Chapter Ten: Dream
3:02 p.m., Sunday afternoon, Hogwarts corridors
Hermione stormed off, vaguely appalled at her own ridiculous actions just a few moments ago. What in the world was she thinking? After thinking about what had happened and replaying both arguments in her mind, she realized she'd been acting completely mental. First, seeking out an argument with Ron for no reason except annoying him more than she was, and then, throwing Harry the most ridiculous excuse for it, and running away like a tearful little girl without even bothering to apologize.
"Argh…" Hermione murmured, cringing at the memory, "'If you love me, that shouldn't be too hard'? That's ridiculous, even when I'm angry, I should know better than to say something so stupid. Merlin, of course he has a reason to try and pry a little. Constantly watching Ron and I arguing isn't exactly reassuring. For all he knows, Ron might be planning some ridiculously drastic way of 'getting me back' or even wooing me back to his side…." She snorted, "Even though I'd say Ron's probably closer to killing me rather than loving me…" The thought brought a dark look of pensiveness to her face as she wondered whether Ron really could be pondering on such a thing.
She walked aimlessly around the Castle, ignoring the sneering looks the Slytherins gave her as she passed a cluster of them around the fourth floor. Somehow, she didn't really care about them as much as she had a few days ago. Now that everything was out in the open, she had other things to worry about. It was, after all, only obvious that the school would find out. Harry was constantly the object of taunts, admiration, amazement, fear, gossip, and threats from more than half of the students at Hogwarts. It would be ridiculous to be his girlfriend and expect keep it a secret from everybody.
She felt rather vain for caring about what they thought, even if that had been in the past. They were meaningless in her life, after all. They'll never really be the kind of friends I… they most certainly will never be an encouraging family who…
Oh, no…
Hermione stopped dead in her tracks as she realized how…empty her life seemed now in a way. Really, she loved Harry and she would do the impossible for him, but…she still needed her family and friends. It was they who would be there for her when she had a serious row with Harry, or when she just couldn't talk to him about something. With a disbelieving shake of her head, she crossed her arms across her chest, dwelling on that.
I can't believe this.
I've chased away my family and one of my best friends. My mom and dad hate me because they think I'm lusting after Harry and because they've always liked Ron better-at least as a husband for me.
And Ron…I suppose I shouldn't even explain that one.
Merlin, but this is insane…I never thought…I never realized this might happen. I never stopped to think about this-being completely alone except for Harry. I do love him, but I can't possibly spend every moment with him for the rest of my life!
That sounds disgustingly selfish, though…
No, it doesn't.
Yes, it does.
Fine, I'll try and…calm mom down. She had probably just read Ron's letter before writing to me, so the shock of it all was probably still fresh. Maybe, just maybe, all that she said was a product of her immediate reaction-rage, disbelief, outrage-when she read Ron's letter. Maybe she'll reply to me, apologizing for her harsh words.
Yeah, right, and maybe Snape will show up tomorrow for class wearing pink robes.
With a light chuckle that relaxed her tense frame considerably, she continued walking until she reached the first floor. With a groan, she remembered her detention and lazily reached for her wristwatch inside her pocket. With a yelp, she realized she was an hour late. Professor McGonagall had, after all, approached them early during breakfast today-before her argument with Ron over the salt-and strictly informed them that they were to report to her office at one in the afternoon. Pocketing her watch once more, she made a brisk walk towards the marble staircase, and broke into a run halfway through it. Running through the passageway at breakneck speed, she skidded to a halt just in time for her to gain her composure and enter Professor McGonagall's office in elegant strides.
However, as she tried to drown her noisy attempts at returning her breathing to normal, she heard loud, echoing, and apparently very frantic footsteps behind her. Clutching her chest, she turned, only to see Ron dashing towards her at an alarming speed.
"Ron, watch ou--!"
Unfortunately, the marble floor was very slippery, making it hard to successfully stop after having been running at such a startling rate. To her dismay, Ron also noticed her too late, which made him collide heavily with her, which threw them both to the floor. Hermione let out a gasp of excruciating pain and utter surprise. She felt her breath leave her for a few terrible moments as she squirmed beneath Ron, gasping for air. He cursed madly, his elbow digging into her stomach as the pain from his knee spread through his whole leg.
Gasping, she managed to choke out a few words, "R-Ron! I Can…t b-breathe!" Her arms were unable to push him off, as they were pinned over her chest beneath his weight. She tried to move her legs as well, but the only thing she could do was hit him, and he seemed to be in enough pain already.
