Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own his friends. I do not own his universe. I do not own Crayola. What you don't recognize is mine. Please don't take it.
A/N: Harry/Hermione sweetness. Perhaps even some plot?
Timia awoke with memories of the night before. She had friends- or, she thought that Ron, Hermione, and Harry were friends ... and that brought up an interesting point. When were Hermione and Harry going to break it to each other? They obviously had liked each other for a long time- that much was obvious from the fumbling nervousness they had displayed as they said goodnight. Whatever it was, it was incredibly sweet.
"Oh, you're up? Good! Good morning, and a happy day..." Hermione's voice trailed off as she went into the adjoining bathroom.
"Hermione, go back to bed!" the lump in one of the beds next to Timia's whined. Obviously not a morning person... No one besides Hermione is up, so I guess she and I are the only dawn lovers.
A shower was turned on in the bathroom, and Hermione stuck her head out of the door. "I'm going to shower and head down to breakfast... There's a couple of showers in here, but if you need one, go fast. Once they get up," and the pronoun obviously applied to all of the sleeping bundles, "there won't be an opening till ten." She pulled back into the bathroom. Timia unfolded herself, stood up, gathered her clothes and soaps, and went over to the bathroom.
* * * * *
Harry and Hermione were the first down to breakfast again, with Timia coming in a close third. She grimaced when she saw them together, wishing that she weren't quite so hungry- after all, who knew? It might just be the start of a relationship that she was interrupting. Harry and Hermione, however, held a differing opinion.
"Timia, over here!" Harry called out, waving as if they weren't the only ones down- or rather, the only students down. Timia chanced a look at the head table, and was pleased to see only Dumbledore, chatting merrily with a yet unidentified member of the staff.
She walked over, smiling, to take the seat across from the two other Gryffindors. Hermione warmly smiled a welcome, then said, "We were just talking about you." So much for romance...
Harry continued the thought, "If you don't mind, we're interested in your old school, and this independent study project. Can you enlighten us?" Timia looked at the both of them. It wasn't like she had a lot of secrets- just one, a biggie- but the rest of her life was relatively open. She had just been born relatively private about her past- she had opinions and was willing to share them, but some memories she wanted to hold tight, and never dilute by sharing.
But I want friends, and these are the nicest people I've met in years. They deserve to know about me. She shook her head, smiled slightly, and began. "I was born in Chicago, sixteen years ago. I was a Muggle. My school was a Muggle school." She outlined her years at the elementary, always being labeled different, objectively- as if it had happened to someone else and she had heard of it second-hand. Her first years at the American School of Sorcery had been little different, which is why she had begun the accelerated program.
Timia looked over at Hermione's intent expression. "I won't be able to explain it all now, just the bare idea. Maybe we can talk about the details at one of the tutoring sessions?"
Hermione nodded, and Timia continued, "They only offer this program to students who show talent in all core areas, have the work ethic necessary for the additional studying, and are entirely willing. You can't get in because your parents want you to, for instance.
"I worked hard, and maintained a 4.0 G.P.A. even with the extra class work, so I was able to finish out the year. At the end of last year I completed all that they could offer, and so I applied for a transfer to Hogwarts.
"You see, Potions isn't offered at most schools in the states. Curriculum is based more on immediate results- if you can buy a potion, why spend an hour making one that might not even be successful? It always seemed interesting, though, so I came here. Severus Snape is a world-renowned Potions Master, but after yesterday I don't know that I'll learn anything from him." She stopped and looked out into the rapidly filling room. Students had finally risen to eat quickly before heading to class.
They both smiled at her sympathetically, Harry patting her back lightly, until he suddenly frowned. "But why on earth would you want to study Divination, especially from Trelawney? She's the most annoying woman on the staff, not to mention a fake."
"So I've heard," Timia said ruefully, "But I kind of ... well ... I have a talent for it."
They looked at her, looked at each other, then turned back to her. "We won't hold it against you," Harry reassured her.
"You know, Divination can be as integral a part of your magic as any other class. You've had a bumbling old broad for a teacher, but that doesn't mean you should condemn it. Seers can destroy your plans, unless you know how to shield from them- and besides, I'm not technically a Seer. I just have a touch of the talent, enough to know a fake, and to sometimes See with the aid of cards or spheres."
The two looked at her blankly. "I thought that the Sight couldn't be blocked," Harry commented, his face screwed up into a frown.
"None of the books I've seen mentioned anything like what you just said. Of course, I haven't really been looking into Divination, past enough to know that Trelawney knows nothing."
Timia sighed. "Divination is the scapegoat of the wizarding world. It's misunderstood to the extreme, and charlatans like Trelawney do nothing to help." She looked around. Everyone was leaving, trying not to be late.
Harry noticed her attention had shifted, and said, "We've another ten minutes- maybe we could show you where the North Tower is, and then head to class ourselves?"
"Yeah, we have class with McGonagall next- shall we go?" Timia nodded her acquiescence to Hermione's proposal, and followed them out.
