Erroris of Vestri Mores

By Shadow Ballad

A/N: Thanks so much for the kind reviews! I'll try to update ASAP, but school and life may dictate otherwise…so…yeah. Thanks once again for reading! If you see any mistakes, please point them out:) I'm also taking creative license in this chapter; in HPB Harry, Hermione and Ron aren't taking Care of Magical Creatures anymore, but they are in this fic. Please don't kill me!

Chapter Two: Voco Geminus

Severus Snape was not in a good mood this morning. On top of falling asleep in his clothes (something he never did!), he was running late this morning (another thing he never did), and woe be any mortal who dared cross his path! He irritably jerked the last button on his shirt into place and, avoiding the mirror per usual, he stormed out of his bedroom, face absolutely livid.

He stalked over to the sofa where he had left his black boots the previous night and crammed them on his feet. Just as he was about to rise from the couch, his eyes met the bookshelf, and last night's mysterious events flooded back to him in a deluge of memory. Frowning deeply at the offending bookshelf, Severus rose and perused it with a long slender finger, attempting to discover exactly how his copy of One Thousand Curses and Counter Curses for the Advanced Wizard had fallen from its place on the second top-most shelf. Clear examination said that it was impossible; the heavy tome was crammed neatly onto the shelf between its equally thick fellows.

The only logical conclusion was that someone had taken it off the shelf and dropped it in the floor. But, I would have noticed a student entering my chambers…Severus thought, his frown turning to a scowl as he thought more about the incident. Obviously it was some sort of prank; that he was sure of. Who the culprit was and how they managed to get by his anti-student wards was beyond him. Only another adult could have entered, and even then, none of the other teachers ever came to visit him. Not that he was complaining of course; he rather liked his solitude.

Shaking his head and vowing to slowly torture the perpetrator to death when he found him, Severus retrieved his cloak from his wardrobe (Why didn't I do that before? I am really out of things this morning -) and exited his chambers. Making sure to reinstate the wards, he added another anti-student ward that would freeze any student caught trying to sneak in for good measure before walking briskly toward the Great Hall.

As he was ascending the staircase that connected the dungeons to the ground level, he saw two Hufflepuff students dash off to his left, clearly up to something. Smirking to himself and fully intending on taking out his foul mood on the unsuspecting pupils, Severus rounded the corner to find the two snogging heartily in a crevice, unaware to his presence as of yet.

"Well, well, well; what do we have here?" he asked in his silkiest voice, striding purposefully toward the now frightened-looking students. "I do believe that public displays of affection are against school rules; am I correct?" Two pale faces stared back at him as his lip curled in a sneer. There was no need to ask, really; their guilty behaviour proved outright that they knew they were breaking school rules. "Detention, I think," he said smoothly, which earned looks of outrage from the two students. When they didn't leave immediately, he quirked a dark eyebrow at them and started to take away ten points from their House when a low, raspy voice interrupted his gleeful activity.

"Professor Snape, what are you – oh, I see." Severus heartily resisted the urge to hex Gershwin into next Wednesday as the man's face peered from behind the corner, his half-circle spectacles glinting strangely in the sunlight from a nearby window.

"He gave us detention, Professor Gershwin!" whined the boy, sidestepping Severus and approaching the new teacher, the girl close on his heels. "We were just…er…kissing…" At least he had the dignity to blush.

Gershwin raised an interested eyebrow at Severus and turned to confirm this story. "Really? That seems a bit harsh, doesn't it?" Severus noted with extreme distaste that the two students were now hiding behind the new professor, nodding vigorously at his words.

"Perhaps you are unaware of how things work here, but discipline and punishment are generally the methods used to correct improper behaviour," the Potions Master snarled, his previous anger from earlier that morning rising to dangerous new levels. "Or do you suggest candy and a pat on the back for a job well done of breaking the rules?"

Both students squeaked in terror at the expression on his face and opted to flee before things got nasty. Severus didn't even spare them a glance; Gershwin was now the centre of his attention, and that was not a good thing for Gershwin.

"I am aware of the system used here," the other replied coolly, refusing to back down from the gaze that had sent many a student into fits of hysterics. "I was also under the assumption that punishment shall be restricted to the infraction committed, unless otherwise noted." At these words Gershwin's eyes flashed dangerously, and without further words exchanged between them, he turned on his heel and strode down the corridor.

