THE PROPHECY OF FIRE
Chapter Four: The Prophecy of Fire
Written by Kouri no Ryuu
Author's Notes: Muchas gracias to my awesome new beta-reader, ~*Cheng*~. You're amazing.
This chapter starts at the beginning of the school year. Yeah, kind of a gap. I know. Bear with me.
And hey--you know how I said this was going to be a four-part series? Well . . . now it's two. Possibly three. And everything beyond this story has changed. *twiddles thumbs* Okay, so the sequel is Of Vampires and Sorceresses, which covers the SECOND half of the Trio's fifth year. (There WILL be O.W.L. exams, by the way.) There's also a sixth year fic that's largely unplanned. I was thinking about using Giles from BtVS as a Hogwarts teacher for that one. Good idea or no?
Thanks to the reviewers of chapter three: lost717, lissa james, and Meerkat. You know how Mark Twain said he could live off a compliment for a month? You guys just increased my lifespan. :) So . . . to all you out there . . . if you want me to live a normal, healthy life, please review! *waves review flag*
* * * * *
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower -- but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
--Alfred Lord Tennyson, "Flower in the Crannied Wall"
* * * * *
"So, what does it feel like to be at the top of the school social ladder?" Harry asked Alicia Spinnet, a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and a seventh year.
Alicia shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Just like any other year. Trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be."
"Still, 's cool," said Ron, through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Can't wait for seventh year myself." He gulped down his mouthful. "So, what's everyone's schedule look like?"
Hermione pulled hers out of her bookbag and unfolded it. "Transfiguration's the first class of the year," she observed, looking her schedule over, then added brightly, "I've got back-to-back classes every day. I don't even have a free period this year!"
Ron goggled at her. "You sound . . . happy about it," he said, looking horrified. "I've got two free periods. What about you, Harry?"
"Yep," Harry said. "Two. Honestly, Hermione, how many classes did you sign up for?"
"Everything except Muggle Studies," Hermione said. "Didn't have room in my schedule for it, and they wouldn't let me have the . . .,"--she lowered her voice--"the you-know-what."
"Hermione, I swear, you're never going to be a spy," Ron said, with a sigh. "Almost everyone heard you."
At the Head Table, Dumbledore stood up and clapped his hands, the magically magnified sound ringing throughout the Great Hall. Every student looked up at him.
"Students, I have an extraneous announcement to make." His eyes twinkled. "I believe that many of you students were disappointed when I announced the lack of the Quidditch inter-house tournament last year. I'm sure you will be pleased when I tell you that, since there is no Triwizard Tournament to attend to this year, Quidditch is back on."
Plenty of students gave him a standing ovation, clapping and hollering and high-fiving each other (and some exchanging money for their bets gone wrong) and whistling. The noise was deafening. Harry and the twins were part of the standing crowd. Harry looked happier than he had in a long time, Hermione reflected.
"Excellent," George said, with great satisfaction, leaning back a little. "Quidditch. Great." His eyes glazed over at the possibilities.
"Now, since there was no Quidditch last year, tryouts were cancelled, as I'm sure you all know," Dumbledore continued. His voice turned grave. "Of course, many of our Quidditch players have graduated, and of course, we shall need a new Hufflepuff Seeker." He bowed toward the Hufflepuff table, where most of the students had become somber. "Quidditch tryouts will be held in two weeks, on the sixteenth of September." He sat back down, watching with amusement as the students whispered and discussed their broomsticks and cheered.
* * * * *
September first, the first day of school.
Ginny Weasley trudged up the long staircase to Professor Trelawney's classroom in agony. With her free hand--her other hand was preoccupied with carrying her bookbag--she wiped a few beads of sweat off her forehead. The air inside the staircase was sweltering--especially so, since it was late summer.
Why did I take Divination, anyway? Ginny thought faintly. Oh, yes. Ron was ragging on her so, and I had to take her class just for the fun of it. A weak grin formed on her lips. And for an easy grade. And look what I ended up with? Sweaty robes that are sticking to my skin, and on top of that, double Divination with Slytherin! Fantastic. Why did I ever think this would be fun? To which she had no answer.
At long last, she reached the little cramped room below Professor Trelawney's classroom. "Finally," she breathed to herself in relief., but it was soon banished. About half of the Gryffindor and Slytherin fourth years were already present--and the small room was already cramped. Oh, no, Ginny thought fearfully.
Colin Creevey was there, presently being squashed between two rather handsome--and large--boys, Alan and Ricky. Ginny glanced around the rest of the room--Natalia Grant was simultaneously pushing Joey Winton away and cuddling up to Alan, who looked rather revolted. June Sarria was trying to pick a fight with Marie Ramirez, but Marie was presently engaged in a very loud conversation about Korean martial arts with Evonne Yamara--who looked bored out of her mind--and ignored June.
