CHAPTER 4:
Talons and Tea Leaves
Christina had awoken early the next morning, eager to start the day and learn more about just what she could do when she realized no one else in all of Gryffindor house shared her sentiment. She retreated, bag packed and robes on, to the Gryffindor common room and even the paintings were disturbed by her early rise. Christina tried to get an early start on her Charms book since she was two years behind everyone else. The only one she managed to produce only once was a levitation charm and even then her book only rose an inch from the table.
By the time her frustration reached its peak, Hermione came skipping down the stone steps from the girls' dormitory.
"Christina! There you are, was wondering where you ran off to." Hermione sits down in a chair across from her.
"Figured I'd attempt to learn some charms considering I don't know any." Christina says and slouches down into her chair, depressed.
"I can help you if you want. I've been teaching Ron charms for two years now." Hermione says proudly and Christina laughs. Of course, she did.
"I just feel so behind, even the Sorting Hat was like, 'you don't even know about natural power, no Ravenclaw for you then, idiot'." Christina mopes. Hermione stares at her and Christina sits up straight, "Or something like that." She mutters.
"He mentioned natural power?"
"Oh, that did happen. He didn't call me an idiot though." Hermione continues to stare at Christina like she had six heads and Christina is reminded of her glowing-incident on the train. "Do you want my autograph."
Hermione instantly snaps out of it, "No—no, I just … what exactly did he say?"
"He said … I don't know, he said Slytherin could help someone with natural power, I said what is that, and he's like 'Oh, she doesn't even know…'. Something like that. He said I was unusual." She finishes. Hermione seems to be wracking her brain for a response. It was unnerving.
"Well, natural power is unusual. It's more than unusual, it's more than even rare – it's legend. Are you sure he said natural power?" Hermione asks and Christina just nods.
"Do you know anything about it? I mean, I quite literally know nothing so…"
As though energized by this line of questioning, Hermione jumps up at once, grabbing Christina's hand, and they launch themselves out of the common room and to the room of staircases. There Hermione leads her through several corridors, staircases, pathways until finally they reach the library.
"It's my favorite place in the whole school." Hermione beams.
"You don't say…" Christina mutters as she is yet again taken by the arm and dragged along. Hermione takes her to one aisle and at rapid pace starts summoning books for Christina to read. Each one falls with a thud at the table beside them and the girls sit down to peruse.
Before Christina even has a chance to flip through one of the ancient books, Hermione slaps her hand away and begins rifling through herself. It's only a few moments later before Hermione flips the book over so Christina can read for herself;
Hermione explains the text before Christina even has a chance to process it, "There are four potential elements someone's natural powers could take the form of—"
"Let me guess, they coordinate with what house you're in." Christina quickly says.
"Well, not exactly." Hermione says. "This predates Hogwarts by thousands of years, it's been around since the dawn of time. But, historically, yes, certain elements prefer certain houses …"
"Which are?"
"Fire in the Slytherin house, Water in Ravenclaw, Air for Hufflepuff and Earth for Gryffindor. It's actually where some earlier insults for each of the houses came from, we've changed ours to headstrong…" Christina chuckles and then peers down at the book to see pictures of four glowing men, each a different color.
"They're glowing."
"I noticed that as well…" Hermione looks up at Christina, a little nervous. She clears her throat, "Did you say you could feel the dementor down the hall?"
"Yeah."
"Did you mean it's presence? You felt cold?" She asks and Christina shakes her head, "No, like … I could see it's form … do you think that's an air-thing? Like, I could sense it because it was in the air?"
"Or the dust around it." Hermione shrugs. That actually made more sense to Christina, the earthquakes, sensing people who were far away or completely out of view. The particles in the air – she could feel them, moving as things move around it.
"It says here that those who contain natural power sense their elements at an earlier age and learn to master it as they get older." Hermione reads. Christina still slowly tries to put the pieces together, "I sense dust … but wait, why me? It seems like there used to be a lot of people with natural power, what happened to them?"
"Nothing really happened, per se. All witches and wizards have power, it's all about how you channel it and where you channel it from. For example, you're a new student, you get a wand, you see a spell in a book, you do what it says, you produce a charm. That's the lowest form of magic—"
"The lowest? Isn't that exactly what we're supposed to be doing?" Christina jeers.
