Somehow, Paul felt even worse. He got to kiss a beautiful girl and he still somehow managed to mess that up. [i]Apparently, I need to keep my mouth shut.[/i] He thought to himself, as he followed Hermoine towards the ladder. 

[i]"No! Pick up the sword, dummy!"[/i] It was the voice before, but this time it sounded like it was from right behind him. He turned around, quickly, but all he saw was the rusted sword from before. This time, however, it seemed more...[i]Important?[/i] It was the only remotely fitting word he could find. He walked to the pedestal on which it stood. Carefully, he lifted it with both hands. As soon as he did so, he felt his mind start to scream. Images started to flash across is eyes. Many were too quick to register, but those he could see were images and sounds of war. Heavily armored cavalry crashed into blocks of wavering infantry. Sword's clash against shields. Muskets fire in volleys. One image even showed a tank rolling through a building, machine gun blasting at fleeing soldiers. 

Almost as soon as it started, his vision cleared and he was back again in the attic of the big house. He looked around him, and saw that Hermoine was no where to be found. "Hermoine?" he called out, as he went to the ladder, hoping she was just downstairs.