DIVINATION
Albus battled his way through the hoards of multi-coloured muggles as they rambled haphazardly about the field. He had been assured that there was no way on earth to blend in with the muggles at this particular event and that he would probably look less awkward if he didn't even try. He had trusted the advice and it seemed to be sound. The few muggles who had actually given his robes a second glance had either made some quip about "Gandalf the Pink", whatever that might mean or snickered about Gay Dungeons and Dragons, which was equally confusing, so he just smiled inanely and wondered on.
Glastonbury wasn't at Glastonbury, well not the important bit, which Albus found slightly disappointing. It was a few hundred yards off from the nearest ley line and although he could feel the power of the ancient site nearby, it was frustrating not to be able to be immersed in it when it was obviously close by. He would have to make a pilgrimage there sometime, the last time had been just after he defeated Grindlewald and he hadn't really been in a fit mental state to appreciate it, he had just accepted the restorative effect and meandered off to deal with his grief and depression. Such a long time ago.
The Healing Field was mostly muggle magic, a bizarre twisted hotch potch of rubbish that was borne out of a long line of leaked secrets that had been mutated over the years into a strange kind of disorganised cult. It seemed to be more about clothing and unqualified bragging and blagging than anything else. There were solitary witches who couldn't tell a talisman from an amulet, let alone charm one. Male witches, how odd, perhaps they didn't realise that the word meant wise woman. All dressed in full body masks to hide their dislike of their humdrum selves. A lot of it was Gardner's fault of course. He remembered the bet that had led to this sorry collection of misinformed muggle misfits. It was Dorothy Clutterbuck's fault. She got all excited when the laws against Witchcraft were repealed in 1954 and had high ideals about the reintegration of the two societies. Gardner had thought it was hysterical. He had a healthy distrust of muggles and the violent bigotry they fostered against magical people. Albus had long given up trying to calm his rant when he had begun bawling at poor trusting Dorothy. What was it he had said, ah yes, "it only took them till the bloody nineteen fifties to kick those laws out and even then it's only because they don't believe anymore. The morons couldn't even be trusted with the IDEA of magic, let alone an interaction with it." Dorothy was scandalised at her protégé's words, unfortunately the words "I bet they can" came somewhere in her reaction and that was that. Gardner went off and gave the muggles the "idea" of magic and sat back wriggling in hysterics as the kohl-encrusted idiots lapped up his Masonic fluff and went off spouting their new gospel as if it rode in on a Hippogryff. The decades of pseudo-satanists (a galling error not born of his bastardised pedagogy), gothic misfits and generally fluffy wanna-blessed-bes won him his bet – muggles could not be trusted with even the most blatantly fabricated idea of magic without acting entirely on the dark side. The whole debacle was still in effect and was still used at the Wizengamot as an argument against exposure. Even Albus Dumbledore had to admit that exposure of their world would be a terrible mistake. He only had to look around at the self-centred ego-maniacs playing out Gardner's ruse or the many branches of lunacy that had sprung from it to understand that. These people would be too threatened by anything that worked or made sense to cope with it, there would be another war, caused simply because Graham-Willow or Jody-Willow or Louise-Morgana or John-Merlin would want to kill the real witch just so that their pretence wasn't discovered. It was saddening. If only they could face themselves without the make-up.
In between a Reiki tent (which was apparently Usui, Albus was sure that the Usui line claimed was a false one) and candle craft stall sat the small battered pink and orange Tarot tent. There was a small queue but no-one noticed as he went to the "exit" flap to wait for the current fortune-hunter to leave before slipping inside.
"The Hanged Man brings great changes for you. There are perilous times ahead for you. I have no doubt that you will survive that which is coming, but you will not be left unchanged. You must look at your life from a different perspective if you are to see the way ahead. You cannot go on as you have been doing. I wish you much luck, dear boy, you will need it."
"T-thank you Madam Sibyl."
"Not at all, not at all."
"Good afternoon Sibyl. I hope I am not intruding."
"Professor Dumbledore. Have you come to have your fortune told?"
Dumbledore perched himself on the edge of the pile of outsized beanbags. Reaching across the still strewn arcane, he clasped the lady's hands in his and smiled warmly at her.
"No Sibyl. I have come to take you home. Unless you would prefer to stay here?"
"Home? Headmaster, I have no home. Unless you count my camper van, but as the tax office doesn't count it, I don't suppose it is one."
"Hogwarts Sibyl. I meant Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts is gone Albus. Like a phoenix burnt to ashes."
"How right you are my dear and what, pray tell, do phoenixes have a rather amazing knack for?"
"Phoenixes? Reincarnation of course. Why do you ... oh!"
"We need you Sibyl. I need you."
"Firenze..."
