COMPLIMENTS OF LORD VOLDEMORT
DISCLAIMER: We all know whom this belongs to, and it certainly isn't me.
Thanks to Padfootluver, Lil Miss Potter and Lily and James Potter for reviewing.
CHAPTER 4: LIGHT AND DARK
"Good morning, Sybill," Professor McGonagall said. "I'd like a minute of your time, if it's not a problem."
"Of course, Minerva," Sybill Trelawney, the newest addition to the Hogwarts staff, said. "I knew you would come to speak to me, so I arranged to be at liberty at this time."
"Er... quite so."
"Take a seat, Minerva."
Professor Trelawney waved her hands, vaguely indicating the armchairs that were scattered around the room.
Professor McGonagall looked around the room doubtfully. It was hot even in December, and a strong smell of incense seemed to permeate the very walls.
"I was thinking of my office, Sybill."
"I fear that I cannot comply with that request, Minerva. The magical residues in your office would cloud my Inner Eye."
For perhaps the first time in her life, Minerva McGonagall was at a loss for words. Looking as if it was costing her every ounce of will power she possessed, she sank rigidly into a squashy red armchair.
"What is it you wished to speak about, Minerva?"
"Surely your inner eye told you that already, Sybill," Professor McGonagall said, unable to resist.
"Certainly, Minerva," Professor Trelawney said frostily. "But it is not possible to conduct a normal conversation if one reveals that one is All- Knowing."
Professor McGonagall decided that the subject was best abandoned.
"I want to speak to you about Michael Warbeck. Third Year, Gryffindor," she prompted, when Professor Trelawney did not appear to recognize the name.
"Ah, yes," the Divination teacher said. "I recall him only too well... only too well... alas, poor boy."
"Yes, quite. He has been most distraught all term. Professor Sprout tells me he shrieked and fainted when a Biting Tulip snapped at him."
"Foolish boy. It will not be a Biting Tulip."
"I see. I called him to my office before he left for the holidays. It took me four hours to ascertain the problem. It seems you predicted that he would die on..." Professor McGonagall consulted a scrap of parchment. "... the twentieth of January next year."
"You wish the exact time? It will be..." Professor Trelawney closed her eyes. "... at thirteen minutes and forty-three seconds past eleven o'clock." She opened her eyes and smiled benevolently.
"Correct me if I am mistaken, Sybill. You tell me that Michael Warbeck, a thirteen-year-old boy in the best of health, will die in less a month in Hogwarts itself."
"Precisely."
"How do you know?"
Professor Trelawney looked outraged.
"I Saw, Minerva. If you have the gift... the signs were only too obvious. A Grim in his teacup, an abnormally short lifeline when I studied his palm. I even gazed into the Orb, Minerva, and I saw that his days were numbered."
"Do you mean to say," Professor McGonagall said incredulously, "that you predicted all this based on some sodden tea leaves in the bottom of a cup?"
"Were your mind less hopelessly Mundane, Minerva, you too would know that the smallest thing can be significant."
"Yes, well, just try not to scare any more students, will you?"
"If I consider it my duty to warn them of what Fate holds in store, I will of course do so."
Had Professor McGonagall been in the habit of throwing things, the crystal ball on the table in front of her would have been lying on the floor in a thousand pieces.
"If there is nothing else, Minerva?" Professor Trelawney prompted. "I feel the urge to read the omens in the fire."
"Er... of course. One more thing, the Potters want to know if you'd like to go to their home for Christmas dinner. Albus and I intend to go, and I daresay you'd rather come with us than stay here by yourself."
"Alas, I cannot come, Minerva. It would cloud my Inner Eye. Thank the Potters for their kind invitation, but tell them I prefer my solitary dinner here. And tell them not to grieve too much when their son is killed on February the eighth. It is meant to be."
"Harry? Harry is going to die?" Professor McGonagall said, interested despite herself.
"Is that his name? He will die. Now I must ask you to leave, Minerva. Your presence clouds my Inner Eye."
Professor McGonagall gave up and left. On her way downstairs she met Professor Dumbledore, who had evidently been planning on paying a visit to the Divination classroom.
"Ah, Minerva," he said cheerfully. "Have you spoken to Sybill about coming with us?"
"She doesn't want to come."
He didn't appear surprised.
"I had suspected as much. She seems to like solitude. I was thinking of giving her a shawl for Christmas, since she seems to like them. What do you think?"
"It'll probably cloud her Inner Eye," Professor McGonagall said irritably, and went on down the stairs.
In Malfoy Manor – or rather, in the part of Malfoy Manor that was open to the public – a House-Elf was engaged in hanging Christmas baubles from the ceiling.
Narcissa Malfoy looked into the room.
"Are you done yet, Dobby? Hurry! The people from the Ministry will be here soon."
"Yes, Mistress, Dobby is doing it as quickly as he can, Mistress."
Narcissa watched him critically. Her sister Bellatrix, whom Dobby hated – although he told himself he wasn't supposed to hate any of the Malfoys' friends – joined her. They were both very nice-looking, but sometimes Dobby suspected that they were evil.
As soon as the thought had come to him, he winced. He would punish himself for that later.
"I don't know why Lucius still bothers," Narcissa said. "The Ministry won't be in control much longer."
"Be patient. It's best that they think they're safe... and Lucius is the best person to convince them. He gives them plenty of gold, so they will trust him unless he actually performs an Unforgivable before their very eyes... but it's only a matter of time now. On Christmas day, when that fool Dumbledore is feasting at Hogwarts, we will strike Godric's Hollow. The boy will be killed and that will be the end of the matter. Our time is coming."
The two of them went out, leaving Dobby staring after them with an expression of confusion on his face.
Well? R&R!
