Chapter 27 - Wicks

For the next two months Darren had worked hard to cover up what he had told Harry that day in the Room of Requirement.

"I thought of revenge," he had told Harry.

'How did I let that slip?' he kept asking himself. He had scolded himself mentally for days on end, afraid that Harry would see though him and tell Dumbledore that something was wrong. He had even taken a big risk and put the Imperius Curse on Neville once more to make sure that he wasn't acting. Not to mention the invasions of his dreams on an almost nightly basis by Voldemort, who was running out of patience with his failure to produce a result of any kind. The threats were becoming more graphic and Darren would wake up in a cold sweat. Last night he had been shown what Bellatrix Lestrange would do to Ellie. It had made him almost pack his things and leave Hogwarts to go and try to rescue her, but he knew it was futile as well as foolhardy. There was no way on earth it would be possible to get them back as long as Voldemort was around. The other Death Eaters he wasn't as terrified of. He was scared of them and certain he would never defeat any of them in a duel because he was not a fool, but none of them gave him the feelings of absolute terror that Voldemort did. And that night as he lay awake, too afraid to fall asleep because of what he might dream, he laid in bed and racked his mind to think of a way to get them back without compromising their safety.

'I could just go to Dumbledore.' he thought. 'No, he would know I did and then kill them both.'

'I could just run away.' 'No, he would kill them, and then find me too.'

'I could try to torture Harry for the information and then he might give them back.' 'No, that would get him caught, and then they would die anyway. Even if I get the information, I am sure we are all dead as it is.'

No matter what he thought of, he could not see a solution, so he just laid back and listened to the snores that came from the room. After a few minutes he sat up against the headboard and looked around in the darkness.

Seamus, so much like his countrymen. Never afraid to stand up for his country and still proud of Ireland's win in the Quidditch World Cup two years ago. He still had the souvenirs from the match over his bed.

Dean, a football fan to the core, but almost as much of a quidditch fan now. Darren remembered when in his first year he had heard that there was a student at Hogwarts who actually liked a Muggle sport more than quidditch.

Ron, a red haired boy who was loyal to the core. For some reason Darren had always thought Harry would survive Voldemort, but that Ron wouldn't. In fact he could see Ron sacrificing himself for one of his friends, and he admired Ron for that bit of his personality, and envied his friends for having someone as loyal as him in their life.

Neville, weak, timid, and unsure of himself, but capable of so much more than he even knew. Ever since he had been under Darren's control, Darren had been able to find out more about him and his life outside of Hogwarts. How his grandmother would tell people, right in front of Neville, how he would never measure up to his father, and that poor Neville did not have the talent of his well respected father. Darren thought back to the day when he had made Neville let him look through his trunk. He had found a large envelope stuffed with Droobles Best Blowing Gum wrappers. He had asked Neville where they had come from and why he was keeping them. Each one had a date written on it, and Darren could tell from those dates that Neville had been keeping them for years. Neville's answer had made Darren put the things back and never open the trunk again.

"My mother gives them to me when I visit her."

"But why keep them Neville?"

"Because they are the only things I can remember that she has ever given me," Neville answered softly.

Darren had put them back as he had found them and never brought the subject up with Neville again.

And then there was Harry. Both parents murdered by Voldemort, somehow managed to survive the Avada Kedavra curse, the most famous young wizard in the world, but someone who wanted none of the attention. In fact, he shied away from it, regardless of what those in Slytherin House, especially Malfoy, liked to tell others. Harry was really a good kid and Darren hated what he was being forced to do, but what other choice did he have?

'None!' he screamed at himself in his thoughts, 'so get over it and stop worrying about others because you have more important people to worry about.'

The last thing Darren remembered before reluctantly falling asleep was 'If getting that information means Voldemort wins, are they more important than the rest of the wizarding world?'

