Sunday the 2nd of July, 1995.

Just as I was finishing my coffee in the Great Hall, Hedwig swooped in, this time bearing a letter. I put down my five knut copy of the Sunday Edition of the Daily Prophet. There was another article on the front-page speculating on whether I was too crazy to pass my classes this year, courtesy of Professor Umbridge and Rita being in cahoots. Apprenticing in Divination would only confirm their suspicions in their minds, but that didn't matter to me.

I nervously unfurled the missive, wondering whether Hermione was right about how Draco would respond to the letter I sent him. But it wasn't from Draco. It was from Professor Trelawney, who seeming had no office hours and followed no set schedule in her administrative work. Well, this certainly was much less exciting, and spelled only one thing for certain… even more work.

Dearest Hierophant,

I refuse to sully your mysterious and grand all-seeing inner eye with any of the petty peculiarities I happen to know of. It truly goes against my most deep principals to pretend to instruct a seer who I can only drag down to my own lacklustre level, rather than elevate to even greater heights. Your majesty rests upon a pinnacle that is greater than any spire, even the great ones the mystics of elder days prophesied upon.

The World is already in your hands, oh great one, per se, as you know. There is no skill more powerful than divination, and there are no diviners greater than you. Your destiny is one that's wide reaching. None will escape from whatever you make of it. Please don't make me betray my ideals. I have far, far too much respect for you to disgrace even your presence with what little I have to offer.

Yours sincerely, Sybil.

Shit! This woman always does this to me. I quickly made plans to visit her ghastly decorated tower. First surveying the Great Hall out of curiosity, however, I spotted Draco at the Slytherin table. He seemed to be penning a letter with those elegant hands of his, not spilling a drop. His face had no tells. It seemed I would have to wait until I received his letter to learn how he feels.

The trek to Professor Trelawney's tower was unassuming. It wasn't worth mentioning. Hogwarts was as maze-like, yet cosy as ever. As I approached the base of her tower, the scent of perfume became more poignant and the décor became more garish. I never thought that teachers were allowed to decorate outside of their classrooms, but as I made the ascent I noticed ever more numerous sculptures of crystal balls, fortune tellers, and Hermes, sculpted as though surrounded by the heavens themselves; the Roman gods, orbiting their superior.

I sent a knocking spell up towards the classroom's hatch entrance. Within moments, it flung open, and its rope ladder was cast out. The climb was a test of endurance as it always is. The ladder was ten meters long and had over thirty rungs. Hogwarts' architect was undeniably a nutter. Trelawney went all out with her classroom's theming. Every meter of wall was draped, and every drape was a virulent green or purple, without pattern. The case was the same with the carpet and its nauseating rugs. And the furniture.

Trelawney was sitting immediately outside the opening of the hatch, cross-legged on the sort of poof you'd find in any old fortune teller's shop. There was another one behind her own that she evidently wanted me to take, to demonstrate her belief in how it was rightful for lesser seers to be subordinate to greater ones. I allowed her to make her display, believing that it'd be of no harm.

"Professor Trelawney, I've come to ask you to betray your ideals." There was silence for a few moments, and then for a few moments more. I waited, and waited, and I began to grow impatient. The sickly sweet, cloying perfumes weren't helping.

"No!" She finally gasped. It seemed to take all her strength to deny a request to me.

"Shall I demonstrate my mastery of the arcane for you once more, Professor?" I asked. I knew that if I could draw The World once more, she'd be convinced. And the odds were in my favour; I drew it thirteen times in a row, after all.

"Very well then, Harry." And as soon as she said as much I shuffled and drew The World from my deck. "You truly are the greatest seer of our age, no, of all ages. I will do as you wish."

"Thank you, Professor." I replied.

What a nutty woman. I made my way back down the ladder, hearing the hatch eerily shut close the second I finished my descent. I passed the statue of Hermes once more on my journey to Gryffindor Tower. I sensed a presence about it, but not emanating from the statue itself. It was more like… an aura evoked by the statue's form. I couldn't really find the words to describe it. The Dark Lord had a similar presence, but it was nothing like that of Hermes.

In Gryffindor Tower, Ron challenged me to a game of chess. I took the opportunity to loudly proclaim that he could never beat Professor Trelawney's favourite student, the greatest seer to ever live, at a game where foresight gives every advantage. The night before, I took Hermione's advice and cracked open my third year Thesaurus of Divination, and mastered the spell of Delphi, which would strengthen auras of premonition surrounding a subject. It is written that as a crutch, it offers no use in learning the mysterious art.

I cast the spell on the chess board and felt… very faint auras. The chess match seemed to be going in my favour at first, but Ron was a master of the art of bluffing, and dramatically began to thin out my forces piece by piece a few minutes in. Everyone in the common room was hooked, and everyone saw just how talented I was at the mysterious art. Ron clapped me on the shoulder with a "better luck next time". Well, there was one trick I had left up my sleeve. To everyone's shock, I drew The World once more.

"That's not going to help you win at chess, mate." Ron reminded me.

"Sure, but at least it's a talent." I rebuffed him.

"Not really."