A/N: And so I've gone about two weeks without thinking about this fic at all...but I've started to get kind of depressed by not working on it, I think. So I'm gonna try and get back into working on it everyday, so hopefully I'll be able to update faster.
...I keep thinking I could have just told you to go read the divination chapter in Prisoner of Azkaban; this chapter is so...unoriginal somehow.
Me, 2014: Oh, it could be worse. You could have decided to rewrite an entire book that follows the exact same plotline as the original. *CoughTheOtherParadoxCough*
Chapter 12: The Omen of Death
After breakfast, Bakura headed off toward Divination, his first class of the day. As he headed toward the North Tower, he couldn't help but feel an edge of nervousness in the pit of his stomach, though he had to admit that seemed to be his usual state of being lately. Even so, he couldn't help but feel that reading the future sounded extraordinarily difficult, even more so than the other kinds of magic. He could only hope that the others found it hard as well.
It took Bakura so incredibly long to find it that even though he had left breakfast long before any of his roommates, when he reached the top of the tightly spiraling staircase he found there was already a crowd assembled. He had just known he'd regret it if he didn't use the previous day to find his classes ahead of time, but he'd been too afraid he might run into the wild ghost or Professor Snape again.
It took Bakura a moment to realize that, not only did he not recognize any of the students standing outside where the Divination room should be, but they appeared to be a little older than his normal classmates. Some turned to stare at him, while others turned their backs and whispered to one another. He picked nervously at his robe sleeve. Perhaps this was not the right place after all.
He stood there uncertainly, shifting from one foot to another, hoping against hope that one or two of his dorm mates would come along before long—probably the first time he had wished for this since coming to this place.
He checked his schedule again, then looked all around him, sure that this had to be the place. So there wasn't much he could do until the teacher arrived. Perhaps she would explain things then if there was some kind of mistake.
Instead, he glanced around once more, wondering where they were supposed to go in. He didn't see any immediately apparent doors that led off this landing, but he soon noticed some of the students pointing at the ceiling and he craned his neck to look up. There, he saw what looked like a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque reading 'Sibyll Trelawney, Divination teacher.'
Yes, Sibyll Trelawney had definitely been the name on his schedule. He shot another look around at the unfamiliar students. Some of them looked as nervous as he felt and, perhaps it was his imagination, but Bakura thought they had a different overall look from his dorm mates. Less hostile in general, maybe.
Just as his eye was returning to the curious plaque, the trapdoor it was on opened and a glimmering silver ladder dropped down from it.
The students all glanced at one another uncertainly, before one of the braver ones stepped forward and began climbing upward. The others soon followed.
Bakura hung back, only going up once everyone else in the crowd had taken their turn.
When he, the very last remaining member of the class to reach the top, finally poked his head into the room, he discovered what he considered the oddest-looking place for a classroom he had ever seen. In fact, it almost looked more like an attic than a classroom, except for the many small, circular tables cramped in so tightly together it made Bakura feel almost claustrophobic, though he'd never been susceptible before now.
He just stood where he was, feeling out of place in the dim, red light cast by lamps wrapped in deep, crimson scarves. The windows were all shut, and it was difficult to see in the gloom.
"Welcome," said a voice from the shadows and everyone turned to look. "I'm glad to see everyone arrived here safely—as of course I knew you would."
Bakura saw a spindly woman with a glittering shawl hanging around her thin shoulders. Perhaps it was the overly-large glasses magnifying her eyes, but Bakura thought she rather resembled one of the cards from Insector Haga's deck.
"Please sit down, my children," she said and everyone soon did so. Bakura sat down at a table with a couple of girls and a boy, all of whom were giving him a funny look. Bakura tried valiantly to ignore them.
"Welcome to Divination," said the Professor. "I'm Professor Trelawney—Yes, what is it, dear?" She turned her head to focus her eyes which appeared enormous behind her strange spectacles on Bakura, who had put one shaking hand into the air. She was looking at him with a sort of irritated deadpan that clearly said, "You are completely ruining the atmosphere I'm trying to set, boy."
"I—I was just wondering..." He faltered as he felt the gazes of the other students on him and he could not stop the intense embarrassment creeping in the form of blazing heat over his face. He glanced around at his fellow students again, as though hoping to see one of his usual classmates suddenly appear among them. Wishing for them twice in one day, now there was something to remember.
Professor Trelawney spared him the necessity of stumbling over an entire explanation however and said, "Ah, yes. You don't need to worry, dear. The headmaster—" Her lips tightened a little as she said the word, as though she had tasted something sour—"has informed me of your situation."
Bakura nodded, his face still burning, before sinking as low into his chair as he could manage. He was not entirely satisfied with this answer, but she had been expecting him, so that must mean he was where he was supposed to be. Good thing, because he didn't think he could work up enough courage to speak again for awhile. Most likely the spirit had been given all the details about these things he was expected to know, but hadn't bothered to tell him.
Professor Trelawney then proceeded to give them the standard speech of what to expect in the class and explained just how difficult a subject it was, regularly punctuated with pronouncements and warnings of what would happen in the future. Everything she predicted seemed to be so unpleasant that Bakura kept expecting her to say something to him. However, the expected predictions of endless bad luck for him never came and he let out a breath of relief when she finished her speech, telling them to grab a teacup from the shelf and to divide into pairs.