* * * * *
They turned a final corner and came to a dead end. "This is it?" Timia could see nothing that looked like it concealed a classroom.
"Up. Look up." Hermione said scorchingly. "You see, she's all-knowing," she added as the trapdoor in the ceiling opened, and a stepladder unfolded to the ground.
"Oh. This is going to be more fun, isn't it."
"More than likely. Anyway, good luck. We'd stay to help, but class will start in a few minutes." Harry and Hermione turned, leaving Timia to deal with the trapdoor.
* * * * *
"You know, I really feel sorry for her. She had all of these wonderful expectations, and the reality of it is that she has Snape and Trelawney. That has to be a letdown."
"Yeah, but she's a strong girl - much like yourself - and she'll manage. We've dealt with Snape for four years now, and Trelawney for the same, on my part, anyway. You couldn't stand the challenge," Harry teased.
"You know very well that Trelawney knows nothing, and no one learns anything, least of all you and Ron," Hermione warned, "At least I'm learning something."
"You may be learning, but no one's quite sure what you're learning. None of us understand any of it- except you- Hey, don't hit the messenger! I speak only the truth!" He had to duck a light-hearted punch she aimed in his direction, reaching up and pulling her fist down.
She stopped walking as he gently pried her fingers from their clenched position and clasped her hand. "Hermione..." His voice was ever so soft, sweet. He smiled nervously, lost for words.
They stood there for a minute, just holding hands, until Hermione flashed him a shy smile, and pulled away, turning into the classroom's open door.
* * * * *
Ron looked nervously at the empty seat where his two best friends were supposed to be. "I don't like this," he confided to his partner, Lavender. "Hermione would never be late- she's never cut it this close, except for once in third year. Where are they?"
"I don't know, but I'm sure that they're fine. They'll be here any- See? There they are!" Lavender pointed to the door, where a slightly blushing Hermione walked in.
Ron spared a glance at Hermione, then turned back to the door just in time to see a similarly blushing Harry enter. He snapped back to face Lavender. "Did you see that?"
"Do you really think it could-" Harry glared at Ron, having heard both remarks. "Oops." Lavender ended, but nodded enthusiastically at Ron as Harry took the seat in front of them, next to Hermione.
All talking stopped as Professor McGonagall walked to the front of the room, and looked at the students: Gryffindors on one side, Ravenclaws on the other. Dumbledore had rearranged the schedules so as not to put the Gryffindors and Slytherins together in most every lesson, and McGonagall counted her lucky stars in terms of the sixth years.
She started as she always did: briskly and without warning. "This is an important year. While you have no major tests, the O.W.L.'s results should have showed you what you should work on. Many of you seem to require additional review of the basics of transfiguration." She eyed the rows severely. "We will begin today with a simple review, but, rest assured, it will be a difficult year.
"For the practical part of the review, I would ask that you transfigure the quills found before you into a plant of your choice- so long as the plant is not poisonous or potentially harmful. Points for originality." She sat behind her massive desk, and left them to it.
Curses and spells were muttered around the room. Harry bent in to discuss plants with Hermione. "Shall we do a Muggle one?"
"I don't really know any magical plants that aren't potentially harmful, and still manage to be pretty. I think I'll go with an orchid- they're gorgeous flowers, and relatively rare," Hermione responded. "What do you think that you'll do?"
Harry had to think for a moment. "I really don't know- maybe a marigold?" Before Hermione even began to shake her head, he had it. "Aloe Vera! I love those plants, so very pointy, but wonderful on a sunburn. I doubt anyone else will think of it, so it's original at least... Shall we try them?"
They both turned to their respective quills, and began the spells. Harry's was relatively easy, so when he finished he turned to Hermione. She was doing the wand movement, but to no avail- her quill remained a quill. "Um... Hermione?"
"I don't know what's wrong! I know this spell, I reviewed last night, but it won't work!" She shook her head and tried again, and again, ignoring Harry's attempts to calm her down. "I know I can do this..." Finally she took all of her magic and pushed it through her wand.
"Hermione..." Harry was speechless. While an orchid had appeared, it was not an ordinary orchid. The entire plant, stem and all, as well as the accompanying pot and soil, were a brilliant reddish-pink.
"What is this, Miss Granger?" McGonagall's talent for appearing at the most inopportune moments had obviously not been lost over the summer.
"I... I... I don't know!"
"You have to; you cast the spell. Now tell me what this is!"
The rest of the class, their attention drawn by McGonagall's tightly controlled voice, stared at the brightly colored plant.
"I would say that that's hot magenta," one Ravenclaw said.
"No, it's definitely fuchsia," another chimed in.
"What are you talking about? It's cerise!"
"Wild strawberry!"
"Radical red!"
"Maroon!
"Razzle dazzle rose!"
"Shocking Pink!"
"It sounds like they swallowed a box of Crayola Crayons," Harry whispered to Hermione. She was still looking in shock at her failed plant, but managed a small smile before McGonagall called for silence.
