He just shrugged and said, "And I don't care. I happen to think this country needs a clean sweep; not of leadership, but of all its bigotry; its bigoted laws, its bigoted beliefs, its bigoted practices.
"I'm firmly of the belief that the Death Eaters are finally going to go too far and either the muggles are going to learn of your existence... and utterly destroy everything; or, the ICW are finally going to have enough and invade you.
"Of course, they will have the full right and backing of the rest of the ICW nations when they do so, because they are all united in one purpose at least... the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy must be protected, no matter the cost. And, if that means destroying magical Britain, so be it. You know this. Either way, magical Britain, as a society, will be destroyed.
"Of course, muggle-borns will still be born. And, sooner or later, there'll be enough of them that they can form a new society upon the ashes of your old one. I'm of the fervent hope they'll learn from your mistakes and there'll be no bullshit bigotry... which you currently have and which happens to have been the cause of the last five of your home-grown dark lords, including this one... and the new magical Britain will prosper.
"Either way, your current dark lord will lose. The only thing that should matter to you is, are you... let alone your society... still going to be standing at the end of it."
As she looked back at him in horror, it was a while before she asked, "You're willing to see our society be destroyed?"
"Yes," he replied, as if he couldn't understand how they could not know it was obvious. "That is, of course, unless you recognise you need to change first and actually change; before the ICW or muggles step in. Once either of those two do, it'll be far too late for you.
"Now," he suddenly said. "You asked me here for the purpose of... and don't deny it... finding out if I'm the real supposed Chosen One, rather than Longbottom. That's why you were asking me for my birthday."
The sudden change of topic had Bones's expression momentarily reflect her surprise and guilt that he'd nailed it.
He gave an amused snort and said, "Knowing my birthday will not clear that up for you."
"Pardon?" she asked.
"Knowing my birthday will not make it any clear for you whether or not I'm a possible supposed 'Chosen One' of the prophecy," he replied. "That's because you're making far too many assumptions.
"First, you're assuming that the seventh month is July. And that's because you're assuming that the calendar to determine the seventh month is the modern Gregorian calendar. The prophecy doesn't state it is. There are about thirty different calendars in use throughout the world and it could, for instance, be the Chinese calendar... meaning the seventh month runs from mid July to mid August in our calendar. Even if it is the Gregorian calendar, it could be an older version of it, which would mean the seventh month is September. You do realise, don't you, that sept is Latin for seven?"
"Then you're assuming that the calendar starts on the First of January. What if the seventh month is based on the financialcalendar - the First of July to the Thirtieth of June - making the seventh month January? Or, what about based on the school year; which means the seventh month is March? Trelawney was a professor at Hogwarts, wasn't she?
"Then you need to consider whether or not the seventh month dying means the last day of the month under the modern Gregorian calendar. Since the calendar is based on the moon cycles, the dying could represent the phases of the moon, meaning the month dying in July 1980 would be, for that month, the Eleventh; not the Thirty-first."
He then chuckled at Bones's expression and said, "Try this for a scenario that fits the requirements of your prophecy: Back in the late sixties, a young French couple who recently emigrated from France with a young boy child who was born on the Thirtieth of September, have been approached three times by the one who became your current dark lord with the intent to get them to join him. They refuse him each time. After the third time they decide, 'Naff this, let's emigrate back to our home country and away from the fool.' And do so. They certainly don't want their son going to Hogwarts in the current worsening climate.
"Approximately fifteen years later it's early 1980. Their son is now a young auror with the French aurors. At the same time, the ICW are quickly reaching the point - approaching the point - they're going to send in International aurors to deal with your dark lord problem. And... wouldn't you know it?... one of those aurors is the son of that couple who emigrated back to France.
"You now have, back at the time Trelawney gave her prophecy, a young French auror who is both 'approaching' and 'born of those who thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies'. And he fits the prophecy quite nicely.
"You... as has Dumbledore and the dork lard... have leapt to conclusions based on little, but the flimsiest of, evidence.
"Where is your evidence that the Chosen One, as you've all been calling him, was born on the Thirtieth or Thirty-first of July, 1980? Where is your evidence that he's even British? And, further, where is your evidence he's even a magical? Have you even bothered to find out? For all you know it could be a muggle with a gun who finally 'offs' him; such as a police officer with the Metropolitan Police Service." As he sat back and smirked at Bones, who now had her head resting by her forehead on her fingertips of both hands with her elbows on her desk, he could hear the nervous movements and quiet mutterings of the three aurors behind him.
He chuckled again and said, "You've all been so happily going along with whatever bullshit Albus Dumbledore spews out of his mouth as if it's the gospel truth that, when someone like me comes along and asks for proof, you're all left floundering. 'But-but-but... Albus said so!'
"Albus Dumbledore has mastered the art of, 'When you cannot bedazzle them with your brilliance, baffle them with your bullshit'. And you idiots have all been falling for it." And laughed.
He was the only one, though.
"Good gods, woman!" he chuckled. "How about you speak with an Unspeakable who is a Master of Divination and ask them! Stop falling for Dumbledore's dissembling bullshit and actually investigate! You were, after all, once an auror. Put that training to use."
After a few moments, she sighed and sat back, "Yes. Yes, I was."
After another long look at him, she asked, "Any other pearls of wisdom you wish to share?" That she asked it almost plaintively had him smirking back.
"Ask and ye shall receive," he grinned. Her returned grimace of pain made his grin widen.
"Let's look at your actual prophecy, shall we?" he asked.
"I think we all know what it says," she grumbled.
"Yes," he returned. "But do you know what it means?"
Puzzled, she asked, "What do you mean?" "'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...' right? Now let's deconstruct it.
"'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...' Nowhere, in there, does it state the one with the power will actually vanquish him; only that he has the power to do so.
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