Chapter 18. Divination and Duels

Charles Nott was stressed.

"It shouldn't be too difficult to track down the identity of his parents," he'd said. "The gift of Sight is often hereditary," he'd said.

What he wouldn't give to go back and slap himself. Or Riddle. Mm, yes, definitely Riddle. Charles allowed himself the pleasure of imagining the sharp Crack! for a moment before reality settled in and he glared down at the pile of papers in front of him.

It had been weeks since he'd started his research and yet he was still no closer to finding out who on earth this Harry "Evans" was. According to his research, a grand total of zero famous Seers, historic or otherwise, had ever demonstrated the ability to see both the future and the past. In fact, several of the texts Charles had read postulated that such a thing was actually impossible. Additionally, none of the fourteen verified British Seer lines he'd painstakingly tracked down could be even somewhat linked to the obnoxious Gryffindor. Half of the lines had either died out or had Divine powers completely unrelated to Evans'. It was infuriating.

And stressful. With each day that passed, Charles grew more and more paranoid that this would be the day that Tom's uncharacteristic patience would run out. If it even was patience. Tom was so distracted lately, to the point where Charles barely saw him outside of classes. Was there a chance, however slight, that Tom had... forgotten about his research?

He doubted it. Perhaps it was a test... Charles picked up Orion's rare copy of "The Origin of Seers" and sighed. He would give it a couple more days. A couple more days and then he'd tell Tom.

Tom's wand peaked out from beneath his sleeve as he covertly yet deliberately aimed it at Harry's moving back. A flash of dark blue and then—

"—curiosity and all but who cares about that," Tom heard Harry say to the blonde girl next to him. Smug satisfaction surged in his chest. The eavesdropping charm worked. "Not to mention it's none of their business."

"Honestly! People are so nosy!"

"I know!" Harry exclaimed and Tom couldn't help smirking at the irony. He'd been trailing them at a distance since breakfast, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Speaking of nosyyy," he heard the blonde croon, "You never did say who the lucky girl was."

Tom's amusement swiftly died along with his smile.

"Augusta..." Harry's voice complained. "Drop it."

Tom watched as the two turned the corner; it was surprisingly difficult to maintain his relaxed pace but he managed. It wouldn't do to draw their attention now.

"C'mon," Fawley nagged, "I won't tell Minnie if that's what you're worried about."

"Wait what? What does Minnie have to do with anything?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," the girl said too quickly, and wasn't that interesting?

There was a doubtful silence as Tom turned the corner too before Harry spoke. "...If you say so."

A beat. "So? The girl?"

Tom's eyes narrowed.

"Who said there was a girl?"

"What? But you said—"

"I didn't say anything. You lot assumed."

"...But you did meet someone?"

"Mhmm."

"Oh!" Fawley's voice quieted. "Ohhh..."

"What'd you mean 'ohhh...'?"

"Never mind. We're almost there anyways."

Tom frowned when Harry let it be and the conversation shifted away from... whatever that had been. A moment later, he heard them enter the Defense classroom and reluctantly canceled the eavesdropping charm. He would have to commit the intriguing conversation to memory and ponder on the meaning later.

"So that's what it takes then, hm?"

Harry looked over to see Professor Merrythought standing outside the door leading to her office. She looked rather annoyed. Considering how quiet the classroom had been before she'd come in, Harry found her annoyance a little odd.

"All it takes," she said, "is a mass-murdering Dark Lord for you lot to be quiet in my classroom." A couple of people let out some faint twitters of amusement, but not many. The Professor didn't seem to hear them. "Good. That means you lot are taking this seriously, as you very well should." Merrythought's face had grown stern. "It's all too easy to grow complacent."

With that, she stalked forward to the front of the room. At the same time, she asked, "Can anybody name the general classification of the three curses most heavily punished by Wizarding law?"

Several people including Evelyn King, a Gryffindor girl Harry didn't really know too well, raised their hands.

"Ms. King?"

"Unforgivable," she said nervously, "They're the Unforgivable curses."