"But it's all mental." Hermione explains. "The most powerful witches and wizards can produce charms and spells without ever saying the words, no wave of the wand, some don't even need a wand. They say real magic is more emotional than mental and controlling it is a difficult thing to do."
"And what about natural power?"
"Natural power isn't about spells, it's just … raw power. If you truly possess natural power, you don't even need a wand."
Christina and Hermione stare at one another, Hermione a little scared of what is to come if Christina truly did have natural power, and Christina nervous to find out what it meant for her time at Hogwarts if she was the only person possessing these abilities.
"Perhaps you should talk to Professor McGonagall about this."
"What?! No, no, no … I can … I can figure this out myself. Does it say in there how to … get better? Control it?"
Hermione flips back to the beginning of the book and reads carefully, "There are phases. Sensation. Recognition. Manipulation." Hermione takes a look at her wrist watch, "We better get going, we're going to miss breakfast –" Hermione shoots up and starts putting all the books away while Christina tries sensing the differences in the air around Hermione. She can feel her body moving the particles around as though Hermione were wading through water and leaving a stream behind her.
"Ready?" Hermione asks. Christina nods and follows her back down to the Great Hall. On her way she feels the presence of the other students like she's never felt before. Their robes flowing underneath them, their shoes picking up dust and kicking it behind them, every frame in that stairway was lined with particles. It was an assault of the senses. Christina had to shake herself off before entering the Great Hall.
Christina and Hermione see Harry and Ron down the Hall strolling peacefull when Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story, turned his attention their way. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.
Christina and Hermione jog up ahead, Hermione there first, "Ignore him, just ignore him, it's not worth it…" Christina shook her head out of anger, temper rising and suddenly she noticed something else too, the bench seats underneath the Slytherins were now vibrating in Christina's mind …
"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo-ahhhh!" Just as Pansy was mocking Harry, Christina focused in on their benches and as though a rope had been placed in her hand, she yanked it down and the Slytherin bench flipped back in an instant. Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle fell back onto the hard stone floor to the raucous laughter of the Gryffindors.
Hermione throws Christina a scolding look as they sit down for breakfast.
"Did you do that?!" Hermione whispers aggressively into her ear. Christina shrugs with a smirk that was only caught by the Weasley twins sitting across from her.
"I thought you didn't know any spells?" Fred asks and seemingly only Christina could hear. She blushes to herself, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Harry dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George Weasley. "New third-year course schedules," said George, passing then, over. The group takes them absentmindedly while watching the Slytherins put their bench back upright.
"That little git," George said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"
"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.
"I wasn't too happy myself," said George.
"They're horrible things, those Dementors…"
"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.
"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice.
"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking… They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."
"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"
Christina had only heard a little bit about Quidditch, mostly that it was a game of throwing balls in hoops, only hundreds of feet in the air and on broomstick.
"Are you all on the Quidditch team?" Christina asks.
"Beaters." George says nodding. "Harry's seeker!"
"Anyone else I know?" Christina asks.
"Do you now Angelina Johnson?" Harry nods down the table to a black girl with a slicked back pony-tail.
"Katie Bell?" Fred asks.
"Alicia Spinnet?" George adds. It was almost humorous at this point how little she knew and how few people she knew.
"No?"
"Then no." Fred comically takes a bite out of a crumpet with jam and Christina laughs to herself.
Hermione paid the sports talk no mind, and instead was ogling their new schedule, "Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.
"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your timetable. Look — they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time."
"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."
"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And —" Ron leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, "look— underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"
"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course, I won't be in three classes at once."
"Well then —"
"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.
"But —"
"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my timetable's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."
Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absent-mindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.
"All righ'?" he said eagerly, pausing on his way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting' everthin' ready… hope it's okay… me, a teacher… hones'ly…"
He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.
"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" said Ron, a note of anxiety in his voice.
"Considering I just found out witches exist-? I think whatever he's got in store is going to be terrifying."
"You'll get used to it." Harry quipped and Christina chuckles. She looks over Harry's shoulder and sees she's in all the same classes as him.
