Summary: Professor Trelawny tells Harry of a prophecy - will it come true?
Author's Notes: This story is a follow-up to my story, "Sixth Year Showdowns", so it might help if you have read that one first. This one takes place a few months later, towards the end of Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, except for a couple I've added.
"Date of the Second Great Wizards' Rebellion?"
"1342."
"Yes. Members of the Council of Sorcerors at the time of the establishment of the Ministry of Magic?"
"Um - Priskett, Stone, Hellebore, Fish and - um - Turvey?"
"Yes. Which major magical event happened in 1289?"
"Er - er - I know this one - it was -" Ron floundered. Hermione waited. "International Witches' Convention?" he offered finally, looking at Hermione hopefully.
"Close," said Hermione. "International Warlocks' Convention." She closed their History of Magic textbook. "That's enough of that one for now." She began to pack books into her bag while Ron and Harry stretched and yawned.
"Roll on the end of next week," said Harry. "My brain is so stuffed with facts for the exams I can't think straight about anything else." He looked around the Gryffindor common room, which was unusually quiet. With exam week almost upon them, it was not only the sixth years who were studying hard. Most of the students were buried in their books, either here or in the library.
"If you think it's bad this year, imagine what it'll be like next year, when we're doing N.E.W.T.s," said Ron. He looked across at Hermione, who still had her head bent over her bag, a small worried crease across her forehead. "Perhaps I'll just read through my Arithmancy notes again," she was murmuring.
"No, you won't," said Ron decisively, reaching out a long arm and plucking the bag from Hermione's hands. "You're going to give it a rest for tonight and relax."
"But, Ron -" Hermione began reluctantly.
"Uh - uh." Ron got up, put the bag down and pulled Hermione out of her chair. "It's a lovely sunny evening. You're going to come for a walk by the lake."
He towed Hermione across the common room. She made another faint protest and then gave in. "All right. But I'm going to get up early tomorrow and read my notes -"
"Yes, you do that," said Ron soothingly, patting her shoulder. He looked over the top of Hermione's head - not difficult, since he was a good eight inches taller - at Harry. "Coming?"
Harry shook his head, grinning. "No, you go on. I'm just going to write a note to Sirius."
"OK." Ron and Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and disappeared. Harry got out a quill and some parchment. As he unscrewed his ink bottle, he shook his head, smiling, thinking about Ron and Hermione. A few months earlier, after years of bickering, his two best friends had finally admitted that they were attracted to each other, and they had been an item ever since, much to the amusement of everyone who had followed the course of their friendship. At first Harry had feared that he would feel like a spare part, so used was he to the three of them being inseparable. But that hadn't happened. He was still included in the friendship, and when his two friends did want time alone Harry had plenty to occupy himself with - not least his duties as Captain of the Gryffindor House Quidditch team. By June, exam time, the Quidditch season was usually over, but in January and February outbreaks of 'flu had ravaged Hogwarts - overworking Madam Pomfrey, the matron - and forced the postponement of several matches, so the season was running late. There was still one match left to play - the most important - the Final, which this year was between the arch-rivals, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Gryffindor had held the Quidditch Cup for three years now, and Harry was anxious to prove himself as team captain by helping them to retain it. With this goal in mind, he had been urging the team to practice for longer and longer hours until Ginny Weasley - Ron's younger sister, and one of the Chasers on the Gryffindor team - good-humouredly told Harry he was a tyrant.
Harry quickly scribbled his note to Sirius Black, his godfather and guardian. A year ago, after various events in Harry's fifth year, the Ministry of Magic had finally accepted that Sirius was innocent of the crimes for which he had been imprisoned in Azkaban - betraying Harry's parents and murdering a street full of Muggles. But even though Sirius was now free to live where he chose, his years of imprisonment and exile had left their mark on him. He felt that many wizards still shunned him, and he couldn't bear to stay shut up in any building for very long; claustrophobic after years in his Azkaban cell. He had bought a house in Devon - found for him by the Weasleys, who lived not far away - and used it as a base for himself and Harry during the summer vacations. But when Harry was at school Sirius was restless, and didn't want to stay in one place. During the last year he had travelled the world, visiting many places he had fantasized about while in his cell, and trying to get rid of the nightmares he still suffered. Harry often received postcards, letters and packets from various exotic locations, or strange and magical presents.
