us a trump card if—"

"The Longbottom boy," Severus drawls, knowingly and Dumbledore sigh, tiredly, as he pulls out a silver knife, embroidered with jewels and intricate designs. He holds it against the frail, wrinkled skin of his wrist and press just enough to allow a few beads of blood to drip onto the runes, it instantly lights up, a blue hue, connecting the patterns like dots. "We will have this trump card if the boy-who-lived can not fulfill his duties."

"He is more trouble than he is worth, yes."

"But the prophecy states 'born as the seventh month dies'," Severus says, calmly. His face is impassive as if he is speaking of the weather. "You are willing to go against the prophecy, Albus? if you bring another person into this war, you best be prepared for the consequences."

"I am quite aware of that, Severus," Dumbledore says, tersely, "But what other choice do we have? Last year, Longbottom returned from the graveyard half dead. He isn't able to fulfill the prophecy as we had hoped."

"The universe is not to be trifled with, Albus." Severus sneers, he crosses his arms across his chest, his black robes flutters silently around him.

"We have no other choice."

"There must be another way," Severus insists, he hated the idea of someone fighting their war for them, "I don't like this, Albus."

"You think there is another way?" Dumbledore sounds skeptical.

"Harry Potter's birthday is today," Severus says, his eyes narrows, "July 31st, he may be the one."

"Harry Potter is a Hufflepuff," Dumbledore says with a frown. "He has no business in this."

Severus doesn't say anything; his dark, obsidian eyes cold as he watches the Headmaster leans back and begins to chant—it is foreign, a linguistic Severus has never heard before. Magic swirls around the room as the circle begins to glow a light, pale color and Dumbledore's face sweats and twist with strain.

A wind whistles loudly in his ear as the magical pressure becomes too much and the wood under the rune begins to crack under the pressure. Then, it all suddenly stops.

Severus breathes out, a frown on his face as he lowers his hands from his eyes to find Dumbledore gasping for breath, his eyes wide as he stares at the middle of the circle.

"It can't be…"

"Albus?" Severus says, as he sits up. His living room is ruined from the extent of the magic and he curses, he knew they should've done it in the attic. "Who is it?"

This is why he allowed the ritual to happen in his home; he wanted to know exactly who the most powerful wizard alive was.

"Go call Remus," Dumbledore's voice shook with something unreadable and Severus stood up, straining to see who it was. "Meet me at Headquarters, please."

"Who is it, Albus?" He was beginning to have a nervous feeling in his gut at the way the Headmaster's old body shook in shock. He moves quietly—silently—as he tries to catch a better glimpse and he lets out a strangled gasp when he catches a glimpse of wind swept, black hair and a thunderbolt scar. He reels back, his pupils wide with shock, "Is that—!"

"Go!" Dumbledore shouts, he turns to him with angered eyes but Severus can see the panic and confusion in them, as well, "Now!"

Severus apparate without another word.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Sirius says, enthusiastically as Harry enters the room. A cake is in the middle of the table; fifteen candles already lit on the cake, Harry smiles and blow them out without another thought.

"You didn't have to," Harry protests, weakly, as he sits down, he hadn't slept well that night and it showed in his too pale face and sunken eyes. "I'm not five anymore, Siri."

"Nonsense," Sirius grins, as he cuts the cake in an even triangle. "You will always be five to me, Harry."

"Thank you." He whispers.

"No problem, cub, Remus will be by later on," Sirius slides into the sit across from him. "How did you sleep?"

"It happened again last night, Siri," Harry said, softly, and Sirius groaned, knowing what he was talking about.

"It's your birthday, Harry, don't ruin it with this." Sirius pleads with him, softly.

"I dreamt of green, last night," He whispers, the clock ticks a rhythmic pattern that is echoed in the silent room. It gives him chills down his spine. "And a boy, he's sad, sometimes, or in pain. But, mostly, he's fighting."

"Eat your cake, Harry."

"He looks like me and he's always fighting," Harry murmurs, stabbing his fork into the cake and looks up at his godfather. "What does it all mean, Siri?"

"It's only a dream, Harry," Sirius says, lightly, and ruffles his hair. "Don't worry about it."

"But what if—?"

"Harry," Sirius cuts him off, sighing, "Even it meant something, there is nothing you could do right? You're just Harry."

The words tingle at his memory as if it was meant to mean something but he doesn't say anymore as he eats his cake silently. He feels disappointment that his godfather didn't take him seriously—granted no one took him seriously. He was just the pathetic Hufflepuff godson to the best Auror in wizarding Britain.

The Floo chimes and Sirius groans, "Not again,"

"Were you expecting someone?" Harry murmurs as he stares at his cake.

"No," Sirius says as he stands, "It must be the Order."

Harry looks up curiously as he watches Sirius move out of the room, he sighs and continues to play with his cake, already thinking about the presents Hannah sent him this morning. He raises his eyebrows when he hears shouting before a crash and he shoots up to his feet in alarm. He runs out of the kitchen and stumbles into the living room, bumping to Sirius as he stares towards where Remus, Dumbledore and Snape are crouched in a mid-circle around something.

"Sirius, I heard—!" Harry shouts out in alarm but stops in mid-sentence when Sirius whirls around and looks at him with angry, gray eyes. "Siri—?" He takes a timid step back, unsure who his godfather's anger was geared towards.

"Harry, go upstairs," Sirius says, softly, he tries to keep his voice even if Harry knows he's about to explode.

"Sirius, I don't understand," He says, his hands shake as he tries to stay calm. "What's going on? Who is—?"

"Harry! Go, now!" Sirius shouts in a sharp tone and he jumps in surprise, Sirius has never screamed at him before and he feels as if he's been slap, his eyes stings with unshed tears.

Sirius sighs and steps forward, blocking the view of the furious whispers of his potions professor, his headmaster and his honorary godfather. Harry looks up with thin lips, willing himself not to cry, as Sirius places both his hands on his shoulders, his face is filled with remorse and nervousness.

"I'm sorry, Harry," His voice is soft, tender, "I shouldn't have yelled…when everything is all sorted out, I'll call you down and tell you what's going on."

"No need to lie, you'd never tell me, anyways." Harry whispers, bitterly, he swipes his hand over his eyes, pushes away from Sirius and flees.