"Oh, nice, we're in all the same classes." She says brightly. Ron joins in, "Yeah, most Gryffindors take classes together till fifth or sixth year. And then there's Hermione."
The Hall was starting to empty as people headed off towards their first lesson.
Ron checked his schedule. "We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there…" They finished breakfast hastily, said goodbye to Fred and George and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed Harry into the Entrance Hall.
The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. It seemed they were climbing at least ten stories to get there.
"There's — got — to — be — a — short — cut," Ron panted, as they climbed the seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.
"I think it's this way," said Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right.
"Can't be," said Ron. "That's south. Look, you can see a bit of the lake outside the window…"
Christina was watching the painting. A fat, dappled-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. Christina wasn't used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit each other, but she surely enjoyed watching them.
A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armor had clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.
"Aha!" he yelled, seeing Christina, Harry, Ron and Hermione. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"
They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed face down in the grass.
"Are you all right?" said Harry, moving closer to the picture.
"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!"
The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.
"Listen," said Christina, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, "we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"
"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!" He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!" And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight. They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead. "Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yelled the knight, and they saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase.
Puffing loudly, Christina, Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached the classroom.
"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"
"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."
They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.
"'Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher,'" Harry read. "How're we supposed to get up there?" As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Christina's feet. Everyone got quiet.
Ron turns to Harry, "After you," said Ron, grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first. He disappears from view after a few moments and Ron still looks apprehensive, "Alright—" Christina grabs the rungs of the ladder and enters next. She emerges into the strangest-looking classroom she had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.
Ron appeared at Christina's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers.
"Where is she?" Ron said.
A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice. "Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."
Christina's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.
"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Christina, Harry, Ron, and Hermione divided themselves among two tables, Christina and Hermione at one, Harry and Ron at the other.
"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is 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 said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement.
Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you… Books can take you only so far in this field…" At these words, both Harry and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject. Christina laughs under her breath.
"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face.
"It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"
"I think so," said Neville tremulously.
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped.
Professor Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, an Indian girl Christina met in the girls dormitory, "beware a red-haired man." Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her chair away from him. Christina, again, can't help but laugh quietly to herself.
"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, paying Christina no mind, "we shall progress to the crystal ball — if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever." A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.
"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, another Gryffindor in her year who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?" Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney. "Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading — it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October." Lavender trembled. "Now, I want you all to 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," — she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up, "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."
Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind… thank you…"
When Christina and Hermione had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.
"Right," said Christina as they both opened their books at pages five and six. "What can you see in mine?"
"Tea leaves" said Hermione defiantly. Christina grimaced, knowing Hermione was surely having a miserable time.
"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom. Hermione tried to pull herself together.
"Right, you've got a crooked sort of cross…" She consulted Unfogging the Future. "That means you're going to have 'trials and suffering' — what a load — but there's a thing that could be the sun. Which of course means 'great happiness'… so you're going to suffer but be very happy. Simple." Hermione slams the book shut at once.
Ron leans over from the table behind, "You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me," Christina and Ron both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.
"My turn…" Christina peered into Hermione's teacup; her forehead wrinkled with effort. "Well this could be a hat," she said. "Maybe it'll snow soon." She turned the teacup the other way up. "But this way it looks more like an acorn… what's an acorn mean?" She scanned her copy of Unfogging the Future.
"'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Congratulations!" Christina places the teacup down and too slams her book shut, giggling as she does so. Hermione cracks a smile.
Just then, Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter.
"Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone went quiet to watch. Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.
"The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy."
"But everyone knows that," said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her while Christina bit her tongue.
"Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who." Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it.
"The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…"
"I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.
"The skull… danger in your path, my dear…" Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed. There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.
"My dear boy — my poor dear boy — no — it is kinder not to say — no — don't ask me…"
"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas, a black boy Harry and Ron were friends with. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.
"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."
"The what?" said Harry. Harry wasn't the only one who didn't understand; Dean Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but several others clapped their hands to their mouths in horror. Christina hadn't a clue.
"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!"
Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.
"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly. Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.
"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future." Seamus Finnigan, another Gryffindor student, was tilting his head from side to side.
"It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.
"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" said Harry, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him.
"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes… please pack away your things…"
Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags.
"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear," — she pointed at Neville, "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."
