Author's Note: See? See? I updated quickly! For once... ^_^()
Oh, and I changed the settings on my word processor... HOPEFULLY these
ellipses will show up correctly now without me having to add two extras!
^_^ Well, I'll let you read, shall I? Please review! I love reviews...
"...Ron," was Hermione's reply as she hurried away. Harry was frozen to the spot.
Ron? Why Ron? How could he die? Was someone after him? The thoughts raced through Harry's mind in a panic. When would it happen? What would it be? Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Hermione had already said that she thought the class was a load of rubbish. He'd trusted her opinion before, right? Opening his eyes, he decided that he'd just have to see for himself what the professor was like. With that, he turned and ran up the steps as fast as he could.
Breathless, he finally arrived at the top of the tower to find a silver ladder leading up to a circular opening in the ceiling. After taking a moment to catch his breath he climbed the ladder.
As his head came above the floor level of the classroom, he immediately felt like he was entering an old attic. He stopped and twisted head all around, taking in the odd room. Twenty small, circular tables had somehow been fit into the small space, and, instead of the chairs in the rest of his classrooms, overstuffed armchairs and differently colored poufs surrounded them. All the windows were blocked by heavy curtains hung with beads; the crimson light emitting from many lamps draped with dark red scarves was enough to cast fantastic shadows on the walls but probably, he frowned, not enough to read a textbook by. He was his by a wave of heat as he came further into the room and he noticed a fire burning silently in the fireplace. He wasn't sure if it was the fire or the contents of the copper kettle on top that gave off the scent of heavy perfume, but he had to suppress his immediate urge to gag. The last thing he observed was that the walls were covered with shelves that ran all the way around and were crammed with an odd assortment of Divination items. Old feathers, crystal balls, cards - tarot or playing, he couldn't tell which - stacked haphazardly, candles, and what he figured was probably the largest collection of antique teacups in England loomed around him. It was very crowded.
"Welcome, Harry Potter. How nice to see you in the physical world at last."
He jumped and had to grab onto the sides of the floor to catch himself from falling. He looked to the left, where the soft, misty voice had come from, and almost yelled. A large, glittery insect was sitting in a chair in front of the fire and sipping tea from a pink china teacup. It stood up and approached him. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Professor Trelawney wore large spectacles that made her eyes appear several times larger than they actually were. The shawl around her shoulders was gauzy and glittered in the firelight adding to his initial impression of a shiny bug. She was very thin and pale, and looked to be wearing about five pounds of necklaces and chains. When she moved she jingled; her lower arms and hands were gloved in bangles and rings of different sizes and materials.
"Professor Trelawney, I'm sorry I'm late, I-" he began.
"I know, my dear! You got lost on the way here. There was also a bit of commotion in the halls, wasn't there? It's alright, my child, sit, sit!" she waved vaguely to an armchair across from the one she had been seated in.
Harry glanced around. There were no other students in the room. Nervously, he seated himself. Letting his feet hang several inches above the ground, he suddenly felt as he had briefly last year in Dumbledore's office: a small specimen to study and test. He swallowed and met Trelawney's gaze.
"My name, as you seem to know, 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." He said nothing. "So you have chosen to study Divination," she continued, "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..." Harry thought it sounded like she had rehearsed this. The way she spoke to the entire room and not directly to him heightened his suspicions that this was a welcoming speech for an entire class. He considered applauding her monologue, but she had not yet finished. "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. It is a Gift granted to few."
She switched her focus abruptly to Harry, and he felt very, very alone. Was this how Draco felt when McGonagall had spoken to him directly? Probably not, the other seemed used to it. Harry leaned back casually and drummed his fingers on the armrests. He didn't know what to say, and decided to wait until she addressed him directly. The silence stretched out.
Finally, she spoke. "My dear, boy, you must have noticed that you are the only student this period. Have you not wondered why?"
He blinked. The combination of the perfumed air and the stifling heat in the room had very nearly put him to sleep. He shook his head to clear it and realized that she had asked him a question. "What? Er- yes. Why?"