Just as she thought she would die asphyxiated beneath him, he gasped and quickly rolled off her, apologizing fervently between various curses. Hermione merely enjoyed the nice feeling she got when she could breathe fresh air again-until her vision began to blur. Blinking, she hoisted herself to her feet, holding onto the wall for support as she swayed dangerously to the side.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't-Hermione, are you okay?" Ron asked suddenly, bringing himself to his feet as well and wincing as his injured knee supported his body weight. He gave her a puzzled, yet worried look and took a small step towards her.
Hermione shook her head slightly, which only intensified the dizzy feeling she had. Still swaying, she tried to bring her vision back to focus as she took a step towards McGonagall's door. Her hand on the doorknob, she suddenly couldn't see anything. Terrified, she took a step backwards and stumbled into Ron's arms. He quickly managed to hold her successfully, but she still tried to free herself.
"L-let me go…I'm fi…fine…" She mumbled absently.
"I can't, Hermione, you're not well…" Ron said in a shaky voice, patting her head in an attempt to soothe her. Meanwhile, Hermione felt her consciousness slipping away from her as her vision kept coming and going. She felt an admirable amount of sleepiness spreading through her, which made her eyelids feel heavy and gave her an overwhelming urge to close her eyes.
Noticing her sudden calmness, Ron jerked madly, and appeared to be fumbling through his robes. She was only vaguely aware of the fact that she really wasn't well, and that Ron was desperately trying to keep her alive-or awake, anyway. Then, she felt Ron shifting her around in his arms, only to hastily drag her towards the marble staircase again. His knees almost buckled, threatening to give into the pain, so that he had to hold onto the wall for support again. This made Hermione's head roll over to the side, revealing her already closed eyes and half open mouth, on which her lips were dry and rather chapped.
"Dammit! Wake up, Hermione, please!" When she didn't respond, he cursed again, then hastily tapped her cheeks in an attempt to wake her up, "C'mon…wake up! You're not supposed to fall asleep after getting hit in the head like that! Wake-"
"Mister Weasley, what in Merlin's name is going on?" Professor McGonagall's voice appeared out of nowhere, causing a wave of mingled relief and foreboding to run across Ron's body. Still struggling with his and Hermione's combined weight, he turned around to face her. Her eyes widened, "What happened? You were both two hours hate for the Detention, and now I find you here, with an injured student in your arms? You'd best have a good explanation, Weasley, or else things will get very serious indeed." Her voice shook slightly and her stiff posture made her look more forbidding than ever.
As Ron opened his mouth uncertainly to speak, she shook her head, "Never mind that now, Weasley. She needs to be taken to Poppy immediately." Briskly, she walked towards them and pointed at Hermione with her wand, "Mobilicorpus." She muttered, and Hermione's body was levitated up in the air. Then, with a flick of her wand, the girl vanished.
"Where is she? What did you-?"
"I have sent her to the Hospital Wing, Mr. Weasley. She needs to be attended quickly." Professor McGonagall said stiffly, "Now, as for you, you may come and wait in the Hospital Wing until Poppy is finished patching her up, if you wish. We shall discuss what, exactly, happened at another time. Now, come along, I need to go to the Hospital Wing as well."
Ron gave her an uncertain look, "I…I can't go with her, Professor. I, err, can't take it." His voice had the tiniest hint of sullenness and insecurity in it as he scratched his head, unsure of what to say, "I'll…uh…go tell Harry, though." He said, turning his gaze to the floor instead. Professor McGonagall eyed him suspiciously, a frown crossing her face, but she nodded, "Very…very well, yes, let Potter know. I trust you shall visit her later, however?" She added, and Ron gave her a small nod. Still frowning, she turned and made a brisk walk towards the marble staircase.
Ron scratched his head, thinking. How, just how, am I going to tell Harry that I accidentally crashed into his girlfriend after hastily running to my Detention (for which I was very late, as was she), causing her to get hit in the head and be taken to the Hospital Wing? Merlin, this is crazy! I can just see his face…
Fantastic, I can just feel his hands closing around my neck…
I'm dead. I am so dead. I hurt his precious Hermione, who is sacred to him. Honestly, I am sorry about it. I never meant to, but I just know he'll assume I was always planning on doing that as some weird, maniacal revenge plan.
And after trying to kill him, who can blame him for thinking that?
