Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter are things I do not own.
Third Years: Tealeaf readings. The students shall work in pairs and practice reading tealeaves. Please refer to the introductory chapter of Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Valatsky for technique and symbol interpretation.
Fourth Years: Star chart analysis. The students are to work individually to determine how planetary locations will affect their future lives. Please refer to Chapter 5 of the Valatsky text for further information.
Fifth Years: Dream interpretation. Students will use the class set of The Dream Oracle by Inigo Imago to interpret their most recent dreams. They shall work in groups of three or four in order to analyze a variety of dreams. Interested students may consider further study by reading Interpretation of Dreams by the Muggle psychologist Sigmund Freud.
I read the agenda that Professor Trelawney left for her on the desk in the North Tower classroom. At least I had a concrete idea of what I was supposed to do with the students. Although I had never taken a Divination class before (I didn't believe in it even at the young age of 13 years), I was sure that making it up as I went along was the most anyone expected of me.
I sighed and began to thumb through the required textbooks for the course. The students would arrive soon. Perhaps I should have some clue about what they could conclude from their readings before they started.
"I asked everyone at the table at breakfast, and no one will 'fess up to it," Ron Weasley's voice echoed up into the classroom. "I keep track of these things. I know how many points we had last night."
"Ron, it's just ten points. We can earn them back in no time," Hermione Granger said rationally.
"No! It's not just ten points!" Ron responded hotly. "Whenever I lose House points, I own up to it. I think we all deserve to know who managed to get points docked between curfew and breakfast."
Crap, I thought. They actually keep track of where the points come from and go to.
"Ron's got a point, Hermione," Harry Potter chimed in. "Usually we're the ones breaking curfew and losing points. Everyone knows that, and we take the fall."
"And if it wasn't us, who was it? It wasn't even my brothers or Lee! Who else manages to cause trouble in the middle of the night?" Ron slung his bag off his shoulder and slammed a dusty, old book down on a desk.
"Ron, why don't you just ask Professor McGonagall right now if you're so curious? I'm sure she knows," Hermione said.
I mentally swore. Oh, sweet Merlin, don't ask me. Nobody needs to know about this!
"I will! Professor—"
My eyes widened as large as saucers, I was sure. No, really, don't ask me. Don't. Just don't.
"Excuse me, Professor?" Ron tried again.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" I replied reluctantly.
"Um, I was just wondering why we're short ten House points since last night."
I pressed my lips into a long, thin line. What was I supposed to say? I couldn't lie about it. After all, they would find out sooner or later when the first year left the Hospital Wing.
"A very interesting thing happened this morning, actually…" I began. I looked around the classroom to see how many people were paying attention to this conversation. Nearly everyone had arrived, but fortunately many were engaged in their own chatter among their friends.
I paused. Ron, Harry, and Hermione looked at me expectantly. What's the best way to phrase this? Should I just get it over with?
"You no longer have to search for the culprit, Mr. Weasley. None of your Housemates is hiding anything. They did not, as far as anyone else is aware, break any rules."
Ron looked puzzled.
"Professor, I don't understand. How can we lose points if no one broke any rules?"
I inhaled deeply.
"I didn't say no one broke any rules…" I said. By now, most of the class was listening. "I suppose I should be frank. I lost them."
A moment of silence fell over the classroom. Did they just hear what they thought they just heard?
"I'm sorry, Professor—did you say that you lost them?" Harry asked.
I bobbed my head up and down slowly. Yes, that is what I said. I don't want to say it again.
"Is that even possible?" Seamus Finnigan roared in disbelief, his mouth agape in confusion.
"I wondered the same thing earlier this morning, Mr. Finnigan," I said through gritted teeth, just as the bell rang. "Anyway, I suppose we should get started. If the Headmaster finds out that I don't even attempt to teach you Divination, I'll probably get in trouble again."
Hermione Granger shot her hand into the air.
"I, for one, would not object to you teaching us a Transfiguration lesson instead, Professor," she interjected.
Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown glared at her. Divination was one of their favorite classes.
"As much as I would love to do that, Miss Granger, I am afraid that I must let you continue with your Divination education. Now, please take out your copy of Unfogging the Future and open to the first chapter. Today you will be reading tealeaves. Please select a partner, gather the appropriate materials—" I gestured toward the teacups and saucers Professor Trelawney had set out—"and perform an analysis based on the symbolism explained in the text."
The third-year students obediently set to work. It did not seem that I would have to do much "teaching" at all; everything Professor Trelawney had planned involved the students practicing for themselves—practicing things that could not really be taught. I had to admit that I had some curiosity about what sorts of predictions the students (or rather, the textbook) would make. It all seemed rather absurd, so perhaps there would be some entertainment value to these classes.
"Er, Ron—what do you s'pose this looks like?" Harry asked his friend, showing him his tealeaves.
Ron flipped through the pages of his textbook.
"It kind of—it kind of looks like this one," he said pointing to a picture. "Oi, mate, that's the Grim! That's not supposed to be good."
I peeked over their shoulders to see what they were looking at.
Oh right, of course—the Grim predicts death… Well, this is a typical Divination class, right?
"Perhaps you should take this as a sign not to attend your Potions class today, Mr. Potter," I said. "With all due respect to Hagrid, of course, but, ah… Don't tell anyone I suggested you skip class."
Harry and Ron laughed, albeit nervously. Suddenly, shouts and colorful obscenities could be heard from outside, even though they were all the way up in the North Tower. I went to the nearest window to investigate the situation.
