A/N: Hey this is just a plot bunny that popped into my head and I'm not really sure where it will take me (NOTE: I do have a plan but they tend to become useless as I make up more ideas). I'd like to hear your thoughts on it though and if your interested in a story like this.

This is based right after the Half-Blood Prince and there are no horcruxes.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, that is the property of JK Rowling and I am clearly not her.

I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes.

Please Review!

Equinox: the time when the light and dark hours are equal in length.

He rode quickly towards the Castle of the Night, the sound of his horses hooves beating against the road being the only indication that he was still alive. The darkness swarmed him, coating him and making him feel that he was the only one left in this desolate world.

The moon flirted with the clouds, casting grey shadows that were almost a welcoming party. He smirked, the news that he was about to give his Lord would increase his standing in the Midnight Realm and so maybe one day his welcoming party would actually be corporeal. The black iron gates loomed ahead of him but, instead of slowing down like one would normally do, he sped up and passed through them as if they were made of mist.

Coming to a stop he dismounted and let one of the Lessers take his trusty steed. Climbing up the steps to the entrance of the castle he saw a figure standing in the entry hall.

"Your late Hyperion, Lord Alderan expected you sooner" came an aged voice.

"My apologises Nairne, I came across some unexpected news on my travels but I dare say the contents shall more than appease Lord Alderan" replied Hyperion.

"You should pray to Gaia that it is sufficient, he shall not content with mere drivel."

"Well then, enough talk, take me to him."

The old man turned and hobbled down the stone corridor, the candle light flickered making it seem eerie however Hyperion didn't give it a second thought and followed. The castle was almost Medieval, built by many slaves long before the times of the ancients with large slabs of grey stone. Hyperion knew that in the wars of past times it had been the safe place for the royals and noblemen of that time. The floors were covered with thick carpets, muffling footsteps and cushioning weary feet and tapestries lined the walls, showing great battles of bygone years. Finally they made it to their Lord's greeting room. Opening the heavy oak doors Hyperion was rushing inside. Glancing around he saw the room had the same feel as the corridor: old and incredibly strong. The floor was carpeted in red and at the furthest end of the hall were steps leading to a stone platform were Alderan's throne sat. Kneeling in front of the steps Hyperion waited for his Lord to enter. He never had to wait long and soon the familiar swish of his cloak announced his arrival. Looking up he saw Alderan had already sat down. He could see the man's aura was primrose mingled with light yellow. Sighing in relief he stood up and approached the throne. Alderan was in a good mood so perhaps Nairne had just been teasing him.

"What news do you bring me dear Hyperion?" asked Alderan cheerfully.

"Well my Lord, a childe has been born, just like you said. His name is Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter of Godric's Hollow" replied Hyperion eagerly.

"Now, now calm down, what else is there?"

"It appears the Lord of the Light is planning on using him against us. He has a prophecy that dictates the childe shall kill the Dark Lord."

"What is the prophecy?"

"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. The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. 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" recited Hyperion.

At this Alderan's nostrils flared and his aura turned black, exuding out of him like tendrils and instilling a cold atmosphere on the room. Suddenly he stood up and began pacing back and forth in front of his throne.

"What shall we do sire?" asked Hyperion tentatively.

"If it has been prophesied then there is not much we can do. Fate has an uncanny ability to get her own way. However there are two aspects to this prophecy. There are ways to prevent death and defeat prophecies, Ignotus, Cadmus and Antioch proved as much" mused Alderan, seemingly forgetting that Hyperion was still in the room.

"What would you like me to do sire?" ventured Hyperion again.

"Summon Tom for me, then go to Miranda and relay what you have just told me, she shall know what to do."

Seeing he was dismissed Hyperion hurried out of the room leaving Alderan alone.

The vampyre sighed heavily. Fate was a fickle woman but if he could shape this right, mould the players then they would win, order would be restored to the Midnight Realm once more. It all depended on this childe. Such a childe should not bear a burden so big but since when had that ever prevented it? Sitting back down in his chair he waited for Tom to arrive, the time had come at last sooner than he had thought but nonetheless he was hopeful for the first time in millennium.