The letter to Sirius finished, Harry set off towards the owlery. No matter where in the world Sirius happened to be at the moment, Harry knew that Hedwig, his owl, would be able to deliver the letter.
Harry was just crossing the Entrance Hall, which was bathed in an orange glow of late sunshine, when he bumped into Professor Trelawny, the Divination teacher. He literally bumped into her, because she was hurrying across the hall with a distracted air, completely oblivious to her surroundings. Harry apologised, extriacated himself from the gauzy folds of her voluminous robes, and was just about to go on his way when Professor Trelawny uttered an exclamation and clutched at his arm with her long fingers.
"Potter! The very person I wanted to see!"
"Yes?" Harry said politely, his heart sinking. Professor Trelawny had made a habit of prophecying doom and disaster for him ever since his third year. If she wanted to see him, it was usually not good news.
"Yes." Professor Trelawny gazed at him with her large, gloomy eyes, blinking uncertainly. Then she seemed to make up her mind. "Come in here, dear boy." She led Harry into an empty office nearby. "I do not wish anyone to overhear us."
Apprehensively, Harry followed her. Inside the small room, Professor Trelawny peered around as if to check they were alone, and lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. She was still gripping Harry's arm tightly. "The Fates have warned me, dear, that there is terrible danger in store for you."
Harry resisted the urge to say "What, again?" and instead said politely, "Oh, yes?"
"Yes!" Professor Trelawny said, quite sharply for her. She clearly thought Harry wasn't taking her warning seriously enough. "TERRIBLE danger! I could See the signs quite clearly in my crystal ball. You will receive a gift which will both save your life and threaten it."
"Eh? It will save my life...but it will threaten it?" Harry said, confused. "Yes...but there is more. The crystal showed me quite clearly that you are threatened by something else. A friend will betray you - or appear to do so -" she added more doubtfully. "The mists were a little heavy towards the end of my Seeing." Footsteps outside in the hall made Professor Trelawny start nervously. She relaxed her grip on Harry's arm. "I must go, dear boy. But do not forget my warning!" And she glided out into the hall and was gone.
Harry rubbed his arm, then shook his head wonderingly. "Mad. Quite mad," he murmured to himself, as he continued slowly on his way to the owlery.
And yet...as he sent his letter to Sirius and returned to Gryffindor Tower, Harry remembered one occasion on which Professor Trelawny had been right. She had predicted - without knowing it - the escape of Peter Pettigrew, the man who really had betrayed Harry's parents. No one knew where Pettigrew was now, but if Professor Trelawny's prediction was right, he had gone to rejoin Lord Voldemort.
Harry reported the strange conversation he had had with Professor Trelawny to Ron and Hermione. They were both inclined to scoff. Hermione had always considered Divination to be a waste of time, and Professor Trelawny to be a total charlatan. Ron's response was very much what Harry's had been.
"She's nuts. Off her rocker. How could a gift save your life *and* threaten it?"
"And what else did she say? One of your friends will betray you?" said Hermione. "That's not very likely."
"Yeah, the people who'd betray you without blinking around here are Malfoy and Snape," said Ron. "And you can't exactly call either of them your friends!"
Harry was inclined to agree with Hermione and Ron. He thrust Professor Trelawny's words to the back of his mind. He had more important worries - the exams next week, and the Quidditch final which would follow them. Harry went to bed, and dreamed about a strange Quidditch match, in which he was chased on his broomstick by Professor McGonagall, who was shouting exam questions at him.
But Professor Trelawny's prophecies came back to him forcefully at breakfast time the next day. For it was then that Harry received an unexpected gift.
End of Part 1.