Divination came early that morning. Darren and Neville had taken their usual seats at the rear of the class and prepared to be bored for the entire class, as usual. That day they were studying Lampadomancy, where they were to divine the future from the flickering of the flame from an oil burning lamp. Darren and Neville, like the rest of the class, were doing their best to not laugh out loud at the ridiculous thought that a flame could tell the future. Their textbooks were open to the right chapter, but Darren just couldn't keep his mind on the subject at hand. It all seemed too stupid to take seriously, and the rest of the class seemed to have the same belief. However, in order to not incur the wrath of a teacher, even one as incapable as Professor Trelawney, Darren gave her his full attention. Besides, this would be on the end of year test, so he figured that he had better at least try to make it look like he cared.

"The art of Lampadomancy is a very old form of Divination," Professor Trelawney told them. "It was discovered in the early tenth century when a witch named Alfreda Wittenbottom used the flame of a lamp in her home to correctly divine that her husband would die of asphyxiation in his bed that night."

Darren heard Ron lean over to Harry and say, "Probably because the old bat knew she was going to kill him anyway."

Harry and Darren both stifled a laugh but Professor Trelawney droned on as she usually did, making Darren wish he had signed up for the Divination class that was being taught by Firenze on the first floor. It was probably not any more accurate, but at least a Centaur would be cool to be around.

"When the flame flickers, it gives an indication of what may be in store for the future of the person that lit it. Please, would one student at each table light the wick of their lamps and would their partner read the flickers and use the textbook to determine what they mean."

Darren told Neville to light the wick and watched it burn for a few seconds. The flame burned in one single point that stood straight up, which Darren read to mean was a sign of good fortune.

"Good for you Neville, you have a good omen, I guess, if that flame is to be believed that is."

Darren didn't hear Professor Trelawney behind him, but when she spoke she made him jump almost out of his seat. Usually she was with Lavender and Padma who swarmed al over her, or she spent the class time telling Harry how he would die horribly, which had become a running joke by now with the Gryffindors, even those that didn't take Divination.

"You don't believe in this Mr. Clarkson?"

'Why lie?' he thought.

"No, I don't, I think it is a complete waste of time Professor."

He expected her to give a long haranguing talk about how important all forms of Divination are, but instead she clutched her head and made a loud wailing noise. Darren saw the rest of the class look up in shock, but he had gotten used to her act over the last three years. He just raised one eyebrow and waited for the show to start.

"Young man, you are not ever going to be able to see. You doubt too much, and not just in this class," she said with a flourish and an extravagant wave of her hand to the rest of the class. "Perhaps you should light the wick and see what the flame tells us about you?" she suggested.

"Well, if I put out this flame, won't that mean that I will have something bad happen to me?"

The boys in the class laughed, but Lavender and Padma each shot him a scolding look.

"No dear boy, as long as the handle is used to extinguish the flame, it is perfectly safe to do so," she said as she pulled her shawl tighter to her body.

Darren sighed and turned the handle until the flame went out, then turned it back so hat he could light it again. When he did, the flame lit with two points and Professor Trelawney gasped in shock. Then the points bent towards the window and went out suddenly. Professor Trelawney threw her hands in the air, let out a loud gasp and fainted onto a large pillow next to Padma, who went pale with fright at the thought of her teacher having an attack, instead of just acting like an old fool.

Lavender and Padma fanned her face with their parchment until Professor Trelawney came too, but Darren had the sneaking suspicion that she was really just catching up her sleep. That or she was trying to rub the smell of Sherry off onto the pillow.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear boy," she said as she stood back up and began to wring her hands vigorously. "All three acts of the flame are bad omens, and I am afraid of what the future might have in store for you."

Darren just sighed and rolled his eyes because he had suddenly realized that maybe Trelawney had found another person to heap bad news on besides Harry.

"Ms. Brown, would you please read to Mr. Clarkson what those actions meant."

"Yes ma'am," Lavender said with a great flourish, as if she had just been confirmed as the teacher's favorite student.