"Firenze will be teaching Ancient Runes and we will be having one other Professor, if she will accept the position. Each of you specialises in a different type of divination and I believe that the students will benefit from both perspectives. There are going to be a lot more students this year Sibyl and we need to organise the subject properly. There is a young lady who has pursued the Shamanic tradition, she has rather good organisational skills and I will be offering her the position of Head of Divination. I am offering you your old position back; the only difference would be that you would have to co-operate with the other Professor about the syllabus."
"Head? So it will be a proper department, not simply a class? And I wouldn't have sole responsibility? Well, I saw a change on the horizon but I thought that I was to be reacquainted with an old friend – perhaps it was this that I saw."
"Am I not an old friend Sibyl?"
She smiled, bug eyes goggling merrily through her milk-bottle glasses.
"That you are Headmaster. Well, I suppose I cannot argue with the fates. When do you need me?"
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Albus shrugged off his robes and rolled his long johns up above his knees. Turning up to meet a former student in his vest and pants hadn't been exactly in his plans for the day, but then he hadn't realised exactly how hot the Oaxacan mountains were. He hoped that the Mazatec people would not be offended by his appearance, he didn't speak the Zapotecan tongue and would have trouble explaining that he hadn't meant to insult this or that God, he was just too damn hot.
The fumes of burnt plants and the sound of chanting reached him before he could sight the village. It appeared that they were in the middle of a ritual of some kind. The Shaman, singular, hmm there appeared to be several Shaman here, but one was passing what appeared to be a kind of peace pipe. He could almost place the smell, sage perhaps, sage – salvia, ah, salvia divinorum, the shamanic vision quest drug. The last of the participants inhaled the burning herb and collapsed backwards onto the matting.
It was an interesting ritual to watch. Each of the participants were lost in their vision, no comprehension of the "real" world. Some were screaming, he assumed that those would not have passed whatever test was occurring. For it was a test, there were too many spectators for it not to be. Four shaman, four non-shaman, they must be initiates. Only one will pass on from being an initiate at this stage then.
The Shaman began to come round, it was a short lived drug and lasted only a few minutes in its inhaled state. It was far more usual for the Shaman to chew the leaves for a longer experience. Was it just chewing or were you supposed to keep the ball of leaves under your tongue for a while too, well, no matter, the initiates had failed the short version, so their performance under the longer influence would probably go no better for the moment. The young men and women had stopped screaming and were sitting shaking and clutching their knees. Observers were coming over to talk to them, their Shamanic tutors did not look best pleased and left their wards to their fate.
"Miss Lovegood, could I have a word?"
"Professor Dumbledore? Goodness me. I thought perhaps that it would be my father begging me to come and work on his paper and I considered that some old school friend might have wanted some help with a business, but I never thought that career change would lead me back to Hogwarts."
"Ah, you had some warning then?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes - Lizards. Something about working the path back home. I took home to mean England, but I guess it was being more specific than I gave it credit for. So what's the big secret then?"
"Miss Lovegood, you seem to have me at a disadvantage. I'm not sure what you mean."
"Poppycock. Sorry Professor, but well really, I'm not fourteen anymore. Which you are quite aware of; you wouldn't be here if you weren't. Divination – yes? And you wouldn't refuse Sibyl and she wouldn't refuse you and when Firenze gave up his herd for the job, you kept him on anyway. There's no other job that I am qualified for, which means that you are taking on three Professors for a subject that you don't have a lot of faith in. Did Hogwarts get bigger on the rebuild?"
Luna had led her former Headmaster to a small hut and indicated that he should sit on the small cushioned area in the corner. She spooned some broth into bowls and handed him one, elegantly descending to a seated cross legged position in one fluid move.
"Firenze will be teaching Ancient Runes and Yes, Hogwarts did get bigger."
"Will you be wearing robes or is this some kind of statement?"
Chuckling, Albus held up his balled up robes, "Merely a statement about the heat."
"I hope you used an anti-bug charm then, most foreigners travel around dressed like beekeepers. There's a good reason for it though. "
"I did indeed take the necessary precautions. I once came here for some training myself. It wasn't Shamanic and it was a very long time ago, but I do remember South American insects very clearly indeed. There was one night when Salvador slept drunk in an old building and the bugs in the walls gave him Chagas' disease, he looked like someone had decorated him with grapes, but perhaps now is not the time. Do I take it that you have no objections to leaving your life here then?"
"I could do with a new challenge. My last initiate just passed his final test, so I have no commitments. I am afraid that I would have to make a few stipulations though."
"Oh?"
"I cannot, in any good faith, follow Sibyl Trelawny's lesson plans. Her concept of teaching, well, I would have to insist that I be allowed to develop my own syllabus."
"Luna, I came to offer you the position of Department Head. You would be responsible for the syllabus, although I would appreciate it if you could involve Sibyl in the machinations of setting it."
"Head of..? Oh my. Well, alright then. When do we go. I packed this morning, so just say when."