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Chapter 2: The Third Prediction
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Ron sat quietly, his face pressed up against the window of the plane.
"Would you look at that, these Muggle contraptions do work! My dad would love this," he muttered, amazed. Suddenly he jerked his head past Harry and Hermione to the flight attendant pushing a drink cart. "They have drinks on this metal death trap too?" he asked, his eyes wide.
Hermione shook her head and smiled in embarrassment at the flight attendant. "My brother, he's not all there," she whispered to the curious lady, who smiled an encouraging smile and handed them drinks.
"So Hermione, what are going to be doing in America?" asked Harry, putting down the in-flight magazine, dearly hoping he wouldn't have to test whether the rock-hard seat cushions actually floated.
"Sight see," replied Hermione casually, her nose buried in a book.
"Where Hermione? You must have our entire itinerary already planned out down to the last second," he replied wearily.
Hermione looked up from War and Peace, a manic grin on her face. "First off, the Gallows," she said reverently.
"The what?" asked Harry.
"The Gallows. It's like Diagon Alley, except its home to the oldest, most prestigious wizarding school in the United States, the Salem Academy."
"The Salem Academy? Isn't that supposed to be one of the leading schools in Defense against the Dark Arts?" asked Ron, again prying himself from the now very smudged window.
"Yes, some of the best Aurors began studying there and transferred to Hogwarts later so they would be able to get a job at the English Ministry," said Hermione. "And I want to go visit it."
"Why? It's just a school," said Ron, mystified.
Harry turned to look at Hermione and groaned, registering the very familiar gleam in her eye. "No, not this year, Hermione!" he whined.
"House elves, Ron! It's the only school that employs all freed house elves. I want to interview them to help my S.P.E.W case."
Harry closed his eyes: He was getting a headache just thinking about her house elf obsession. "No way, Hermione, not again, please say your joking."
Hermione glared at Harry and turned back to her book without saying another word.
* * * * *
Adrienne stood up, her hands on her hips, and surveyed her work. She had scrubbed the entire cafeteria floor with a toothbrush as punishment for illegally aging the kitchen elves. She wiped her wet hands on her green school robes and headed out the cafeteria doors towards the teacher's lounge: She had a staff meeting to crash.
"So, what have I missed?" she asked, swinging open the door.
All the professors looked up at her, clearly not impressed. Adrienne didn't seem to notice. She walked right in, pulled up a chair, and joined the group. Professor Bell looked at her. "This is a staff meeting, Adrienne," she said calmly.
Adrienne cocked her head as if she didn't understand, "So?"
"So, you are a student, Adrienne. This is hardly an appropriate situation for you to be in."
"Oh come on, Professor! This is a perfect situation for me. You guys need a fresh point of view in here anyway. How about you all discuss whatever world-changing things you guys usually talk about, and I'll tell you what the students will think," she said, and then as an afterthought added, "That way you won't have any 'little' protests like you did last year when you tried to make classes start an hour earlier."
"Adrienne! You started that protest!" exclaimed Professor Glenn, shaking his head even though he always found Adrienne's less-than conventional actions hilarious.
"Precisely my point! Listen to me now or listen to me when I have the entire school backing me up. If I remember correctly, my 'little' protest was successful."
Professor Bell took a deep breath; she was having a hard time remembering why she had volunteered to take in such an ornery girl. "Fine, Adrienne, but do try to limit your interruptions."
Adrienne settled back into her chair, smiling smugly.
"As I was saying, this year Hogwarts is only accepting three transfer students. We have already decided on Tricia Leoni from the seventh year so she can study animagi with Professor McGonagall and Charles Gromble so he can study under Professor Vector, as his Arithmancy levels have far surpassed the curriculum taught here. That leaves us with one more student."
At this, Adrienne sat up bolt in her chair.
Professor Glenn spoke up. "What about Michelli Vandetta?"
"What about her?" asked Adrienne rolling her eyes, "Michelli plans on designing dress robes for a profession. Choose someone who would really benefit from attending Hogwarts."
Everyone looked at her.
"And who, Adrienne, would really benefit form attending Hogwarts?" asked Professor Bell.
"Someone planning on being an Auror. You know England has the best Auror program, and you also know that you have to study at Hogwarts to even be considered for acceptance into their program."
"I'm not aware of any student interested in becoming an Auror, especially with the memories of all the deaths and torturing when You-Know-Who was powerful. No, I think Michelli would be good," said Professor Sloan thoughtfully.
"Wait, hypothetically speaking . . ." began Adrienne.
"Here we go again," sighed Professor Hartel, slumping in her chair.
Adrienne glared at her. "Hypothetically speaking, if a student were interested in being an English Auror, would you choose him because of the necessity of a Hogwarts education?" asked Adrienne, her eyes roving furiously around the table.