"Quite right." Professor Merrythought flicked her wand and the words began to blossom on the chalkboard behind her. "Now, can anybody name these Unforgivable curses?"

Far fewer people raised their hands this time.

"Mr. Riddle?"

Of course, Harry thought darkly.

Tom's voice was clear. "The Unforgivable curses include the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse."

Professor Merrythought nodded somberly. "That is correct. Imperio, Crucio, and Avada Kedavra. Total control, torture, and death." She paused; the room was silent. "These three curses are the most powerful and sinister dark curses in existence. A lifetime in Azkaban awaits any who use them on a fellow human being... That being said, it is my job to prepare you and to give you the tools you need to defend yourselves. Now," her voice suddenly lightened, "Can anybody tell me: how do we defend against these curses?" More hands went up. "Mr. Prewett."

"You can't!" Ignatius said confidently, "There's no defense for the Unforgivables."

"Ah, not quite, Mr. Prewett," she grinned, eyes sparkling. "There is no magical defense for the Unforgivables. Now, does everyone have their wands?"

There was a general mumble of assent.

"Good! Put them away. C'mon, in your bags now."

After a hesitant pause, there was a general flurrying of movement as people stowed their wands in their bags. Not a moment after the last person finished, all the bags floated up and over to Professor Merrythought. "Now up!" she shouted, waving everybody up from their seats. Harry was not surprised, "Up, up, up!"

No sooner had everybody stood when the floor beneath them began to rumble and the desks vanished. In an instant, dozens of pillars of rock violently sliced into the air, expertly avoiding the students and forming a kind of maze.

At the same time, dozens of house elves popped into existence, ominously holding small, brightly colored balls—Harry was immediately terribly reminded of water balloons.

"What do you do when faced with the unblockable?" Professor Merrythought crowed, "You dodge!"

Colored balls began to fly.

"If I have to hear 'Use your surroundings!' one more time..." Al seethed, glaring across the room at Professor Merrythought. Harry privately thought he would've looked a lot more intimidating without neon pink paint dripping down his forehead.

"I'm covered!" Augusta cried, running her hands through her hair and letting out a horrified "Urgh!" as her palms came back green. Harry counted six different colored paints on her. To be fair, almost everyone had at least five.

"At least you didn't get it in your mouth," Minnie literally spat, half her face covered with electric red paint.

"That looks awful," Harry said sympathetically. All three of them glared at him in answer.

"Oh shut up Harry," Augusta said, but he could tell she wasn't really angry.

"Oh-ho-ho, Mr. Evans!" Harry turned around to see Professor Merrythought. She looked thrilled. "Spin for me!"

He did, feeling rather stupid.

"Not a single drop of paint!" she exclaimed. "Amazing!" She turned and hollered, "You've been beaten, Mr. Riddle!" before turning to Augusta with an "Oh dear."

Tom appeared from behind a rock pillar, a surprised look on his face. It disappeared as his eyes met Harry's. As he walked over, Harry scanned him for any paint; he couldn't find any on his front.

"Nicely done Harry."

"Thanks. Where'd they get you then?" Harry asked.

"My back," Tom said, turning around. He had a single bright orange spot at the base of his spine.

"A shame," Harry said happily.

Turning around, Tom shot him a look. "I'd still beat you in a duel, Evans."

"Sure, Riddle."

"Want to test that?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry laughed.

"I'm serious."

Harry's eyebrows shot up, "You're serious?"

"Deadly," Tom grinned, shark-like. When Harry hesitated, he added, "I know a place."

"Yeah?" In answer, Tom's eyebrows quirked playfully. "Okay then," Harry said nonchalantly even as his blood sang with the idea, "Let's duel."

Before Tom could respond, Merrythought's voice yelled out, "Everybody freeze!" and the ground once again began to shake as the rock pillars began to sink into the floor and the room reverted back to its normal classroom setting. As she conjured up desks and everyone's bags floated back to them, she explained how to get rid of the paint.

