A/N: I'm not certain who all we owe apologies to in this chapter. JK Rowling for certain, and I suppose WB, too. And South Park, for one teeny tiny little reference. There may be others, you can never be too sure. Also, you may have noticed that we inadvertently wrote about CoMC before we wrote about Trelawney's class. Our mistake. When we started the story last year, we were on the way home from Florida, and the book was packed away in the trunk. We couldn't quite remember the order of the classes. So, we've taken steps here to correct that error. Oh, and before you read on, just remember: Drugs are bad, m'kay?

By the way, this is the last chapter of this story I will be posting at I prefer to post my stories at fandom-specific archives. You can keep up with the rest of the story at and you can receive notification of updates of my stories by joining my Yahoo Group. The information is in my profile.

Ron and Harry dropped Malfoy's severed arm off at the Hospital wing, and, after getting an earful from Madame Pomfrey about having failed to brush the debris out of the severed end, began the long trek back to Gryffindor tower. As they climbed the grand staircase, a familiar looking crane came flapping towards them. Ron grumbled something under his breath about prima donnas before unfolding the note. It read:

Harry and Ron,

You were supposed to be at Divination three hours ago! I'll meet you there after I finish helping Madam Pomfrey re-attach Draco's arm. I'm not certain she's up to date on the latest techniques at St. Mungo's.

You DO know that Divination is held in the top of the North Tower, don't you?

Love from,

Hermione

"Oh, no!" Harry fretted. "We've missed our first divination class! I was so excited about Hagrid's class I completely forgot we have Divination first period."

Ron shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Harry. The editing crew can fix it during post-production. Let's just get it over with, all right? I think the North Tower is this way."

The boys began searching for the North Tower. After becoming hopelessly turned around, they noticed a sign posted up in an empty picture frame. It read:

Due to certain decisions made in the name of "artistic license," the role of Sir Cadogan has been usurped by random horsemen carrying severed heads who shall endeavor to entertain you during meals in the Great Hall. Grievances may be addressed to where they shall be promptly dealt with.

If you are trying to reach the North Tower, proceed as follows:

48 paces west

climb staircase

26 paces north

look up to ceiling

click heels together three times

say, "There's no place like Hogwarts."

climb rope ladder

"Dealt with? That sounds vaguely threatening," Harry mused aloud.

"Around here, it's best not to ask too many questions," Ron advised, nodding sagely. "Let's just get to class. The last thing I want right now is another note from Hermione informing us we're late."

Harry and Ron found the rest of the divination class waiting for them. Ron clicked his heels three times and mumbled the password in a low voice.

"I feel like a right pouf," he complained.

And with good reason. Parvati and Lavender were snickering behind their hands, while Seamus and Dean were chortling openly. Fortunately, they were quickly distracted by the rope ladder that dropped down out of the ceiling. As the students climbed up into the tower, Professor Trelawney greeted them.

"Well, well, dears, better late than never. Everyone take a seat. Welcome to Divination, class. The first thing we will learn today is the importance of setting an atmosphere conducive to transporting your ethereal selves into the beyond."

As they watched, Professor Trelawney opened a small wooden box and retrieved what appeared to be a plastic baggie filled with a dull green, leafy substance that resembled some of the dried herbs Harry's Aunt Petunia kept in her kitchen but never used. The professor scooped up a generous handful and threw it onto the fire. A thick, fragrant smoke wafted across the room. Many of the students, including Harry, began to cough and sputter. Ron began sniffing the air in a none-too-subtle manner.

"Now, everyone take a deep, cleansing breath," Professor Trelawney instructed. "And be certain to hold it in as long as possible...more effective that way." She inhaled deeply.

Ron turned to Harry.

"Do you smell spaghetti sauce?" he whispered loudly.

Across the table, Hermione shushed him. Ron shot her a withering glance, and then did a double take.

"Where did you come from?" he demanded, still whispering.

"What do you mean?" Hermione whispered back. "I've been here the whole time."

Ron gave her an incredulous look. "You bloody well have not! Harry and I walked up the stairs alone, sat down at the table alone, and all of a sudden you pop in out of nowhere."