Those were just the Gryffindors. There were twice as many Slytherins as Gryffindors in the room. And that was about half the class.
Apparently Divination was popular.
No, no, no, Ginny groaned to herself. This isn't happening. I wonder if there's any way to change my schedule. . . .
Over the next ten minutes the other half of the class arrived, and Ginny was standing, praying for the moment when some kind of door would be opened and she would leave this personal hell. She had a painful cramp in her right leg, and she was fairly sure one of her wrists had been sprained. (June finally succeeded in fighting with Marie. However, due to the cramped room and Marie's extensive knowledge of martial arts, it did not turn out quite the way June had expected. Ginny, unfortunately, had been nearby at the time.)
Like a dream coming true, a loud creaking noise interrupted all arguments, discussions, and lectures. Ginny looked around quickly, trying to spot the magical door and be the first person out of this horrid place. "Look!" June cried, pointing upwards. Heads all over the room jerked up, just in time to spot a trapdoor opening and a sparkling silver ladder descending.
Yes, yes, yes! Ginny thought victoriously, totally and immensely relieved. However, she had to scramble to be one of the first on the ladder, ruthlessly shoving and pushing people out of her way on her quest, her bookbag at her side. When Ginny was able to see the room around her, she picked one of the puffy chairs around a table and collapsed into it, dropping her bookbag next to the chair. It wasn't much cooler, due to the fire burning bright in the grate on the far side of the room, but at least it wasn't nearly as cramped.
After everyone was seated, a soft, penetrating voice said, "Simply lovely to see you all in the mortal realm. I am Professor Trelawney, teacher of beginner, intermediate, and advanced Divination. Welcome to Divination, beginner level." Frantically students looked around, finally locating the thin, angled woman clothed in a multicolored, multipatterned dress (if it could be called that). Two bright, sharp eyes shone through spectacles. "Divination is the complex art of foreseeing the future. Few people truly have the gift of foresight, but I expect you all to be diligent while training."
Ginny blinked. This Trelawney didn't seem too bad so far. Maybe a bit annoying--and she was a bit weird for having that fire lit in summer--but so far, so good. . . .
Trelawney continued in her soft tone, "This class will teach you the techniques of Divining--palm reading, reading tea leaves, Shinto fire-reading, et cetera--but if you don't have the Sight, training is useless."
Ginny began to wonder exactly what the "Sight" was. It sounded fairly crazy; maybe Ron was right about Trelawney.
"The Sight is the gift of foresight," the professor said, almost as if she was a psychic. That made Ginny feel a bit afraid--what if she was? That would make everything very uncomfortable. After all, who wanted a professor to see your innermost thoughts and desires?
"Please open your books to the first page of chapter one." Trelawney's voice had adopted a much more professional tone.
Ginny pulled out the thick book entitled The Art and Methods of Forseeing the Future by Celestina Warbeck. The cover was a rich crimson and the title was scripted in silver.
"You may have noticed that this is a different textbook than the students last year used. Celestina Warbeck is a well-known singing sensation, but few know that she is a professional and gifted Seer as well. This book was published last year.
"This will explain all of the different types of Divining. Please read through them all as I begin explaining them."
Trelawney took in a soft breath, and when she spoke, her voice had reverted into her breathy, mysterious tone. "The most popular and well-known way of Divining--known even to Muggles--is palm reading. This is accomplished by observing the palm of a person's hand, noticing the creases and lines in the palm, and interpreting them to foretell that person's future. Palm-reading is quite accurate with some and less so with others. It's a very general method--not precise.
"The second method is reading tea leaves. Brew the tea with fresh tea leaves, drink the tea leaves, and interpret the lumps and mounds of the leaves left in the bottom of the cup. The shapes of the lumps are interpreted into signs, each having a specific meaning. Often you will have to drain the cup by holding it upside-down."
As Trelwaney move on to fire-reading and prediction by entrancement, Ginny listened with avid interest to Professor Trelawney's lecture. Divination is fascinating! she thought, excited, taking in every word and copying notes onto parchment. I can't believe Ron and Harry didn't like it at all.
"Today, I will show you the basics of fire-reading. Fire-reading was actually originally a wizarding concept, though Muggles soon discovered and adopted it as a part of the Shinto religion that is based in Japan. It is over 2,500 years old and is very precise--if performed correctly." She gazed around the classroom, looking as though she was skeptical that anyone had the talent.
Professor Trelawney made obscure, quick gestures with her hands, and then repeated them much more slowly. "Please make the motions I am making." Trelawney demonstrated each sign separately and slowly as the class followed her example.
"No, Miss Grant, not that. The 'moon' gesture is done like this." Professor Trelawney's spectacles flashed in the firelight as she turned to address the entire class. "With each motion is a mantra, a chant. Each chant is an element: Earth, moon, wind, fire, water, and so on. They are repeated as the signals are performed, kneeling in front of an enchanted fire."
