Disclaimer: All usual disclaimers apply. Don't sue me.
Note to readers: There's not much to say about this chapter except that I did a terrible Trelawney and it took me FOREVER to do research on Tarot cards… I used a lot of foreshadowing in this chapter, so have some fun!
Chapter 9: Prognostic Weather
September passed in a fearful heartbeat and Rouge looked up expectantly into the October sky of the Great Hall every morning for the owl she had been dreading ever since Draco had informed her of the meeting to come. Rouge found herself performing this routine on the morning of October 31st. The sky was it's usual, depressing gray mass of thick clouds that threatened to rain. Rouge couldn't remember the last time the sky had been blue, if it had ever been blue, and the cold, dry air tasted of coming winter.
In a rush of flapping feathers that soared through the long windows, owls fluttered through the hall looking for their owners. An eagle owl flew over to Draco and landed regally on his shoulder with his usual parcel of sweets from home. Rouge sneered at it with disgust.
Draco always has to be such a show-off, Rouge thought with deep irritability and perhaps a bit of jealously. He can never just keep to himself.
A snowy owl flew overhead and over to Harry with a simple note. Rouge absentmindedly watched Harry, Ron, and Hermione lean in close together to read it for a few moments before she saw Hermione turn around to glare at her, catching her watching them. Rouge looked away quickly.
She had noticed Hermione doing things like that recently. Not just recently, but ever since they'd met. Rouge doubted that they had spoken since, but Hermione would give her suspicious looks when they passed in the corridors or Hermione'd glare at her from behind textbooks during class. Rouge didn't have the faintest idea why. Not that she'd ever ask-
A note that dropped in front of her and on her empty plate brought Rouge out of her thoughts. She looked up to see a rather plain tawny owl perched on the milk jug before her. Rouge blinked at it then looked down at the note it had brought. She picked it up hesitantly, read it, flinched, read it again just to be sure, stared at it in disbelief, then set it down again with a sigh.
So Draco wasn't lying, she thought miserably.
She stared down at the note, not reading it, but letting its elements sink in. Her eyes moved along the thin script, written in red ink, which Rouge was sure was blood. But it wasn't the content of the note that interested her. The signature was what held her attention, if you could call it a signature. At the bottom of the note, in vivid red, was the Dark Mark, You-Know-Who's signature in itself. The signature he branded his followers with. The signature he left wherever he caused death. Fear. Misery.
Rouge firmly shook herself.
No, she thought, trying to hide her own fear from herself, I can't think this way. Not with a meeting tonight.
She put the note in the pocket of her robes and looked up at the owl still perched on the milk jug. Rouge stared at it in search of some form of comfort, and the owl hooted softly which Rouge accepted gratefully as an owl's form of comfort. She stroked the owl affectionately and gave it a piece of toast, which it took just about as gratefully as Rouge took its comfort.
"Apportez-moi quelques bonnes nouvelles la fois prochaine, n'est-ce pas?" Rouge said fondly to the owl in almost a whisper as she smiled sadly at it, her forgotten French accent returning to her voice. The owl flew off without another thing said (hooted?).
"What does that mean?" said an icy voice from behind her.
Rouge snapped her head around to see Hermione standing behind her, and Rouge just managed to catch herself before she flinched. They stared at each other in silence before Rouge managed to choke out, trying to keep the most impassive expression and nonchalant tone as she could muster, "Just asking for some better news."
"Oh," Hermione said with mock interest, "all right then." And she turned sharply on her heels and walked briskly over to the doors of the Great Hall where Harry and Ron stood waiting for her. Harry let Ron and Hermione pass him before he exited the hall, which was just long enough for him to send Rouge a distrusting glance, but she didn't notice. She wasn't looking at him, but watched Hermione leave with a mixture of hate, confusion, and fear; which is quite an expression to see. It wasn't Hermione's question that bothered Rouge, but Hermione's grin. Her mocking, triumphant grin that crept to her face as she'd exited and left Rouge to wonder how long had she been standing there? How much did she know?
Rouge tried to shake off these worries and fears, but Rouge couldn't forget Hermione's triumphant grin.
The boiling and heavily perfumed, sickly sweet air in Professor Trelawney's classroom drowned Rouge in her thoughts. Even though it was late October, the stuffy classroom was terribly hot. The light was always dim, the windows always shut and curtains drawn tightly, and what little light there was had a red tint to it from the shawls and scarves draped over the lamps. The quiet, subdued atmosphere of quiet murmurs, lack of lighting, and insufferable heat always made Rouge sleepy. And in this sleepy atmosphere, her anxious, paranoid thoughts made her feel as though she was living a nightmare. She still couldn't erase Hermione's face from that morning, even though Hermione wasn't in the class, and Professor Trelawney's pitying glances didn't help much either, which was why she always hid in the back of the classroom. The back was Rouge's favorite spot in Divination class after the first day.
