The Headmaster's Office fell quiet again, with only the rotating astrolabe making a steady chiming sound, like wind chimes playing a melody.
The faintly relaxed smile on Dumbledore's face faded. He let out a soft breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked up to ask:
"Wade, I presume the prophecy young Mr. Weasley repeated just now differed somewhat from its true wording?"
"Yes, Professor."
Wade met Dumbledore's gaze and said, "What Professor Trelawney actually said was—two shadows vie for the dying sun. One shadow crawls from the grave, weaving a net of time..."
In a clear, calm voice, the boy repeated the strange prophecy word for word.
The obscure symbols and malicious metaphors did not lose any of their eerie quality in his flat, almost cold tone. Instead, they gave off an even more chilling force.
As though... he was not reciting a vague prophecy, but stating the course fate would take.
By the time the final word fell, Dumbledore's expression had become exceedingly grave.
He rose to his feet, every trace of ease gone from his face. He strode over to a complex silver instrument and lightly tapped it with his wand.
"Ding, ding-ding-ding... ding-dong, ding-dong..."
As crisp impacts rang out from within the silver device, wisps of smoke spurted from the silver tubes at its top, spreading into a great cloud in the blink of an eye.
They gathered, turned, twisted, and changed in the air. At times, they stretched into opposing human silhouettes; at times, they spread into a magnificent building; at times, they condensed into a massive eye...
Wade watched, holding his breath.
Even though he was highly skilled in Divination, knew countless Ancient Runes, and had mastered a great many spells, he still could not understand what those ever-changing clouds of smoke were