This was apparently the answer she had been waiting for. She leaned forward and whispered to him, "Because you are the only Slytherin taking this class." She resettled herself in her chair after this pronouncement. He looked at her, waiting for more. She continued, "Your classmates' parents fear me. They do not wish me to uncover secrets about their deeds. They will not allow their children to learn my art... because they fear that my Inner Eye will be able to spy on them." Her unblinking eyes bore into Harry's. "You, however, having no parents, can take whatever classes you wish." That hurt. He looked away, fists clenched. "And," she added, "being a Gryffindor at heart, I am sure, you have no evil to hide from me..."
He spoke angrily. "What do you mean, evil? Slytherins aren't evil! They're - we're - just more private than other Houses! We-" he stopped abruptly. He couldn't really tell her about his new House, as he'd only been there a day. "Besides, the Sorting Hat said I belong there," he scowled. He'd expected grief from the teachers who knew him, but one that had never known him as a Gryffindor? Unless she'd been watching him in her crystal ball, he rolled his eyes mentally.
She frowned. "My dear boy, your stubbornness itself is a mark of Gryffindor. I have watched you; you seemed perfectly happy in your House. Why did you change? Was it a fight with your friend, Ronald Weasley?" She closed her eyes as if in pain. "The poor boy... You will not know, but-"
Harry cut her off. "You think he's going to die."
She nodded, her forehead coming to rest lightly on her jeweled fingers. "I'm sorry, this must be terrible news for you."
He didn't answer. He didn't like Professor Trelawney, he could tell this already. She seemed to hold Slytherins in contempt, and her 'Inner Eye' seemed to need glasses. And yet... Ron had seemed convinced. Last year, when they had chosen the class together, Ron had scoffed at Parvati Patil's unwavering belief in Divination. "An easy A," he'd explained to Harry his reason for signing up. So how did she manage to make Ron think he might die? a voice nagged him. He shoved the thought to the back of his mind. Ron wouldn't die.
After a dramatic sigh, she seemed to have recovered from her momentary distress over the impending tragedy of Ron's death. She sighed again and readjusted her shawl, jingling softly. "Dear, would you get two cups please? Set them right here, on the table... thank you..."
Harry reluctantly got up and retrieved the indicated teacups from a nearby shelf. Trelawney had taken the kettle off of the fire by the time he sat down again. She poured hot water over tea leaves in their cups and replaced the kettle. "Now, dear, drink! Drink until only the dregs are left. Swirl these around the cup three times with your left hand."
He looked at his cup. The teacup he'd chosen was green and had a chip in the side of the rim. Carefully he picked it up and sipped it, wincing as he burned his tongue. Blowing on it, he tried again. After he'd finished the tea, he half-heartedly pushed the dregs around in a circle three times with his left hand. He looked up at his professor, who was watching him carefully.
"Turn it upside down and drain it, now, my dear!" she exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Then pass it to me." He turned his cup over as told and leaned back, watching the remaining liquid begin to pool in the saucer.
Professor Trelawney had done the same with hers, and she turned her scrutiny once more onto Harry. "This first term will be devoted to the reading of tea leaves," she told him, the firelight flashing off of her glasses. "We will progress to palmistry, fire omens, and crystal ball reading. Unfortunately, February will bring a nasty bout of the flu for many of us, and I will lose my voice." Harry's eyes widened. She could tell all that? She smiled at him sadly. "Yes, the Inner Eye can be a burden at times. It is not pleasant to know you will be sick. It does, however, give me time to plan, you see." She delicately pushed her cup in front of him and pulled his towards herself.
"...now what?" he asked, turning her cup right side up.
"Take out your book, my dear, and tell me what you can see in the cup." He pulled his textbook out and set it on the table next to him, turning to pages five and six where the table of contents told him he would find meanings for common symbols in the leaves. He glanced at Professor Trelawney, who waited. He turned her cup and stared stupidly at the soggy mush at the bottom.
"Er-" he remarked intelligently. She looked at him disapprovingly. "Right, you've got... a dish... what's that? "Trouble at home." Sorry about that. Um... wavy lines? "An uncertain path." What is that, a frying pan?" He rotated the cup a bit. "Wait, it's an owl... "gossip, a scandal." He glanced up at Professor Trelawney.
Frowning, she waved him to continue. "At least you're trying, my dear..."
