Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying on a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half of the candy shop.
“The odd thing is, Harry,“ he said softly, "that it may not have meant you at all. Sibyll’s prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom.”