When that ethereal, hollow voice suddenly rang out, Wade stopped short. The casual expression on his face froze instantly, his brows lifting slightly as he stared intently at Trelawney.
The Divination professor stiffened like a puppet on strings and said slowly:
"A shadow crawls from the grave. He... is weaving a net of time, to stitch the world into a cloak of decay... He craves The Authority of Creation... Where shame lies is also where the throne lies..."
Wade narrowed his eyes slightly. Harry climbed up through the Trapdoor as well, trying to memorize every obscure word.
Ron stared in slack-jawed amazement, an involuntary sound escaping his throat. "Merlin... is this... is this a real prophecy?"
No one answered him. Only Trelawney's dry, intermittent voice continued:
"Another shadow. He stands beside... burning thorns... and a cradle forged of gold... He is a gardener, holding shears that prune life... His realm rises amid weeping rivers and the ashes of diamonds..."
Ron fumbled out his notebook and wrote down Trelawney's words, while Harry clenched his fists tightly, utterly bewildered.
He still remembered the prophecy Professor Trelawney had made last time. It had looked just as strange and terrifying, but...
"A loyal servant helps the Dark Lord rise again"—anyone could tell what that meant at a glance.
But this time, every line felt impossibly difficult to understand—or rather, completely incomprehensible. It was more confusing than the white mist inside a crystal ball.
Harry instinctively looked at Wade, hoping to find some answer on his face.
Yet all he saw was Wade frowning at Trelawney. Aside from that, there was no extra expression on his slightly pale face.
Trelawney's prophecy was not over. Her head suddenly snapped toward Wade, her unfocused eyes seeming to pierce through his body and see something deeper.
Her voice