For it was the meek Prince Pwyll of Dyfed, and he looked furious ... like a Pagan Prince of old. And there was another Prince was next to him, and two more lined up close by to him. And hundreds of their subjects marched forwards with them in formation, as though they were a standing army on exercise, driving the Death Eaters further back still. All the Princes were wielding shining silver sceptres and the combined power streaming from them made Hermione's skin tickle as it passed over her. It was they who were controlling the sky ... for at that moment, Pwyll raised his sceptre and the storm clouds dissipated like a harmless Spring Mist. Hermione just stared as she watched them go ... in fact, everyone did. It had all gone very quiet, like the world was holding a baited breath ... excited to see what would happen next.