Christina, Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time. Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room and Christina sat next to him, attempting to alleviate some of the stares from him. The rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment. Christina hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.
"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."
Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.
"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and —"
"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?" Everyone stared at her.
"Me," said Harry, finally.
"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues —" Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney…" She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in." Christina and Hermione laughed and she could tell Harry felt a bit better. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"
When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch.
"Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."
Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start. "Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice, "You haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"
"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'." Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.
"Probably a stray," said Hermione calmly.
Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad. "Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's — that's bad," he said. "My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!"
"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"
"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!" Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug.
"I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."
"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" said Ron hotly.
"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," said Hermione coolly.
"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!" He had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.
"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!" She snatched up her bag and stalked away.
Ron frowned after her. "What's she talking about?" he said to Christina and Harry. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."
Christina was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class. Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Christina and Harry walked beside them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only when she spotted three only-too-familiar backs ahead of them that she realized they must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Christina was quite sure she knew what they were talking about.
Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.
"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"
Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.
"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it — make sure yeh can see — now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books —"
"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.
"Eh?" said Hagrid.
"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Christina's was still in it's protective casing, but she noticed Harry had belted his book shut while others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.
"Hasn' — hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.
The class all shook their heads.
"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look —" He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.
"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"
"I — I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.
"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Malfoy. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"
"Will you shut up?" Christina snapped back loudly. "Do you ever tire of hearing your ugly voice?" A few ooo's from the Gryffindor's.
"Do you ever tire of having an ugly face?" He bites back, his cronies laughing gleefully. Christina laughs, moron.
"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.
Hagrid was looking downcast, "Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so — so yeh've got yer books an'… an'… now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on…" He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.
"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him —"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry repeated.
"Careful, Potter, there's a Dementor behind you —"
"Who do you think you –" But before Christina can finish, Lavender starts squeals behind her, "Oooooooh!" she's pointing now toward the opposite side of the paddock. Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Christina had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.
"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.
"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?" Christina could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the Hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.
"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer…" No one seemed to want to. Christina, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, approached the fence cautiously.
"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Christina had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.
"Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."
"Right — who wants ter go first?" Most of the class backed farther away in answer, Christina hadn't gotten the memo and was the only one standing close to Hagrid by the time he turned back around to see who had volunteered.
There was an intake of breath from behind her, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered, "What'd her tea leaves say? Did Professor Trelawney foresee this?" Christina ignored them. She climbed over the paddock fence.
"Good on ya, Christin'er!" roared Hagrid. "Right then — let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak." He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray Hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously.
"Easy now, Christin'er," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink… Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…" Christina's eyes immediately began to water, but she didn't shut them. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Christina with one fierce orange eye.
"Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Christin'er… now, bow." Christina didn't feel much like exposing the back of her neck to Buckbeak, but she did as she was told. She gave a short bow and then looked up. The Hippogriff was still staring haughtily at her. It didn't move.
"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right — back away, now, Christin'er, easy does it —" But then, to Christina's enormous surprise, the Hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.
"Well done, Christin'er!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right — yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!" Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Christina moved slowly toward the Hippogriff and reached out toward it. She patted the beak several times and the Hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it. The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.
"Righ' then, Christin'er," said Hagrid. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!" This was more than Christina had bargained for. She was more used to commercial flights than half-bird half-horse ones.
"What now?"
"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that…" Christina put her foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted herself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up. Christina wasn't sure where to hold on; everything in front of her was covered with feathers.
"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the Hippogriffs hindquarters. Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Christina, she just had time to seize the Hippogriff around the neck before she was soaring upward. It was nothing like she had ever experienced; the Hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of her, catching her under her legs and making her feel she was about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under her fingers and she didn't dare get a stronger grip; she now felt herself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the Hippogriff rose and fell with its wings. Buckbeak flew her once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground; this was the bit Christina had been dreading; she leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling she was going to slip off over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. She just managed to hold on and push herself straight again.
"Good work, Christin'er!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered.
"Okay, who else wants a go?" Emboldened by Christina's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock.
Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Harry watched. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.
"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Christina to, hear him. "I knew it must have been, if a girl could do it… I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the Hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"
It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.
"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"
"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me — gotta get him outta here —" Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Christina saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.
Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.
"They should sack him straight away!" said Pansy Parkinson, who was in tears.
"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.
They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.
"I'm going to see if he's okay!" said Pansy.
"They might have to amputate." Christina muttered to Harry who let out a covered laugh. Pansy had heard and they all watched her run up the marble staircase, crying.
The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Christina, Harry, Ron, and Hermione proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.
"You think he'll be all right?" said Hermione nervously.
"Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," said Harry.
"That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" said Ron, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him…"
They were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there.
"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak and kidney pudding.
"They'd better not," said Christina, who wasn't eating either, she was watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. Christina was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured.
"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily.
They went up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given them, but all four of them kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window.
"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Harry said suddenly. Ron looked at his watch. "If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early…"
"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, and Harry saw her glance at him.
"I'm allowed to walk across the grounds," he said pointedly. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the Dementors yet, has he?"
Christina looked up from her roll of parchment, "Yeah, but what if a black dog tries to lick you to death?" Harry smirks and he and Ron stand to put their things away. Hermione lets out an aggravated sign and too joins the boys. When Christina remains in her seat, Harry turns back toward her, "Aren't you coming?"
"Oh-is that okay? I didn't want to - assume, or - I know you guys are close-" She muttered, stumbling over her words.
"Come on!" Harry extends a hand to Christina on the couch, she smiles and takes it gladly, happy to be included.
The quartet headed out of the portrait hole, glad to meet nobody on their way to the front doors, as they weren't entirely sure they were allowed to be out. The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight.
When they reached Hagrid's hut, they knocked, and a voice growled, "C'min."
Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, had his head in Hagrid's lap. One look told them that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting them into focus.
"'Spect it's a record," he said thickly, when he recognized them. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before."
"You haven't been fired, Hagrid!" gasped Hermione.
"Not yet," said Hagrid miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever was in the tankard. "But's only a matter o' time, I'n't, after Malfoy…"
"How is he?" said Ron as they all sat down. "It wasn't serious, was it?"
"Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could," said Hagrid dully, "but he's sayin' it's still agony… covered in bandages… moanin'…"
"He's faking it," said Christina at once.
Harry nods along, "Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half my bones last year. Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it's worth."
"School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," said Hagrid miserably. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left Hippogriffs fer later… one flobberworms or summat… Jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lesson's all my fault…"
"It's all Malfoy's fault, Hagrid!" said Hermione earnestly.
"We're witnesses," said Harry. "You said Hippogriffs attack if you insult them."
"Exactly!" Christina joins in. "It's Malfoy's problem that he wasn't listening."
"We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened." Harry says.
"Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid, we'll back you up," said Ron.
Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. He grabbed both Harry and Ron and pulled them into a bone-breaking hug.
"I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid," said Hermione firmly. She took the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it.
"Ah, maybe she's right," said Hagrid, letting go of Harry and Ron, who both staggered away, rubbing their ribs. Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. They heard a loud splash.
"What's he done?" said Harry nervously as Hermione came back in with the empty tankard.
"Stuck his head in the water barrel," said Hermione, putting the tankard away. Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.
"That's better," he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching them all. "Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an' see me, I really —" Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Harry as though he'd only just realized he was there.
"WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?" he roared, so suddenly that they jumped a foot in the air. "YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN, YOU THREE! LETTIN' HIM!" Hagrid strode over to Harry, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the door.
"C'mon!" Hagrid said angrily. "I'm takin' yer all back up ter school an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!"
Hagrid walked them up the entire way, berating them in the process. That they should've listened to Dumbledore, that the dementors do not distinguish between Black and students, they could've died, they could've been seen by someone with less kindness than Hagrid – Christina stopped listening after the fifteenth warning. When they finally reached the castle doors, Professor Dumbledore was there, smiling down at four panic-stricken students and one extremely nervous teacher.
"Hagrid, thank you for escorting these four back up to the castle."
"Professor, I—" Hagrid starts, but Professor Dumbledore holds up a hand to stop him, "I was wondering if I could have a word with Miss Bataskill?"
"Wha—me?" She sputters.
"Follow me, please."
Christina gives one last look to Harry, Ron and Hermione before she is forced to follow Professor Dumbledore up a separate stairwell. Hermione gives a subdued wave goodbye.