"Ron," Hermione said in a low, somewhat menacing voice, "I've been here the...entire...time. Now, pay attention."

Ron looked as if he wanted to argue but apparently thought better of it. His mouth closed in a thin line as he turned his attention back to Professor Trelawney. As Harry watched, Hermione's nostrils flared, and she began to sniff the air delicately. After a moment, she rolled her eyes and uttered a small "tuh."

At the front of the classroom, Professor Trelawney was still inhaling deeply through her nose and exhaling through her mouth after holding her breath as long as possible. Her eyes were closed, and an expression of bliss had settled across her face. She giggled softly as she opened her eyes and addressed the class again.

"There, now, isn't that lovely? Your minds may have a tendency to drift...that's all right; it's all part of opening your mind to the beyond. Broaden your minds, dears...broaden your minds."

Trelawney paused a moment and inhaled deeply again. She held her breath for so long that she began to turn quite red before she exhaled loudly again. The students looked at her expectantly.

"Now, what was I saying?" she mused aloud, and glanced around the room as if searching for a reminder. She then burst into a small fit of giggles as she collapsed onto an over-stuffed ottoman. When she had caught her breath, she cocked her head to one side and asked the students, "Who are you, again?"

A strange boy in the back of the room spoke up, and the class looked around in surprise, for none of them had ever seen before that moment.

"Um, we're your third-year divination class. Gryffindor," he explained tentatively.

"Who the bloody hell is that?" Ron whispered loudly.

"Ron, don't swear," Hermione said in a tired voice.

"I can't help it," Ron said. "It's in the script. Frequently. You-Know-Who seems to think it's funny."

"You-Know-Who?" Harry interrupted. "Why would Voldemort think it's funny when you swear?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Not thatYou-Know-Who. The other one. He-who-must-not-be-named," Ron said, glancing around fearfully.

"Oh, stop, Ron," Hermione chided. "You'll just confuse him. I'll have to have a talk with Steve about the script after class. Honestly, the last thing we should be doing is contributing to the corruption of today's impressionable youth. There are children in the audience, for heaven's sake."

"That didn't seem to matter much when Harry was wanking under the covers at the beginning of the movie, now did it?" Ron said, smirking.

"Ron!" Hermione said, aghast.

"Hey! I was not!" Harry complained. "I was trying to learn the Lumos Maximus spell. I thought it might be important this year."

Ron snorted in disbelief. "Whatever you say, Harry. In any case, neither of you has answered my question."

"What question was that?" Harry asked.

"Who the bloody hell is that guy?" Ron asked again, pointing to the mysterious new Gryffindor student.

"Him? Oh, I think he's the nephew of the cousin of the aunt of the best friend of Alfonso's next-door neighbor's dog walker. Or something like that. No one to be concerned with," Hermione explained.

Ron looked around. "Where's Dean? Shouldn't he be here?"

Hermione pointed to where Dean sat, near the back of the room. He seemed to be trying to speak, but for some reason was unable to form words. Ron turned back to Harry and Hermione, his face wrinkled with confusion.

"What the...?" he began

"I think he complained about the aforementioned horsemen," Hermione said quietly. "If you know what's good for you, you'll hush up and pay attention now."

Ron nodded slowly and turned his attention back to Professor Trelawney, who was chattering on inanely at the front of the classroom and showing no signs of continuing their lesson. Suddenly, she stood and announced, "I'm bloody starving. Does anyone have any cheesy poofs?"

Hermione sighed loudly. "No, Professor, but there seems to be a tin of biscuits on that table behind you, along with several stacks of teacups and what appears to be an assortment of herbal teas. You do remember we're supposed to be reading tea leaves today, don't you?" Hermione asked dramatically.

"Oh, good heavens. I almost forgot. Of course, of course," the professor mumbled. She hurried over to the table and popped open the tin of biscuits. She grabbed several for herself and began munching them as she passed the tin around to the students.

"Everyone come take a tea-cup and some tea. But we don't have any water..." the professor mused, and her gaze became unfocused again.

