Responding to the ask request ‼️
What if.. tragic seer!harry au... He keeps making prophecies about an incoming but no one listens because they want to stay in their little bubble where there's no conflict and all is peaceful .. I got inspired by the song "Cassandra" by Taylor swift if you've ever heard it <3 the timeline and the characters around harry are up to you if you are interested in this prompt !! Hope you have a great day <3
(Ive not heard the song, but Im familiar with Greek mythology! This, though, is set shortly before 1348 and the bubonic plague that killed 1/3 of England's population)
Harry fingers the fine embroidery on his robes — a gift from his parents for turning 16 — and tries to banish the images of destruction from his mind.
"Are you concentrating, Harry?" His tutor. An old friend of his parents who he's known forever.
Harry shakes his head. "Sorry, I was. Something about Hastings?"
Lupin hums but a smile twitches across his face. "If I'm boring you, we could take a break? Your father was suggesting you spend some time practising for the jousting competition at the end of the month."
Harry shakes his head, again. There is a sour taste in his mouth, something rancid — not as rancid as the bodies, he tells himself, piled on carts, covered in red sores, and then, out, out, out. He doesn't want to think about the plague he knows is coming, the death.
"What would..." Harry hesitates. He's pleaded with his family over the last year, to close the borders, to ask the alchemists and the cunning folk to find a cure, but they laughed him off easily the first few times, and talked about sending him away after that. "If the population..."
Lupin sighs. He kneels beside Harry's desk, his knees creaking slightly. "We've talked about this Harry," he says softly, like he's being kind. "God won't deliver penance when we haven't sinned."
It's not about sin, Harry wants to say. He shuts his mouth instead.
They won't listen. They never do. They'll suffer for it, Harry knows, and there is nothing that can be done, but he prays every night that this time will be the one they take him seriously.
"Never mind," he says instead, frowning a little. "Keep talking about 1066. It doesn't matter."
The gift — it's not really a gift, it's a curse — came from Riddle. An older boy in the castle, Harry had liked him, liked him a lot, actually. Too much so, that was the problem.
Riddle was manipulative, he'd persuaded Harry into things Harry wasn't sure were allowed, and things Harry was certain weren't allowed.
"I'll give you a gift," he said, smile sharp as they'd leaned in the shade of a tree. "It'll be our secret, yeah? And then you can come away with me."
Harry grinned back and nodded. Seconds later, he was aware of every moment of being, twisting from him in a map of coloured threads. And when he'd looked at Tom, looked at the possibilities, the futures, the everythings, he realised couldn't be with the older boy anymore.
"No," he'd said. "No. You should leave and never come back."
Tom had shrugged, sneering slightly. "You know what you're doing. You'll come crawling back to me soon enough, begging me to love you."
Harry had laughed. "I really won't." He was the seer nobody believed, he was a myth, he knew exactly what the future held and it didn't hold Tom. "Goodbye."
His dreams came true, his thoughts. Things happened around Harry, and they kept happening and they wouldn't stop. Harry knew everything and it hurt in the base of his heart.
(And when the bodies had piled up, no one missed a local lord's son, and no one cared to remember he had warned them.)
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areudirty
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turnnoffyourmind
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