Trelawney commenced to call each student up to the fire and had them kneel and perform the motions and mantra. "Miss Grant, please come up." Natalia looked exceedingly nervous--probably due to the professor correcting her in front of the class--but did as she was told. Ginny had to keep herself from snickering as Natalia fumbled over the motions and words. How in the world could this be so difficult for anyone? It was so easy and simple!
"Miss Ramirez. . . . Mr. Winton. . . . Mr. Creevey. . . . Miss Sarria. . . ." The list of names went on, and every student was unsuccessful. Ginny became anxious and wondered when she would be called up. Would she mess up like everyone else? Would she get the motions correct and in the right order? Would she--
"Miss Weasley."
No time to be nervous now, Ginny told herself firmly. If you mess up, that's okay because everyone else did, too. Kneeling down, Ginny bowed her head slightly and began the mantra, accompanied by the motions--the correct ones.
Ginny's nervousness was replaced with calm and peace. This is okay, she thought, relieved, and looked up at the fire. Everything's going to be okay, she thought languidly.
The red-golden flames began to flicker--almost dancing, and began to grow in her mind as if they were filling the entire wall. Ginny didn't blink--couldn't blink. She didn't feel the heat from the fire, even as sparks flew. The fire burned vividly, engraving its image upon Ginny's mind. Slowly but surely, the flames became clearer and more crisp in her mind. Sparks jumped out of the enormous fire, but Ginny didn't flinch as they landed near her--she just kept watching.
Images began to appear in the fire--images like the dream she'd had during summer--images she didn't want to see again. She began to shake convusedly at the horror she saw--and then the pictures changed, to a wavy outline of . . . who? A girl with blond hair and bright eyes--a somewhat familiar face, but Ginny couldn't place it.
Strange thoughts invaded her mind. Not what she seems--she's not what she seems. "She's not what she seems," Ginny involuntarily murmured aloud. The one with croceus hair will lead Hogwarts to an enemy. "Croceus hair--enemy," mumbled Ginny, still repeating the hand gestures.
A new idea formed. To placate the three Sisters--circulate time. The three Sisters must be placated. "Must be placated," she repeated softly. "To circulate time . . ."
In half an instant, the lazy haze surrounding her disappeared and Ginny was thrust back into reality with a sharp jolt. "Wha--what?" she asked faintly. Shaking her head to clear it, Ginny looked around the room--and everyone but Professor Trelawney was gone.
"Where--where is everybody?" Ginny stammered, still not quite recovered from the shock.
Professor Trelawney was over the moon with delight. "I sent them away, of course. I knew if this was a real prediction, you shouldn't be distracted at all. Miss Weasley, that was quite amazing! Tell me exactly what you saw in the fire!" Trelawney was leaning over one of the tables, a sheet of parchment on the table and a quill in hand. She didn't look remotely mysterious or Seer-like anymore; instead she reminded Ginny of a ridiculously eager parent, excited about one of her kids actually succeeding in something. Maybe she was.
"Well--first I saw what I had in a dream over the summer," Ginny began, beginning to calm down and become coherent. "It was about a man being tortured by You-Know-Who, and killed. Then I saw a girl--she was very hazy, I couldn't make her out quite well. She had blond hair and bright eyes, that's all I could see and remember. And then a voice spoke--well, it didn't exactly speak, but I heard it--not really heard it, but just in my head, as if I was thinking." Ginny flushed, knowing how insane that must have sounded and wondering what Professor Trelawney would say.
If anything, Trelawney seemed even more impressed. "That's quite all right, dear. What did this voice say to you?"
"It mentioned hair--I think it said 'croceus hair' and something about leading Hogwarts and an enemy." She frowned in concentration. "Oh yes--it said that a person with croceus hair would lead Hogwarts to an enemy. I assumed the person was the blond girl I saw in the fire--"
"It must be--croceus is Latin for yellow," Trelawney interrupted, hastily copying everything onto the parchment. "Go on, dear."
"Then it changed," Ginny continued. "It said that to placate the three Sisters, you had to circle time--no, it said circulate time. And that the three Sisters had to be placated. Then I sort of . . . woke up and everything disappeared." Ginny's brow furrowed. "It was quite strange."
Trelawney murmured to herself, "Three Sisters, three Sisters. I know I've heard it before." Her voice rose to its normal level (normal for her, anyway) and she addressed Ginny. "My dear, you are a true Seer!" Trelawney beamed.
"I am?" Ginny was clearly not convinced.
"Didn't you notice that no one else even performed it correctly?" Trelawney laughed airily. "My dear, you were the only one in the class to even perform it correctly, let alone make a prediction. Of course you're a Seer!"
"Wow," breathed Ginny. "I--I never even imagined I would be . . ." She trailed off.
