Chapter 6: Mad Eye Moody
September 3, 2001 – Monday
Great Hall
The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Dawn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione examined their course schedules at breakfast.
"Today's not bad… outside all morning," said Ron, his finger tracing down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures… damn it, we're still with the Slytherins…"
"Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, looking down at his timetable.
Dawn looked at Harry, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. "What's wrong with Divination?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of innocence.
"You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast with an air of practicality. "Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy." She then turned her attention to Dawn, her tone carrying a hint of skepticism. "The professor who teaches it is daft. She couldn't predict anything if she tried. Besides, Divination is just a bunch of hocus-pocus."
Dawn rolled her eyes, exchanging a playful glance with Hermione. "Tell that to Buffy," she informed her twin, her voice laced with amusement. She leaned closer to Hermione, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. "Buffy gets prophetic dreams. It's part of the Slayer package."
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, and she turned her gaze toward the staff table, where Buffy was seated. Her expression held a newfound fascination as she processed this unexpected revelation.
Greenhouse Three
"This might be fun," Dawn admitted with a wistful smile as they entered the greenhouse for their first class of the day. "Mom always loved gardening."
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "She did?" she asked, genuinely intrigued by this newfound insight into their mother.
Dawn nodded, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "Yeah. It was one of her favorite things to do when she wasn't at the gallery," she admitted, her thoughts drifting back to the last time Joyce had been out in the yard back home, tending to the garden. "I used to help her all the time."
Hermione couldn't help but smile warmly, a hint of sadness in her eyes as she considered the life she might have had if circumstances had been different. She wondered if she would have shared these moments with Joyce, if she would have been a part of Buffy and Dawn's world instead of the Grangers'.
Dawn noticed the contemplative look on Hermione's face and immediately reached out, placing a comforting hand on her twin's back. "Sorry," she said, her voice filled with genuine concern. "I didn't mean to make you sad," she admitted as she began to rub Hermione's back in small, soothing circles.
Hermione's smile remained, appreciative of the gesture, one that she was sure Dawn had learned from their mom. "It's okay, Dawnie," she reassured her twin, her voice filled with affection. "I guess I will always be a little sad because I missed out on so much with Mum, you, and Buffy. But I'm glad we're together now, and we have all the time in the world to make up for it."
Dawn couldn't help but smile as she pulled Hermione into a warm, sisterly embrace, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.
As Professor Sprout began the class, she introduced them to the most peculiar-looking plants Dawn had ever seen. They resembled thick, black, giant slugs, sticking vertically out of the soil, their grotesque appearance sending shivers down Dawn's spine. To make matters worse, each of them squirmed slightly and had large, shiny swellings filled with an unknown liquid.
"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout informed the class briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus -"
Dawn interrupted, her expression a mix of curiosity and disgust. "The what?" she asked, her voice tinged with revulsion.
The professor peered at them, a slightly perplexed expression on her face as she tried to distinguish between the twins. "Pus, Ms… Sorry, I don't know which of you is which yet," she admitted.
Dawn chuckled, her sense of humor shining through. "That's okay," she replied with a friendly grin. "We're still waiting on permission from Professor Dumbledore to allow us to sew our initials to our robes. I'm Dawn."
Professor Sprout nodded in approval as she continued her lesson. "Anyways, pus is extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus."
Dawn grimaced as she began squeezing the repulsive bubotubers. With each swelling that was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, and she carefully caught it in the bottles, following Professor Sprout's instructions.
"This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," Professor Sprout commented, stoppering the last bottle with a cork at the end of class. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."
Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff student, chimed in with a whispered anecdote. "Like poor Eloise Midgen," she said with a hint of sympathy. "She tried to curse hers off."
Professor Sprout shook her head, a mixture of amusement and disapproval on her face. "Silly girl," she remarked. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."
The booming sound of a bell echoed from the castle, signaling the end of the lesson, and the students began to gather their things and head back to the castle.
Hagrid's Hut
Hagrid stood proudly outside his hut, one hand firmly grasping the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. Wooden crates were scattered on the ground at his feet, and Fang, ever curious, whimpered and strained against his collar, eager to investigate the mysterious contents further. As the Gryffindors approached, an unusual rattling noise filled the air, occasionally punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.