By now he was absolutely furious. Damn the bloody prick to Hell! Severus swore to himself, flinging open the doors to the Great Hall, startling many students in the middle of breakfast as he made his dark way to the table, casting death glares at anyone unfortunate enough to catch his eye. When he reached his seat at the Head Table and slammed himself into his chair, none of the other teachers so much as glanced up from their eggs and bacon to take notice. They were far too used to his dark moods by now to worry about why he was so furious this early in the morning.

The dark man scowled down at the porridge he had unconsciously ladled into a bowl, picked up a spoon, and irritably swirled it around the bowl a few times before pushing it away and choosing eggs instead. Thoughts about strangling Gershwin with the man's own bloody cravat permeated his mind so much that when he glanced back at his plate, his eggs were nothing but a bleeding, yolky mess.

Deciding that he wasn't hungry, the Potions Master rose abruptly from his chair and stalked toward the exit, reaching it just as Gershwin entered from wherever he had gone off to minutes earlier. He practically jumped out of his shoes at the snarl Severus gave him in return for his cheery greeting.

Woe to the first years, who would suffer his wrath!

Hermione winced as the doors to the Great Hall slammed shut behind Professor Snape's retreating figure. He seemed awfully livid this morning. Her heart went out to poor Professor Gershwin, who appeared to have received the brunt end of her Potions Master's foul mood. He even jumped when Professor Sprout greeted him and practically fell out of his seat when Hagrid ambled into the Great Hall and took up a chair beside him. Of course, it could just be that he's nervous by nature, she mused, absently taking a bite of toast and washing it down with orange juice.

Five minutes later Professor McGonagall handed out the course schedules, and Hermione eagerly snatched hers and rapidly read off her schedule. "Oh, I was hoping to have Arithmancy first thing today…" she wailed, noting that her favourite subject wasn't scheduled until after lunch.

"Cheer up, Hermione," said Harry as he, too, looked over his schedule. "We have Double Divination today after lunch; we'll suffer more than you. I just can't wait to see if we have another dud of a DADA teacher." His green eyes glanced at the head table where Professor Gershwin was currently sitting, nibbling at a piece of toast and casting nervous glances in Hagrid's direction. Hermione couldn't blame him, really; Hagrid was twice as tall as a normal man and three times as wide, and his great, untamed beard gave him a rabid appearance that would frighten anyone not quite used to his presence.

"Wuss, that one," said Ron dismissively, stuffing his course schedule into his bag and tipping a few more pieces of bacon onto his plate.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, scandalized that her best friend would dare insult a teacher in such a manner. The redhead shrugged and continued eating his breakfast, paying her angry glares no mind.

"Ron's right, Hermione," said Harry defensively, tucking in to more eggs. "He jumps every time someone says 'hi' to him." Ron snorted into his orange juice at this comment.

"Hey Harry! If he jumps when a student says 'hi,' can you imagine his reaction if a troll walked in here right now?" Both boys sniggered at Ron's joke.

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione cried, shoving her plate away from her and snatching her bag from the floor. "Can't you two ever be serious?" Her two friends gave her innocent looks that she dismissed immediately. "While you two sit here and say horrible things about teachers that could land you in detention, I'm going to Herbology." With that she left Ron and Harry, looking quite as if they expected this reaction, behind her as she strode to the doors, opened them, and left in a huff.

"She needs to lighten up, that one," Ron murmured to Harry as the two boys made their way to the Greenhouse 3. "I mean, it was just a joke."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Well, you know Hermione; she thinks teachers are like gods of Happy Learning Land or whatnot." Ron snickered genially at this comment and was still laughing to himself when they joined their slightly disgruntled friend at a table inside.

"It's about time you got here," Hermione hissed at them as they dropped their bags on the floor and sat down. "You were almost late!" Harry noticed that she had gotten out parchment, ink and a quill, which was most unusual for Herbology. Ron seemed to notice this too, and mentioned it to Hermione.

"In case you haven't noticed, we don't need that stuff in this class," he said with an air of someone talking to a small child. "I mean, all we ever do is get dragon dung fertilizer under our fingernails and end up smelling like the loo."

Hermione gave the redhead a withering glare. "In case you haven't noticed, I got here before youand heard Professor Sprout tell Justin Finch-Fletchy that we're taking notes today." Ron's ears turned red and he disappeared under the table, muttering to himself incoherently, reappearing a few moments later with quill, ink and parchment in hand.

Harry scowled with disgust as he fished his equipment out from his own bag. First class of the term and they had to take notes! In Herbology no less! The bell rang as he dipped his quill in the ink and held it poised above a new piece of parchment.

