Mon Amour | Harry Potter x Y/n Black

The Room Of Prophecies

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

3rd Person POV:

Harry's heart was pumping frantically now that he knew they were on the right track.

He led the way forward down the narrow space between the lines of the desks, heading, as he had done in his dream, for the source of the light, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as he was that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind.

"Oh look!" said Ginny, as they drew nearer, pointing at the very heart of the bell jar.

Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel- bright egg.

As it rose in the jar it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draft, its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

"Keep going!" said Harry sharply, because Ginny showed signs of wanting to stop and watch the egg's progress back into a bird.

"You dawdled enough by that old arch!" she said crossly, but followed him past the bell jar to the only door behind it.

"This is it," Harry said again, and his heart was now pumping so hard and fast he felt it must interfere with his speech. "It's through here —"

He glanced around at them all, lingering on Y/n a bit longer.

They had their wands out and looked suddenly serious and anxious.

He looked back at the door and pushed.

It swung open.

They were there, they had found the place: high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs.

They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves.

Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue.

Harry edged forward and peered down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves.

He could not hear anything nor see the slightest sign of movement.

Y/n looked down the vast aisles of shelves of glass orbs that she guessed were prophecies due to them being labeled with names.

One name popped up about three times already as she scanned the names closest to her.

She leaned over to Ginny and whispered, "This Percy Jackson dude is one unlucky guy."

She nodded in agreement.

"You said it was row ninety-seven," whispered Hermione.

"Yeah," breathed Harry, looking up at the end of the closest row.

Beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure 53.

Y/n edged up to the front next to Harry.

"We need to go right, I think," whispered Hermione, squinting to the next row. "Yes . . . that's fifty-four. . . ."

"Keep your wands out," Harry said softly.

They crept forward, staring behind them as they went on down the long alleys of shelves, the farther ends of which were in near total darkness.

Some of the orbs had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown lightbulbs.