"Morning!" Hagrid greeted them with an infectious grin. "Better wait for the Slytherins; they won't want to miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!"
"Come again?" Ron asked, his curiosity piqued.
Hagrid pointed down into the crates, and a collective gasp of shock and disgust echoed through the group.
"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward, her face a mix of horror and fascination.
"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, his voice filled with enthusiasm, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"
The anticipation in the air was palpable, but it was soon disrupted by a cold, disdainful voice.
"And why would we want to raise them?" Malfoy inquired, his tone dripping with skepticism. Crabbe and Goyle, his loyal followers, couldn't help but chuckle appreciatively at his words.
Hagrid looked momentarily stumped by the question, his bushy beard twitching as he pondered an answer.
"I mean, what do they do?" Malfoy pressed, his gray eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What is the point of them?"
Hagrid, still searching for an adequate explanation, hesitated for a few seconds. Then, with a gruff tone, he replied, "Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things - I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer - I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake - just try 'em out with a bit of each."
"First pus and now this," muttered Dawn, her voice filled with a mix of bemusement and exasperation.
Nothing but deep affection for Hagrid could have persuaded Harry, Ron, and Hermione to pick up squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates to tempt the bizarre Blast-Ended Skrewts.
Dawn watched as Hermione cautiously fed one of the skrewts and then mustered the courage to grab some frog liver herself. She couldn't shake the suspicion that the whole endeavor was entirely pointless, especially considering the skrewts didn't seem to have mouths.
"Ouch!" yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes of trying to handle the skrewts. "It got me." Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious. "Its end exploded!" Dean exclaimed, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.
Hagrid, who had seen this happen before, nodded sympathetically. "Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off," he explained, his tone matter-of-fact.
"Eurgh!" Lavender Brown exclaimed again, her face contorting with disgust. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?" She gestured toward one of the skrewts, her curiosity tinged with a hint of revulsion.
"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," Hagrid explained with enthusiasm, his love for magical creatures shining through. Lavender, not keen on being stung, quickly withdrew her hand from the box. "I reckon they're the males… The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies… I think they might be ter suck blood."
Malfoy, always one to make a snide comment, chimed in with his signature sarcasm. "Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," he quipped. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"
Dawn couldn't help but agree with Malfoy's sentiment. These creatures didn't seem like the ideal choice for companions.
"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"Well, at least the skrewts are small," Ron commented as they made their way back up to the castle for lunch an hour later.
Hermione, her tone exasperated, replied, "They are now, but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."
Dawn couldn't help but shiver at the thought. "Just keep them away from me," she declared, her voice tinged with unease.
"Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?" Ron quipped, flashing a sly grin at Hermione.
"You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up," Hermione retorted. "As a matter of fact, I think he's right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all."
Dawn glanced at Hermione with surprise, her earlier conviction challenged. "You do? I thought you were serious," she admitted.
Hermione smiled warmly at her twin and nodded. "Yes, I do, Dawnie," she affirmed, her lightheartedness returning. It was clear that Hermione's dedication to her studies didn't mean she lacked a sense of humor or the ability to play along with a bit of banter.
Great Hall
They settled at the Gryffindor table, helping themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. However, Hermione's behavior drew puzzled looks from Harry and Ron as she began eating at a breakneck pace.
"What's up with you?" Ron asked, his eyebrows furrowing. "You're going to make yourself puke?"
Hermione, her mouth filled with sprouts, tried to maintain her dignity. "No," she managed to say, her words slightly muffled. "I just want to get to the library."
Dawn let out a soft sigh, understanding Hermione's relentless drive to research, especially considering the ongoing threat posed by Glory.
"What?" Ron exclaimed in disbelief. "Hermione, it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!"
Hermione simply shrugged, her determination unwavering, as she continued to shovel down her food as though she hadn't eaten in days.
Hermione abruptly leaped to her feet, announcing, "See you at dinner! See ya later, Dawnie," before quickly departing.
Ron turned to Dawn, his curiosity piqued. "Why does she keep calling you Dawnie?"
Dawn couldn't help but smile. "It's my name, silly. Dawn Marie Summers. Dawnie is what Mom, Buffy, and Buffy's friends call me. Though Buffy's friend Xander tends to call me the Dawnmeister, Dawn Patrol, or the Dawnster. And Spike calls me nibblet or little bit. Anyways, I think 'Mione just picked up on it."
