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My name is Ceradoc Dearborn, and I know of things you can only dream of.
YOu sit in your cozy little homes, living your terribly perfect little lives... I've watched you all, for fifteen years... You all have a regimine... shower, breakfast, see the kids off to primary, kiss your husband as he run out to work, groceries, an hour on the telly... Non of you even begin to have to scope of my vision. You think he's gone?
You live with the warmth of illusion wrapped around you, like a cloak against the cold winds of reality. You are blind. You just can't see it.
I can.
I have seen the final battle, at test of heart rather than a match of wills or wit. I have watched you erode your chosen until he is incapaple of fulfilling his role. The ending will suprise you, I promise. You never factored her into your equations before.
Even the great minds of our time, Dumbledore, Riddle, Moody... none of thim know on whom I speak. Of what I know.
I could tell you, I suppose. I could tell everyone involved the exact day and battle in which they will die. And who will kill them, and with what curse. But no one would listen, even if they believed.
Oh, all of you say you are willing to listen, but what happens when you hear the truth? You tell me I'm off the bend, you tie me up or toss me out. And you forget all about it until your day comes. Then you get nervokus. You shuffle your feet and say 'I might be able to change it' and give it all the old college try.
Harry was supposed to go first, James, you great sod. I told you, I pleaded with you. He had to go first, and then Lily, in order for things to progress correctly. In order for you to live. But you believed you could dictate fate, and you got in the way. Everyone's gone now, and you sent use all on the tangent of a lifetime.
Your son should never have needed to shoulder this burden, James.
You ask, now, I can hear you, who "she" is, and how I should come to know so much that even the Dark Lord himself cannot comprehend. She begins with the prophecy.
...born in July, to those who thrice defied the Dark Lord...
I am the third and final defiance of Regulus Black. The first was his wife, whom he had in secret, a mudblood. The second was his child, born on July 8th, who knows him only as a man his mother loved. The third was myself.
What makes me so special? If only I knew. I don't trouble myself with the details of my mortality these days. But, somehow, he left me sane, and placed both a gift and a curse on me.
The pain was profound, but nothing compared to the moments after, when my bones lost all will to snd alone, when I wearily crumpled to the ground. It was copper colored, I remember, and a warm night, towards the end of spring. There were even animals, a rat and a bird, staying off to the side of the alley.
He told me I must leave, that I would only barely survive the night. You must tell them, he told me, tell them I love them, and to lie low.
So I did just that, knowing somewhere already that I would never again see this man, my benefactor. It was his time. Crucio, and a gutting curse, left to rot in that alley by Peter Pettigrew. I knew Peter, had trusted him. He was one of the Order.
Regulus was right. I almost died that first night, with every name and murder ringing in my head. I wished that I would die, even as I wept for those I knew. Katherine Dumbledore, a girl I knew at Hogwarts, gagging curse, rape, and then left for dead. Valerie Pike, strangled by a mugger in muggle London. Lily Potter, killed by Voldemort. Dorcas Meadows, my dear Dorcas, who would pass in three months time thinking I had gone on without her. July 4, quartered by the Dark Lord himself. Barty Crouch, with an unceremonious killing curse at the edge of the forbidden firest. Angelica Weasley, only 12, cause in Diagon Alley by Agustus Rockwood. Rape and transfiguration, that one, and people don't survive long as cauldrons.
You see, I could tell you everything, but you would only lock me away, where no one could learn. So I hide, I rustle in your bushes, and pass you as a muggle on the street. I whiper at you across a meadow, about you and your loved ones.
And one day you will know.