-CHAPTER TWO-
'The Shards of Doom'
"Come on," insisted Hermione, as she stomped purposely down the corridor towards the library. "We've only got ten minutes before Herbology."
"I don't know what the hurry is?" Ron grumbled, as he and Harry hurried behind her. "I don't see why we have to check the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in the school year book, when we're going to be the first class she teaches tomorrow morning!"
"Didn't you see Snape's reaction when Professor Dumbledore announced who was filling the position?" Hermione questioned sternly.
"Do you think I have nothing better to do during the banquet than spy on Snape? that ugly sullen face is enough to put you off your food," puffed Ron.
"Well it never hurts to be prepared," Hermione returned cautiously. "Considering thE last two Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers we have had."
"That's true," Harry agreed with a nod. "I mean, knowing our luck she's probably be a vampire or some other creature!"
"How many years have you been trying to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job now Severus?…Twelve? And to lose out to one of your former pupils…"
"No doubt the headmaster has his reasons for giving Miss Raven the position…" retaliated Snape sourly.
"You don't sound too happy about the appointment Severus…and there was I under the misconception that you would have been overjoyed to be reunited with your little prodigy ha ha…"
"Hey!" cried Ron, as the person mocking Professor Snape knocked him clean off his feet as they swept out of the library.
"Get out of my way idiot."
Ron looked up from the floor to see Lucius Malfoy standing over him, his face twisted with vile disgust as if he had just trodden in something unpleasant.
"A Weasley…I might have known," Mr Malfoy sneered in a condescending tone, flicking his long white blond hair out of cold, grey eyes that glared at Ron full of disdain.
"You really should look where you are going Weasley," Mr Malfoy snarled as he slipped a scrap of folded paper into a pocket under his long grey travelling cloak. "Or is your father currently working double shifts at the Ministry in order to procure you the glasses that you are so obviously in need of?" He looked down his long, thin nose at Ron who still lay sprawled upon the floor. "Tut tut...of course he is, or you'd still would be forced to dress in that awfully faded and shabby second-hand robe…surely your parents don't expect you to make it last the whole seven years?"
Ron flushed a darker shade then his red hair but managed to fight the urge to snap back with something equally as nasty. Instead he bit down hard upon his bottom lip and let all the possible nasty insults buzz wildly around his head, like a hundred tiny Golden Snitches.
"But manners cost nothing" Hermione muttered under her breath close to Ron's ear as she leant forward and placed a reassuring hand upon his shoulder.
"Maybe Potter here could lend you his glasses?" Mr Malfoy continued reaching towards Harry with the silver snake-head handle of his cane. Harry stepped back out of the way, much to Mr Malfoy's great amusement. "I mean anyone that can enter the Chamber of Secrets and live to tell the tale surely shouldn't be hindered by something as trivial as poor eyesight," he gave Harry a most unfriendly sneer. "Or perhaps your Potions Master could brew you an Optical tonic if he isn't too busy sulking…I really don't know what this school is coming to, allowing a mere slip of a girl to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. Anyway Weasley, you have wasted enough of my time, I will have to have a word with the Headmaster regarding the enforcement of a proper dress code…" Mr Malfoy laughed dryly to himself as he swept his cloak over his shoulder and stormed down the corridor.
"Arrogant, rich git...I'd really like to see hi-ouch!" Ron groaned with sudden pain grasping at his ankle as Hermione tried to help him to his feet. "I think I've twisted it."
"What was Lucius Malfoy doing at Hogwarts? And why doesn't he approve of our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Harry asked curiously as he helped Hermione guide the limping Ron to the nearest chair. Thankfully there was no sign of Professor Snape, Harry hoped that after his humiliating altercation with Lucius Malfoy, Snape had sought a swift retreat by the far door.
"I bet that chauvinist pig doesn't think a witch is up to teaching the subject," Hermione retorted scornfully. "Anyway I thought he was asked to leave the board of school governors after that happen last year?"
"Yeah but when has that ever stopped Malfoy interfering in the affairs of the school," Ron grumbled still nursing his ankle. Hermione frowned there was a strange smell of damp and the library which was usually kept in such good order by the librarian, Madam Pince was oddly in disarray with several shelves empty of books and the Restricted Section was draped in white dust sheets. Hermione wondered as she crept over to make a quick search of the shelf where the school yearbooks were kept if Hogwarts had suffered from the terrible thunder storms in the last week of the summer holiday. The year that she was searching for was somewhere on the second to bottom shelf, Hermione crouched down to get a better look.
"The library isn't open to students until 9 o'clock," Madam Pince said sharply glaring over a huge pile of books on her desk. "I've enough to do with the restoration work without over zealous students."