"—But!" she hollered, stopping everyone in their tracks, "Before everyone gets distracted, next class we will be discussing the only Unforgivable that can be fought after you've been hit: The Imperius Curse. I suggest reading up on it as I will be casting the curse on every one of you!"

Harry glanced over and Tom looked just as shocked as he felt. The room broke out in panicked whispers—the word illegal seemed to bounce around the room—and she had to shout to be heard over it all.

"QUIET!"

Everyone hushed.

"This should go without saying," she started irritably, "but for the people concerned about 'legality,' let it be known that I have a special educational allowance from both Headmaster Dippet and the Ministry. It is my job to prepare you and that is a job I do not take lightly. Any questions?" She glared out at the room. "No? Good. If you think of any or if anyone has any concerns, that's what my office hours are for. Now, stop complaining, clean yourselves up, and get out of my classroom!"

They did not have to be told twice.

Unsurprisingly, speculation surrounding the next Defense class and the Imperius Curse managed to last all the way through Herbology and into lunch. As unsupported theories on the best way to resist the Unforgivable flew about the sandwiches and soups, Harry found himself longing for a trip to the library to look it up, a fact he expressed to Minnie.

"You just don't want to go to Divination," she said slyly.

"Wh—That's not it at all!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm curious."

"And you hate Divination."

He really did. He tried not to dwell on it as he and Al lugged themselves up the spiraling staircase. Honestly, putting Divination after lunch should be criminal.

"I wonder—what—she'll make—us do," Al panted as they climbed, still theorizing about Defense.

"Nothing—too bad," Harry replied, "Probably." Who knew with Professor Merrythought.

Just then, the sound of chattering echoed down the stairs and soon after, Harry and Al had to squeeze by a swarm of third-years until they arrived at the little landing before the trapdoor and ladder. As Harry saw who was waiting at the bottom of it, his mood darkened.

"Trelawney," he said shortly.

"Evans," she sniffed. Her eyes narrowed behind her ridiculous glasses.

"What'd you want, then?"

"You skipped our last private lesson."

"So?" he shot back, "Not like they're mandatory, are they?"

"'So?'" Trelawney exclaimed, appalled, "So you're an absolute disgrace to Seers everywhere!"

"Oi!" Al started angrily. "Watch it!"

"How could you just skip—?!"

Harry's temper flared. "It was one lesson!"

Just then a head popped out of the trapdoor on the ceiling. "What on earth is going on out he—oh." Upside down as she was, Professor Lyptus's necklaces dangled in her face and her hair hung toward the ground. As the three of them looked up at her, speechless, her reading spectacles threatened to fall onto the stone floor below her. After a pause, she spoke. "Don't you have a class to get to Sybil?"

"...Yes," Trelawney ground out.

"Off you pop then."

Harry watched, pleased, as the first-year glared at him and began down the stairs.

"You two." He looked back up. "In ya get."

Her head disappeared. Al glanced over at him questioningly and Harry shrugged before he resigned himself to his fate and began to climb. When he emerged into the classroom, Professor Lyptus was patting her hair in a mirror. A second later, Harry scooted to the side to let Al in.

"Why you two insist on coming early..." Professor Lyptus sighed.

"That's Al, not me," Harry said quickly, and Al shot him a disgruntled look.

Lyptus's eyes sparkled with humor as she turned to face them properly. "Don't worry, Mr. Longbottom, it's quite alright. I applaud your enthusiasm."

"Thank you, ma'am," Al said, mollified.

"Of course. Now," Professor Lyptus looked meaningfully at Harry, "Would you mind terribly if I took this time to talk with Mr. Evans here?"

Harry's feet shifted beneath him.

"Not at all Professor," Al said.

"Lovely!" Lyptus waited until Al had found his way to his seat before she spoke. "Now, Harry. About last Friday..."

Harry resisted the urge to sigh.

"—lectured me on the importance of guidance, as if she has any idea how to guide my powers—Expelliarmus!"