Okay, fine, but the point is, that is NOT true. I wasn't trying to hurt her, and I've never planned on doing so. I mean, she isn't exactly my cup of tea anymore, not after what she did (Merlin knows I absolutely hate her for that), but I'm not planning on killing her. It's like trying to kill Harry, only worse…
It's just…I think, I may still have feelings for her…only, I hate her more because of the whole affair she had with Harry. And, I know I don't have even the slimmest chance of ever getting her back. Not anymore.
Hmm…this actually feels good-this talking to myself thing. I can really clear things up and kind of, get things off my chest finally. It's really good when I don't have any friends, anyway…
Now, to go and meet my death at the hands of Harry…maybe I'll get a chance to duel him. I could try out the last hex Hermione taught me….that one was pretty good….
Feeling a tad bit more lighthearted than before, Ron set off for the Gryffindor Common Room. Yet, despite his merriness, he still felt a strong feeling of apprehension. Not talking with Harry-that, he could handle (at least with a wand in hand), but more because of his upcoming talk with Hermione. Just a few minutes ago they had been arguing, yelling their heads off at each other, and yet, he had just saved her life right now….in a strange way.
I wonder if she'll even thank me…
I swear, if we start arguing again, I might just walk right out of the Hospital Wing. I can't stand yelling at her anymore. I just want peace. What's done is done; they can't change that, and I daresay they're much happier now that they're together. Me, well, I'll figure something out to do with my life-alone.
Merlin knows…maybe I'll find someone else.
With a hollow, gloomy chuckle, he had one last thought before taking the stairs leading to the second floor: I doubt it.
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4:46 p.m., Sunday afternoon, Road to Killarney, Ireland
Sibyll sighed at her poor ability to go through with things. It always got her into very miserable or annoying situations of which there was no getting out of. And Merlin, how she could have skipped this by simply Apparating to her house like she'd meant to…
After she had Apparated out of the boat, she'd arrived in Waterford, had a sherry or two (she wasn't exactly sure how many…), and chatted with an old lady at a café near the docks. After about two hours-around midday-she'd started thinking about Wormtail. As she thought about the things she'd said, she thought she had sounded rather cruel, and she felt guilty knowing that the poor man was completely alone in a boat leading to a place he hardly knew. Oh, she'd tried not to care, but it wasn't of any use. She's continued thinking and worrying, until she'd even seen visions of him dying from being thrown overboard and eaten by a shark-none of which came true, to her mingled dismay and relief. So, she'd decided to wait for him and give him a second chance.
Oh, how she regretted it…
It wasn't really him, although he was quite irritating from time to time when he started babbling about idiotic things, clouding her visions and her Inner Eye. This is the reason I always kept to myself at Hogwarts…Merlin, he fogs my Inner Eye and he gives me a headache!
Well, that's not really his fault, but it's thanks to him and my ridiculously pitiful nature that I am here on this train-or bus, whatever it's named.
She seemed to have gone numb from sitting so long in that wretched thing Muggles called 'cars', or in this case, 'annoyingly loud, crowded, and slow double-decker bus'. There were people standing up, holding on to a long pipe that stretched all around the ceiling, except for the part where the stairs began. Luckily, she and Wormtail had been able to snag one of the seats, or else they would have had to take the whole trip standing up. To Sibyll's disappointment, however, their seat was around the middle of the bus, so that every single conversation going on was audible to them.
There simply weren't enough good things to outnumber the bad in their current circumstances.
"…So, I was constantly forced to do their bidding. If I didn't they would torture me, or taunt me to death. I was just crazy for a way to get out secretly, especially after what The Dark Lord told me. And then, you showed up. Merlin you don't know how eternally grateful I am, Sibyll-"
Sibyll groaned and childishly clapped her hands over her head, "No more, Wormtail, no more! I can't take it…between you and these annoying Muggles, I think I might die!" She wailed, "My head is throbbing and my Inner Eye is utterly blind! I feel sick, too…Merlin, I think I need another sherry…"
Wormtail snorted, "You've had enough, I think. And I'd bet that's what's making your head hurt, combined with the bumps from the bus ride." He said, shaking his head, "Do you have something against Muggles?" He blurted out suddenly.
Sibyll glared at him, "And that amazing question comes from a man who joined the Death Eaters..." She scoffed, massaging her temples and closing her eyes, "I don't hate them, if that's what you mean…I just can't imagine what it would be like living with these buses and boats when there's Apparition, or Floo powder."
