A/N: I am reposting this first chapter/prologue to explain to new readers that yes, I know this chapter is short. It's the prologue. I promise to make the other chapters longer, at least 2,000 words. I don't want to make them too long because I want to be able to update relatively quickly. So, what would be considered two chapters on this website, in reality will be more like one chapter. I hate it when I get to a cliff-hanger in someone's story and then have to wait a month for an update. I promise that I will never go that long between updates. You have my word. I hope to have a new chapter up at least once a week. So, please don't hold this prologue against me! Oh yeah... I also offer my apologies for the rhyming at the end... you'll see when you get there, and no I won't be making up anymore horrible rhymes.

Old Moon Fades


The air crackled with anticipation and telltale lightning flashed ominously as a storm raged outside the Hog's Head. Albus Dumbledore stood in the doorway several feet from the table he'd abandoned only moments ago. His mind was racing and his heart hammering wildly as he struggled for some semblance of composure. Sybil Trelawney sank down into her chair almost grudgingly, her eyes glazed over as if witnessing some distant turmoil. He had not expected this and he was not one to be surprised. When she applied for the position of Divination Professor he intended to come to the Hog's Head and politely deny her request. They had been chatting politely enough and said their good-byes. He was on his way to the door when he spun around and stared in complete astonishment as Sybil Trelawney rasped out the prophecy that would one day shape the destiny of the wizarding world. Her body slammed back into her chair and her fingers clawed madly at the table sending the abandoned tea service crashing to the floor.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Dumbledore walked back toward their small table and let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His brain struggled to form coherent thoughts as it attempted to wrap itself around this monstrous development.

"A child will be born with the ability to defeat Voldemort? A CHILD?!"

This did not make sense! The entire Ministry of Magic, a team of highly trained Aurors, and all the members of the Order had been hugely unsuccessful in even locating Voldemort and tracking down known Death Eaters. How could a child, a baby at that, possibly manage what he could not? But his reverie was interrupted as she began to speak once again, but not in the harsh tones she had used during her first prophecy. This time she was speaking in an almost hushed voice, her eyes piercing Dumbledore's as she whispered out the second prophecy, the prophecy that in years to come would remain as much of a secret as it was now.

"The fate of our world is divided in two.

What once was old will again be new.

Black and White will become Grey,

The Grey to be reformed like clay.

In the deepest dark a spark is born,

Though its true his heart is torn.

What will be lost will come again,

Though it will be where it had not been.

As the old moon fades into the new

The Half-Blood Prince is crowned askew..."