Chapter 686: Voldemort’s Suspicion
No one could have imagined the prophecy globe would be so fragile. It had only tumbled down a single step, yet it shattered into countless pieces.
Harry was just as surprised. He had always assumed it was sturdier—sturdy enough, at least, that he'd casually slipped it into his pocket without a second thought.
Now he sat on the ground, staring blankly at the spot where the prophecy globe had broken apart.
From the shards rose a milky-white figure, its magnified eyes eerily large, almost cartoonish in size. There was something unsettlingly familiar about those eyes. Harry squinted, the resemblance dawning on him—those bulging eyes were almost identical to Professor Trelawney's, like her gaze during Divination class. Add a pair of glasses, and the resemblance would be uncanny.
The ghostly figure began to speak, its voice soft, almost a whisper.
"At the moment of victory or defeat, there will be a new..."
The words trailed off. The voice was so faint, and the chaotic din around Harry—crashes, screams, and shouts—drowned out the rest.
Before he could react, someone grabbed his arm, yanking him out of the way.
"Move!" Harry recognized Sirius's voice, sharp with urgency.
He quickly understood why.
Two curses, their beams glowing in vivid colors, struck the ground where he'd just been sitting. Without Sirius's intervention, Harry wouldn't have stood a chance.