"The splitting of the flame into two points is a sign of bad luck, which could mean death," she said, but Darren was certain that the hint of death was added for effect.

'Great, now Lavender is a little Trelawney,' he thought.

"A flame that bent may indicate illness and sparks indicated news," she read next.

'Indicated news? What the hell does that mean?' Daren thought as Lavender continued to read.

"And lastly, sudden extinction of a flame is considered a very bad omen," she said in a very depressed voice.

"Thank you, well done," Professor Trelawney said to Lavender who closed her book with a very self-satisfied smile on her face. Then she turned back to Darren and asked, "Do you know what all this means Mr. Clarkson?"

"A sick omen is going to come along and give me a bout of bad luck?" he asked sarcastically.

Ron and Harry sounded as if they were going to choke behind him.

"Dear boy, I am afraid that not only are you devoid of sight, you are also in great danger, and you may not survive it I fear."

Behind him Darren could hear Ron say, "Who in this class isn't ever in great danger?"

Then the bell rang to signal the end of the class and Darren packed his things quickly so as to leave as fast as possible in order to avoid any more revelations of his future.

Darren packed quickly because he wanted to get out of the tower as quickly as possible. He was almost at the trapdoor when Professor Trelawney pulled her attention away from Lavender and Padma and called him back to her desk. He let his head slump in despair but turned back reluctantly to listen to whatever drivel she had to tell him now.

"Girls, we will continue this conversation later if you don't mind," she told her two biggest fans.

Padma and Lavender gave Darren a look that told him they did not appreciate his interfering with their talking with their favorite teacher, but he just ignored them.

"Darren, I am concerned that you are not taking your work in this class seriously. Your grades this year are significantly lower than they have ever been in my class."

'Maybe if you taught a class that could hold my attention for more than five minutes I would give a damn,' he was thinking when Professor Trelawney started talking to him again.

"I also feel that you do not take the subject seriously, do you?"

Darren did not answer. He really wanted to tell her how much he hated this class, but he didn't need any more detentions or extra homework.

"It's all right Darren; you can speak freely with me," she said as she took a seat behind her desk.

"Well Professor, to be perfectly honest, I don't really enjoy a class where…"

But he stopped short when he saw the look on her face. She had gone rigid in her chair and she was shaking and her eyes were rolling around in her head. And she spoke with a harsh voice that made him almost jump out of his skin.

"You will not save them all. They have been captive for these three years, and soon it must end. One will die and one will live, but you must choose which one it will be. You must choose correctly, or the Dark Lord will kill all of you. There are those that will help you, but you must let them. One will die and one will live, but you must choose which one it will be."

Then Professor Trelawney's head fell forward and she began to come out of whatever trance she had gone in. Darren just stood there in quiet shock and stared at her. Finally she looked up at him.

"Are you okay Darren?" she asked.

Darren didn't answer.

"Darren, are you okay?" she asked again.

"Umm, yeah, I guess," he stammered.

"Well, I must let some of this heat out I think, it is making me a bit woozy I fear."

"Yeah, I guess it is Professor."

Professor Trelawney got up and went over to the fire and waved her wand at it making two of the logs disappear. Darren just watched her and stared at her because he did not know what else to do. Had he just heard a real prophecy from Professor Trelawney? It had to be because there was no way that she knew anything about his situation, was there? He convinced himself finally there was no way she knew, but he still could not get it out of his mind what he had just heard and seen.

"Oh my, I am feeling a bit lightheaded I think. I had better sit back down."

She came back around the desk and sat back down in her chair, leaning back and closing her eyes. Darren was still in shock and staring at her, until she looked back up at him.

"Oh my, are you still here Darren? You must go or you will be late for your next class."

"Umm…"

"Hurry along young man, hurry along."

Darren picked up his bag from the floor and left the room.

"Yes, ma'am."

As he descended the ladder he could not help but wonder what the hell had just happened, and what it meant.