He flushed and glared back into his cup. "... Maybe a tennis racket? Or, wait, no. I think it's a violin." He consulted his book. "That means you have a big ego, Professor," he said innocently. "In that case, I don't know if I'm reading this right." He looked up at her serenely.
She sniffed and took her cup back. She peered into it. "A dish? I think not - it's a cup, my dear, it means a reward is in sight. And the lines are certainly closer to straight than wavy, indicating progress! Dear, dear, you do see things negatively, don't you?" She rotated the cup a bit, not noticing his glare. "An urn; wealth and happiness. And, last..." she turned her cup once more," an umbrella," she looked up at Harry," means annoyances."
He shrugged.
Trelawney pulled his cup toward her next. "The axe... my dear, you will have difficulties." He said nothing. "The feather... you must concentrate harder, my dear, is what that means. The fist... dear me, an argument. Perhaps with Weasley? Yes, I think so..." Harry, looking into it from the opposite side of the table, had no clue where she was seeing these shapes and decided that she was making them up. The witch gave his cup a last turn and a grim smile flickered across her face as she peered across the table at him. "...and, the snake. Snakes symbolize enemies, my dear, remember that. Evil."
This time he didn't bother to hide his glare. "Slytherins are NOT evil," he said through gritted teeth.
She did not reply. "I think we will leave the lesson there for today, my dear. You will need to be more serious and concentrate more, as your cup showed. I perceive little aura around you, but it is there. Fair fortune until next time," she dismissed him, closing her eyes.
Shoving his Divination book distastefully back into his bag, Harry was only too glad to leave. He crossed to the trap door and descended the silver ladder quickly, letting the door fall closed behind him with a loud 'thud.'
As he made his way down the winding stair, he reflected on the period. Hermione was right; the class seemed very woolly. He thought that maybe he could have stood it if he'd had anyone else to share the experience with, someone to commiserate with. But one on one with Trelawney? Even after one lesson, he didn't know how much longer he could take it. He wondered, then, how Draco and Blaise's Arithmancy class had gone. He'd ask them at lunch, he decided, heading toward the Great Hall, looking forward to a break from classes for a while.
Author's Note: Next chapter soon! In fact, I'm going to go eat lunch and then work on it... okay? ^_^
"...Ron," was Hermione's reply as she hurried away. Harry was frozen to the spot.
Ron? Why Ron? How could he die? Was someone after him? The thoughts raced through Harry's mind in a panic. When would it happen? What would it be? Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Hermione had already said that she thought the class was a load of rubbish. He'd trusted her opinion before, right? Opening his eyes, he decided that he'd just have to see for himself what the professor was like. With that, he turned and ran up the steps as fast as he could.
Breathless, he finally arrived at the top of the tower to find a silver ladder leading up to a circular opening in the ceiling. After taking a moment to catch his breath he climbed the ladder.
As his head came above the floor level of the classroom, he immediately felt like he was entering an old attic. He stopped and twisted head all around, taking in the odd room. Twenty small, circular tables had somehow been fit into the small space, and, instead of the chairs in the rest of his classrooms, overstuffed armchairs and differently colored poufs surrounded them. All the windows were blocked by heavy curtains hung with beads; the crimson light emitting from many lamps draped with dark red scarves was enough to cast fantastic shadows on the walls but probably, he frowned, not enough to read a textbook by. He was his by a wave of heat as he came further into the room and he noticed a fire burning silently in the fireplace. He wasn't sure if it was the fire or the contents of the copper kettle on top that gave off the scent of heavy perfume, but he had to suppress his immediate urge to gag. The last thing he observed was that the walls were covered with shelves that ran all the way around and were crammed with an odd assortment of Divination items. Old feathers, crystal balls, cards - tarot or playing, he couldn't tell which - stacked haphazardly, candles, and what he figured was probably the largest collection of antique teacups in England loomed around him. It was very crowded.
"Welcome, Harry Potter. How nice to see you in the physical world at last."