Hermione cleared her throat loudly and pointed at a steaming kettle on a trivet in the fireplace. Trelawney clapped her hands together, then waved her wand at the kettle and guided it along to pour water over each student's tealeaves.

"We'll just let those steep a moment. Are there any biscuits left?" Trelawney inquired hopefully.

Lavender passed the tin back to the professor, who took a few more biscuits and sat munching them while they waited for the tea to steep. Finally, she stood and brushed the crumbs off of her robes and announced the tea was ready.

"Drink up everyone! When you're finished, give the leaves a good swirl. Then open your Unfogging the Future textbooks and read each other's tea leaves while I see if I can't find a few more biscuits."

Trelawney wandered off in search of more munchies as the students finished their tea. Ron and Harry began swirling their leaves, but Hermione slammed her cup on the table as soon as she was finished.

"See anything? Ron asked after he traded cups with Harry.

"A long, dull year. You?"

"Some kind of wonky cross shape and what might be a bowler hat. So, you're either going to become the new Minister of Magic after Jo finishes book seven, or you're going to suffer, but you're going to be happy about it."

"That's the stupidest fortune I've ever heard," Harry said, laughing. "Although, becoming Minister of Magic would guarantee the suffering part."

Professor Trelawney drifted back towards Harry and Ron's table, smiling dreamily. She stopped short when she caught sight of Ron.

"My dear, your aura is all aglow. Are you in the beyond?" she asked excitedly, but then her shoulders sagged. "Oh, no, that's simply your hair. It's a very loud color, isn't it?"

Hermione snickered, but Ron didn't seem to think it was funny. He handed the cup to the Professor, who screamed as she looked into its depths.

"My dear, you have the Grim!" she exclaimed melodramatically. "Alas, poor Harry," she said, walking over to stroke Ron's hair. "I warned Albus that you were doomed, but he just wouldn't listen." She patted Ron on the head.

"You're a loony! I'm not Harry, he is," Ron said, pointing.

The professor shrieked again. "My dear, you have the Grim!" she repeated, coming over to stroke Harry's hair instead. Harry shrugged her off in annoyance.

"What's a Grim?" he asked.

The strange boy in the back of the room piped up with a lot of boring nonsense about the Grim that no one really paid any attention to because they were all too busy wondering who the bloody hell he was, and before they knew it, class was over.

"I knew I shouldn't have listened to Percy. What kind of a git takes divination and enjoys it?" Ron asked.

"Um...a future Deatheater?" Harry pondered.

Ron shuddered in disgust. "It wouldn't surprise me. He's been on a power trip since the first time mum left him in charge when she went to the market. Anyway, I'm starving. I would swear someone had a lasagna stashed away in there, somewhere."

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione huffed impatiently. "It was oregano! She was burning oregano in the fireplace!"

"Is that what it was?" Harry asked. "I thought it was um, well, you know."

"No! It was oregano!" Hermione insisted. "The woman is too daft to know the difference! What an old fraud. I think I'll ask Alfonso if we can withdraw from this class. Arithmancy was much better. You two would get a lot out of it; you should take it instead."

"But, Hermione, you couldn't possibly have taken Arithmancy yet," Ron pointed out. "It's held at the same time that Divination is. You can't be in two places at once."

"Shows how much you know," Hermione snapped before stomping away. Ron watched her go.

"If you ask me, she's starting to believe everything Steve writes about her. Next thing you know, she'll be wanting a scar on her forehead," he said in sour voice.

Harry simply shrugged noncommittally. After they had walked a few more steps, Ron's stomach rumbled audibly.

"I've had enough. Let's go find something to eat," he said.

"Aren't we supposed to go to Potions now?" Harry asked.

"Nope," Ron replied. "Potions seems to have been cut this year. Guess even Alfonso thinks ol' Snape's a complete git."

Harry's face fell in disappointment. "Rats. I was really looking forward to skinning Malfoy's shrivelfig," he grumbled, recalling the tight, thin t-shirt that had set off Malfoy's well-defined physique quite nicely.

"Yeah. I was supposed to chop his roots, too," Ron lamented. "But don't worry, there's plenty of homoerotic subtext later in the movie."

The boys hurried of in search of sustenance.