James was sitting in greenhouse three, oblivious to the fact that Professor Longbottom was giving a lecture on Mandrakes. He was thinking about the events of the pervious night. (Not to mention he had only gotten about an hour of sleep because the voice thingy came back.) What was it? Could it possibly be Voldemort? Had he somehow survived? No. Probably not. That seemed too far fetched. The threat of him was over. But if not him then what?....

"James? James are you listening?" said Professor Longbottom, standing over him, ripping him from his thoughts.
"Huh?" said James. " Oh - er - yeah. We're talking about plants and stuff right, Neville? I mean, Professor."
"James," said Neville. "Did you get any sleep last night?"
"No, Sir." Professor Longbottom nodded.
"Alright," he said. "See me after class, but please try to pay attention, James."
"Yes, sir."

Professor Longbottom went on with the lesson, this time with everyone's full attention, though now with the tiniest distraction in the back of his own mind. It was going to happen. Soon. Probably sooner than McGonagall realized.

"Now, everyone put on your ear muffs," instructed Neville. The class moved quickly to get to the blue ones first. He chuckled a bit under his breath, remembering his second year when the exact thing happened. Naturally, Neville had gotten stuck with the pink ones.
The girls didn't seem to mind much, however, which color they got.

"Alright," continued Neville once everyone had a pair of ear muffs securely on their heads. "Now, grip them firmly and pull them up!" The class did so and immediately the Mandrakes screeching and crying filled the greenhouse. The students examined the Mandrakes for a bit before shoving them back into their pots.

~***~                                    ~***~                                ~***~

When class ended James stayed behind. He waited until everyone else was gone before he approached Professor Longbottom.
"You're going to owl Mum and Dad aren't you?" said James. Neville turned to face him.
"No, James," said Neville. "Because I already have, but not because you got in trouble." James stared at him.

"Has Professor Jackson talked to you yet?"
"About what, sir?"
"The prophecies of coarse!"
"Oh. You know about that?" The Professor nodded.
"What do they mean?" asked James.
"I don't know," admitted Neville. "Nobody does. They're very unclear, but everyone seems to think they're about you, Albus, and Scorpius Malfoy."
"Everyone?" asked James nervously. Neville hesitated.

"Perhaps, it'd be better for Jackson to tell you," he said finally.
"Let's go now then!" requested James.
"Now?"
"Yes. Now." Professor Longbottom sighed.
"Alright," he said. "But just be warned, what you're about to hear won't be very pleasant...that is to say if he tells you everything." 

James nodded, uncertain of what all that meant, an anxiety running through him that he thought might be from either the excitement or fear of actually getting some answers. They walked up to the castle together in silence. It wasn't until the were through the corridors and at Jackson's office door that Neville spoke, directing the words to Jackson, who was on the other side of the door.

"Jackson," he said tensely, checking that no one else was around. "I believe it's time." For a moment nothing happened. As the seconds went by Neville began to wonder if Jackson was even in his office, but then the door swung open.

"Hey guys," said a grinning Professor Jackson. "Come on in."

~***~                 ~***~                 ~***~

"What the bloody hell was that!" yelled Ron through all the confusion. Bill and Percy tried to help Harry to his feet, but he waved them off. He could stand on his own.

He said, "They took the books."
"But where did they go?" asked Ginny. "What are they hiding?"
"That's what I'd like to know," said Harry.

~***~                     ~***~                   ~***~

Somewhere, while Professors Longbottom and Jackson were talking with James Potter, a figure appeared in the corridor.
The figure smiled his stunning smile and began his journey up to the headmistresses office. To anyone roaming the halls he might have looked like a fellow student in Hogwarts robes, but he was actually eons older than anyone in the building.

He stopped when he reached the gargle statue that stood at the base of the head mistress's office.
"Erus," said the figure, his smile growing larger as the statue moved from its pedestal, revealing the spiraling stairs that would, when they stopped spinning, take him to McGonagall's office. 
He started up the stairs, a Haiku forming in his possibly deranged mind.  

" Stairs spin really fast
I climb to get to the top
I am awesome. "

He smirked, very proud of that one. At the top of the stairs, seeing that there was really no reason to nock, he entered through the wooden door.

"Greetings!" said the figure brightly. "God of awesomeness has arrived!"
"Hello father," said a familiar voice.
"Hello, Poppy," said the, what looked like to Madam Pomfrey, man, rather than teenager. He beamed at the woman in front of him, pride in his eyes. Her grey hair was tied back in a white bandana and she wore neatly patched robes. Her faced creased where her wriggles of age were.

"Might I ask who you are?" came another familiar voice, one the man wasn't quite so happy to hear. He turned on the woman with rat like hair and big fly like eyes glaring at him through huge rounded glasses.
"Syllable," said the man coldly.
"Oh," frowned the woman. "It's you isn't it." It wasn't a question.
"Now, now, Syllable," said yet another voice, this one unknown to the man. A woman stepped out from the back room of the round office.

She wore her hair up in a tight bun and glasses on the bridge of her nose. The man grinned thinking this must be Minerva McGonagall. Ha! Minerva!

"We must welcome Ap - "
"Don't say my name!" the man reminded her, a grin forming on his lips.

" - this man into our school," Minerva corrected herself. However, they all knew good and well who he was. Syllable huffed.
"Well, she won't give the last prophecy until James Potter's last year and Scorpius Malfoy's and Albus Potter's sixth year."
"And the following year we will release the Great Prophecy to them," agreed the man, despite his dislike for this woman, or her great - great grandmother rather.
"They'll probably figure the first one out sooner than you thought," he continued.

"We'll do everything we can to prepare them," said Minerva. "For all the prophecies."
"A wise diction, Sister," joked the man.
"What?"
"Nothing." Poppy's mouth twitched as she attempted to hide her smile.
"What shall we do to prepare them?" she asked.
"Whatever we can," said Minerva. "If you should find a way, do it."
"It won't hardly make a difference," said Syllable. "Nothing can stop fate and I see a terrible one for many, many people."

"Might we make a suggestion?" came yet another new voice. This time a male voice. The three women and man figure turned to face the pictures behind Minerva's desk where Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape stood in their picture frames.