"You heard Madam Pince."
Startled, Hermione looked up to see Professor Snape; his arms folded, scowling moodily down at her.
"It's a little early even for you Miss Granger…looking for anything in particular?" Snape asked coldly, his angry dark gaze flickered towards the shelf crammed with school yearbooks.
"Er…no…just…." stuttered Hermione struggling to think of a plausible excuse to be crouching on the floor in front of the old school year books.
"Then I suggest that you and your fellow bookworms better get going, we wouldn't want to be late to your first lesson of the term would we?"
"No, professor," Hermione replied with a weak smile. Snape watched her scurry back to the table to join Harry and Ron, then squinting, he hunkered down, his pale face curtained by his chin-length greasy black hair so that only the tip of his hooked-nose could be seen almost touching the spines of the yearbooks. Hermione grabbed Harry's schoolbag as he helped Ron limp out of the library.
"Snape's right; we are going to be late for our first lesson, the hospital wing is right on the other side of the castle."
"There's no need for the both of us to be late," said Harry. "I'll take Ron to see Madam Pomfrey while you go to Herbology and explain to Professor Sprout what's happened."
Ten minutes into the Herbology lesson, Harry found everyone gathered about a long trestle bench in greenhouse two.
"Ah Mr Potter just time, Mr Weasley isn't joining us today then?" asked Professor Sprout, a dumpy little witch who clothes always seem dusted with earth and wore a patched hat over her unruly brown hair. On the bench in front of her were three pot plants.
"No professor," Harry replied as he squeezed in next to Hermione and Neville. "Madam Pomfrey has given Ron a draft to reduce the swelling but he won't be able to walk on the ankle for a few hours."
"I see…can I entrust you to keep Mr Weasley informed about this lesson which as I was saying year three is the correct harvesting of the Aconite, Hemlock and Belladonna plants. Right can anyone tell me the properties of these plants?"
To everyone surprise Neville's hand shot into the air.
"Yes?" Professor Sprout smiled encouragingly.
"Er…Aconite, Monkshood or WolfsBane is the primary ingredient in most poisonous drafts; it is a perennial plant with blue or purple flowers shaped-like large downcast open hood…er it was thought by muggles in how ago that an infusion of Aconite and Belladonna gave witches the gift of flight," Neville offered optimistically hoping that he had got the right plant.
"Excellent, Mr Longbottom five points to Gryffindor." Professor Sprout beamed at Neville who was too relieved to blush.
"Anyone else?"
"Hemlock or conium maculatum is also a poisonous plant, unpleasant smelling with dark green leaves and small white flowers. If digested it affects the nervous system inducing trembling, loss of co-ordination and respiration paralysis," said Hermione
"Quite correct Miss Granger, another five points to Gryffindor. Which leaves atropa belladonna, this plant is a biennial with large simple leaves and purple bell-shaped flowers; it has single green berries that become apparent on maturity. Belladonna has poisonous and narcotic properties but is also can be use in medicine. This lesson we will be dealing with the Aconite plant as Professor Snape needs to replenish the school stores. Next lesson I shall show you how to prepare Hemlock for drying."
"And then the Belladonna?" asked Hermione eagerly. "Can a mixture of Belladonna and Aconite really make you fly?"
"I do intend to demonstrate the correct handling of the Belladonna plant but since the terrible blight five years ago, decent-sized plants have unfortunately become extremely rare and rather expensive, so I won't be allowing any students loose upon my precious specimens," Professor Sprout replied almost curtly. "And as for enabling you to fly, I doubt it you would be better off asking Professor Snape that more his field of expertise but I wouldn't recommend trying it…anything with Aconite as it is considered to be the most dangerous plant of Europe and it tastes pretty foul! Okay class firstly you will need to don on these protective gloves as the Aconite plant along with both Hemlock and Belladonna are the plants that people most commonly suffer an allergic reaction to. In nine out of ten cases poor person just experiences a ugly rash but Belladonna can be particular nasty especially to those inflicted with a sever allergic to the plant." Everyone quickly grabbed a pair of heavy cotton gloves from the pile in the centre of the bench and carefully pulled them up to their elbows.
"Okay everyone gloved-up?…Excellent. Now working in pairs I want you to gently ease the Aconite plant from its pot." Harry turned to Hermione who had already bagged them the largest, healthiest looking plant while Neville partnered a Hufflepuff named Justin. Harry let her shake the plant and then carefully pulled the terracotta pot away from the earthy tangle of yellow roots. "Now, taking a sharp knife, I want you to cut off several of the outer roots…and then I want you to replace the Aconite, recovering it with soil and giving a small drop of the recovery solution. Harry let Hermione select and slice off the roots, worried that he would cut off the wrong ones and end up killing the plant. The Aconite plants were nothing like the Mandrakes that they had re-potted last year that screamed and struggled while you tried to plunge them back into the new pots but still it was a little disconcerting to watch the Aconite shuddered as the root was cut from it.