"No wonder. You keep criticizing everything that has to do with them."
"At least I don't torture them to death."
"I've never tortured a single muggle, Sibyll."
Sibyll raised an eyebrow, "Why do you insist on lying? You've tortured many-and you've killed your fair share as well." She hissed, "If you hadn't, your cronies would have killed you for insulting the Dark ways of The Dark Lord's faithful followers." She said, her voice dripping with scorn.
Wormtail sighed, "Fine, I have. But what else could I do, being on the Dark side? You can't be suggesting I enjoyed it!"
Sibyll pursed her lips and leaned back on the chair, still rubbing her temples, "Please. Do you think this saint show you're playing here to try and gain my trust is working? I know what you did, Wormtail. You sold your best friend and his wife to the Dark Lord! You led them to their deaths!" She said in a soft whisper that made Wormtail shiver, "It will take more than a few lies and sweet remarks for me to actually trust such a conniving little liar like you."
Wormtail crossed his arms, "Why can't you loosen up? I'm trying, Sibyll, I really am, but you seem set on thinking I'm worthless."
Sibyll sighed, giving Wormtail an exhausted look as she rummaged her pockets, "You consider yourself to be worth anything but disgust? Do analyze the things you have previously done, Wormtail." She said in a tired voice, "And while you're at it, leave me alone…I'm going to make myself deaf to any sound until we get there…" She said, turning her back to the crowd on the hallway and furtively pulling out her wand, "When I need to be waken up, point your wand at me and say, Audio. The wand movement is simple; like a jab. Alright?" Wormtail nodded absently and took to gazing outside through the window.
Crouching slightly, Sibyll pointed waved wand at her ears and muttered, "Temporalis Asellus" Instantly, a wonderful silence substituted the raging noise that had been ringing in her ears ever since they'd stepped on the bus. With a sly, happy grin, Sibyll leant back on her chair, looking forward to a nice nap before they arrived.
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The Dream/Vision, Path to The Valley of the Sage - Both in Sibyll and Hermione's minds
It was very, very dark. The sky was completely clouded, blocking both the moon and the starts from view-if there were any. There were large, leaf-less trees on either side of the narrow stone path leading into what looked to be a deserted valley, and there was a faint smell of burnt paper in the night air.
Hermione looked around with confused eyes, unsure whether she should follow the path or simply go back. A sharp breeze blew behind her, and the few dry leaves that littered the floor were lifted in the air, following the wind's trail. It was hard to see them in the dark, but Hermione knew they were there. She heard them speaking to her. They urged her to enter what they called The Valley of the Sage, to step inside, for there was much she needed to know. Hermione shivered from both fear and the cold. Looking around, she saw she was alone except for those voices, and that her surroundings were steadily becoming darker and darker, until the only thing she could see were shadows from the tress, the path, and the leaves. As her anxiety and uncertainty grew, her breathing became very rapid and she could feel her hands shaking.
Taking a step forward, she saw a shadow in the valley, moving-no, pacing. It paced in a large circle, as if it were waiting for her. Then, as she took another step, she thought she heard a timid click-click behind her. She whirled about, but there seemed to be nothing there. Nothing, until…
"Who…who is there?" A soft, airy, and very familiar voice spoke. Whoever owned it seemed to be rather nervous as well, because they had stopped walking altogether, and Hermione thought she heard the distinct sound that is heard when a wand is hastily being grabbed out of a pocket; a sort of swishing sound, which became louder depending on how fast the wand is whipped out.
Hermione frowned. There was no way….no way that old fraud was here in her nightmare, "H-Hermione Granger…" She whispered in a low voice, which had a slight tone of annoyance.
There was a sigh of relief and a low chuckle, "Oh, thank Merlin, it's just you, Miss Granger…" Sibyll said, regaining the usual airiness she carried in her voice around students, "I am Professor Trewlaney. My dear, do you, by any chance, have a crystal ball?" She knew this sounded stupid and ridiculous to ask, but as this was the attitude she always took with students, she supposed she should act as she always would. At least, until she figured out the real reason as to why they were both in the same dream-and near the Valley of the Sage!
