IN THE LAST CHAPTER- Mrs Madge waved her wand and a blue screen appeared before them. It was filled with profiles.
''Trelawny? No. Wait! Found it!''
Hermione leaned forward and gasped.
Chapter 5
There wasn't a profile! It was blank! Hermione stared at the blue screen as if she could distinguish the white into a picture. Mrs Madge looked confused as well. She raised her glasses and her eyes widened.
''There was one a few seconds ago, I swear!'' she cried out.
''Did you catch her name?'' Hermione asked.
''Yes. Wait?- Rosemary Gale! Yes, that's it!''
''Rosemary Gale? Are you sure?'' Hermione asked, frustrated.
''Sure,'' Mrs Madge replied, annoyed that Hermione was questioning her memory.
Hermione spun around three times, thanking Mrs Madge in a shout, and soon Disapparated away. She reappeared downstairs and quickly ran to the man behind the desk. She asked him where a witch called ''Rosemary Gale'' lived. After a lot of groaning and sheafing with papers he said, in a bored voice, ''Cabrey Valley, Number 12, Merlin Street''.
''Thank you so much!'' Hermione cried and she whirlwind-ed away, her hair flying and disappeared in three spins.
Cabrey Valley was a simple, but large, valley that had been transferred to a town. There was a road running in the middle of the valley and shops, houses, bars and pubs filled either side of it. The valley was busy with happy shoppers, old women, weddings and loud laughs. Hermione appeared in the midst of all this and was rather overwhelmed with the hustle and bustle. After collecting herself, she trotted forward and found herself being pushed into a bookshop. A wizard in emerald robes was sitting behind a desk.
''Excuse me, do you know how to find No 12, Merlin Street?'' Hermione asked, squeezing into a space between a fat woman and the desk.
''This ith Merlin Street, dovey,'' the man lisped. ''Thith ith number 10. Thhow more 'ouses.''
Hermione took a while to understand what the wizard had said but when she did, she was giddy with relief and happiness. She thanked him and ran out of the shop. Sure enough, right after the bookshop's neighbour, number 11, was Number 12. It was a stout cottage, with two floors and ivy growing on the windows. Hermione rapped twice on the door. An old woman opened it.
''Does Rosemary Gale live here?'' Hermione queried.
''Rosie? Heavens, no! Me ole' friend, Rosiemary, died yesserday,'' the woman replied.
''But- but she was so young!'' Hermione spluttered.
''Young? Dear me, no! She was at least fifty four. Look!'' the old lady shoved a crinkled picture in Hermione's hand. It was of an old lady with large nostrils. ''Left a daughter. 'Bout twenny three, twenny four.''
''What was the daughter's name?'' Hermione asked eagerly, pulling out her notebook. Was this the future telling young woman?
''Same as 'er mudder. Rosemary. Fussy thing, she was. Fell in love, got pregnant, baby died, she left afder 'er mudder got died. She was awful queer,'' the old woman lowered her voice to a whisper, ''she used to say things.''
''Like what?'' Hermione whispered back.
''She- she made prophesies. Future telling rubbish, me and 'er mum thought. Bud they come true. They al really 'appened!'' the old woman said, looking frightened. ''I'm glad she's gone,'' she admitted. ''I was scared of 'er a mite too much.''
''Thank you so much!'' Hermione gushed. ''Where is she now?''
''Rosemary? I dunno. She was mighty fond of Cathy Monroe. If there's anyone she'd live with, it'd be 'er.'' the old lady replied.
''Where does Cathy live?'' Hermione inquired.
''Godrics Hollow, Number 15,'' came the answer.
''Thanks,'' Hermione said and, with the information stored in her mind, she Disapparated.
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