"I don't believe it!" Hermione gasped, as after the Broomstick Flying lesson they had gone to search for Ron only to find him sitting at a table in the library with a large book spread out in front of him. He looked up from the pages and suddenly started to look busy with his quill and textbook.
"What have you got there?" Hermione asked curiously as she snatched up the book, her interest suddenly sparked by the way Ron had desperately tried to hide what he had been so engrossed in moments earlier.
"It's the '92 edition of the Hogwarts school year book!" she squealed, thrusting it under Harry's nose. Harry looked questionably at Ron whose ears were starting to turn pink.
"Well…you did seem eager to look at it and I had time to kill," replied Ron hoping that he sounded convincing.
"There's a page missing," Hermione frowned accusingly. "There should be photographs of the pupils to accompany their achievements and exams results."
"Don't look at me," Ron shrugged. "The page was missing when I took it off the shelf, according to Madam Pince there have been a lot of interest in that book since Professor Dumbledore returned it yesterday,"
"And I bet they were all boys in our year," grumbled Hermione .
"So what does it say?" Harry asked trying to read over Hermione shoulder. "The main part is written by Professor Dumbledore."
"Morwenna Marianne Raven. Seventh Year, Gryffindor House…" Hermione began to read from the small typed box of text that was dedicated to each student.
"Well that's a good start at least; she wasn't in Slytherin," said Harry.
"And what's wrong with Slytherin?" somebody questioned in a smooth, French accent. Startled, they all looked up from the yearbook to see Professor Planchette staring at them with a questioning frown.
"Well Mademoiselle Granger?" Planchette raised his eyebrow in a quizzical fashion and with a dramatic flurry of the wide sleeves of his dark chocolate coat he folded his arms and waited for Hermione to give him an answer.
"Er…well Professor Planchette?" Hermione stuttered, chewing her bottom lip. She was finding it unusually hard to thing straight as she looked up into those dazzlingly blue eyes and that thick, enticing accent ringing in her ears.
"Come on Hermione...don't be shy, I am interested to know what is wrong with Slytherin house," said Planchette, a sly smile flickered across his lips which almost convinced Harry that he might actually teasing them.
"Wel,l there hasn't been a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin…I mean Voldemort was in Slytherin," Hermione said curtly. Ron shuddered at the name of the Dark Lord, he was too afraid to utter his name as if that alone could do them harm but Professor Planchette just nodded in agreement.
"True…Voldemort was in Slytherin…but does that mean that you're going to tarnished everyone else with the same brush… no? Mon duer, I do hope not… My family isn't without it's skeletons in the closet. We all have something to 'hde but I'd hate to think people thought that everyone in Slytherin was in the same league as Voldemort!"
"You were in Slytherin!" Harry and Ron both gasped in astonishment.
"No, I was in Gryffindor, but my father was in Slytherin as was my best friend Professor Snape…Why Monsieur Potter, Monsieur Weasley you do seemed a little surprised," chuckled Planchette, amused as Harry and Ron exchanged glances with raised eyebrows; Planchette was best friends with Snape.
"We were in the same year Hgwart,s but I really haven't the time to spend reminiscing about the past, I have to find Working with Eastern Charms for my fifth year class, so I will bid you all adieu until tomorrow. I've got you the lesson just before lunch I believe…Do they still have that delicious steak and kidney pudding? I hope so." And with a grand sweep of his long, dark chocolate coat Professor Planchette strode off to speak with Madam Pinch.
"Blimel!y" said Ron. "Planchette's best friends with Snape."
"Well that explains why Snape was being so civil to him at the banquet last night," mused Harry. "But he just doesn't seem the sort to be friends with Snape does he? I wonder what he meant about his family having skeletons in the closet?"
"You don't think they were mixed up with Lord Voldemort?" said Hermione soundly more than slightly concerned as she watched Planchette joking with the usually prim librarian making her actually laugh out loud, a blush rising to her cheeks.
"I don't think so," Harry said thoughtfully. "He nearly choked when you suggest that anyone in Slytherin was like Voldemort."
"I guess…but can we forget the frog for a moment and get back to the yearbook? We've only five minutes before our first Divination lesson and we've got to find the classroom yet," complained Ron. Hermione gave Ron a disapproving glare before returning her attention the yearbook.