Hermione rolled her eyes, "No, Professor, I don't have a crystal ball." She said, turning instead to the valley ahead of her. The shadow still paced…
"There is something troubling you. I can see through your mask of anger and indifference, my dear. You want to enter that Valley…" Sibyll said mistily, waving her arms around for effect. Hermione turned around again and gave her a perplexed look, "Yes, yes…but you must not. There are secrets hidden within that place too terrible for the lively youth to overhear…they are too dark, too definite, for your young soul to know…" This part was, indeed, true. She was still very puzzled as to why this girl had ended up here…usually the people she had met in this place were those who were included in some sort of prophecy or prediction…she had only been here once before, when she predicted the birth of Harry Potter. She had seen him crawling towards the Valley-even then he'd been too curious for his own good, the poor child. Confused, she'd followed him. Inside, Potter's powers had been revealed to him-and Sibyll. When she woke, she could see the memory clearly, but as the time went by, the details began blurring until she merely remembered that she had been there.
"But…Professor…what am I doing here if I'm not supposed to enter the Valley?" Hermione asked her voice softer than before. Perhaps this woman really knew what she was talking about.
Sibyll nodded, "You are being given a choice, dear child. The choice to obtain knowledge far beyond your dreams-knowledge that could make your existence miserable because of what you are aware of, knowledge that could drive people you love away, and knowledge that could even signify your death." She said in a low, soft whisper that made a shiver run through both their spines, "Your other choice is to walk away…you can walk away from this dream, through this path, and you will remember nothing whatsoever."
Hermione shivered as her breath began to quicken once more. Swallowing, she asked, "Then why are you here? What is this place?" Her legs began to feel numb from the cold, and she wrapped her arms around her shoulders to try and keep herself warm.
"This, my dear, is the path to The Valley of the Sage. One who comes here is given the choice of knowledge or ignorance because they are included in a prophecy or prediction of grand importance. Often, the Seer who makes the prediction or prophecy is brought along with that person-"
"Wait, so you made a prophecy about me?"
"Not recently." Sibyll admitted, "That is what troubles me…"
Hermione frowned, and her face was invaded with a dark expression of pensiveness. There was a long silence in which they both stood, thinking, until Hermione turned on her heel and broke into a swift walk towards the Valley. With a look back, she said, "I'm going." She whispered, "Nothing will stop me, Professor. If you wish, however, you can come, too. I think we both ought to know…whatever it is we will be told there…" And with that, she continued her walk towards the entrance to the Valley.
Sibyll stood, torn between the intense fear that welled up inside her, curiosity as to what the knowledge might be, and concern for both of their well beings. On one hand, she was faced with her duty as a Seer to predict what would come to happen, and to predict she needed the knowledge that was contained in that Valley. On the other hand, her fear for her sanity, as well as Hermione's, kept her glued to the spot where she was standing. She had not known many people who had been driven to insanity by the knowledge they had been given, but one or two of them was enough to make her feel a mixture of fear and respect towards the wisdom the Valley gave. And although the world would little mourn her death nor treasure her memories, she knew this child was much more important. She could see the love in her eyes when she looked at Potter, and vise versa. But it was not only the love and care several people felt for her, but her undoubtedly important role in the upcoming War that made her life be treasured more than Sibyll's.
And thus, her mind buzzing with thoughts and her frame shaking with dread, Sibyll began to walk hesitantly behind Hermione.
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The Valley of the Sage - Both in Sibyll and Hermione's minds
The Valley of the Sage was completely deserted except for a strange white light coming from a large candle placed about twenty meters into the valley. There were thousands of leaves moving in a large circle around it, and a strange sound greeted Hermione's ears as she came in…it sounded like a phoenix song. The sound was completely entrancing, and Hermione's mind cleared for the first time in quite a long time. It was blissful…Hermione felt as if a huge weight was lifted off her back, like she could finally relax.
Sibyll, however, didn't feel quite so calm as she hastily stepped inside. Her eyes darted to every corner, taking in each detail of the valley so that when she woke up she could write it all down. Oh, no, this isn't going to go forgotten… Yet, when she saw the candle in the middle, she did not take in any details; instead, she remembered.
That is the same candle that was placed here when Potter came…
Her mind blurred by her returning memories, she finally caught sight of Hermione. She was smiling, walking towards the candle with her right hand slightly outstretched in front of her. The leaves that had been previously surrounding the candle were now circling her as well, and Sibyll wasn't sure whether it was the leaves or the situation, but it all looked rather…suspicious. Why was there such a friendly aura?