"Get back to your seats, all of you! I wasn't talking about the color, when it's so obviously razzmatazz. I was asking Miss Granger why she found it necessary to turn the plant that particular color, in lieu of its natural shades. Well?"
"I really don't know... I said the spell correctly, but it wouldn't go. I had to force it out of my wand, with all my power, and even then it turned out like- well, like this."
"Hmmm," Professor McGonagall muttered, surveying the room. Nearly half of the students hadn't finished the assignment. "Did anyone else have similar trouble?"
Two other students raised their hands, and it was obvious that the professor was disturbed. "Miss Granger, if you wouldn't mind trying something else- a summoning spell, perhaps?"
Harry watched Hermione grip her wand and force her power to go, whispering "Accio book!" Something hung in the air, a nearly tangible tension that finally released. The book she had called flew into her hands, but at the same time a spark of energy shot out of her wand and ricocheted off the wall, halting as it hit McGonagall's desk. With a pop, the desk turned the same 'radical red' as the flower.
"Oh, dear. Albus won't be happy to hear this..." McGonagall muttered, then turned back to the class, accepting the new color of her desk as a necessary evil. "Let's move along to the written portion- I won't be taking points for incomplete plants. Now, I want a three-foot essay summarizing the..."
* * * * *
It was a silver stepladder. Of all possible methods of entry, Trelawney had chosen a silver stepladder. Joyous. I'm dealing with a possibly insane 'Seer' who's had two successes in forty-some years. And she's supposed to teach me. This might actually be interesting...
"Come in, my poor child," a suitably all-knowing, weak and wispy voice floated down from the room above. Or not.
Timia climbed the ladder slower than was absolutely necessary, peering over the edge at the top before finally stepping out. At first the woman was invisible in the mess of trinkets, shaded lamps, and various paraphernalia common to Seers. Timia had to redirect her gaze when the voice spoke again, from the corner behind her.
"Come forth, child, come forth." Trelawney was decked out in masses of beads, scarves, and necklaces, with glasses far too big to look anything like normal. She perched on a royal purple plush cushion, looking expectantly at Timia.
"Good morning, Professor. I'm here to speak to you about-"
"Yes, yes, your independent study. You are correct in that, though I fear that the morning will be anything but good; yes, your aura is so terribly clouded. Never fear, I'm sure you won't die, just, perhaps, come close..." Trelawney drifted off into what she probably figured was a respectable Seer's daze. Timia knew better.
"Professor? You don't have to do that- I'm a bit of a Seer, and I know that you aren't. It's okay. If we could just begin, then perhaps you could approve a topic by lunch," and I won't have to talk to you so much later.
The woman let out a gasp. "How dare you insult me so? I am a true Seer, one of the few left in this cruel world. I don't know what you are, but whatever it is, you are not a Seer!" Her eyes had grown bigger than Timia would have imagined in outrage and shock.
Oh, dear... "Professor, your room is crowded, dimly lit, and filled with 'atmosphere creating' smoke. These all clutter the mind as well as physical space, making it nearly impossible for anyone to have a vision. A true Seer understands the fact that your senses affect the gift, and thus work in bright, sparsely decorated areas."
Trelawney could only sputter, anger and disbelief growing inside of her.
"You may say you know who I am, that you saw my coming- Professor Dumbledore told you. I know it. You've foretold Harry's death thousands of times, and his father's just as prematurely. You are a charlatan, and you give all of us a bad name. I honestly don't believe that I will learn anything from talking with you right now; if you find you actually want to help my project, you can reach me." With that, Timia was headed down the silver stepladder and back out into reality.
The trapdoor closed with a most satisfying slam behind her. Well, Trelawney obviously has some issues. I'll have to deal with her eventually, so that probably made everything worse, but it was so much fun... I'll just have to be especially nice with Professor Sinistra...
She slowly retraced her steps, figuring that even if lunch hadn't started yet, she could still loiter around the doors to the Hall. Unfortunately, she got lost in the going, and wound up at the Hall exactly as lunch began.
A concerned Ron sat next to Lavender Brown at the Gryffindor table. They were looking at Harry, who had a comforting arm around Hermione. What's wrong? They were fine... Then she saw Hermione.
Hermione's hair was pulled out of its barrette, her eyes were a swollen red, and her face solemn. "Hermione? Are you okay? No, you're not, so what's the matter?"
"Well," Harry answered for the haggard girl, "Hermione's dealing with a bit of a shock. In Transfiguration, her wand wouldn't work correctly- it took twice the effort to complete a spell, and whenever she did, a spark shot out of her wand and turned something razzmatazz."
"Oh, my... Hermione, may I see your wand?" The other girl nodded, and handed it to her. Timia barely touched it before registering the wood it was made out of. "Rowan. Oh, my. Yes, you've had a bit of a morning."
A/N: Things begin, sort of. Please review; comments are greatly appreciated. And I've already written five, maybe half of six. Next chapter always makes me laugh, so- you have something to look forward to? Or, at least, I do... Tah!