Chapter One Hundred Twenty
All Things Subsist and Do Not Die
Now I am mute despite myself
All of them are gone
The silence overtakes me
The idle words forsake me
And I am left to face me
(In the Dark - Flyleaf)June 18th, 1996They stepped into the infamous Hall of Prophecy and saw nothing but wreckage.
Thousands upon thousands of shattered prophecies littered the floor. One end of the hall
looked to be the eye of the storm; several shelves that used to hold prophecies had been
blown apart, crashing down in various directions but ultimately leading down a long
pathway.
"This is madness," Kingsley whispered, staring wide-eyed at the mess.
"We're not here to sightsee!" Sirius snapped angrily. His dragonhide boots crunched
against the shards while he stormed ahead. "Mourn the thousands of prophecies lost
another day; right now, it's nothing but broken glass!"
Remus was fast on his heels.
The group ended up back in the open circle room. His attention lingered on the
strange burn marks on some of the doors; they looked like they had been done on
purpose—at least he hoped so and that it was not a stray curse.
When they had arrived, the Order had gone straight for the Hall of Prophecy,
knowing that Death Eaters were focused on obtaining the one about Harry and Voldemort.
Remus had not paid much attention to the remaining doors, as they had previously been
closed. Now, however, some were cracked open, and shouting could be heard coming from
behind them.
"What now?" Remus asked, trying to focus his hearing so that he could pinpoint
Harry and Hermione's exact location.
"Split up!" Moody ordered. "Everyone take a different room."
And they did so.