C H A P T E R N I N E
"Amongst the dustiness of this place, a mane of crimson hair is most noticeable," said Firenze the centaur, offering his hand to Ginny Weasley as she scaled the end of the ladder, which led into the classroom of Sibyll Trelawney.
"What brings you here, young one?" he asked, watching as she brushed dirt off her nightgown.
"It is a quest, Firenze," replied an ethereal voice, belonging to a skinny woman in a sapphire nightdress that fell to her knees.
"I told you she would come."
Ginny blinked in surprise. "You knew I was coming? But…but who are you?"
The skinny woman extended an anemic arm to her side and went into a low half-bow. "Sibyll Trelawney, Seer extraordinaire, professor of Divinations,"
"No, not you," Ginny said, vaguely waving a hand at her while gazing at the centaur, "You."
"I am Firenze, Centaur anomalous, professor of Divinations."
"How did you know I was coming, especially at this hour?"
Firenze's face looked grave in the flickering candlelight of two in the morning.
"The movements of the stars, their position in the skies, tell our stories. Most human paths are inconspicuous across the heavens, but yours is streaked with significance. You are Ginevra Weasley—do not forget it."
"Of…of course," said Ginny uncertainly as the centaur led her to a rickety table, where a misty orb glowed calculatingly. She settled upon a pouf and found Professor Trelawney seated crosswise from her.
"It is time for my departure. Goodnight to you both." Firenze trotted away into darkness.
"Forgive my appearance, my dear. I just finished my bath." Professor Trelawney said in regards to her damp hair and nightdress.
"At this hour?" Ginny asked, incredulous.
" 'Tis the crescent moon," Professor Trelawney countered, squinting out the nearest window as she was not wearing her glasses. "Good for the complexion, you know."
Ginny stared at her.
"Ah, yes. Your quest, my dear. There is a question you want answered."
Crossing her arms, Ginny snorted.
"I've heard all about you, Professor. My brother Ron and my friend—"
"Hermione Granger, no doubt?"
"Yes, her, they've told me about the rubbish you teach—"
"And yet you came here tonight," Trelawney interrupted. "Do you know why?"
Ginny could not bring herself to look at her.
"Because you believe," the professor whispered. "Hermione Granger did not See because she willed it, because she finds it difficult enough to decode her past, her present. She cannot believe in what she does not see, and that is—was—her downfall here. Ronald Weasley was wrongly exposed to my teachings; he began to see me as a charlatan, a swindler, yet a small part of him secretly longed to believe.
"You, my dear, came tonight because you see me as an equal, a confidante, as one who will understand the strange, precognitive dreams you have. I am right in saying that your guesses are usually accurate? You have frequent bouts of déjà vu?"
Still not looking, she nodded.
"I know what you are seeking, Ginevra," continued Trelawney, shifting the crystal ball to one side and shuffling a pack of cards. She dealt five cards, face down. "You are, not for the first time, seeking the Seeker."
Ginny's heart gave a jolt.
Over flipped one card.
"The Serpent. Something is lurking near your ankle, ready to strike."
And another.
"Desert Sand. Something you buried, tried to desert awhile ago is being unearthed."
Another.
"The Non-Healable Wound. Again, something from your past is returning.
And another.
"The Lion Heart. How fitting. Your mask of bravery is deceiving even you. There is something you are not being honest about with yourself."
And the final one.
"The Seeing Eye. This something is quickly becoming clearer."
There was a small pause, then:
"You still wear a heart on your ankle for him, don't you, m'dear?"
Ginny gasped. She lifted her foot onto her lap and gazed at her ankle. There, in faded emerald ink, was a tiny heart inscribed upon the skin (Merely bored over the summer before third year, she had drawn it there, and retraced it so many times it seemed to become permanent).
"How do you know about that?"
"How could you forget?"
Rubbing her ankle, Ginny bit her lip. How could have she forgotten?
"Because I gave up on him, Professor."
Trelawney peered at her.
"But…but," continued Ginny in a voice of dawning, "I never really let him go. I still love him."
"Yes, my dear," murmured Trelawney, beaming. "I think you just might have the G—"
The classroom's trapdoor creaked open, and up climbed—
"Harry!"
"Ginny!" Harry said in a strangled whisper. "What are you doing here?"
"I was just—" Ginny turned to Professor Trelawney, but all that was across from her were an empty seat, a flickering candle, and her five cards. "Oh…"
"You weren't trying to unfog the future, were you?" Harry asked on a laugh.
"No," replied Ginny softly. "I was discovering the now. How did you know I was up here, anyway?"
"Marauder's Map," he said simply, waving it at her. "I had the mad urge to check it…oh damn. McGonagall's coming! We've got to get out of here, fast—we're out of bounds…"
He scrambled back down the ladder. Ginny cast a hand towards the table, gave the candle a small smile, and scuttled after Harry.
a/n: I claim no knowledge on the art of Divination, tarot reading, or fortune telling.