The first day of Divination came and Rouge had no idea what she was in for. She guessed that it couldn't be good by the annoyed mutterings from most of her classmates and the excited chattering of Parvati and Lavender, whose judgement she had quickly learned not to trust. From what she had heard, the professor had a habit of making unfortunate and incorrect predictions. That, as is commonly known, is the understatement of the century. Rouge had never truly liked Divination, and she doubted that a different school would change that.
When the class piled into the classroom in the North Tower, Professor Trelawney was sitting in her winged armchair in front of the blazing fire, her layers and layers of jewelry reflecting the tinted light, making her glitter and sparkle as though she herself were consumed by some metaphysical fire. Her eyes behind her magnifying eyeglasses closed, as though she was in a trance. The class sat on poufs and armchairs around tables, the wiser students taking seats in the back. Parvati and Lavender took seats closest to Professor Trelawney, their expressions filled with awe and great respect. Rouge took a seat at an empty table near the front since no one else seemed keen in sitting at it. The class's talk eventually died down and they patiently waited for some sign that Professor Trelawney would come out of her trance.
"I sense... another among us..." Professor Trelawney said in her over-dramatic, airy-fairy voice without opening her eyes. Rouge rolled her eyes, buried her face in her hands, and sank into her armchair as though she could sink right through the stuffed cushion and disappear. Parvati and Lavender exchanged amazed and excited glances. The majority of the class wasn't paying attention.
"I'm sure you will be pleased to know..." Professor Trelawney continued, "that we will be studying Tarot cards for the next few weeks, but... we will have an unscheduled ending in late October... due to a thief that will steal the classes' sets of Tarot cards. So you'll brush up on your crystal ball gazing instead... when that time comes."
Rouge rolled her eyes again just because it seemed necessary. This was the person that was suppose to teach them the great secrets of the diving arts? Parvati and Lavender once again exchanged amazed and excited glances, which they did many times throughout the class. The rest of the class still wasn't paying attention.
"I will need a volunteer for a demonstration of Tarot reading," Professor Trelawney said mistily, her eyes still closed. Lavender and Parvati were on the edge of their seats looking hopefully at Professor Trelawney with wide eyes. The rest of the class tried to make themselves invisible.
"Will the newcomer," Professor Trelawney began, suddenly and vaguely pointing at Rouge's general vicinity, which seemed to have the same effect as exact aim, nonetheless, "assist me?"
Lavender and Parvati sank back into their poufs with disappointment and threw envious glares at Rouge while the rest of the class breathed sighs of relief. Rouge looked up at Professor Trelawney, who had finally opened her eyes and was currently going through a nearby bookshelf, apparently looking for a deck of Tarot cards.
"I'd love to, Professor," Rouge said brightly, to which she got deserving glares from Parvati and Lavender.
"I do love a bright and helpful student," Professor Trelawney said whimsically, still facing the bookshelf. She couldn't see Rouge's placid yet life-hating expression that had accompanied her bright reply and rivaled Lavender and Parvati's murderous glares.
"Ah! Here we are," Professor Trelawney piped as she pulled a deck of elaborately decorated Tarot cards from the bookshelf and sat in the armchair across from Rouge at her empty table. Professor Trelawney shuffled the cards while she asked Rouge some simple questions along the lines of "What's your sign?" "How old are you and when's exactly is your birthday?" and, for reasons Rouge was sure had nothing to do with Tarot cards, "What is your name?" Rouge considered asking, "If you're the Divination professor, why must you ask these questions? Shouldn't you already know?" but Rouge kept her polite sort of smile as she answered Professor Trelawney's questions and said nothing else.
"Open your books to page 42," Professor Trelawney instructed, "and follow along with the card placement chart." There was the sound of rummaging papers through the perfumed, smoke-filled air as the class found and opened their books. Professor Trelawney finally stopped shuffling the card and she delicately placed one card in the middle of the table.
"The card in the middle of the chart," she explained, "represents the basic situation. In Ms. Magie's case it's The Fool. The Fool card could mean some sort of ...travel... or a streak of individuality. It can also symbolize someone who is... rather impulsive... but spends a lot of time by themselves."
Rouge guessed that this card represented herself. She did travel all over Europe over the summer, then to Hogwarts, and over the past two months she had been alone the entire time, mentally if not physically, though she wasn't sure about being "rather impulsive." She wasn't impulsive, was she?
Professor Trelawney then picked up another card and horizontally placed it over the first.
"The card on top of the middle card represents influences helping or hindering the situation," she said, choosing the next card. "For Miss Magie, it is The King of Swords. Kings are what represent the suits, either wands, swords, cups, or pentacles. The Kings mean a source, such as a father figure."
Rouge sighed quietly and looked away from the cards. It was clear that The King of Swords represented her own father. No more thought was needed on the subject.
Professor Trelawney went on. She became considerably dramatic when she came to the card that represented Rouge's future influences, The Devil. The Devil card means being tempted or having a desire that can bring you to your downfall. It can also mean being tricked or too materialistic. Rouge pretended to be surprised by this card as Professor Trelawney gave her a pitying look. Rouge thanked her own acting skills.