Bakura was a little surprised when someone asked him almost immediately if he'd like to pair with them. Ordinarily he would have expected to be the very last one with a partner, either the odd one out in an out-numbered classroom, or the subject of a group of three friends' vehement 'No, you go with him.' But the girl at his table positively beamed at him.
"I'm Orla—Orla Quirke," she said, smiling almost shyly.
"My name's Ryou Bakura," said Bakura, who shifted uncomfortably as her smile broadened.
"Ryou? That's a nice name," she said. "That sounds Asian. Is it?"
"Um, yes," said Bakura. "Japanese."
"That's so cool," she said. "Have you ever been there?"
He couldn't deny it was a little nice to be faced with something other than the endless hostility he was forced to endure when he was with his roommates, but even so he a little relieved when they were finished preparing their tea after following Professor Trelawney's list of complicated instructions on how to prepare it properly and they had to drink it, which distracted Orla from their conversation temporarily. He wasn't too good at small talk, unless it somehow concerned gaming or occult culture. Plus, he didn't think it would be a good idea to give away too much about his situation. He didn't know how suspicious it would look for a resident of Japan to be attending a school of magic in England.
When they had finish drinking their tea, and only odd patterns of brown lumps remained, Bakura switched cups with Orla. They both pulled out their copies of their textbooks for the class.
"Okay," Bakura said, squinting into Orla's cup. There were supposed to be shapes in there that would convey something about the other person's future. But closer inspection only told Bakura that all he saw was that he didn't see much of anything that resembled anything. Unless he counted that one thing that he supposed sort of looked like a Valentine's day heart.
He glanced up at Orla. She was smiling at him expectantly. Even without use of the Millennium Eye, Bakura remembered the girls from his first day at Domino High well enough to interpret her expression.
Bakura decided not to mention the heart.
"So, you have something that looks a little like a spider," he said. A spider that had only one body section and three stubs for legs. He consulted his textbook. "That means you'll have an unlucky day sometime. And there you have an egg..." If one could consider a roughly elliptical shape with a lump on one side and a bulge on the bottom an egg. "That means you'll go through a time where you are very, uh—" Bakura raised his eyebrows incredulously as he glanced from the book to the tea cup and back again, wondering if the author was serious or if they had slipped this reading in as a joke. "The egg means that for a while emotionally you be very...fragile."
"That's amazing," said Orla. "I'm sure you're right. I guess lately I've been sort of..."
"Oh no," he said quickly, a bit horrified that she might actually take his awful attempts at diving seriously. "I mean, who knows if I'm interpreting these right." He shrugged. "Anyway, that's pretty much it." That had to be the most-botched reading in the history of this class, he thought. So much for his supposed knowledge about the occult.
"Okay," said Orla, and she blushed, which Bakura did not consider a good sign. "Thank you," she said, then began, "Well, you've got a sort of boomerang-looking thing...Oh, doesn't seem to be in here, though..." She turned the pages of her textbook, frowning slightly in concentration and looking as though she really wanted to prove herself.
"Well anyway, um, this other part looks like a cloud." Orla quickly rifled through the pages of her book again. While she was busy, Professor Trelawney swept over to their table.
"Are you doing all right, my dears?" Professor Trelawney asked, voice low with an almost mystical quality to it.
"Well, Professor," said Orla, "I'm not sure what this thing here is— I thought it was a boomerang, but it's not listed in our textbooks—"
Professor Trelawney had no more leaned over to gaze into Bakura's cup, than she had jumped violently backwards, her hand on her heart, her eyes shut tightly.
"What—What is it, Professor?" Orla asked, startled.
Professor Trelawney turned her huge eyes upon Bakura, where she gave him a stare containing the utmost pity.
The other students were all staring at them now, shooting puzzled glances at one another.
"Professor?" Bakura asked softly and Professor Trelawney opened her mouth, despite trembling lips.
"My dear... you have an augury."
"A what?" somebody called out, confused.
As bad a job as Bakura had done on his tea prediction, he did know a lot about omens and signs and, before Bakura could stop himself he blurted, "Don't those foretell rain?"
Trelawney gave him another pitying look. "My dear, they foretell death I'm afraid. Death. And in the near future, too."
Bakura stared back, but could not stop a bead of sweat breaking out on his temple and rolling down his cheek.
Orla, along with all the other students looked terrified.
"He's going to die?" Orla asked in a hushed voice.
Bakura didn't say anything, not taking his eyes from Trelawney's face. He wanted to not care. He wanted to be able to say to himself that he had known all along it was a distinct possibility, being possessed by possibly the greatest evil the world had ever known. That he did not need a fortune teller to tell him the risk, the danger he had always known he was in. But he could not will away the fear that now consumed him at the words.
"I think that that will be enough for today," said Professor Trelawney faintly. "Put away your things and until we meet again—" Her eyes swept around the room until they fell on Bakura, as though she was silently telling him that this speech may not not apply to him as he may meet his end before the next class anyway—"I wish you good fortune."