He jumped and had to grab onto the sides of the floor to catch himself from falling. He looked to the left, where the soft, misty voice had come from, and almost yelled. A large, glittery insect was sitting in a chair in front of the fire and sipping tea from a pink china teacup. It stood up and approached him. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Professor Trelawney wore large spectacles that made her eyes appear several times larger than they actually were. The shawl around her shoulders was gauzy and glittered in the firelight adding to his initial impression of a shiny bug. She was very thin and pale, and looked to be wearing about five pounds of necklaces and chains. When she moved she jingled; her lower arms and hands were gloved in bangles and rings of different sizes and materials.
"Professor Trelawney, I'm sorry I'm late, I-" he began.
"I know, my dear! You got lost on the way here. There was also a bit of commotion in the halls, wasn't there? It's alright, my child, sit, sit!" she waved vaguely to an armchair across from the one she had been seated in.
Harry glanced around. There were no other students in the room. Nervously, he seated himself. Letting his feet hang several inches above the ground, he suddenly felt as he had briefly last year in Dumbledore's office: a small specimen to study and test. He swallowed and met Trelawney's gaze.
"My name, as you seem to know, 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." He said nothing. "So you have chosen to study Divination," she continued, "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..." Harry thought it sounded like she had rehearsed this. The way she spoke to the entire room and not directly to him heightened his suspicions that this was a welcoming speech for an entire class. He considered applauding her monologue, but she had not yet finished. "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. It is a Gift granted to few."
She switched her focus abruptly to Harry, and he felt very, very alone. Was this how Draco felt when McGonagall had spoken to him directly? Probably not, the other seemed used to it. Harry leaned back casually and drummed his fingers on the armrests. He didn't know what to say, and decided to wait until she addressed him directly. The silence stretched out.
Finally, she spoke. "My dear, boy, you must have noticed that you are the only student this period. Have you not wondered why?"
He blinked. The combination of the perfumed air and the stifling heat in the room had very nearly put him to sleep. He shook his head to clear it and realized that she had asked him a question. "What? Er- yes. Why?"
This was apparently the answer she had been waiting for. She leaned forward and whispered to him, "Because you are the only Slytherin taking this class." She resettled herself in her chair after this pronouncement. He looked at her, waiting for more. She continued, "Your classmates' parents fear me. They do not wish me to uncover secrets about their deeds. They will not allow their children to learn my art... because they fear that my Inner Eye will be able to spy on them." Her unblinking eyes bore into Harry's. "You, however, having no parents, can take whatever classes you wish." That hurt. He looked away, fists clenched. "And," she added, "being a Gryffindor at heart, I am sure, you have no evil to hide from me..."
He spoke angrily. "What do you mean, evil? Slytherins aren't evil! They're - we're - just more private than other Houses! We-" he stopped abruptly. He couldn't really tell her about his new House, as he'd only been there a day. "Besides, the Sorting Hat said I belong there," he scowled. He'd expected grief from the teachers who knew him, but one that had never known him as a Gryffindor? Unless she'd been watching him in her crystal ball, he rolled his eyes mentally.
She frowned. "My dear boy, your stubbornness itself is a mark of Gryffindor. I have watched you; you seemed perfectly happy in your House. Why did you change? Was it a fight with your friend, Ronald Weasley?" She closed her eyes as if in pain. "The poor boy... You will not know, but-"
Harry cut her off. "You think he's going to die."
She nodded, her forehead coming to rest lightly on her jeweled fingers. "I'm sorry, this must be terrible news for you."
He didn't answer. He didn't like Professor Trelawney, he could tell this already. She seemed to hold Slytherins in contempt, and her 'Inner Eye' seemed to need glasses. And yet... Ron had seemed convinced. Last year, when they had chosen the class together, Ron had scoffed at Parvati Patil's unwavering belief in Divination. "An easy A," he'd explained to Harry his reason for signing up. So how did she manage to make Ron think he might die? a voice nagged him. He shoved the thought to the back of his mind. Ron wouldn't die.
After a dramatic sigh, she seemed to have recovered from her momentary distress over the impending tragedy of Ron's death. She sighed again and readjusted her shawl, jingling softly. "Dear, would you get two cups please? Set them right here, on the table... thank you..."
Harry reluctantly got up and retrieved the indicated teacups from a nearby shelf. Trelawney had taken the kettle off of the fire by the time he sat down again. She poured hot water over tea leaves in their cups and replaced the kettle. "Now, dear, drink! Drink until only the dregs are left. Swirl these around the cup three times with your left hand."
