Harry Potter and the Silent Guardian

"Well, well." The smooth, chilling voice seemed to emanate from everywhere at once. Magnus Blutreich, the head of the former Schwarzwald Zirkel and now a ruthless general of the Dark Alliance, stepped out of the shadows like a ghost. His movements were calm, deliberate, and menacing. He walked toward Remus with his wand steadily trained on the werewolf's head.

"How delightfully predictable children can be," Magnus mused, his lips curling into a cold smile.

Charles's wand snapped upward in an instant, his stance rigid with determination. But Magnus only chuckled, the sound low and condescending.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Magnus said softly. "One wrong move, and your precious werewolf won't live to see another full moon."

Charles's teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. His friends rushed to his side, their wands raised and trained on Magnus. Still, the dark general remained unfazed, his wand unwavering from Remus's head.

"What do you want?" Charles demanded, his voice tight with anger and desperation.

Magnus made a lazy gesture toward the towering shelves of glowing orbs. "It's quite simple, really. There's a particular prophecy orb here with your name on it. Fetch it for me, and perhaps we can all leave this… unpleasant situation unscathed."

Ron let out a short, derisive laugh. "We're not stupid—"

"Silence." Magnus's voice sharpened, cutting through the tension like a blade. He pressed his wand deeper into Remus's hair, his eyes flashing with warning. "Another word, and your friend pays the price."

Charles raised a hand quickly to silence Ron before the situation spiraled further. Every muscle in his body felt coiled, ready to snap, but he forced himself to speak with measured calm. "Please. What do you want with a prophecy?"

Magnus's lips curled into a slow, sinister smile. "I want the prophecy—your prophecy. The one that binds you to the Dark Lord."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "But that prophecy… Surely Dumbledore destroyed it, or—"

"Shush!" Ginny hissed sharply, nudging Hermione before she could say more.

Magnus's gaze remained fixed on Charles, his tone mocking. "It's there," he said, inclining his head toward a nearby shelf. "With your name on it. Go on, boy. Fetch it."

Charles hesitated, his mind racing. The prophecy—his prophecy—was something he'd heard whispers of long ago but had never learned the full truth about. Dumbledore had always been adamant that it was too dangerous to reveal its contents, and Charles had assumed it was just one more secret tied to being the Boy-Who-Lived.

But now, faced with Remus's life hanging in the balance, he had no choice. The risks no longer mattered.

"Fine. I'll do it," he said at last, his voice low but steady. Rising slowly, he kept his wand trained on Magnus as he moved toward the indicated shelf. "Just don't hurt him."

Magnus's eyes gleamed with triumph, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "That depends entirely on your cooperation."

Charles turned to the shelf Magnus had indicated, his heart pounding as his friends kept their wands trained on the dark general. His fingers brushed past row after row of dusty labels, scanning frantically until his eyes locked onto something unusual.

Riddle… Potter…?? He finally spotted something that seemed to match: "Dark Lord and H. Potter (?)."

A wave of confusion swept over him. H. Potter? That's not me. Heart pounding, he reached for the sphere. A sharp jolt of magical energy shocked his fingers, making him snatch his hand back with a yelp.

"What's taking so long?" Magnus's voice, sharp with irritation, echoed across the hall. "Get the prophecy!"

"I—I can't," Charles stammered, his voice shaking as he stared at the label. "It's not... it doesn't have my name on it."

Magnus's expression darkened, his wand pressing harder against Remus's throat. "Don't play games with me, boy. Take the orb with the Dark Lord's name on it."

"But it's not mine!" Charles shot back desperately. "It says 'H. Potter.' That's… that's my brother's initial!"

A flicker of realization crossed Magnus's face. He yanked Remus's unconscious form closer and leaned in, his cold eyes narrowing as he read the label. The hall fell eerily silent as Magnus processed what he was seeing. Then, a harsh, mocking laugh erupted from his throat, reverberating off the towering shelves.

"H. Potter... Hadrian Potter!" Magnus declared, his voice dripping with glee. His eyes glinted with malicious triumph. "Oh, this is perfect. Absolutely perfect. So it was never about you. Dumbledore was wrong. We were all wrong. All this time, the prophecy was about your brother. You're nothing but a footnote—a child who was just lucky."

Charles felt the air leave his lungs as cold dread spread through his chest. "What are you talking about?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Hermione's face had gone pale as realization dawned. "Dumbledore… got it wrong. Harry is the one prophesied to defeat Voldemort. Not you, Charles."

Luna blinked, her dreamy expression replaced by something more solemn. "It would explain a lot," she murmured quietly.

Ron scratched the back of his head, confusion warring with disbelief. "But that can't be right. Everyone knows Charles is the Boy-Who-Lived. He's the one the Ministry and the Daily Prophet always wrote about."

Neville stepped closer, his tone cautious but supportive. "Harry's the real chosen one. But… that's good, isn't it? If he's the one, then he'll be strong enough to defeat Voldemort."

Charles felt like the floor had been yanked out from under him. His head swam with the weight of it all. "I'm… not the Boy Who Lived? I should have been sent to the Dursleys… and my brother should have grown up with my parents?" His voice cracked as the words left his lips.

Magnus interrupted the spiraling revelation with a mocking clap, his cruel amusement cutting through the group's disarray. "Ah, the great Charles Potter, brought to his knees by a truth he couldn't face. How deliciously ironic. You've been living a lie your entire life." He sneered. "But I'm afraid our little therapy session is over. Since you're not the subject of the prophecy, you're of no use to us."

As he spoke, dark figures began materializing from the shadows between the shelves. Death Eaters in their menacing masks emerged, their wands aimed and ready. They surrounded the group in a tightening circle, cutting off any chance of escape.

"Since you're clearly not the prophecy child," Magnus drawled, his voice dripping with mock pity, "I'm afraid you've all become... expendable."

"You said you'd let us go!" Ginny shouted, her wand aimed steadily despite the fear flashing in her eyes.

Magnus chuckled darkly, the sound echoing ominously through the Hall of Prophecy. "And I would have, had you retrieved the prophecy orb from the shelf. But now that we know Charles here can't even touch the orb…" He paused, letting the words hang like a noose. "Well, you children have become a liability."

The teenagers instinctively closed ranks, forming a tight circle with their shoulders pressed together. Fred and George shifted to shield Ginny, their wands held at the ready, while Neville and Luna stood resolutely on either side of Hermione. Charles, still gripping his wand tightly, kept his focus locked on Magnus.

"Brave," Magnus remarked, his lips curling into a twisted smile. "But pointless."

The Death Eaters surrounding them seemed to revel in the tension, their masked faces turned toward the group like wolves circling their prey. Their wands glimmered menacingly in the dim blue light of the hall. Charles's mind raced, desperate to think of a plan, but the odds felt suffocating.

What none of them noticed, however, was the subtle shift in the room. The shadows behind the Death Eaters began to deepen, dark tendrils stretching unnaturally across the floor. Silent figures moved into position, their disillusioned forms blending seamlessly with the darkness. And among them, a familiar grin spread across the face of Sirius Black, hidden beneath the shimmer of a Disillusionment Charm.

The cavalry had arrived.