Bakura decided not to eat lunch, as he found that he wasn't all that hungry after Divination. He went to his dormitory instead and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, a lethargy having taken over so completely that his whole being felt like a lead weight. Only his thoughts seemed to not want to stop.
Death. He hadn't thought about it too much, not since he'd lost his little sister all those years ago, and his interest in the occult especially in speaking with the dead had begun. But the idea of dying—once it crept into his thoughts, it was hard to dislodge.
He shook his head slightly. He shouldn't let it bother him. What was death anyway? Just the end of suffering, of loneliness, of fear. Maybe his death would even somehow aid in the removal of the evil that he was the medium for. He should have always known this anyway...
He closed his eye, thinking of Yugi, Jonouchi, Honda, Anzu...
Burning liquid formed in his single eye. He couldn't die, not so soon. He missed them, he had to see them again first. And they would miss him. Wouldn't they?
/Heh heh...Depressed, are we?-/
Bakura's eye snapped open and he felt the hot bead slide silently down over the side of his face. He didn't reply, but his whole body tensed in apprehension.
/You don't need to get like that. I don't bite,-/ said the voice, then it laughed again.
/What—What do you want?-/ Bakura demanded finally, knowing the strength of his order was somewhat undermined by the tremor in his voice.
/Just wanted to see how you're doing is all,-/ said the spirit lightly. /So that woman predicted your death, did she?-/
Once again, Bakura chose not to grace the spirit with an answer.
/Heh, well she doesn't know about the Millennium Items, does she? Doesn't know our fates can't be divined. Does she, Vessel?-/
Bakura blinked, stunned. Of course the spirit was probably right, the Millennium Items were so strange and mysterious that their presence alone would probably gum up any kind of attempt to see the future surrounding anyone in proximity to one. But that was not what had taken him so by surprise. /What are you up to?-/ Bakura asked suspiciously. Maybe he was misreading the situation, but it sounded suspiciously to him like the spirit had just gone out of his way to cheer him up. And Bakura would have bet Kaiba would donate all his money to charity before that happened.
/Don't want anything to distract you from your studies,-/ the spirit said. /Didn't I say I wanted you to learn? I'm just clearing the path for you./
Bakura sighed. That answer was hardly satisfying, but really, he wasn't sure why he would have expected the spirit to start spilling all his secrets to him now. Perhaps that really was all there was to it.
Bakura sat up and, though he hated himself for it, realized he did indeed feel better now, the lethargy gone. He twisted himself around and pushed himself up out of bed.
After leaving the common room, it took hardly any time at all to find the Potions classroom, which was also located in the dungeons, the one level just below ground level.
He had given himself plenty of time to get there, so as usual he found himself arriving early. He wondered if he would be having this class with the same people he'd had divination with. He certainly hoped not as he had not much appreciated their pitying glances after Professor Trelawney had foretold his death. He squirmed uncomfortably.
He was a little relieved to see Olseth and his other usual classmates making their way down the hallway. However, his relief soon faded at one look at the pronounced sneer on Olseth's face, and he suddenly found himself wishing instead that he could have a nice class time filled with the pitying and distinctly non-hostile Orla and the others.
Bakura was glad when the professor, a large balding man with a seemingly jocular disposition, finally came out and opened the door to allow the students to enter the classroom.
As Bakura entered the dungeon with the other students, he was met with many different interesting smells and aromas, and the room was filled with a mist alive with color. Bakura saw the source of the smells and mist and leaned over to look at the contents of the various cauldrons as he passed them. One had a sort of musty smell that reminded Bakura strongly of the Kame Game Shop, but at the same time also held the smell of the wooden figurines he used for his favorite game, Monster World. The wonderful smell was somehow able to put him in a remarkably good mood for himself, and was only too happy to find a desk and sit down.
Soon after the Potion's lesson began, Bakura quickly decided that this was his favorite class so far. Potions-making had turned out to be not that much different from cooking—and Bakura had always been rather fond of cooking. The work was more interesting than History of Magic, and the Professor, Professor Slughorn, seemed a nice enough man, and definitely far less intimidating than the likes of Professor McGonagall, and less spooky than Professor Trelawney.
Bakura found the work so simple that he was surprised when, at the end of class, Professor Slughorn pronounced him as the one with the best Sleeping Draught. This was the only time Professor Slughorn acknowledged him and he seemed mightily surprised at Bakura's success; other than that he seemed content on pretending Bakura didn't exist, which suited Bakura just fine.
Bakura left the dungeon, feeling content and pleased with himself for once. Not only because Potions had been his first successful class, but because over the course of the class he'd been able to relax enough to finally realize what day it was. Today was September first—and so that meant tomorrow was...
By all rights, he didn't have a real reason to be excited for it. After all, no one else here would even know what day it was anyway, so it wasn't like anyone would care.
But still, it wasn't every day one turned seventeen, was it?
"I need this host in the end, to gain the power of darkness."
A/N: Note: Insector Haga is Weevil Underwood's Japanese name.
As of 2015, did some minor editing, but not too much.
Thank you so, so much for reading so far, and if you get a chance, let me know what you think!