"What?" shrugged Ron to which Hermione sighed and continued to read aloud from the page.
"Among the most notable of Miss Raven's many achievements during her time at Hogwarts was being elected Head Girl in her final year. Excelling in her academic studies which was reflected in her gaining twelve O.W.Ls (all Outstanding or above) and four N.E.W.Ts (two at Double Outstanding). Miss Raven also showed a natural talent upon the Quidditch pitch which lead to her becoming a Chaser on the Gryffindor House team (during the 1989-91 seasons) and later went on to captain (first female captain of any House Team 1992) the team in her last year…wow imagine getting full marks on two exam papers," Hermione enthused excitedly.
"Bloody hell…who cares about her exam results when she is the first girl to have captained a House Quidditch team and Gryffindor to boot!" said Ron. "She must have been on the team when Charlie was captain, perhaps I should owl him a letter and found out what he remembers about her?"
"Yeah…What else does it say about her?" asked Harry.
"It's just comments from some of the teachers," Hermione explained, as she handed to booklet to Harry, she was already wondering when to ask Professor Raven if she would give her some extra tuition on Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"Hey…listen to what Professor Snape had to say…Although possessing a natural flare for the delicate science that is potion brewing Miss Raven's strong personality, relaxed attitude and other commitments were not always appropriate or appreciated…"
"That's just a polite way of the miserable old git saying he didn't like her," Ron chipped in.
"However Miss Raven's saving grace is her great enthusiasm and understanding of the subject allowed her to achieve full marks in her final exam and I would strongly adviser her to consider a career in the field of potion research, perhaps even a position at the Ministry of Magic where I believe she would be extremely successful."
"Well, he might not have liked her, but at least he was gracious enough to admit she was a talented student," said Harry as he closed the yearbook.
"Full marks on her potions paper," Hermione squealed in rapture.
"I think Hermione's in love," Ron joked, with a playful grin. Hermione ignored his taunt and started to pack up her bag.
"Okay, we better get going…anyone know where the Divination class room is?"
"I bet Snape never guessed that she would come back and steal his job eh? That must have really annoyed him," Harry said, as they all made their way to the great hall.
"There must be a shorter way," puffed Ron, as they climbed their seventh, long staircase to the top of the North Tower. They found the rest of their class standing in a huddled, staring up at a circular trapdoor in the ceiling and next to it was a small brass plaque.
"Sybill Trelawney, Divination Teacher," read Ron. "How on earth are we meant to get up there," As if in answer to his question the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended the last rung just missed Harry's feet by inches. Everyone went quiet and looked nervously upwards at the ceiling into the gapping dark hole.
"After you I think," Ron grinned, with a bow and so Harry climbed the ladder.
Harry found himself emerging into the most peculiar-looking classroom he had been in. The queer little room resembled more a strange hybrid between an old-fashioned teashop and someone's neglected attic. There were small, circular tables surrounded by chintz armchairs crammed into the centre of the room, which was lit by a dim, crimson light. The heavy velvet curtain at the windows were drawn so that the only light came of the various lamps draped in dark, red scarves and the fire which gave off a thick sickly, perfume as it heated a large copper kettle that hung from the mantelpiece. Upon the circular wall just right of a winged leather armchair that was pulled up to the hearth was a gilded mirror the frame of which was carved in the shape of two women who Harry guessed were meant to be Ancient Egyptian goddess. Shelves lined the rest of the walls, crammed with stubs of candles, many packs of tattered packs of playing card, countless Professor Trelawney then?" Hermione asked as she climbed through the trap door and joined the rest of the equally bemused class.
"Welcome," a voice suddenly drifted out of the crimson shadows; it was soft, misty with a slight hint of the theatrical. As Professor Trelawney revealed herself in the flickering glow of the firelight Harry was reminded of a tall, skinny fairground fortune-teller. She wore large glasses than magnified her eyes to several times their natural size but these were off set by her equally huge gold hooped earrings. She was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl and her wrists and fingers were bedecked with countless glittering bangles and rings.
"Sit, my pupils sit," she said, taking the armchair by the fire and waiting for her class to find a chair at the tables.
"Welcome to Divination," she continued in a misty voice. "My name is Professor Trelawney. I doubt that you will have seen me before. I find that venturing from my classroom into the noise and commotion of the main school tenders to throw a veil over my Inner Eye." This rather bizarre announcement was greeted with silence by the class, which Professor Trelawney paid no heed to and with a jangle of bangles rearranged her shawl before continuing, "So you have chosen to study Divination, alas we shall lose one of our number by the end of the lesson but it shall be for the best on all accounts. Divination is the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field…"
At these words both Harry and Ron who couldn't resist a sly smile looked across the table at Hermione who had a stunned but sceptical look upon her face.