"Anything special? Of course you didn't, what with your older brothers 'stealing the show,' so to speak. But you are! I might even be able to promote you to the intermediate Divination class--it's much more interesting and smaller as well, dear--after holiday break." Trelawney smiled. "You'd have to work especially hard and perhaps come in for extra time between classes, but since you are willing to . . ."
"I am! I mean, I'm willing. Very much."
"Of course you do, dear. I knew that already."
* * * * *
Hermione and Ron sat in great big armchairs in the common room, facing each other. Between them lay a chessboard.
Ron considered the board thoughtfully. Dozens of options presented themselves to his mind, but only in five lay the ability to win the game. His grin was impish as he glanced up at Hermione. Expertly, Ron moved is bishop into position. "Checkmate." He grinned at her angry expression.
Hermione threw up her hands in disgust with herself. "Honestly," she fumed. "How I could not have seen that coming, I don't know." Sighing, she gathered up the black chess pieces and handed them to Ron.
"You're just mad because I'm better than you at something," he pointed out, drawing himself up importantly.
She glared at him, but most of her annoyance had faded, so she didn't look quite as menacing as she had hoped.
"Another game?" he suggested, offering the black set to her again.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've had my daily prescribed dosage of humiliation today, thanks." It's really odd that he hasn't mentioned Quidditch tryouts yet, she mused. Normally he'd be wild about them. . . . I wonder if there's something wrong?
"Ron," she said abruptly, "what do you think of Quidditch tryouts?"
Ron jerked slightly in response to her question. Carefully keeping his expression blank, he replied, "What about them?"
That wasn't quite the reply Hermione had expected. She blinked. "What?"
"Well, why should I care about Quidditch tryouts?"
Ron's monotone voice made Hermione think that he wasn't being entirely truthful. "And this is from the Boy Who's Obsessed with Quidditch?" I did try not to sound sarcastic, she thought, self-consolingly.
He glared at her, his indifferent facade gone. "Why do you even care?" he demanded, bitingly, loudly. Ginny, who was the only other person in the common room, glanced up from her book across the room, and left quietly.
Now they were alone.
A flush rose to her cheeks. "I was just wondering, that's all," she protested, folding her arms over her chest and sitting up a little more straight. "No need to get so upset, Ron."
His anger visibly deflated, and he leaned back into his chair, chin falling to his chest for a moment. "You want to know why, after all these years, I love Quidditch, and haven't once tried out for the House team?" he asked, picking at a loose red thread in his armchair.
"Well, yes," Hermione said, unconsciously leaning forward to hear his answer.
"Because I'd get picked."
Ron's reply echoed throughout the empty room, ringing in Hermione's ears. "Then why . . .?"
"With Fred, George, Harry, and Fred's girlfriend all on the team to feel sorry for me, I'd be sure to get chosen." He paused. "If I'm going to be on the Quidditch team, I want to do it by myself. D'you understand?" Ron looked at Hermione, his brown eyes uncertain.
"Well, yeah, Ron, but--do you really want that to stand in your way?"
Practical Hermione, he thought. She can do Arithmancy problems until the end of time, but she hasn't figured out real life yet.
Ron jerked out the thread he had been toying with. "Of course I do! I was just going to wait until next year, when the twins were gone, and then try out. . . ." He sighed. "You don't know what it's like, having to live up to five brothers. . . ."
When Hermione spoke, her voice was icy. "Oh, I don't? I couldn't possibly imagine?"
Ron restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "Hermione, you know that's not what I meant! But if I got on the team now, everyone would think that it was just because of Fred and George. And you know what? They'd be right." He scowled. "They'd feel all sorry for me. I hate pity."
"You should try out anyway," urged Hermione. "Ron, you shouldn't let that keep you from Quidditch." She smiled faintly. "I may not have much interest in it myself, but I'm not blind to the fact that you love it. You shouldn't not try on account of your brothers."
He looked at her, and Hermione saw the same stubborn quality in his eyes that she'd seen when trying to get Harry and Ron to make up the year before; when she and Ron had fought over whether her cat Crookshanks had eaten Ron's pet rat, Scabbers, during their third year; when Ron had tried to curse Draco Malfoy with slugs the year before that; and when Ron had tried to levitate his feather during Charms class in their first year. "It still wouldn't be getting on the team fairly." His mouth was set. "If I get onto the Quidditch team, I want to get on because I'm good, not because of the twins."
"But Ron, you are good!" said Hermione, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Look--I'll talk to your brothers, and Harry, and the other players, and tell them that you want good, fair, judging between them, and all that--just try, for Merlin's sake!" she bargained.
He eyed her, considering. He was also more than a little impressed. And this is something I've wanted to do since . . . well, since forever, he thought. Out loud, he said, "Well, if you do that . . . I'll try out, I guess." He nodded, beginning to smile.