"Nibblet?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.
Dawn grinned. "Spike is a vampire," she informed him.
Both Ron and Harry looked at Dawn with surprise. "You hang around vampires?" Ron asked, his voice laced with astonishment.
"Spike's harmless," Dawn assured them. "The government put this chip in his brain."
Ron, still trying to wrap his head around this concept, asked with confusion, "Chip?"
Dawn chuckled softly, recognizing that Ron's knowledge of technology was likely limited due to his pureblood background. "It's a nickname of sorts," she explained. "It's a little hard to describe. It's a technological..."
Harry interjected to clarify for Ron, "It's a Muggle device, Ron."
Dawn nodded in agreement, grateful for Harry's assistance in bridging the gap. "Right," she affirmed, turning her gaze back to Ron. "Anyways, they put a chip in his brain, and now he can't harm a living thing."
The bell rang, signaling the start of their afternoon lessons, and Harry, Dawn, and Ron set off for North Tower, leaving behind the conversation about Spike and the complexities of technology for now.
Divination Tower
They navigated their way through the room, past the assorted chintz chairs and poufs that cluttered the space, until they found a small circular table and settled down.
Suddenly, the misty voice of Professor Trelawney sounded right behind Dawn, causing her to jump. "Good day," Trelawney began. "Miss Granger, may I ask why you are back in my class?"
Dawn couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Wrong twin. I'm Dawn."
Professor Trelawney nodded as she recalled Dumbledore's mention of Dawn. "Ah, Miss Summers," she said with a mournful tone, her demeanor as enigmatic as ever. "You are preoccupied, my dear. My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas…most difficult…I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass.…and perhaps sooner than you think..."
With that cryptic message, Trelawney swept past them and settled herself in a large winged armchair by the fire, facing the class.
Dawn, her heart pounding from the eerie prediction, turned to Harry and Ron. "Is she always like that?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "She's always been predicting an early death for me," he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of resignation.
Dawn nodded with a determined expression as she kept her gaze fixed on the teacher. "After class, I think I will talk to Professor Dumbledore about taking a different class," she said with resignation, her desire to change classes fueled by a mixture of discomfort and fear. "I can see why Hermione dislikes her."
In truth, Dawn wanted to drop the class not only because of her dislike for Professor Trelawney but also because she was genuinely afraid that Trelawney's predictions might somehow be true, putting her in danger from Glory.
As Professor Trelawney began discussing the movements of the planets and mysterious portents, Dawn's attention wavered, and her thoughts drifted back to the unsettling prophecy.
"Dawn!" Ron muttered, attempting to bring her back to the present.
Startled, Dawn snapped out of her reverie and looked around, realizing that the entire class was now staring at her.
"I was saying, my dear," Professor Trelawney continued, her voice tinged with a hint of resentment, "that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn."
"Born under - what, sorry?" Dawn asked, her confusion evident.
"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!" Professor Trelawney replied, irritation creeping into her tone as she realized Dawn wasn't hanging on her every word. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth…Your dark hair…tragic losses so young in life…I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"
Dawn couldn't help but correct the teacher's misconceptions. "No," she said firmly, "I was born on September 19th. And my hair is more brown than dark. Maybe you should think about having your eyes checked."
With that, she rose from her seat and left the room, not bothering to look back, her frustration with Professor Trelawney's vague and inaccurate predictions simmering beneath the surface.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"Miserable old bat," Ron grumbled with evident bitterness as he and Harry descended the ladder after class. "That'll take all weekend, that will…"
Dawn didn't seem too bothered by it. "I won't be in her class next time if I can help it."
Hermione, who had caught up with them, inquired about their homework. "Lots of homework?" she asked brightly. "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!"
"Well, bully for Professor Vector," Ron muttered moodily.
Dawn, still frustrated by her experience in Divination class, shook her head decisively. "Hermione, you were right. That woman is a fraud. I'm going to ask Professor Dumbledore if I can switch classes." She handed a small note to Hermione, who accepted it with a nod.
Hermione read the note, which read, "Need to talk to Buffy," and then looked back at Dawn, understanding the urgency of the situation.