Green light flashed, briefly illuminating the tall walls around them. The secret passageway behind the big mirror on the fourth floor was a lot less caved in in 1941. In fact, it was pretty roomy.

"And then," Harry ranted, dodging answering red spellfire, "she made me read tea leaves all class—Flipendo! Tea leaves!"

"How droll," Tom drawled lazily from across the room. "Incarcerous."

"Protego." Harry blocked it easily. "I know! I hate tea leaves and their stupid symbols! They don't make any sense. Stupefy."

The red light fizzled out on Tom's non-verbally cast shield. "Of course they don't, it's not like you can actually read tea leaves—Silencio!"

Harry dived out of the way, the spell missing him by a hair. As he rolled back onto his feet, he asked, "What do you mean you can't actually read tea leaves?"

"Glacius. Well, you can with the right tea leaves I suppose—Ventus." The combination of the icy floor and the gust of wind from Tom's wand almost knocked Harry onto his ass, but he caught himself at the last moment. "But that would be ridiculously expensive, far beyond Hogwarts' Divination budget."

"Then what's the point?" Harry asked as Tom graciously waited for him to melt the ice around him.

"It's supposed to clear the mind, Harry," he said as if it were painfully obvious. "Make one more open to the influence of the Divine." Tom twirled his wand in his hand and smirked. "You're taking private, advanced Divination lessons. You're a Seer. How do you not know this?"

Harry scoffed as his cheeks began to warm. "Sod off, Riddle. Expelliarmus!"

"Boring," Tom sang, side-stepping the spell with ease. "Your spell repertoire is pathetic Evans. You're going to be slaughtered in the Dueling Tournament."

"Shut up. It's not like I've been concentrating particularly hard," he scowled.

"Let's remedy that, hm?"

Harry barely had time to blink before Tom began to pelt him with spell after spell. Somehow, instinctively, he managed to cast a shield—Tom's eyes widened with delight at that—but Harry was still forced to back away under the barrage until his back was against the wall.

"The fuck Tom!?" he yelled, straining as he poured his magic into the shield.

The teen paused to grin viciously, "C'mon Harry, where's that fighting—Oi!"

Harry dropped his shield and lunged. The sudden movement caught Tom off guard and they collided, falling together in a heap of robes and limbs. As Harry landed heavily on top of him, Tom let out a strangled gasp that morphed into a snarl as Harry attempted to pin him down.

"You dirty cheat!"

In an instant, Harry felt Tom wrap his leg around his hip and pull, flipping him over so Tom was on top, knee between his thighs. Immediately, Harry registered the shocking-cold water—the melted ice—soaking into his robes. Winded, Harry could only gasp as Tom's hands came up to grip his forearms, and thank god he was wearing sleeves because—

The world cracked down the middle and Tom's smug face splintered into three.

Tom smirked as he hovered over Harry on all fours, staring down at his glowing eyes, waiting for—

"You bastard!"

There he is.

"You're one to talk," Tom said dryly. "That was a dirty move you pulled there, tackling me like that."

Harry faltered, face flushed before he seemed to register their position. "Get off of me!"

Tom let go of Harry's uncovered wrists at once and sat back on his knees. Harry quickly scrambled to his feet, hair mussed, cheeks still very pink. It was a good look. Almost immediately though, he turned around to face the wall. Odd.

"What is it?" Tom asked.

"N-Nothing!" Harry's voice cracked.

"What?" Tom was legitimately confused now; he climbed to his feet. "What's the matter?"

"I said nothing, okay!"

Something in his tone, something just shy of desperate, stopped Tom from pressing. "Fine," he said, rolling his eyes, "Stare the wall for hours for all I care."

With that, Tom began to dry and smooth out his robes. He'd just finished when Harry finally spoke.

"I shouldn'tve tackled you."

Tom looked back; Harry was no longer facing the wall. "Probably not, no." He paused, calculating. "...It was fun though."

Harry's mouth opened in a perfect little 'o.'

Tom grinned. He'd calculated correctly.