"Why hasn't anyone invented a shortcut for this yet?" I whine as I trudge up a staircase in the North Tower, which was a section of the castle I hadn't been in yet.

Just behind me, Harry shrugs. "I don't know. Do you think they could?"

"Well, wizards have obviously heard of lifts," Hermione reasons. "I've heard that the Ministry has a few. But I've also heard that Hogwarts disables any Muggle technology, and that includes lifts."

"Any magical shortcut options?" Ron pants as we take another turn and encounter more stairs.

"You can't Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts," she reminds us.

"It would be bloody useful if we could," I groan. "Is this the right floor?"

Hermione unfolds her schedule from her pocket and gives it a glance. "Yep, it says right here: seventh floor, room 223."

"But there's nothing here!" Ron protests as we look around and the dead end corridor, where a few other students were starting to converge.

I tilt my head upwards slightly, something catching my eye. "Yes, there is." I point directly above my head.

There was a plaque: Sybill Trelawney: Divination Teacher.

Hermione harrumphs at it. "But how do we-"

She's cut off as a circular trapdoor opens and a silvery ladder unravels.

Ron turns to grin at the rest of us. "Well, ladies first!"

"Prat," I huff and glare at him as I follow Hermione up the ladder.

The classroom looks like an old lady's living room and an antiques shop had a baby, and then bathed it in incense and perfume. Instead of chairs and desks, there's poufy armchairs surrounding tables, each of which had a crystal ball in the middle.

"It is so nice to see you in the physical world at last."

I nearly scream – and I'm not the only one – as I jump back and round on the owner of the voice.

A lady is sitting in the armchair, a skinny, slightly scrawny build (like I was before the Change, as I've taken to calling it), big, bug-eyed glasses that magnified her eyes at least three times their normal size, and a glittery shawl draped over her shoulders.

"Sit, my children, sit," the woman urges us softly. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I all settle around one table, the rest of the class awkwardly finding seats.

"Welcome to Divination. I am Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody says anything, although I do share a confused glance with Hermione.

"You have chosen to take Divination; the most difficult of the magical arts-"

"Not true," I grumble, "I say Potions is far harder."

"-and I must warn you, it is a very fickle art. If you do not have the Sight, there is not much I can teach you my dears."

"Translation," I whisper to Hermione, "If you aren't insane, you aren't learning anything worth owl dung in here," and she laughs lightly.

Trelawney scans her huge eyes over the class, eventually stopping on Neville. "You, boy – is your grandmother well?"

"I – uh – yeah, I think so?"

"I wouldn't be so sure," she says breezily, and Neville gulps.

She goes on to explain the course progression and goals, almost like a normal class, but then she starts on the day's lesson. "I want to you divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear – Neville, was it? - After you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

We all go up to collect a teacup, and I sigh as the sound of shattering china and Neville apologizing profusely. The four of us sit quickly, guzzling down the scalding liquid and leaving only a mass of soggy brown material at the bottom. Harry and Ron quickly trade cups while I do the same with Hermione.

Hermione glances at me as I peer into her cup. "Well, what do you see?"

"A lot of soggy brown mush…" I yawn, the heavy and slightly warm air of the classroom making my sleepier by the minute. "Okay…well, there's a blob looking thing…that might be a knot; you're going to be stressed – sorry – and, oh, there's something with horns? A ram, maybe? That means you'll be mad at someone…oh, I wonder what Malfoy does."

Hermione rolls her eyes at me good-naturedly as she looks at my teacup. "My turn. Okay, 'Rissa…there's something that looks like a stick; maybe something in the forest? Then there's a paw print – I don't know what that means – and a mask, that means you'll be lied to; that one's obvious. And then there's this big black bur of some sort, um-"

She stops as Professor Trelawney suddenly whirls around to face our tables. "Give me those."

Hermione and Ron hand over the two cups, the entire class falling into a hush as she looks into Harry's cup first. "The falcon…my boy, you have a deadly enemy…"

"Everyone knows that!" Hermione groans. "What? Everyone knows about Harry and You-Know-Who!"

"It's practically legend," I add in a bored tone, sharing a small grin with Hermione.

"The club…oh no, an attack…this is not a happy cup, no…"

I sigh as Ron mumbles something about a bowlers hat and Trelawney sees a skull, showing danger in Harry's path, before seeing something that makes her gasp, scream, and sink into the nearest armchair. "No, no my dear boy…my poor, poor dear boy…please, do not ask – it is kinder of you to not…"

"Good god," I give a long-suffering sigh. "What is it?"

"You – you have the Grim!" Trelawney gasps.

"The what?"

"Huh?"

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" She looks surprised that we don't know what on Earth she's on about. "The spectral dog that haunts graveyards – it is most well known as a symbol of death!"

I sigh as everyone gasps. "Really, people?"

Hermione moves around to poke her head over the professor's shoulder. "I don't think that looks like the Grim," she reports frankly.

Trelawney eyes her with distaste. "If you will excuse me, my dear, I sense very little aura surrounding you. You seem to be very unreceptive to this this subject."

I roll my eyes as Seamus Finnegan tilts his head from side to side, trying to see other ridiculous animals in the cup.

Finally, after about five minutes, Harry gets fed up. "If you're all done predicting my death!"

"Yeah," I drawl. "Can you read my cup now, please? Do I get to die too?"

Trelawney gives me a long look before picking up my cup. "A linked chain…you will discover someone new, someone very close to you…"

I bite my head as I remember my father.

"A star…you will discover new talent…and a skull…you will be in great danger…"

I groan. "Just a normal year, then. Are we done here?"

She nods quickly. "Oh yes, I think it would be best to end the class here. Until we meet again, my dears, may good fortune befall you."

I grab my bag and hurry out of the room and down the ladder, leaning against the wall as I breathe fresh air.

Harry, Hermione and Ron are silent as they join me in a huddle.

"Well that went well," I joke.

"Honestly," Hermione huffs. "If Divination means predicting the death of my friends in tea leaves, I won't be taking it much longer! I learned loads more in my Arithmitacy class!" She storms off.

"What?" I stare at her retreating back. "She hasn't had Arithmitacy yet, has she?"

They shake their heads as we make our way to Transfiguration.

"I don't want to do this…" I moan quietly. "Everyone is expecting you to drop dead and me to murder someone out of the blue. You think I could skip?"

Ron shrugs. "Why not?"

"Good, thanks. Can you tell McGonagall the incense gave me a headache or something?"

"Not far from the truth, is it?" Harry gives me a small grin. "Alright, Ori, we'll tell her. I can't say she'll believe us, but…" he shrugs. "You'll be okay?"

I nod giving him a quick hug before shouldering my bag. "Thanks, I owe you one!"