"The Gift to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future is granted to few…so do not become dishearten if you are not counted among their number," said Professor Trelawney her magnified gaze passed from face to anxious face as she spoke. "My dear," Professor Trelawney's eyes came to rest upon Neville who nearly fell of his chair in fright. "Is your grandmother in good health?"
"Er…yes I think so," Neville replied weakly.
"I wouldn't be so sure," answered Professor Trelawney sadly. Neville gulped and suddenly looked quite pale. Professor Trelawney continued calmly, "We shall be covering the basic methods of Divination this year starting with reading the tea leaves; we shall then briefly look at aeromancy, aleuromacy, capnomancy and hydromancy. By the way, my dear," she shot a glance at Parvati Patil, "prepare yourself for a broken toe on Tuesday the twentieth of October, you are already excused from that class my dear, but don't worry it shall heal in time of the Halloween ball."
Parvati looked a little startled, suddenly glancing down at her tiny feet in their delicate, soft black leather shoes.
"Later in year, we shall process to my favourite of all methods of Divination, Scrying. The tool of the scryer is called a speculum, which can be any object, but is usually one with a reflective surface like a crystal ball, a shiny stone or as I favour a mirror. This art dates back to the ancient Egyptians, and practitioners aim to answer questions, solve problems, find lost objects or people and help solve crimes as well as catching glimpses of the future."
"Perhaps we can catch a glimpse of the end of term potions exam that Snape is going to set us," Ron grinned at Harry "It would save a lot of sleepless night worrying about what vile brews that miserable git is going to dream up."
"I wonder, dear," Professor Trelawney said looking at Hermione who did her very best not to look nervous, "if you would be so kind as to pass me the silver teapot behind you." The sudden relief on Hermione's face betrayed her pretence of indifference to the whole subject as she stood up and took the enormous teapot off the shelf. She placed it carefully on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.
"I am most grateful, my dear. Incidentally, the one you secretly love will notice you…but not this year, be patient," Hermione blushed scarlet. Mortified, she sat down in her seat refusing to look at either Harry or Ron but stared down at the white linen tablecloth.
"Now, I want you all to find a partner, then take a teacup from the shelf and come to me so I can fill it with tea. Then I want you to drain the cup until only the dregs remain. You will then swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, once the last of the tea has drained away I want you to give the cup to your partner to read. You will find patterns and their interpretations on pages five and six in your copies of Unfogging the Future. I shall be on hand to for help or instructing, please do not be afraid to ask."
Yeah right, thought Ron, and risk getting one of your predictions, he shot a glance at Hermione who was still looking flushed and self-conscious.
"Who is it then?" he mouthed, but Hermione just ignored him and went to collect her teacup.
"Neville dear," said Professor Trelawney catching hold of Neville's arm as he rose from his chair "after you have knocked your first teacup off the shelf, would you be a dear and pick a blue patterned one? I'm rather fond of the pink."
As predicted no sooner had Neville reached the shelf there was a tinkle of breaking china. He turned around only to find Professor Trelawney already hovering over him with a dustpan and brush in her hand. "How about that nice big blue one, my dear? Yes that one will suit you nicely if you would mind…thank you."
Harry and Ron carefully brought their white china teacups brimming with scalding hot tea back to their table. Eagerly they fanned the steaming brown liquid with first their hands and then with a copy of Unfogging the Future in order to cool the tea enough fro them to drink. After gulping down the tea they swilled the dregs around in the cup just as Professor Trelawney had instructed them, drained the cups and swapped them.
"Okay then," said Ron, as they flicked open their books at pages five and six. "What can you see in my cup?"
"What apart from a soggy brown mess," said Harry with a sleepy grin, the heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making him quite drowsy.
"Open your minds, allow yourselves to see beyond the mundane!" Professor Trelawney's misty voice echoed somewhere in gloom.
Harry shook his head trying to shake off the sudden desire to sleep and stared down into Ron's teacup.
"Well…there a blob a bit like a split heart," he said, consulting Unfogging the Future. "Oooh that means 'an unrequited love'…"
"There seems to be a lot of that in the air," said Ron quickly glancing at Hermione with a grin. "What else?"
"Hang on, the blob like a flower means 'a wish will come true'…"
"What that this lesson will end soon or Snape will accidentally drink a disappearing potion?" smiled Ron, and they both had to stifle their chuckles as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.