A few moments after the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs settled themselves down, Professor Sprout, a short witch with flyaway grey hair, a patched hat and dirty fingernails, made her way to the front of the class (swatting the creeping vines of the venomous tentacula away from her hat as she strode past it). When she was sure that all the students were looking at her and paying close attention, she beamed at them all and began to speak.

"Welcome to sixth year Herbology! As many of you have undoubtedly noticed, we aren't doing any potting or planting today," she announced brightly to a chorus of unenthusiastic moans. This glum reception did not dampen her jovial spirits, however. "For the next few days, we'll be studying the various trees from which our wands are made from." She paused, beaming at the sudden interest the students showed at this announcement.

Suddenly, taking notes didn't seem all that miserable to Harry. He had been curious for some time about what trees wands were made from, and why certain trees were chosen above others. "After we learn about the various kinds, we'll look at different wands made from the different trees and plant a few saplings as well." Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught Ron surreptitiously examining his wand, running a finger along its length before stuffing it back into his pocket.

"All right then," Professor Sprout continued, I want you to make a list of all the types of trees wands can be made of. These are called "wand-trees," mind you." Here she paused to wait for students to dip their quills in ink and label the top of their parchments "Wand-Trees."

"Everyone ready?" she asked, and when everyone nodded, she began to recite the different trees wands could be made from. "Write these down now: alder, ash, beech, birch, cherry, elder, hawthorn, hazel, holly, hornbeam, ivy, mahogany, maple, oak, reed, rosewood, rowan, willow, vine wood, and yew." The scratching of quills filled the greenhouse as the students copied down the names of the wand-trees. Harry was mildly surprised at the amount of wand-trees there were; but then he supposed that everybody's wand couldn't be made of holly or willow. After scribbling "yew" underneath "vine wood," the Gryffindor sat up and gazed expectantly at the Head of Hufflepuff, waiting for information with more interest than he had shone in a long time in this class.

"Does everyone have them copied down?" Professor Sprout queried, allowing her gaze to fall upon each group of students and waiting for their affirmation. When all the pupils were ready, she continued the lesson. "Since alder is the first on our list, we'll be studying it first. Can anyone tell me one of the magical properties of alder?"

To no one's surprise Hermione's hand was the first to shoot up in the air, quivering slightly. Close behind her, however, was Neville, although he was a bit hesitant. Smiling at her best student, Professor Sprout called on the nervous Gryffindor to answer her question. "It…it's good for protection against drowning and death," he stated without so much as a hint of the fear he displayed in Potions. The boy's love for plants clearly showed in this class.

Professor Sprout beamed at him. "Well done! Five points to Gryffindor!" Harry flashed an encouraging smile at Neville, who returned it with a small grin of his own. "Does anyone else know any more?" the professor inquired needlessly, as Hermione's hand was still up and waving back and forth impatiently. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"It's good at performing and shielding against death curses, as well as protecting against ill omens and improving wisdom," she recited, as usual sounding like she had swallowed a textbook. Professor Sprout awarded five more points to Gryffindor before going into an explanation about additional physical and magical properties of alder that lasted the remainder of the class.

Right before the bell rang to leave, she assigned an essay: "Describe, in detail, the physical and magical properties of alder. 12 inches of parchment, to be handed in on Thursday." She dismissed the students to break with a cheery farewell.

"I can't believe she assigned us a bloody essay on the first bloody day of term!" Ron fumed as they made their way to Hagrid's hut. "If I would have known she was going to do that…can I borrow your notes, Hermione?"

Hermione harrumphed irritably at this request. "Honestly, Ronald, do you ever take notes?"

He shrugged. "Why should I, when I know you do and can borrow them?" he asked. Hermione snorted derisively.

"It would serve you right if I didn't let you borrow them, you know," she said rather testily as the trio came upon Hagrid's hut. "Then you might be keener on taking notes yourself."

Again, Ron shrugged. "S'all right; I'll just borrow them from Harry. You'll let me borrow your notes, right mate?"

Harry hated to quash the hopeful look in his friend's eye, but felt his face flush slightly as he admitted his own folly. "I…er…didn't take notes either," he mumbled with embarrassment. Ron's face fell and Hermione threw up her hands in exasperation, ready to berate the two boys when the door to Hagrid's hut suddenly swung open, startling all three Gryffindors.