"She has a point," commented Professor Glenn, looking at her intently. 'When she uses the word hypothetically she always is referring to herself - where is she going with this,' he asked himself. "That is the only way to get into the English Ministry, and who in their right mind would want to be an American Auror? I mean, honestly, our program is horrible!"
"Traditionally, aspiring Aurors have been given preference, yes," said Professor Bell, "but they also must be in good academic standing."
Adrienne smiled smugly. "I want to be an Auror, and I have a ... uh ... decent academic standing. What about sending me to Hogwarts?"
The room fell deathly silent, and Adrienne shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 'Maybe that wasn't the best way to go about it,' she told herself.
"You an Auror? Come now, Adrienne," Professor Glenn exclaimed, mistaking her comment for a joke. He chuckled and soon Professor Hartel joined in. In seconds all the professors were laughing.
Adrienne's eyes narrowed. "It isn't that funny, you guys," she said angrily.
Professor Sloan stopped giggling. "Adrienne, come now, Aurors must be in complete control; you frequently send the castle into uproar, transfiguring doors, floors, people, and all this unintentionally."
Adrienne pursed her lips; she wasn't going to let them laugh at her. "I'm top of my class in dueling, and I can usually do all the other charms, spells, and incantations for classes... I'm just a 'little' clumsy."
"A 'little' clumsy? Aurors are constantly in danger; you can't afford to be a 'little' clumsy. You learn your skills for you lessons, Adrienne, but you don't retain the knowledge," commented Professor Bell.
Adrienne took a breath. "I could try harder," she muttered. No one said anything.
Adrienne sat quietly in her chair. This was her chance, the chance every student in the school would want, and they weren't going to let her because she had had a couple mishaps with her wand.
"But I have to go!" she said, suddenly feeling very anxious.
Professor Bell looked at her strangely. "Why do you have to go Adrienne?" she asked. Adrienne looked into her eyes; they were searching hers. 'Why on earth would Adrienne suddenly have an urge to be an Auror when for the last four years she has proclaimed to want to run a reformed Muggle orphanage,' thought Professor Bell.
Adrienne closed her eyes; she didn't really know why she 'had' to go, but something told her she had to. Something deep, deep down in the bottom of her gut, told her she had to, told her she had no choice.
"Adrienne," came Professor Bell's voice.
Adrienne didn't open her eyes; she could see him, the boy tied in the graveyard, and suddenly her heart fell.
"Because…. because…oh never mind," and with that Adrienne miraculously stood up without knocking over anything and strode silently out of the room.
* * * * *
Adrienne sat quietly in her dormitory. She didn't know what had come over her. She had just meant to disrupt their meeting and the next thing she knew she had had the sudden, gripping urge to say she wanted to be an Auror. This wasn't entirely true. She had never considered being an Auror until they mentioned Hogwarts. At the mention of the name, her stomach had tightened and she felt as she had when Professor Hartel had put her under the Imperius Curse: She felt as if something was controlling her actions and thoughts. She felt the sudden, irrational urge to go to Hogwarts; and the only way to get there, a desire to be an Auror - that's why she had said it. But why?
"Why?" she asked, walking to her window.
Then she saw it again for the third time that day, the boy tied in the graveyard. The boy who she couldn't help, but felt as if she had to. Another irrational thought entered her mind.
'What if he isn't just a dream? What if he's real?'
"No!" she mumbled as she drew her curtains and crawled into her bed still dressed.
"No, he's just a dream," she whispered as she closed her eyes trying to block out the image of the boy.
* * * * *
Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore were chatting in the staff room when the door creaked open and Sibyll Trelawney tiptoed in, a strong musky perfume accompanying her.
"Ah, Sibyll, what a pleasant surprise!" exclaimed Albus, his blue eyes twinkling behind his characteristic half-moon spectacles.
Minerva glared at her. "Did the orb inform you, Sibyll, that you would entertain yourself in the staff room this evening?" she asked shortly.
Sibyll raised her eyebrows behind her thick glasses. "As a matter of fact, it did, Minerva," she said airily, pulling up a chair to her two associates.
Minerva rolled her eyes and shot an awkward glance at Albus. "I have things I must do, if you'll excuse me, Albus," she said, not at all feeling up to bickering with Sibyll, which did happen to be one of her favorite pastimes.
Minerva picked up a pile of books and was almost to the door when she heard her name. She turned around and saw Albus motioning to her. She took a deep breath and strode back to her seat.
"What is it?" Minerva asked, irritated, and then she heard it.
"Separated, one will die, but united, they both will conquer. The life of one is in the other's hands, and our fate in their hearts," came a deep unearthly voice, and Sibyll Trelawney slumped unconscious to the ground.
"Now that made no sense at all," sighed Minerva, reaching for her wand to enervate the unconscious woman. "That loony old bat," she muttered. She raised her wand, opened her mouth, and stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Professor Dumbledore, staring out the window and to her surprise she could have sworn she heard him whisper:
"How is this possible? How?"