A/N: Hey there! THis chapter is alittle long, becasue I have to go camping with my bratty dad, with no computer acess, so I'll have to work overtime with less results for the next chapter.

With better news, this story was wonderfully beta'd by the8thweasley. I fi messed it up somehow during the author note, it's not her fault! She's the awesome one!

Chapter Four: I Require Curiosity

When I read, the world becomes dull, vague and quiet around me. It is very hard for me to be interrupted from my book, no matter how boring, uninteresting and mundane the novel may be. Many times, yelling, poking and threats of torture do not wake me. Reading is my sanctuary.

I do not take kindly to those who dare interrupt my moments of happiness. So when a I caught sight of a hand moving towards the precious object I held, my head whipped up and the inner bitch came out. "Excuse me, but that's my book you have your hands on. I would much appreciate it if you backed the bloody hell off. Thanks." I turned my attention back to the book.

I heard Dumbledore's voice, "Very well. I just thought you might want to see your schedule."

I flushed and ducked my head in shame. "Sorry Professor," he handed me the piece of parchment.

"I hope to see you in my class tomorrow Matilda. Don't be late."

"I won't be!" I looked at my classes the for the day. I had Care of Magical Creatures, with Professor McShannon. Then came Slughorn, the Potions master. Then I had double Charms with Professor Redbird and Divination with Professor Trelawney. At first I couldn't understand how Professor Trelawney could be teaching now, but, hey, weirder things have happened.

After a minute of studying my schedule, I noticed most, if not all of my classes were with the Slytherins. Weird. I would have to remember to ask about that later.

My first class of the afternoon would be my Charms class. It started at one, approximately fifteen minutes from now. I had the books for that class in my book bag, which was on the floor next to my chair. I knew where the Charms classroom was, and there is no reason to over-achieve and get there early... I turned back to my library book, the library already fading around me...

For the second time today, a hand darted for my book. I raised my own paw into the air and slapped the offending hand down. "If you want something, just say it!" I snapped, not looking up from my book.

A calm, cool, irritated voice said, "I've been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes."

I looked up into cold ultramarine blue eyes that were piercing me. "Oh. Why?" I breathed, still mesmerised by the strangers eyes.

"You're ten minutes late for Charms class. I was told to help you find your way there, but apparently, that is not your plan."

"No, no, it is, I just didn't realize I was late." I bent down to grab my book bag, also tearing my eyes from the handsome man in front of me. Inside my mind, I was cussing myself out. When did I become so obsessed with people's looks? I never, ever went out with people I didn't get to know first, and here I am swooning over some stranger.

My girlie, unreasonable side exclaimed, "Shut your mouth! That dude's hot!"

When I looked up again, all I could see was the back of his head. "Follow me," he said. I obeyed, staring in wonder at his tumbled mass of dark brown hair. I sighed inside at my foolish behavior, but did not stop staring.

He lead me to the Charms classroom, knocked on the door, and waited until it swung open. The witch at the front of the class swirled to face the boy and I, "Tom," she simpered,"Thank you for bringing our new student to class. Imagine how dreadful it would be if she got lost," she revolved slowly to face me as Tom, my stunning classmate, went to his seat, "You are our new exchange student, I presume? Why weren't you here on time?"

"I was reading, Professor." The shame was plainly washing over me.

"Oh, yes? That is so much more important than my class." Professor Redbird did not seem to favor me. "Don't you all agree?" she asked her class.

"I'm sorry Professor, I guess I thought since it's my first day and all I was allowed to make a few mistakes. Did I misunderstand?" I challenged her.

"Yes. I guess you cannot get the seat of your choice, as you were late, but feel free to sit next to Tom. He can help you try to pass my class."

I went to sit beside Tom. "Hey there, my name's Matilda." When did I get so friendly?

Professor Redbird barked at me, "No talking in my class! Next time you do I'm taking points!"

From then on, the Charms teacher became less and less charming. It was impossible to stare at Tom sideways while he remained oblivious. (When I tried, he always gave me a weird look,) and all though my wand was 'an excellent tool for Charms work' I still couldn't preform any of the spells Professor Redbird thrust upon us.

I broke off from the group to go to Divination, my best class. I know, I know, it's rare. I'm not even a seer, and the teacher doesn't like me much. I just have an interest in this stuff, the foggier and more uncertain something is... the more likely it is I will love it. Except mystery novels. I like those to be more straightforward.

I climbed the many steps to the tower, pulled down the trapdoor, and opened my eyes to the Divination room.

It was hardly recognisable. Where were the disgusting poof pillows? Where was the stuffy atmosphere? Where was the insect like Professor?

All I could see was a calm woman sitting in a normal chair. Her eyes were closed, but she said, "Hello, my child," In a spooky voice.