"Okay my turn…" Ron peered into Harry's teacup, his forehead furrowed with concentration. "There a clump a bit like the sun, which means 'great happiness' but then again if I turn the cup this way it now looks like a bomb and that means 'danger or misfortune'…That can't be right?" Ron sighed as with a frown he turned the teacup back to it original position.
"Think I prefer the sun, don't you? Then there's this thing that looks like an animal…it could be a dragon, or bat…no, I think it's an angel…"
"An angel? Harry let out a snort of laughter causing Professor Trelawney whirled around in a flurry of spangled shawl and jiggling bangles.
"Let me have a look at that, my dear…" she said curtly to Ron snatching Harry's cup from his hand. Everyone suddenly fell silent and watched expectantly for her interpretation. Professor Trelawney peered into Harry's teacup, rotating it anti-clockwise.
"I see the falcon…my dear, you have a deadly enemy."
"But everyone knows that" Hermione sniffed in disgust, even though Professor Trelawney had somehow been perceptive enough to guess her secret she wasn't convinced that their Divination teacher could truly foresee the future. Professor Trelawney stared at her.
"Well, they do," retorted Hermione defensively. "Everyone knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."
Harry and Ron stared at Hermione with a mixture of amazement and awe. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before.
"This lesson is just a whole load of nonsense and conjecture and a complete waste of time if you asked me."
"I am sorry that you feel like that, my dear but it comes as no surprise, I perceive very little aura around you. Barely any receptivity to the resonance's of the future."
As the class lined up to descend the silvery ladder, Harry glanced in the mirror, catching a glimpse of his reflection. His bright green eyes looked back at him from behind the round, thick lenses of his glasses and his untidy black hair stuck up at the back, which he quickly tried to smooth down. Then to his surprise the silvery surface suddenly turned black and the mirror seemed to jump off the wall at him. It fell onto the stone floor with an almighty crash, shattering into pieces.
"Well she didn't see that coming," Hermione whispered, with a certain smug satisfaction as her head disappeared through the trapdoor.
"Oh this is terrible," cried Professor Trelawney once again she snatched up her dustpan and brush.
"I didn't touch it, honest," said Harry, going to assist Professor Trelawney as she stooped to sweep up the broken shards.
"I don't know what all the fuss is about," Hermione called from half way down the ladder who obviously thought that Professor Trelawney was over reacting. "It's only a broken mirror."
"My dear child," Professor Trelawney, raised her voice for the benefit of Hermione. "When a mirror falls and breaks of its own accord it is a very serious matter, it is an omen of impending death."
"Or it could just be the string hanging it broke or the hook came loose," Hermione offered in return from the next floor.
Professor Trelawney didn't reply but continued sweeping the fragments of broken mirror into the dustpan.
"Oh my god…no! " Professor Trelawney cried as she sank down into her armchair clutching a shard of the shattered mirror in hand trembling hand.
"What?" Harry asked anxiously more than a little concerned for Professor Trelawney who was now clasping the fragment of mirror to her chest, her face twisted with sudden alarm.
"This is terrible…truly terrible" she gasped grabbing Harry by the arm.
"What?" asked Harry "What did you see?"
"I…I saw you..." Her voice was shaky and her magnified eyes full of fear as she shrank back in the armchair away from Harry.
"I saw you…" she pointed a shaking hand accusingly at Harry "…standing over Professor Snape…no this is just too dreadful." She dropped the shard of mirror and clasped her hand to her heart as if in terrible pain.
"What?" Ron cried as he turned to stare at Professor Trelawney, Lavender and Parvati had clapped their hands to their mouths in horror while Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas gapped at Harry with puzzled, fearful expressions. Even Hermione had struggled back up the ladder and was peering through the trapdoor with an anxious look on her face.
"It is dark, night time, Professor Snape is lying on the ground and he is bleeding, there is so much blood, so much blood on your hands …the life is slowly bleeding from Professor Snape and it was you that dealt the killing blow…you Harry Potter kill Professor Snape," Professor Trelawney wailed throwing an arm up to her forehead as if to shield her Inner Eye from the torment it had been forced to witness.
"But…but," Harry started to protest.
"Go…please go, I can not take anymore," Professor Trelawney muttered as she closed her eyes and gestured for the class to leave.
"Don't take any notice of her," Hermione said as they slowly descended the numerous staircases towards the great hall.
"Yeah, she barking that one," Ron agreed, but he was still giving Hermione inquiring looks, eager to know who she held a candle for but she just ignored him.
"But what if she's right," Harry said darkly looking quite pale.
"Everyone knows there is no love loss between you and Snape," said Hermione "And I bet you're not the only student that fantasises about nasty things happening to him but you don't really want him dead. Do you?"