Great Hall
As Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione joined the line of people waiting for dinner in the entrance hall, an intrusive voice suddenly cut through the chatter.
"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"
Startled, they turned to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle approaching them.
Ron, clearly not in the mood for Malfoy's taunts, responded curtly, "What?"
Malfoy waved a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of them with a triumphant sneer. "Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" he declared. "Listen to this!
FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter , Special Correspondent . Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."
Malfoy couldn't contain his amusement as he continued to mock Ron. "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?"
Malfoy reveled in his opportunity to humiliate Ron further and continued reading aloud from the Daily Prophet:
"Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene."
Malfoy took delight in Ron's anger, taunting him further. "And there's a picture, Weasley!" he gloated. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"
Ron's face turned scarlet with rage, and everyone around them was now staring at him, including Dawn.
"Get stuffed, Malfoy," Harry retorted, trying to defuse the situation. "C'mon, Ron…"
But Malfoy, never one to miss an opportunity to needle Harry, added a final insult. "Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" he sneered. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"
"And there's a picture, Weasley!" Malfoy continued to taunt, relishing the opportunity. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"
Ron's fury reached a boiling point, and his entire body shook with anger, while the eyes of everyone in the hallway remained fixed on him.
"Get stuffed, Malfoy," Harry snapped, attempting to defuse the situation and guide Ron away from the confrontation.
But Malfoy, never one to pass up a chance to provoke Harry, sneered, "Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter? So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"
Harry, his patience wearing thin, shot back with a pointed comment about Malfoy's own mother. "You know your mother, Malfoy?" he asked, his voice filled with biting sarcasm. "That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"
Malfoy's pale face flushed slightly. "Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."
Harry, turning away from Malfoy, muttered, "Keep your fat mouth shut, then."
BANG!
Startled by the sudden noise, Dawn watched in surprise as Harry drew his wand. A second loud bang followed, creating a tension-filled moment in the hallway.
"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" The booming voice of Professor Moody suddenly roared as he made his way down the staircase.
Moody glared at Harry and growled, "Did he get you?"
"No," Harry replied, still somewhat bewildered by the situation. "Missed."
"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted, his voice filled with urgency.
"Leave - what?" Harry asked, his confusion deepening.
"Not you - him!" Moody snapped, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who was just about to pick up a white ferret.
Moody began to limp menacingly toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the terrified ferret, which emitted a terrified squeak and made a desperate dash toward the dungeons.
"I don't think so!" Moody roared, pointing his wand at the ferret once more. The small creature was sent flying ten feet into the air, then fell with a loud smack onto the floor, only to bounce upward once again, caught in a bewildering and unsettling display of magical control.
Dawn watched the bizarre spectacle, her concern growing as the ferret was subjected to such treatment. She turned to Hermione, her expression filled with disbelief. "That's not who I think it is, is it?" she asked, referring to the unfortunate ferret.
Hermione, her eyes never leaving the ferret, confirmed Dawn's suspicion. "Yeah, I think it is. And Transfiguration is not supposed to be used as a punishment, either."
Moody's growling voice continued, expressing his disapproval of such behavior. "I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," he said, his tone filled with disdain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"
The ferret continued to soar through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly, as Moody continued to teach an unorthodox lesson.
Then, Professor McGonagall arrived on the scene, and her expression showed a mix of surprise and concern. "Professor Moody!" she exclaimed, clearly taken aback.
Moody turned to her calmly. "Hello, Professor McGonagall," he greeted.
Confusion and disbelief hung in the air as Professor McGonagall tried to make sense of the situation. "What—what are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
"Teaching," Moody replied simply.
Professor McGonagall's concern deepened as she examined the situation further. "Teach—Moody, is that a student?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with alarm.
"Yep," Moody confirmed, not showing any signs of concern.
Professor McGonagall's shock and worry were palpable. She rushed down the stairs and quickly pulled out her wand. With a decisive flick, she cast a spell that caused a loud snapping noise, and in an instant, Draco Malfoy reappeared, no longer transfigured into a ferret.
"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" Professor McGonagall admonished sternly. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"
Moody, seemingly unfazed by the situation, responded, "He might've mentioned it, yeah, but I thought a good sharp shock—"
"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!" Professor McGonagall reiterated sternly.