"Harry! Good ter see yeh!" the half-giant boomed, clapping a hand the size of a large trashcan lid on Harry's shoulder that would have sent the boy to his knees had he not been expecting the impact.

"Hey, Hagrid," he returned the greeting with a smile. Hagrid's beetle-black eyes crinkled, and despite the wild black beard covering his face, Harry knew that Hagrid was giving him a genial grin in return.

"All righ' Ron? Hermione?" The other two nodded happily, each enduring their own heavy shoulder pat in turn.

"So, Hagrid, what'll we be studying this year?" Ron asked with just a hint of trepidation. All three knew better than anyone else that their friend had a certain affinity for creatures normal people considered dangerous. In their first year, he had hatched a Norwegian Ridgeback, a fierce dragon, in his wooden hut before having to get rid of it. Nor could they forget about Fluffy, the giant three-headed dog that had been the first obstacle to retrieving the Philosopher's Stone.

With images of monsters like these dancing menacingly in his head, Harry waited with baited breath to hear what Hagrid had to say. Hagrid, however, tapped his nose and gave them a mischievous grin. "I'll not be tellin' yeh 'til class starts," he said excitedly, lumbering off behind his hut, most likely to put the finishing touches on the lesson. Harry shared a pointed look with Ron and Hermione. Judging by Hagrid's reaction, the magical creature they were going to study was probably big, mean and ugly.

"Oh, please don't tell me that oaf is still teaching this class!" a snobbish voice exclaimed with mock horror. The Gryffindor trio turned and noticed, to their mutual disgust, that Draco Malfoy and the other sixth year Slytherins were making their way to Hagrid's hut.

"Damn; I was hoping they'd drop Care of Magical Creatures this year and leave poor Hagrid alone!" Ron murmured sourly as the other students gathered next to the wooden hut.

"Well, well, well," drawled the white-blond boy, "if it isn't Potty, Weasel and their Mudblood friend Granger." Harry had to snatch the back of Ron's robes (which wasn't easy, as the other boy was substantially taller than he was) and hold him back from tackling Malfoy.

"Ignore them, Ron," Hermione said stiffly, turning her back on the gang of Slytherins as Hagrid reappeared from wherever he had gone, beaming at the students and noticing nothing wrong.

"All righ' sixth years!" he boomed, his deep voice practically quivering in excitement. "Got a real treat fer you lot terday!" He beckoned his class forward with his great hands, grinning like a child in Honeyduke's. The students, used to Hagrid's fascination with beasts, exchanged nervous looks and slowly followed their teacher to the back of the hut, where they were met with quite a surprise.

What looked like six, blackish-green vultures sat on perches in a barred cage large enough for Hagrid to walk into, cawing mournfully and looking at the pupils below with sad black eyes. Harry fleetingly wondered if they did something dangerous like blow fire or spit poison when Hermione let out a noise of excitement.

"I know what those are!" she said, eyes shining as they gazed up at the birds in the cage.

"They don't eat people do they?" Ron asked with a gulp and wary look in the birds' direction.

"Of course not; they're auguries!" Hermione snapped impatiently, gazing raptly at the magical creatures as though delighted that they weren't something akin to dragons or the infamous Blast-Ended Skrewts.

The confused glance Ron flashed him let Harry know that he wasn't the only one without a clue as to what an augurey was supposed to be.

"Ain't they beau'ful?" Hagrid boomed after the initial shock of seeing something apparently normal had worn off the students. "Now, can anyone tell me what they are?"

Before he had even finished speaking, Hermione's hand was in the air. "They're auguries, also known as Irish phoenixes," she said breathlessly.

Hagrid beamed down at her. "Very good, Hermione! Five poin's ter Gryffindor!" Behind him, Harry heard Malfoy snort and mutter something about "lousy know-it-all's" but didn't pay the Slytherin any attention; the lesson, he had to admit, was quite interesting.

"As Hermione jus' told us, an augurey is an Irish phoenix, native to our country. They usually live in nes's made o' brambles and thorn's, auguries, but I managed ter get a hold o' six o' the beasts fer our lesson today," Hagrid continued. He then stepped inside the cage, causing the phoenixes to stir, and managed to pluck one from its perch before it flew out of his reach.

With the bird's taloned feet safely ensconced in his giant paw of a hand, Hagrid returned to the students and resumed his lecture. "Auguries like heavy rain, so when it's rainin' yer likely ter see 'em flyin' around' and stuff," he said, patting the bird on its head and eliciting a soft caw. "Wha's really in'erestin' about auguries is tha' their feathers repel ink, so they make good quills; if yeh can manage ter get one, mind.