My eyes widened, "How did you know I was here?"

"Heard you, my darling." She said. Opening her hazy eyes and peering straight at me. "Are you the new student? None of my other pupils would have asked such a silly question."

"Yeah, I am, but couldn't you tell?" I was beginning to be creeped out by the way she never blinked those hazy eyes.

"No, my darling, unfourtunatly I am as blind as a bat."

"Oh, sorry then." I said awkwardly.

"Nothing to be sorry about my dear! Would you be so kind as to take a seat?"

I went and sat, waiting until more of my peers trickled into the room. This group was Ravenclaws. There wern't many in this class, apparently the Ravenclaws didn't like Divination.

When the last student found their seat, the teacher opened her wide hazy eyes again. "Hello, class. I would like you to welcome our transfer student, Matilda Clarke. She is from Bauxbatons, and will be joinning us in our lessons this year." Mumbled "Hello's" answered her, not many even pointing my way. "I would like you all to get out your textbooks and refresh your minds on what Pyromancy is.

Excitedly I opened the textbook. I had never done Pyromancy before, it sounded fun. I read the passage on it.

PYROMANCY

Pyromancy is Divination by fire. It is thought that a fast burning flame that devours the sacrifice quickly is a good omen, and when the fire slowly consumed the victim, it was evil. When observing the flames of torches, one point of the flame is good, but if it split into two it is bad. Curiously, if a flame split into three it is a better omen than one. Bending of the flame is taken as sickness for the healthy, and death for the sick. If the flame extinguishes, it means catastrophe.

There are many types of Pyromancy.

Capnomancy is the interpretation of movement of smoke from a fire, principally a sacrificial fire.

Cauisimomancy is an ancient system of divination that draws omens by observing objects placed in a fire. It is the least specific branch of Pyromancy.

In Lampadomancy we read the movements of a flame using a single candle. You can also read the spots of carbon on a sheet of paper held above the flame. Another method includes using the candle flame to draw spirits, in hope to consult them on future events. For this a special candle is employed, in the belief that a grotesque forms will attract the spirits.

Lychnoscopy is divination by the aid of three candles ranged in a triangle. The diviner reads passages based upon the movements of the three flames.

There is also Pyroscopy, where the diviner would burn a piece of paper on a white surface, and read the resulting stains.

Sideromancy is preformed by dropping an odd number of dry straws into a hot skillet, and observing the way the straws curl, bend and undulate, as well as the way the smoke and flame behave.

I was confused, even after reading the section over again. Why had I never heard of any of these before?

As if reading my mind, the teacher said, "Pyromancy is one of the simplest and most ancient forms of magic, which I would prefer to teach you all in first year. However, Headmaster Dippet doesn't believe I can handle a few first years and a bit of fire at the same time. He still doesn't believe it, so I will have to use an assistant." She was clearly affronted. "I hope we will be able to move on from Pyromancy in under two months. We are not able to begin today, because my assistant is not here. You may talk."

Then the teacher got up and came directly at me. She swerved away from each inconsiderate student rushing across the room. She didn't let even the folds of her skirt disrupt any of the tables. It was an awe-striking vision, the young blind woman crossing the room like she was the eye of the storm. Opening her eyes, the haze in them seemed ablaze, fiery and otherworldly.

She closed her eyes and spoke in a slightly bizzare way, "We need to talk," and began to amble out of the room, involuntarily opening the trapdoor and climbing down the ladder.

I followed her, trying to push myself through the hurricane of pandemonium she left behind. Finally able to reach the trapdoor, I dropped down ineptly.

She was waiting there, her eyes open once again, and shining. "Hello?" I ventured.

From her mouth came words, in a voice not her own. It was stern, somber, and very, very wise. "Matilda, you were not sent here to locate the 'Emerald Dagger.' You were sent here for a much more pressing reason. It would be desirable for you to forget your mislead mission, and work on the real issue. It is most urgent that you do so, you only have so long," the Professor seemed to be flickering between, her wise voice and her normal voice, "What?" the professor exclaimed, before becoming her other self, "Urgent that you stop-," Trelawney again, "What the HELL is going on here?" she cried, falling around and bumping into things, unlike her other self.

I grabbed here arm, trying to stop here from knocking into a statue, "Whoa, whoa, calm down," I reassured her, "What do you mean?"

The teacher was terrified, "Why does it keep happening to me? I keep forgetting- keep saying thing that I don't remember! What's wrong with me?" she held her eyes wide, searching for answers she couldn't see.

"Calm down, Professor Trelawney, tell me what you can remember." I said.