"Of course not," snapped Harry trying not to think of what awful play of events might force him to end Professor Snape's life.
"Come on then you'll feel better once you had something to eat…I'm starving," Ron smiled weakly hoping the thought of lunch might brighten Harry's spirits. "So…what have we got after lunch?"
"Potions," Harry replied swallowing hard, suddenly Ron didn't feel so hungry after all.
It seemed as if the lunch break was over before it had even begun. They had sat in almost silence each contemplating what had been said by Professor Trelawney, each lost to ponder the troubled prediction. Harry hadn't felt like eating much even though the lasagne and potato wedges had looked really tasty. Even Ron had just picked at his food, the only one who had managed to eat properly had been Hermione but even she hadn't been much for conversation.
Yet as they walked down the stone steps to Professor Snape's classroom Harry was beginning to regret not having any lunch as he couldn't tell if his stomach was churning because he hadn't eaten or that he was more than usually apprehensive about his first potions class of the new school year. Potion lessons took place in one of dungeons of the castle. It was much colder, gloomier down there and would have been quite eerier enough without the shelves of grotesquely pickled animals in glass jars that lined the walls. Professor Snape and Harry shared a mutual animosity towards each other, Harry had learnt that Snape had been at Hogwarts at the same time as his father and the two had detested each other not unlike himself and Draco Malfoy. Harry had now inherited this hatred but as much as he loathed the Potions Master, could he really hate him enough to actually kill him? Harry shuddered and it wasn't due to the cold, damp air.
As they took their seats there was a throaty squawk from the direction of Snape's desk. Harry looked up to see a large bird with glossy black plumage standing on the desk. The bird cocked its head and regarded Harry with glinting black eyes in a sinister fashion that reminded Harry of the Potions master, Hermione shuddered. Draco Malfoy was looking slightly worried as he plonked, with a dull thud, a crushed cauldron onto the bench in front of him. Crabbe sat down next to Malfoy looking equally as concerned, Harry guessed the stupid fat oaf had somehow managed to sit on Malfoy's cauldron and nearly squashed it flat, he grinned and nudged Ron. Ron smothered a snigger as Malfoy turned around and glared at them.
"Do you think Professor Trelawney told Snape what she saw in the mirror?" Harry whispered anxiously to Ron.
"I don't know," Ron shrugged. "You heard her…I find that venturing from my classroom into the noise and commotion of the main school tenders to throw a veil over my Inner Eye, " Ron said in a dramatic imitation of Professor Trelawney's soft, misty voice. "So unless Snape pops up to her classroom for a cup of tea, which I really doubt, I guess he'll be none the wiser". It was at that moment that Professor Snape swept into the dungeon, his black robes billowing out behind him. He turned sharply on his heels facing the class, his cold; black eyes seething with malice sought Harry out from the rest of his students. It seemed like an eternity that Snape kept his gaze fixed upon Harry, he had never known Snape look at him with such malevolence, never had the saying if looks could kill been so apt. The bird squawked excitedly hopping along the desk over Snape's books and parchments.
"Shut up, Byron," Snape snapped angrily, the bird instantly fell silent and grim.
"Then again," whispered Ron with a worried gulp. "I could be wrong!"
"Don't think Potter, you've got the upper hand with me," Snape's dark eyes might have been twin infernos of burning hatred but his voice was cold as ice. "You may pay credence to Professor Trelawney's hocus-pocus…I however do not."
"I think it's terrible that you haven't been given the position teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts, sir. Professor Lockhart was an utter fool…" said Malfoy hoping his flattery would gain him some credence with the Potions master before he had to tell him about his now useless his cauldron had been rendered by Crabbe.
"Thank you for your vote of confidence Mr Malfoy" Snape replied silkily, Draco had always been his favourite student, but Harry was beginning to wonder if there was more to Snape's favouritism than just because Draco was in Slytherin, could Lucius Malfoy have some sort of hold over Snape?
"And I expect Professor Raven will be much the same. My father has already made a complaint, I mean, what is Professor Dumbledore thinking allowing a witch to teach us Defence Against the Dark Arts…"
"I believe," Snape snapped harshly, his voice lost its silkiness momentary, but quickly Snape regained his quiet, cool composure "…that Miss Raven is quite capable of teaching the subject and I expect that cauldron replaced by my next lesson."
"Yes, Professor Snape," replied Malfoy quietly.
Harry and Ron exchanged a surprised gasp not quiet able to believe that Snape was actually going to give the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher the benefit of the doubt. Crabbe and Goyle chortled stupidly neither side of a now scowling Draco.