"Back in the day, people used to think that their cries were death omens; bu' now we know that their cries foretell rainy weather." Looking at the thin, mournful-looking bird, Harry could see where ancient wizards got that idea from. It didn't look like it would be the herald of anything happy, that was for sure.

"Oh, an' one more thing: they like ter eat insec's and fairies, auguries. So I wan' you lot to spli' up in six groups, and one of yeh come and get some dead crickets to feed 'em with. Off yer go," Hagrid said, and then strode over to Harry, passing him the large bird and telling him to let it sit on his forearm. It was lighter than it looked, but it stunk and nipped at his hair. When Neville, who had joined their group, tried to feed it some dead crickets, it bit his finger.

"Ow!" the boy cried out, flinging the rest of the crickets out of his hand and managing to land them in Hermione's hair, who shrieked and did a sort of weird dance as she attempted to dislodge them. The Slytherins found this all rather amusing.

"Hey Granger, you should leave those bugs in your hair; they make it look better than it normally does!" Pansy Parkinson, a pug-like girl who was constantly attached to Draco's arm, called shrilly as Hermione flicked the last cricket from her brown locks. Ron had his wand half-way out of his pocket to hex the girl before Harry could grab his arm and jerk him away from the laughing Snakes.

They spent the rest of the class trading the group's augurey around so everyone got to hold it. The definite highlight of the period was Draco's augurey letting one out on the arrogant boy's robes, leaving a sick-looking white and black mess on what appeared to be fine black velvet. Ron was still doubled over laughing when the bell rang to end the lesson and the students made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Did you see the look on his stupid face?" the redhead exclaimed for the tenth time as he generously tipped fried chicken and mashed potatoes onto his plate and tucked in eagerly.

"Yes, Ron," Hermione replied in a bored voice, giving her friend a disgusted look as he laughed and sent little bits of chicken spewing out onto the table. She waved her wand and the stray chunks disappeared.

Harry opted to ignore this as he shovelled food into his mouth; he didn't realise how hungry he was until he'd sat down and smelled the delicious scent of Hogwarts fried chicken. As he was eating, Neville, who was sitting across from him, began a conversation with George Anderson, the first new Gryffindor to be sorted into the House of the Lion last night. Since they were so close to Harry and not bothering to speak quietly, Harry couldn't really help but eavesdrop.

"H-he was r-really angry this m-morning," George Anderson stuttered, taking a large swig of pumpkin juice to calm himself down. "I d-don't know why, though; it's n-not like I did anything to make him m-mad." Harry, unaware that he had stopped chewing his lunch, strained his ears to listen closer and risked a glance to see Neville put a reassuring hand on the younger boy's shoulder.

"It's all right," Neville said soothingly. "Professor Snape doesn't like anyone, and he's never nice at all, except to his Slytherins." Harry snorted and began chewing once again. That was an understatement! Neville seemed to have heard him, for he looked in Harry's direction and smiled.

"You can even ask Harry. Snape hates him more than he hates me, and that's really saying something." George Anderson gaped openly at Harry, his eyes making the familiar climb to the scar on Harry's forehead and becoming significantly rounder when they saw it. Harry suppressed a sigh and turned back to his green beans.

Dean Thomas, one of Harry's dorm mates, appeared to have been listening in on the conversation as well. "I heard from Justin Finch-Fletchley that Snape caught Ernie Macmillan snogging Megan Jones, and when he tried to give them detention, that new teacher Gershwin got them off the hook and made Snape really angry," he interjected. By now all the Gryffindors around Neville – including Ron and Hermione – were listening to the conversation.

"Really?" asked Seamus, another of Harry's dorm mates. The Irish boy cast a quick glance at the staff table. "He looks like a puffskein would scare the wits out of him. Definitely Snape fodder." Seamus nodded to himself as if this decided everything. Hermione sniffed disdainfully, but no one paid attention to her.

"Maybe someone should tell him not to mess with Snape," Ginny Weasley, who had left a group of fifth years to join the conversation, suggested. "He looks so sweet, like he wouldn't hurt a fly…"

Ron choked on his pumpkin juice at this comment from his little sister. "Ginny!" he gasped, "please don't tell me you fancy that Gershwin bloke!"

Ginny regarded her older brother coolly. "Of course I don't," she snapped, picking up her plate and scooting back down the table with the other fifth years.