Moody seemed to relent slightly. "I'll do that, then," he conceded.
Malfoy, who had now been transformed back into a student, muttered something under his breath, with the words "my father" being the only distinguishable ones.
Moody's demeanor grew colder as he responded to Malfoy's muttering. "Oh yeah?" he said quietly. "Well, I know your father of old, boy… You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him that from me… Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"
Malfoy replied resentfully, "Yes."
Moody's growl grew even more pronounced. "Another old friend," he said, clearly not looking forward to the encounter. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape… Come on, you…" With that, he seized Malfoy's upper arm and forcefully escorted him off toward the dungeons.
Professor McGonagall swiftly collected her books and continued on her way to her destination, leaving Ron, Harry, Dawn, and Hermione behind.
As they settled down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later for dinner, Ron whispered quietly to them, "Don't talk to me."
Confused, Hermione inquired, "Why not?"
"Yeah, why not?" Dawn echoed Hermione's question.
Ron explained with a grin, "Because I want to fix that in my memory forever. Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret."
Harry and Dawn burst into laughter, finding humor in the peculiar incident. Hermione, however, couldn't help but express her concern. "He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," she pointed out. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it—"
"Hermione!" Ron protested with a mix of frustration and humor, "you're ruining the best moment of my life!"
Dawn chimed in, defending Ron's actions earlier. "He needed someone to teach him, Hermione. Remember what he called us when we saw him in Diagon Alley."
Hermione's expression grew somber as she recalled the unpleasant encounter with Malfoy and his father in Diagon Alley. "I know. I know."
Their conversation didn't deter Hermione from her voracious eating habits, and Dawn joined her in eating at a rapid pace.
Harry raised an eyebrow as he noticed their haste. "Don't tell me you're going back to the library this evening? And you have Dawn helping you?" he asked.
Hermione confirmed, "Got to. Loads to do. And yeah, Dawnie is helping me," she added with a wink.
Harry seemed surprised. "But you told us Professor Vector -"
"It's not schoolwork," Hermione clarified. Within a matter of minutes, she and Dawn had cleared their plates and made a swift exit from the Great Hall. Their plans, however, included a stop by Buffy's rooms so that Dawn could talk to her about something important.
Buffy's Suite
Dawn and Hermione approached the portrait outside Buffy's rooms, and Dawn spoke the password, "Hellmouth," causing the portrait to swing open. They entered the room, where Buffy was seated on a couch, enjoying her dinner.
Buffy greeted them, asking, "What's up?"
Dawn let out a sigh, a sense of unease clearly visible on her face. "You know Professor Trelawny?" she began.
Buffy nodded in acknowledgment. "The divination professor. The only professor we didn't meet over the summer."
Dawn continued, explaining the reason for their visit, "In class, she said some things to me. Hermione believes her to be a fraud, but I am not a hundred percent convinced."
Buffy's interest was piqued as she turned her attention to Hermione. "It's true," Hermione affirmed. "She has been predicting Harry's death in just about every class he has had with her till today, it appears."
Buffy turned her attention back to Dawn, her curiosity evident as she inquired, "What did she say?"
Dawn sighed, the weight of Trelawny's words clearly weighing on her. "I hate having a photographic memory. Ok, this is a direct quote," she began, recounting the professor's words, "'You are preoccupied, my dear. My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas… most difficult… I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass… and perhaps sooner than you think…'"
Buffy listened attentively, her expression thoughtful. "Interesting," she mused. "Even if she is a fraud, she seems to read you pretty well, Dawn. Though this worries me also because if she is right…"
Her sentence was cut short when she noticed Hermione glaring at her. Buffy sighed, acknowledging Hermione's concerns. "'Mione, we have to at least consider it, with Glory looking for Dawn," she explained.
Hermione reluctantly agreed, realizing the importance of protecting their sister. "Okay."
Buffy continued, emphasizing the urgency of the situation. "If Professor Trelawny is right, it could mean Glory is on her way or will be soon. I don't want either of you out of each other's sight. Okay?"
Dawn and Hermione both nodded in agreement, understanding the need for caution. "Good," Buffy concluded, her protective instincts fully engaged as they faced the potential threat posed by Glory.