"I remember... telling you all 'you may talk' then the next thing I knew, I said,'what?' and then I forgot again, until now. And it keeps happening! I forget all the time now! I can't even here the other kids! Was I out that long?"

"Just stay calm," I said to her for the third time, " You left the classroom, it hasn't been long at all. Everyone's just fine."

"I'm not!" she snapped, "What's happening to me?"

I thought back to my time in the future, remembering Dumbledore telling someone that Professor Trelawney's grandmother was a seer. "Maybe you're a seer?" I speculated.

"As if," the lady blew off my suggestion," I teach Divination, but that doesn't guarantee that I'm a seer, sorry. " Criticizing me relaxed this woman more than all my reassurances.

"Well I think you're a seer. How else do you explain how you said thing nobody else knew? How do explain you missing out on moments," I remembered back to first year, when a dorm-mate of mine was possessed by Tom Riddle. "Unless you're possessed, the only explanation is that you're possessed."

Professor Trelawney's face paled and slackened. "You... you don't think?"

"No," I sighed, "I don't think you're possessed. I think you're a seer, and that's the end of story. Believe whatever you want, but that's my opinion."

"What did I say?" she whispered.

"Nothing," I quickly lied, "just warning me to not get lost on my way up to Gryfindor tower."

"Okay," She said, dazed, " Go on then, you're dismissed," and she turned around, fumbling for the ladder.

"Are you sure?" I asked nervously, I didn't want to be in trouble on my first day of school. She didn't answer me, and I was left alone in the hallway with nothing to guide me except for the portraits on the wall.

"Okay then..." I ran to look for the Room of Requirement, which I knew from D.A. meetings. I went there because I had no idea what the Gryffindor password was, and who was there to help me? I paced in front of the not-so-barren wall, waiting for the door of the Room of Requirement to pop in front of me. I was so full of needs right now I had no idea what would pop up, a place to hide, a place to cry, a place to think, somewhere to search for the Emerald Dagger.

And when I opened the door after it's sudden appearance, it seemed as if the room was as confused as I. There was bookshelves, and quiet open areas scattered throughout the room, obvious places for thinking. There were hidey-holes everywhere, there were piles of junk, there was pictures and even a flock of pigions. There was even a weird mirror at the back of the room, but when I glanced at it from afar, it wasn't reflecting any of the junk near it. It must be defective. I walked passed it without a second glance.

The obvious thing to do, was to look at the books and find an answer about the Emerald Dagger or Trelawney's visions. But... why do the obvious thing? I'll write my own life, thanks. Not the obvious easy things.

So, I decide to look through the piles of junk. Most of it I found uninteresting. No green knives anywhere in sight. Most was jewlery-a necklace of gold lay on the floor, and I knew I would loose it. A braclet of silver and a diamond ring lay among the riches, and I gave it no more thought. These things were valuable, but who would wear them? If I picked something up, it could be cursed, or fake, or if it was real I would be busted for having it.

Then I found something quite interesting. Hundreds of tiny notes were sprinkled on the floor. Each looked like a letter, on old brown parchment. There were two different handwritings on the letters, one of a well-mannered (it looked) man and the other of a sharp woman. I reminded myself to come back here when I was finished poking through the rest.

My eyes were caught upon each and every new pile, which weirdly seemed sorted. I saw sneakoscopes, which all spun furiously when I reached out to take one, there was a mound of broken clocks, springs and gears exposed for my inspection while a momentous tick-tick sound emanated from each. I saw paintings of what I believed to be the four founders- a golden framed portrait of a plump, rosy cheeked witch in black surrounded by happy looking people who could be her family, a sharp, strict looking woman in flowing blue robes wearing a tiara in a bronze frame, a man with slit pupils in a painting surrounded by beautiful silver snakes, and then there was a man I knew to be Godric Gryffindor. He was in another golden frame, and he looked like any man would, he didn't look as friendly or regal or intimidating as the other founders. He was a normal guy, maybe a bit older than the rest, holding sword of glinting rubies, and smiling while a dragon stood beside him.

And as I looked at the portraits, I saw something odd. In Gryffindor's painting, there was a ruby sword... in Hufflepuff's picture, there was a golden blade in the background next to the hat stand, in Ravenclaw's portrait, a silver-blue knife was cleverly hidden behind her in a bookcase. A quick glance at the man encased in snakes showed me that the largest serpent of the lot held something in it's mouth-something bright green, sharp, and covered in venom. The Emerald Dagger?

Duh! I thought. What else could it be? And at this rate, Dumbledore will be saved in a week! As I was turning the painting over, eager to find another clue, I hear the dull roar of voices, the classes had been dismissed. Abandoning the painting, I ran wildly towards the way I came, eager to be in the midst of the crowd and not left behind, clueless when the Fat Lady wanted the password.