Hermione walked with such grace that it looked as if she were gliding towards the candle. Her mind felt clear; completely empty of worries, which made her feel rather lightheaded. Either way, she knew the wisdom Professor Trewlaney had spoken of was probably in the candle, so she decided to go examine it. She walked in a way that was most unlike her usual manner, and extended her arm forward. She was almost there…she was so close…
Several things happened as she kneeled beside the candle. Frantic footsteps were heard behind her, and the wind became considerably stronger, putting out the light from the candle. A low rumbling ensued, and from the candle erupted a large shadow, as if a very tall person were standing there. Hermione screamed, scrambling to her feet and running back towards Professor Trewlaney, who had fallen to the floor and was looking at the shadow with a horror-struck expression.
Then, as abruptly as it began, the rumbling stopped and the wind seized. The shadow, however, remained. It spoke in a low, grumbling voice, "Hermione Granger…you have been brought here for reasons unknown to you or the woman beside you. There is a prophecy waiting to creep out of this woman's lips…a prophecy that will set your fate-forever." The voice paused, and continued, "It is man's choices that define his qualities and weaknesses, but it is the most important choices that can decide our fate. You are being given a choice-a choice to absorb this knowledge or ignore it. I ask you, Miss Granger, have you decided?"
Hermione gulped, cleared her throat slightly, and stood. In a small, trembling voice, she asked, "But this knowledge you offer, what will it tell me? Will it…tell me the reason for which I am here? Will it let me know of the future that awaits me?"
"I can only tell you that the choice you make here will reflect itself upon your life. Depending on what you choose, it will be either for the better, or for the bad, and depending on your choice, this woman will voice out the prophecy's wording."
Hermione looked at Professor Trewlaney helplessly, expecting nothing from her but still wanting some reassurance or some advice on what she should do. Trewlaney shrugged, shaking her head with an apologetic look, "I don't know." She mouthed. Her gaze went from the putout candle to the gigantic shadow, and her eyes were again filled with fear. Hermione turned back to the shadow as well, her eyes traveling along the Valley for a sign.
Her lip trembling, she fell to her knees again. With her gaze still on the floor, she spoke, "I…I don't know." She whispered. You are being given a choice, dear child. The choice to obtain knowledge far beyond your dreams-knowledge that could make your existence miserable because of what you are aware of, knowledge that could drive people you love away, and knowledge that could even signify your death. She remembered Professor Trewlaney's previous words and wondered whether the old fraud was right or not. Should she really accept this knowledge? Would it condemn her-or Harry? At the mention of Harry in her mind, her eyes snapped wide open, and she felt stronger. Oh, the curiosity in her was overpowering, but she wasn't going to give in. She would not let herself fall as prey to temptation.
Knowledge of things is not always best to have. She told herself, How would I feel if I chose the wisdom that is being offered to me, and later something catastrophic happened because of it?
But knowledge and intelligence have never failed me up to now. Why would they? Facts are always right, and that is what makes them good to know. So, how do I know this information isn't factual? How do I know it will signify something bad in my life, when every other bit of information I've gained has always served its rightful, beneficial, purpose?
And how would I feel if I didn't choose the information? How do I know which choice is right? For all I know, this information might be the key to defeat Voldemort.
Looking up at the shadow, she cleared her throat yet again, but the words failed her. Again, Harry's bright green eyes flashed before her, and she could have sworn he was near, for she could feel his touch…she even thought she could smell him…
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she looked again at the shadow, and this time the words came out perfectly, "I choose…I choose to ignore the information." She stated in a clear voice, bringing herself to her feet.
"Very well." There was an outbreak of winds again, and the leaves began to fly around both Sibyll and Hermione. The ground shook, causing a rumbling to be heard once more. Hermione and Sibyll fell back, the young lady's high pitched screaming slowly fading from Sibyll's ears as they were both returned to their rightful locations. The world twisted itself before each of them before it was brought back into focus, and their hearing abruptly returned to normal.
Miles away from each other, Sibyll Trewlaney and Hermione Granger awoke with a start.
A/N: Aha! How's that for a cliffie? =D Well, at least I posted, right?
I hope this chapter was to your liking. I quite enjoyed writing it myself. =) I think it's quite good, but that's just my opinion. You can, of course, think it was boring/disgustingly angsty/weird/good-but-it-had-a-cliffie-so-it's-bad/ or whatever else you would like to describe it. Just be sure to word your reviews nicely, as I don't like receiving flames. =)
Hmm…I don't think there's anything else to add, except that I'll take about the same time writing the next chapter, probably. Oh, yeah…w00t! Ten chapters! Booya! =D