Professor Snape appeared to have caught his robes on fire—or rather, a Blast-Ended Skrewt ignited his robes when propelling itself in one direction. He attempted to ward off the eight-foot-long creature with various jinxes, hexes, and curses. I wondered where his students were. Hopefully he had told them all to go somewhere safe… like inside the castle.
However, perhaps the castle was not so safe either, because the sound of a loud explosion emanated from far below us, causing the teacups and saucers to rattle.
"Bloody hell, what was that?" Ron exclaimed, grabbing his teacup just before it fell off his shaking desk.
"Language, Mr. Weasley," I said curtly, but I had the same question. The obvious explanation was that Hagrid blew up a cauldron, but since he was all the way down in the dungeons, it seemed unlikely that they would hear the effects from the Divination classroom. Granted, we also managed to hear Professor Snape's swears when he was out on the grounds, so it was certainly not impossible.
After the sound of another explosion, I decided enough was enough. A third time would most certainly not be a charm, and somebody had to put a stop to the madness. With Severus running around outside with his robes on fire, rogue blast-ended skrewts roaming the grounds, and the dungeons potentially destroyed, Albus needed to call off his "Great" Teacher Switch. Now.
Quickly, I sent a Patronus to the headmaster with the following message: "Albus, it's time you get your head out of your arse and cancel your damn event. Things are already out of hand, and you need to deal with it."
Whether or not he would actually do something, I would. I turned to address the group of third-years.
"Class, this is probably frowned upon, but I fear I have no choice but to leave you all alone so I can save this castle and its inhabitants from any more needless damage, physical or mental. Stay here. I do not know what I will encounter downstairs, but it is most certainly not good. Therefore, I do not want any of you to leave this classroom until you're instructed otherwise. It might be unsafe."
"Professor—" Hermione Granger eagerly called out while raising her hand. "Do you need help?"
"Yeah, maybe it would be best not to go alone, Professor," Harry chimed in.
I pressed my lips into a thin line. These two and their red-headed friend always threw themselves into the fray.
"Did I stutter? I do not want any of you to leave this room," I said firmly. "Do not try to take matters into your own hands, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter."
With that, I climbed down the ladder and ran down all of the staircases as fast as my legs would carry me. As I descended the large marble staircase in the Entrance Hall, Professor Snape burst through the castle's oak front doors… wearing only his shoes, black boxer-briefs, and a black dress shirt. Naturally, I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight.
"Er, where the hell are your robes? And your pants?"
"In the lake," he said tersely.
"What?"
"They were on fire."
"Did Aguamenti not occur to you?"
"Never mind that!" Snape shouted impatiently. "We have more important matters at hand!"
"Right," I said, darting my eyes away from his ghostly pale legs. "I'm coming with you."
Together, we raced into the dungeons and arrived at the Potions classroom. What lay before us was quite astonishing. Sure, it could have been worse, but at least one-fourth of the classroom furniture had melted, and a boiling hot potion continued to bubble over the top of its cauldron and spread over the floor. In its path were several workbenches, which were reduced to puddles. Remnants of two exploded pewter cauldrons were scattered within the liquid, and it appeared that some of the pieces ended up in the cauldron of the out-of-control potion.
The class of first-years was huddled in a far corner behind Hagrid's enormous body. Most of the children looked terrified, but none looked as frightened as the half-giant, who was uselessly pointing his pink umbrella at the rapidly moving potion.
"You bumbling idiot!" Snape bellowed. "Why didn't you cast a bloody Stasis Charm? Or Vanish it, perhaps?"
Hagrid whimpered loudly.
"Of course, that's right—it's because you have the formal education of a third-year!" Snape angrily Vanished the offensive potion, which took with it the work stations it melted.
"THAT WASN'T MY FAULT, YEH GREASY GIT!" Hagrid boomed defensively. "Besides, yer runnin' around the castle in yer underwear! Even firs'-years can dress better!"
"Well, that is your fault—your Blast-Ended Screwts are monstrosities!"
"Only 'cause yeh dunno how ter take care of 'em!"
The two silently fumed at each other until an oddly calm voice broke the tension.
"What is the problem here? Severus, where are your clothes?"
"Dumbledore, you complete arse!" I yelled and brandished my wand. Immediately, another wand and a pink umbrella pointed at him, too.
"Er, Minerva? Severus? Hagrid? What are you doing?"
"Deciding what hex to use first!" I growled.
"But there are children here!"
I scowled and slowly lowered my wand. Snape and Hagrid followed my lead.
"Fine. I'll deal with you personally later. Now go fetch Severus's clothes from the lake!"
"The lake?"
"Yes, Headmaster," Severus drawled. "My clothes are in the lake."
"Looks like yeh're goin' fer a swim, eh, Professor Dumbledore, sir."
Albus looked a bit nervous. The lake was quite vast and deep.
"Don't make me ask you again. Go," I demanded.
Once Albus's retreating back was out of sight, I turned to the students, who were still huddled in the corner, wide-eyed.
"Please return to your dormitories. All remaining classes are canceled for today." These statements I repeated with the aid of the Sonorous Charm so that I could inform the rest of the school. Then I sighed and turned to Severus.
"What are you going to do now, Minerva?" he asked.
"I'm going to ask the workers at Honeydukes to send all of Albus's usual orders to me, and I'll hide them from him until he cries."
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, yes, I will." And I would. It was the least he deserved.
"How evil of you, Minerva," Snape smirked. "Ten points to Gryffindor."
- COMPLETE -