"Good," Ron mumbled to himself more than anyone, "'cause that would have been bloody awkward…" Harry quickly stuffed a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth to keep from snickering.

After they had eaten lunch, Harry and Ron bid farewell to Hermione as she left for Arithmancy and the two boys ascended the staircases to North Tower for double Divination. "I wonder what nonsense the old bat will have us learning this year," Ron mused as they stood at the bottom of the trap door, waiting for the silvery rope to descend from above so they could enter the classroom. Not that Harry was particularly impatient to begin the lesson, however; the incense Trelawney burned, the heavily perfumed fire and the stifling heat made Divination class the torture of the day.

The bell rang for class to begin, and for a split second Harry hoped that somehow Trelawney wasn't there. His wishes were crushed when the silvery rope fluttered down among the Gryffindor students, and with a sigh Harry grabbed hold of it and pulled himself up into the classroom.

It was, unfortunately, as he remembered it, stinking perfume and unbearable heat wafting around a room where poufs and chintz armchairs sat gathered around small circular tables. Harry plopped unceremoniously onto a squashy pouf, and when Ron joined him, the two boys shared longsuffering glances. Ever since third year, this had been their least favourite class. Trelawney constantly predicting Harry's premature demise only made it worse, and the only fun thing about it was making up the homework in the common room after dinner.

"Settle down, children, settle down…" said a dreamy voice from the vicinity of the fireplace. What resembled a huge insect suddenly became visible among the clouds of smoke from the incense. Trelawney, too, was just has Harry remembered her. A skinny woman draped in a shawl and covered with glittering necklaces and bracelets, her huge glasses gave her the appearance of a rather large and odd-looking praying mantis.

"This term, we shall be studying the ancient art of tarot reading," Trelawney continued, gliding among the tables looking very much like a bug hunting its next meal. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who both put much stock in Trelawney, gazed with rapt attention at the professor as she moved about the classroom. "You will divide into pairs and I will supply you with a tarot deck. I want you to follow the instructions in you books for the "Three Month Spread" and read each other's fortunes. Be sure to copy everything down and turn it in at the end of the class." With this said, she began to pass around tarot decks to the students (who had already divided into pairs by habit) while they took their copies of Ancient Arts of Divination by Apollo Delphi from their book bags.

"How much do you want to bet that I get something like the Grim?" Harry asked snidely as he opened his book to the first page, entitled How to Arrange a Tarot Deck to Tell Fortunes.

"More gold than I've got at the moment," Ron replied with a derisive snicker. The two boys sobered up as Trelawney gave them a tarot deck, but Harry couldn't help but scowl at the mournful look the woman gave him as she passed by.

"If she wore enough green, she'd look like one of those Irish whatsits Hagrid taught us about this morning," Ron whispered, causing his friend to clap both hands over his mouth to contain his laughter.

"Please get to work," came Trelawney's voice, slightly muffled by the thick cloud of incense and perfume permeating the classroom. Casting amused glances between themselves, Harry glanced down at his book and read the short description on how to arrange a "Three Month Spread" tarot reading.

9
78
456
23
1

Shuffle and cut as you want. When ready to layout the spread, lay One as the first card placed and end with Nine as the last placed.

Position 1: Past

Positions 2 and 3: Current, the Present.

Positions 4, 5, and 6: Up to One Month from the date of the reading. Should apply between weeks 1 through 4.

Positions 7 and 8: Up to Two Months from the date of the reading.
Should apply between weeks 5 through 8.

Position 9: Up to Three Months Out. Should apply between weeks 9 through 12.

"I'll be damned if this makes any sense," Harry muttered darkly, shuffled the deck anyway and placed the cards the way the book directed. Flipping a few pages further, Ron came upon the meanings of the various cards and flipped over Harry's first card.

"Okay, so this describes your past…let's see, you've got the Emperor," he said slowly, running a finger down the page to find the meaning. "All right, here it is…the Emperor is a card filled with enthusiasm, energy, and aggression. In the best of circumstances, he signifies the leader that everyone wants to follow. Er…I guess that's they way you were in your past?" Harry met Ron's questioning gaze with an equally confused one of his own. Ron shrugged and told Harry to flip over the next two cards, which Harry did.

