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The silver thread of magic sank into the crystal ball, and the originally transparent sphere instantly filled with a blinding, milky white light. The air grew cold, and the sudden, dramatic illumination drew every eye in the classroom. Students held their breath, their anticipation tinged with fear.
The light faded, and a clear, terrifying picture emerged in the crystal sphere. It was a dark, desolate cemetery shrouded in mist. In the center, a huge stone cauldron bubbled over a magical fire. A figure, cloaked and noseless, stood over the pot, holding a small, pale, bundle-like creature. Without hesitation, the figure dropped the creature into the boiling, luminous liquid.
A sound, muffled and terrible, emanated from the sphere. Inside the pot, the bundle swelled, its form elongating, its pale skin stretching. Slowly, agonizingly, a powerful, bald, noseless figure began to claw its way out of the pot.
The sight was enough to send a wave of ice-cold dread through the room. There was no need for explanation. The noseless silhouette, the palpable sense of cold evil—everyone instantly recognized the figure. It was the stuff of nightmares, the Dark Lord.
"God… the Mysterious Man!" A Hufflepuff student cried out, pointing at the crystal ball, his hand trembling so violently he could barely hold his teacup.
Harry shot up from his seat, his eyes wide with a familiar, searing horror. "Voldemort!" he gasped, the name a painful acknowledgment of his eternal enemy. "What is going on?!"
Hermione ignored him, her eyes fixed on the shocked, bewildered face of their professor. "That's an accurate prediction, Professor Trelawney," Hermione said, her voice smooth and cold. "Do you think this prediction is accurate enough?"
Trelawney was completely shattered. Her hyperthyroid eyes, usually vague and unfocused, were now locked onto the horrific scene in the ball. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. "Impossible… how is it possible…" she muttered, her entire body shaking as her false reality collapsed around her. The resurrection of the Dark Lord was secondary; the true horror was the fact that this child had just performed a feat of prophecy that completely invalidated her entire existence.
The Headmaster's Office.
The heavy, ornate door was slammed open with such force that it rattled the portraits on the wall. Snape, his face livid, his breathing coming in ragged, painful gasps, stumbled into the office. He looked as though he had just escaped a lethal curse.
"Albus!" Snape choked out, leaning heavily on the back of a chair, his dark robes swirling around him.
Dumbledore, sitting serenely behind his desk, looked up and slowly put down his quill. "Severus, calm yourself," he said gently, his voice imbued with a soft, soothing magic.
Snape felt the tightness in his chest ease, the cold, panic-fueled tension dissolving slightly under Dumbledore's calming influence. He picked up a goblet of pumpkin juice and drained it in two large, desperate gulps.
"That girl," Snape finally managed to hiss, slamming the cup down on the desk. "That Granger girl! She has finally gone too far. She's created a prophecy about the Dark Lord's return!"
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with a patient, knowing curiosity. "Oh? Severus, what Earth-shattering thing did Miss Granger do to make you lose your composure like this? I assume it's worse than her teaching the Killing Curse again?"
Snape rolled his eyes in pure annoyance and shoved the still-glowing crystal ball he had snatched from the classroom onto Dumbledore's desk. "See for yourself."
Dumbledore picked up the ball. The smoky vision of the cemetery and the cauldron coalesced inside the sphere. The old man's pupils contracted sharply, his breathing freezing for a barely perceptible moment.
Snape seized the moment. "Do you see, Albus? She didn't just guess! She showed the future! The actual resurrection! She showed it to every child in that classroom! What do you think will happen when her prophecy comes true? Will they not think she is behind it? Will they not think she is creating these events?"
Dumbledore's face returned to its serene calm. He set the crystal ball down gently. "Severus, I have said it before, you should not call a little girl 'that guy.' Now, why are you so quick to assign blame? Miss Granger is reckless, but she made a true prophecy. Why should she be blamed for a vision of the future?"
Snape leaned forward, his voice a low, furious hiss. "Because her magic is too dangerous! She demonstrated the Unforgivable Curses openly, and now she is showing visions of the Dark Lord to traumatized children! She is setting a precedent that will destroy this school! You don't understand her! She is not Lily! She is reckless, she is ambitious, and she will ruin everything!"
Dumbledore calmly tapped the table. "You have to admit, Severus, she is extremely gifted. She has managed to do something that centuries of so-called seers have failed to do. She has created a prophecy so clear it has broken poor Sybill Trelawney's mind."
Snape glared at him. "Indeed. Trelawney is now standing in that classroom, catatonic, muttering 'impossible' over and over. Like a madwoman! That is the result of your little genius, Albus! The total collapse of a professor's sanity!"
Dumbledore's eyes softened with a hint of genuine sympathy for the fallen teacher. "A pity. But you must concede, Severus, Hermione's talent for divination is extraordinary." He smiled faintly. "She truly is a prodigy in every field of magic, even the most difficult ones. If I didn't know Miss Granger's background, I would suspect she was Merlin reborn."
Snape just stared, defeated and furious. He knew Dumbledore was right about her talent. The sheer, overwhelming scope of her abilities was undeniable, frustrating, and terrifying.
"However," Dumbledore mused, his gaze becoming distant, "she didn't provide the time or place for this resurrection. Which means, Severus, we must prepare for the eventuality that her vision will soon come to pass."