The card that puzzled Rouge the most in this reading was the card that represented energies coming to you from outside sources: The Moon – a warning to not fall prey to illusions and deceptions; a time of obscurity and bewilderment; a struggle with subconscious. This seemed to confuse Professor Trelawney as well, for it didn't say anything about Rouge being utterly doomed, but it was there, nonetheless.
It then became time for the tenth and final card. Professor Trelawney had become quite cheerful and excited through Rouge's, in a nutshell, unfortunate prediction, seeming to become more and more dramatic with every card. Rouge was in her climax of annoyance, and the rest of the class had lost attention six cards back. The final card represented the outcome, the true divination in this game of cards.
The card was The Tower.
Professor Trelawney heaved an exaggerated sigh, got up from Rouge's table, and fell back into her winged armchair in front of the fireplace with a glittering hand to her heart.
"Miss Brown?" she asked sorrowfully, closing her eyes again as she pointed a ringed finger at Lavender who jumped with surprise and snapped to attention. "Would you mind deciphering the meaning of The Tower card for the class? I cannot bring myself to…"
Lavender beamed and turned to the rest of the class, Rouge in particular.
"The Tower," Lavender began with a 'know-it-all' air, already sounding somewhat like Hermione, "generally means a great change; something cataclysmic. But... not as much a change, really... but more like a great catastrophe. "
Lavender looked directly at Rouge.
"Not too lucky, are you?" she gibed with a smirk.
To Rouge's great pleasure, the class moved on from Tarot cards and started Advanced Crystal Ball Gazing, when someone did, in fact, steal all the classes Tarot cards. It was rumored that Professor Trelawney had stolen the cards herself just to make her prediction true. But the class moved on to Advanced Crystal Ball Gazing nonetheless, which didn't seem any different from Regular Ol' Run-Of-The-Mill Crystal Ball Gazing: Staring into a glass-like ball at a whole lot of swirling, misty smoke.
Rouge tapped her crystal ball with her fingernail and it made a complaining 'tink' sound. Rouge snorted.
A glass crystal ball, she thought without surprise. We never had glass scrying crystal balls at Beauxbatons.
Rouge remembered what the crystal balls at Beauxbatons were like. They were always made of glimmering, pure crystal, and none of this glass. They had a mysterious shimmer of sliver-gray in the crystal, as though divine fire had been melded into them. And if you gave them the slightest tap, they would chime like a chorus of church bells. They were beautiful, and far more accurate.
Rouge sighed. She couldn't deny that she missed Beauxbatons, but nothing could be done about it. She'd never go back. So easily had she shed her beautiful robes of blue, but the pain of leaving them behind was not so easily discarded.
She turned her attention back to her ball. She hadn't gotten any further than predicting the weather. She'd see swirling gray rain clouds, which was no challenge to predict since the ball was like that naturally. But today, in Rouge's paranoid state-of-mind, the crystal ball said more than the weather. Rouge stared absentmindedly at her ball as though she were focusing on her Inner Eye instead of her worries, but as she stared something peculiar happened to the interior of the ball.
The misty gray smoke slowly turned scarlet until it remarkably resembled a remembrall of a forgetful owner. But as Rouge's interest surrounded the ball the smoke turned to a deeper and darker shade. She peered closely at the ball and she noticed that the red substance in the ball no longer seemed like smoke. It dripped slowly along the sides of the ball, but Rouge couldn't put her finger on what it was.
She leaned closer to it and furrowed her brow in thought. A few loose strands of her blood red hair fell in front of her eyes. The hair color immediately blended with the color of the liquid in the ball. Rouge's eyes went wide, her pupils turning to pinpoints in the light of revelation.
Blood. The crystal ball was filled with blood.
Fear ran through her veins like ice, but she couldn't break her stare on the ball.
The ball started to shake and rattle, and Rouge could have sworn it was twitching. It shuddered and jerked more and more violently until she was sure someone would notice. She clapped her hands to the ball in attempt to stop its movement and a sudden sharp pain ran through her hands coming from the ball. She barely kept herself from screaming out in pain. Her hands began to shake. The very bones in her hands were on fire. Rouge's eyes began to water from the pain and she tore her hands off the ball. She held her hands close to her chest, cradling them.
She knew that pain. She had seen it before. She had felt it before.
It was the Cruciatus Curse.
Rouge's Inner Eye blinked and she slowly leaned back in her armchair. The ball went back to its normal weather-predicting state and she sank into the chintz armchair around her solitary table, still cradling her hands, her eyes wide with terror.
Blood and the Cruciatus Cruse.
This was definitely not a harbinger of happy tidings.
Note to readers: A QUEST!!! ON TO THE NEXT CHAPTER!!! Sorry, I like Sir Cadogan and I'm sorry I couldn't put him in this chapter… I guess I should have… Oh, well. Please review!