"All right, these are the present. You've got the Hierophant in Number Two…according to this you're good at solving problems, but you can be stubborn…I guess that describes you…and your second one in Number Three is the Chariot, which means – " here he paused to turn the page and find the information for Chariot – "that you're in the middle of a struggle…obviously…"

It was rather difficult to concentrate on the hazy meanings the cards supposedly held what with the heat and bloody incense wafting around. Harry only registered a few of his other cards from the reading ("You've got the High Priestess in your Number Five slot…that means you'll learn something strange…and the World is your last card, meaning that a difficult struggle will come to an end…good, maybe You-Know-Who will blow himself up or whatnot…") before sinking into a stupor.

Professor Trelawney seemed displeased that Harry hadn't drawn anything to do with death or suffering, but seemed to make up for it by assigning them extra homework and loaning them a tarot deck to complete Ron's tarot reading (as they hadn't gotten around to it during class). "I'll see you again on Wednesday, my dears…" her dreamy voice floated after them as the bell rang and the Gryffindors gratefully descended the silvery ladder to dinner.

"Barmy, that one," Ron said as he and Harry eagerly made their way to the Great Hall. "I'll tell you what; how about we make up my tarot reading tonight instead of actually doing it, eh mate?"

"Sounds good," Harry said, barely stifling a yawn. She really needed to ditch that incense and allow good, clean air into the classroom every once in a while.

They found Hermione already seated on a bench in the Great Hall, nose buried in a book and a piece of parchment covered in numbers sitting on the table next to her untouched plate. Curious, Harry sat down next to her and attempted to get a closer look at what she had written down, but Hermione made a noise of irritation and moved it away from him. Shrugging, Harry plopped his book bag on the floor in front of him and tucked in to a thick slice of steak. Apparently she didn't want to be bothered at the moment.

Ron, however, didn't notice this or blatantly ignored it as he sat down and snatched the parchment away from Hermione. "What's all this about?" he asked, pointedly avoiding the dark scowl Hermione threw at him for stealing her work.

She nimbly snatched it out of his grasp and tucked it between the pages of the book she had been reading earlier. "None of your business," she replied more acerbically than usual. Ron's eyebrows practically shot into his hairline at this rather cold remark.

"You're certainly in a right state tonight," he said, piling some carrots onto his plate and taking a bite. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing!" Hermione insisted, but then sighed and laid her chin on her hands. "Oh, all right, there is something wrong." She paused here, donning a very thoughtful expression on her face.

"Well, are you going to tell us or stare at your pumpkin juice all night?" Ron prodded when she didn't say anything else, earning another glare from their bookworm-ish friend.

"Professor Vector taught us how to write equations to predict the future by assigning certain people and events as values," she explained. Ron, who clearly didn't understand, opened his mouth to say so, but Hermione rode right over his inquiry. "Well, as I was doing mine, something…weird…came up."

Harry, his curiosity now thoroughly piqued, forgot all about his half-eaten steak and leaned in closer to Hermione. "What was it? What was this weird thing that came up in your equation?" he asked.

Hermione made a frustrated sound in her throat and frowned darkly. "That's just it; I don't know what it is! I plugged you two, and myself of course, into the equations…and all the teachers; Professor Vector said that's crucial if you want an accurate prediction on how school might turn out…and then, the weird thing came up!" Her frown deepened as she stared at the flagon of pumpkin juice. "I asked Professor Vector about it, and she seemed really alarmed after she looked over my work. She didn't say anything outright, but I got the feeling that something…well, bad is going to happen this year."

This dire announcement was met with silence for a few moments before Ron interrupted it with a snorting chuckle. Startled, Hermione gazed at him and asked him what he thought was so funny about her equation's prediction. "Well it's obvious, isn't it?" the redhead asked through a mouthful of baked potato (Hermione's nose wrinkled in disgust at this lack of proper manners).

"What is obvious, Ronald?" she asked, perplexed at his behaviour.

When he had swallowed, Ron said, "It's obvious that something bad is going to happen, because something bad always happens when Harry's here and You-Know-Who is still out there!" Harry thought his friend had made a fairly good point, but he didn't venture to voice his opinion as he noticed that Hermione had gone from frustrated to absolutely livid.

"Don't you ever look at things beyond what's obvious?" she exclaimed, snatching her book bag from its place on the floor and storming out of the Great Hall, leaving her dinner not even half-eaten.

Harry and Ron exchanged shocked looks, and some students from Hufflepuff even glanced accusingly in their direction. Ears turning slightly red, Ron gazed uncomfortably at his carrots and steak, pushing the vegetables around with his fork. "Was it something I said?"

Harry, who believed that he would never quite understand girls, just shrugged.