They marched in silence around a corner and he stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.
"Toffee egg!" he said. This was evidently a password, because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Even full of dread for what was coming, Christina couldn't fail to be amazed.
Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As she and Professor Dumbledore stepped onto it, Christina heard the wall thud closed behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Christina saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. She knew now where she was being taken. This must be where Dumbledore lived.
They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor Dumbledore opened the door for them. Professor Dumbledore told Christina to wait and left her there, alone.
Christina looked around. One thing was certain: Dumbledore's office was by far the most interesting room she had ever been inside. If she hadn't been scared out of her wits that she was about to be scolded for who knows what, she would have been very pleased to have a chance to look around it.
It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed roundtable, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat — the Sorting Hat. Christina hesitated. She cast a wary eye around the sleeping witches and wizards on the walls. Surely it couldn't hurt if he took the hat down and tried it on again? Ask him just what it knew about her natural powers?
She walked quietly around the desk, lifted the hat from its shelf, and lowered it slowly onto her head. It was much too large and slipped down over her eyes, just as it had done the last time she'd put it on. Christina stared at the black inside of the hat, waiting. Then a small voice said in her ear, "Bee in your bonnet, Christina Bataskill?"
"Um, yes," Christina muttered. "Uh — sorry to bother you — I wanted to ask —"
"You've been wondering about natural power," said the hat smartly. "Yes… it's all here… surging through you… can't you feel it?"
She grabbed the point of the hat and pulled it off. It hung limply in her hand, grubby and faded. Christina pushed it back onto its shelf, feeling sick.
Dumbledore reemerged from the back half of his office and beckoned for her to come in. He had this sage smile plastered on his face, she couldn't help but feel like this was all some trick. She followed him nevertheless and once the had climbed the stairs and continued forward just a little more, they reached Dumbledore's oak desk. A gorgeous ornate piece of furniture, and sitting on its edge fiddling with one of Dumbledore's mechanical toys, Remus Lupin.
"Remus—" At once Christina rushes over to her uncle, a familiar face in a bizarre land of magic and mystery.
"How're you finding the school?"
"It's –" She turns to look at Dumbledore, who nods, allowing her to be honest, "It's wonderful, wonderfully different." Both Dumbledore and Remus laughed politely. Professor Dumbledore sits down at his desk, looking up through his half-moon glasses at the two of them, "Christina, I wanted to introduce myself personally." They shake hands, "Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore."
"That's quite a mouthful." She admits.
He chuckles, "Indeed it is."
"So I'm not in trouble?"
"You are not." Dumbledore says and Christina exhales a puff of air, suddenly feeling lighter. Remus clears his throat, "We did want to talk to you about something other than introductions though..."
Dumbledore leans forward, "It seems your classmates may be a little … wary of something we call, in the wizarding world, natural power."
The words hit her like a load of bricks.
"Really. My classmates." She says flatly. She knew exactly which classmate was feeling wary and felt so utterly betrayed Hermione ratted Christina out to the headmaster and her uncle.
Remus continues, "It's not something common, you see. So, it might make people feel uncomfortable. Just as if you cast a hex on a Muggle, they may—"
"Burn me at the stake?" Christina finishes bitterly.
Dumbledore stands at this, feeling the tension rise, "I promise you, my dear, no one is planning on burning you at the stake here. Your abilities are nothing to be embarrassed of, and nothing to scare others." Christina took in a measured breath, slightly calming down. Professor Dumbledore walks around his desk to place a comforting hand on Christina's shoulder, "You should be proud of your abilities. Controlling them and using them for good is all we want for you, Christina. However… perhaps we don't use them against student, mm?" Dumbledore looked deep into Christina's eyes and she could tell he knew exactly what she did to the Slytherin's at breakfast.
Dumbledore walks back over to his desk, "I'll admit, I had a good chuckle myself, but attacking students is not tolerated here at Hogwarts… Because of this, I'm scheduling a detention for yourself with Professor McGonagall, your head of house." Christina lets out a sigh of disappointment, though considering she was caught, she didn't dare speak back.
"Yes, Professor." She bows her head.
"Professor Lupin can escort you back to Gryffindor tower."