He looked at his cup. The teacup he'd chosen was green and had a chip in the side of the rim. Carefully he picked it up and sipped it, wincing as he burned his tongue. Blowing on it, he tried again. After he'd finished the tea, he half-heartedly pushed the dregs around in a circle three times with his left hand. He looked up at his professor, who was watching him carefully.
"Turn it upside down and drain it, now, my dear!" she exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Then pass it to me." He turned his cup over as told and leaned back, watching the remaining liquid begin to pool in the saucer.
Professor Trelawney had done the same with hers, and she turned her scrutiny once more onto Harry. "This first term will be devoted to the reading of tea leaves," she told him, the firelight flashing off of her glasses. "We will progress to palmistry, fire omens, and crystal ball reading. Unfortunately, February will bring a nasty bout of the flu for many of us, and I will lose my voice." Harry's eyes widened. She could tell all that? She smiled at him sadly. "Yes, the Inner Eye can be a burden at times. It is not pleasant to know you will be sick. It does, however, give me time to plan, you see." She delicately pushed her cup in front of him and pulled his towards herself.
"...now what?" he asked, turning her cup right side up.
"Take out your book, my dear, and tell me what you can see in the cup." He pulled his textbook out and set it on the table next to him, turning to pages five and six where the table of contents told him he would find meanings for common symbols in the leaves. He glanced at Professor Trelawney, who waited. He turned her cup and stared stupidly at the soggy mush at the bottom.
"Er-" he remarked intelligently. She looked at him disapprovingly. "Right, you've got... a dish... what's that? "Trouble at home." Sorry about that. Um... wavy lines? "An uncertain path." What is that, a frying pan?" He rotated the cup a bit. "Wait, it's an owl... "gossip, a scandal." He glanced up at Professor Trelawney.
Frowning, she waved him to continue. "At least you're trying, my dear..."
He flushed and glared back into his cup. "... Maybe a tennis racket? Or, wait, no. I think it's a violin." He consulted his book. "That means you have a big ego, Professor," he said innocently. "In that case, I don't know if I'm reading this right." He looked up at her serenely.
She sniffed and took her cup back. She peered into it. "A dish? I think not - it's a cup, my dear, it means a reward is in sight. And the lines are certainly closer to straight than wavy, indicating progress! Dear, dear, you do see things negatively, don't you?" She rotated the cup a bit, not noticing his glare. "An urn; wealth and happiness. And, last..." she turned her cup once more," an umbrella," she looked up at Harry," means annoyances."
He shrugged.
Trelawney pulled his cup toward her next. "The axe... my dear, you will have difficulties." He said nothing. "The feather... you must concentrate harder, my dear, is what that means. The fist... dear me, an argument. Perhaps with Weasley? Yes, I think so..." Harry, looking into it from the opposite side of the table, had no clue where she was seeing these shapes and decided that she was making them up. The witch gave his cup a last turn and a grim smile flickered across her face as she peered across the table at him. "...and, the snake. Snakes symbolize enemies, my dear, remember that. Evil."
This time he didn't bother to hide his glare. "Slytherins are NOT evil," he said through gritted teeth.
She did not reply. "I think we will leave the lesson there for today, my dear. You will need to be more serious and concentrate more, as your cup showed. I perceive little aura around you, but it is there. Fair fortune until next time," she dismissed him, closing her eyes.
Shoving his Divination book distastefully back into his bag, Harry was only too glad to leave. He crossed to the trap door and descended the silver ladder quickly, letting the door fall closed behind him with a loud 'thud.'
As he made his way down the winding stair, he reflected on the period. Hermione was right; the class seemed very woolly. He thought that maybe he could have stood it if he'd had anyone else to share the experience with, someone to commiserate with. But one on one with Trelawney? Even after one lesson, he didn't know how much longer he could take it. He wondered, then, how Draco and Blaise's Arithmancy class had gone. He'd ask them at lunch, he decided, heading toward the Great Hall, looking forward to a break from classes for a while.
Author's Note: Next chapter soon! In fact, I'm going to go eat lunch and then work on it... okay? ^_^