It was now or never, he decided as Hermione left the Hall in a slight rage. Making sure that the students in the Great Hall were focused on either their dinners or her egress, the man surreptitiously slipped his wand from his teacher's robes and held it in his lap. "Voco geminus," he whispered, barely moving his lips at all. A strange feeling came over him, as if he were being split in two, and yet still completely whole.

"Are you all right, Theodore?" a concerned voice asked to his right. Watery blue eyes snapped open and glanced at Pomona Sprout, who was gazing at him with a worried gleam in her eyes.

He managed to plaster a cheerful smile on his face and slip the wand back into his robe without her noticing. "Of course," he replied, showing his teeth in what he hoped was a reassuring grin instead of a grimace of irritation. She seemed to buy into it, however, and with a silent sigh of relief, Theodore Gershwin turned back to picking at his meal.

It was only a matter of time, now.

No matter how many times he rubbed his temples, the blasted headache refused to go away. He thought about taking a potion for it, but quickly decided against it. He had been taking far too many as of late, and getting addicted to those was not a pleasant experience. Maybe a shot of Firewhiskey…no, that would only make it worse.

Sighing, Severus Snape leaned back in his chair, shoving the box of student-made potions away from him and closing his eyes in exasperation. Bloody first years. Whoever had decided that eleven years old was the minimum age requirement for acceptance to Hogwarts ought to be hexed into Kingdom Come. Hardly any of them understood what they were doing, and fewer still actually appreciated the precise, subtle art that was potion making…

Deciding that grading the first years' potions could wait until the morning, Severus stood up, stretching the kinks out of his back and gathering all the flasks into a large box, where he deposited them in his office. Locking the door with an especially strong charm (too many students had snuck into his office in the past years, although he failed to see why), he wrapped his cloak around himself more tightly and headed for his chambers.

Although it was approaching autumn, the castle was still drafty and the dungeons were rather chill at night. When he finally came to his chamber door, he noticed right away that someone had dissolved his wards. Frowning, Severus removed his wand from the inside of his cloak and held it to the ready, slowly pushing open the door and peering inside around the edge of it.

It was just as it should have been: dark. "Lumos," he whispered, and a brilliant light appeared at the tip of his wand. What the light illuminated was exactly as he had left it earlier that morning; nothing was out of place at all. Frowning even deeper, Severus slowly entered his chamber, wary for any sign of movement. It took a strong witch or wizard to break through his wards; that, or powerful Dark magic.

The Potions Master made a slow circuit about the living room, checking every nook and cranny big enough to hide an adult wizard in (there was no way a student had gotten in here this time). Satisfied that there was no one hiding in there, although uneasy at not being attacked by the trespasser, Severus moved to illuminate the bedroom next.

As the second biggest room in his apartment, and containing both a bed and wardrobe – ideal hiding spots if there ever were any –, the dark-haired man was extra cautious as he stepped inside. The blankets were made, courtesy of the house elves, and a quick search of the wardrobe revealed that his many black robes, coats and trousers had not been wrinkled or scrunched by someone hiding in the wardrobe.

Thoroughly unsettled, Severus turned his wand in the direction of the bathroom, the last place anyone hiding in his apartment could possibly conceal themselves. Of course, the perpetrator could very likely be gone already, but that thought never crossed his mind as he crept slowly to the bathroom. Taking a deep breath and feeling utterly foolish, Severus leapt into the bathroom with a shout, flinging aside the shower curtain and stuffing his wand underneath the sink to check for trespassers hiding underneath. Nothing but the loo greeted his unceremonious entrance.

Squatting motionless on the bathroom floor, the Hogwarts Potion Master rubbed his temples in supreme irritation. All of that sneaking around – and in his own chambers! – had revealed nothing. Not a single, solitary, bloody thing. Growling angrily to himself, he decided that there was nothing for it but to retire early and get a decent night's sleep.

As he rose from the ground, his frustrated growling died in his throat and his face drained of the little colour it had.

There in the mirror stood a figure shrouded in shadow, holding a wand that pointed squarely at the small of his back.

"Gershwin?"

A/N: Sorry this was such a long chapter, but plot development had to happen at some point…Next chapter, the action begins! Dun dun dun!

I'd also like to thank Harry Potter Lexicon for most of the information used in this chapter; it's a great web site full of all stuff Harry Potter. Check it out some time if you like.

Thanks once again for those who reviewed! Please take the time to review once more!

Cheers,

Ballad