"And what appears to be so amusing Mr Crabbe, Mr Goyle?" Snape asked coldly, now it was Draco's turn to smiled smugly
"Cool crow, sir," Crabbe blurted out.
"For your information Crabbe, Bryon is actually a raven," Snape smiled with great satisfaction, and on hearing its name mentioned Bryon gave a rasping caw. "I've had Bryon for many years now…"
"I don't care what species that bird is, it's horrible…" Hermione whispered to Harry.
"And no doubt Miss-know-it-all Granger was about to inform us that The Raven was written by Edgar Allan Poe and not Lord Byron, well I sorry to disappoint you Miss Granger as the name is now totally irrelevant, as Hagrid kindly informed me that my raven is a female but we've wasted far too much time idling… Scaling Drafts, let's see how much you retrained in those thick skulls of yours since last year, get out your equipment and make a start on preparing the ingredient necessary for the potion…and Mr Malfoy until your replacement cauldron arrives you will have to suffice with one of the schools."
Draco muttered under his breath, his pallid complexion tinged with crimson, but Snape ignored him and swept over to his desk.
"I've never understood why anyone would want to make themselves scaly," frowned Hermione, as she and Harry turned to page twenty-nine in Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenus Jigger.
"I don't know, there are a few people where it would be an improvement," Harry sniggered.
"In silence..." Snape growled irritably not bothering to look up from where he was stoop over a roll of parchment. Everybody fell into a deathly hush so that the only sounds that could be heard echoing about the dungeons were the chopping and grinding of ingredient, the gentle simmering of the cauldrons and the scratching of Snape's quill upon parchment. Bryon hopped up on her master's hunched shoulder, her small dark eyes studying the class, like some macabre black demon. Harry was surprised that Snape hadn't bothered to separate him from Hermione, Snape usually liked to grasp every opportunity for Harry to get something wrong so that he could delight in criticising him in front of the rest of the class. Harry grounded his snake fangs to a fine powder, wondering what Snape was so busily scribbling on that parchment. He nudged Hermione gesturing towards Snape, she glance up only to catch the beady eye of Bryon, she shuddered and the raven cawed softly, nibbling at Snape's ear.
"Are we having problems remembering, Miss Granger?" Snape sneered not even taking his eyes from the parchment; Hermione shot a worried frown at Harry, who just shrugged, just as bewildered as to how Snape had known she had been looking at him, and then added the dried Henbane into the now bubbling cauldron.
Ten minutes later, Harry was ready to carefully pour off their now completed potion into a glass vial to cool when there was a pained yell from Draco, quickly followed by a smothered chortle from Crabbe and Goyle as they watched the bright yellow liquid leak from a crack in the cauldron.
"This isn't funny Goyle," snapped Draco. "I've a good mind to report this to the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts is clearly endangering its pupils with such sub-standard equipment." By now the whole class had stopped working, reactions were divided between wide-eyed horror and smug amusement, Pansy Parkinson gasped with distress as Draco's hand became an encrusted mass of hideous blue scales.
"Be my guest, Mr Malfoy," Snape snapped as he reluctantly rose from his desk, Bryon squawked angrily flapping her wings as he jumped from Snape's shoulder. "The Ministry has chosen to cut Hogwarts funding by a third this year…" Snape snatched up a small bottle from a shelf containing a De-Scaling balm and strode over to Draco who was cradling his deformed hand and grimacing with humiliation. "…and I am afraid that Madam Hooch's new broomsticks take priority over replacing my sub-standard cauldrons," Snape slammed the bottle down upon the bench in front of Draco and then cleared the mess away with a wave of his wand "Rub this balm on your hand, it will take about three hours to return to normal."
"Open it," Draco snarled at the still grinning Goyle thrusting the bottle at him. "I am sure when my father hears of this he will replace these shabby old things with the best quality cauldrons, he is already donating some rare books to the library…ouch!" Draco winced as the De-Scaling Balm started to melt the scales from his hand "once the storm damage has been repaired."
"Bloody creep," Ron muttered under his breath but loud enough for Harry to hear. "Thinks he can buy Snape with some brand spanking new cauldrons, I bet he'll get an Outstanding on his end-of term paper."
"I suppose," Harry answered with a shrug. "But you can bet he won't get a detention." As Harry had guessed Snape didn't give Draco a detention, but neither did he comment about the offer of new cauldrons, he remained silent, eyeing Draco coldly before returning to his desk to finish writing his parchment, so absorbed in what he was writing Snape didn't seem to notice that the bell had rung and the class had swiftly filed up the steps out of the dungeons.
TBCR&R!