"We will continue with scrying today," Harry announced to his N.E.W.T class at the beginning of the lesson. The Gryffindor trio looked at him suspiciously. "However, we'll do something a bit different this time. We'll try to locate someone using a map and a pendant." He produced a map of Britain and spread it over the table he had just enlarged. Then he took out a scrying pendant from Trelawney's drawers. "Usually you put a small item that belongs to a person you want to find here. For better results, you must use something dear to this person, and not just their quill or a hairclip."

As far as Harry knew, scrying was the only Divination technique that non-Seers could use with some measure of success. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't on Trelawney's curriculum. To be fair, though, he might have slept right through it. Of course, for it to work with any degree of precision, you had to use a lock of hair, fingernails, or preferably blood. Even then wards, high concentration of foreign magic in general or not casting any spells could conceal the person completely. Harry used it a couple of time out of desperation when every other avenue was exhausted, but scrying had so many limitations that it was more often than not completely useless.

"Hogwarts is heavily warded, so it's unlikely you'll be able to track anybody here, as well as in Diagon or Hogsmeade. But maybe any of you have something of another person who is not in Hogwarts right now? Your parents, perhaps?"

Aradhya Roy, the Hufflepuff girl who managed to see something in the crystal ball last time with the help of Occlumency, wore earrings that used to belong to her mother. Harry hooked them over the pendant and handed it to the girl.

"Put it over the map like that. Relax your hand and remember the exercise we did last time. Only now, after clearing your mind, focus on your mum."

Aradhya scrunched her face in concentration. The pendant was still at the moment before jolting and moving North-West. The girl followed with a look of surprise on her face.

"We live in Manchester!"

"Well done, Miss Roy," said Harry. Maybe she did have some talent for Divination after all.

She beamed at him. "This is brilliant!"

Harry turned to the Gryffindors next. "Mr. Talbott."

"I don't have anything borrowed on me."

"Then you'll be glad to hear that I have something for you." Harry produced a Muggle wristwatch with a broken strap he had found from Rowle's trunk yesterday. "Although none of you came to me with any results of your homework, we won't give up on trying to locate your missing yearmate."

Talbott, who had lifted his hand to take the watch, jerked it back as if scalded. "Is it Rowle's?"

"Yes, the watch belongs to Mr. Rowle."

All colour drained from his face, but after a moment of hesitation, took the watch from Harry. When his fingers touched the metal, Talbott inhaled sharply. Quickly composing himself, he put the watch around the pendant and gave Harry his usual cocky grin, if a little wobbly on the edges.

"I'm ready, Professor."

The pendant remained still, not that Harry expected anything else.

To his surprise, Talbott lingered after the end of the lesson, perching on the paisley armrest of his chair. His friends had already left, sending him questioning glances. He had waved them off with an unconcerned air that disappeared as soon as they stepped out of the classroom.

"Mr. Talbott?" Harry had planned to keep him behind himself, but if the boy wished to talk on his own, all the better.

"Can I talk to you, Professor Thompson?" The boy had none of the usual attitude he displayed in class or in the Great Hall, and Harry was uncomfortably reminded of the scene with Richardson in the crystal ball.

"I've got a free period right now." Harry sat down at Talbott's table and gestured him to do the same.

"I came here on Saturday at first, actually," the boy said after a moment of silence. "But you were with Farley and Weasley."

"Oh?" Talking about constant vigilance indeed.

"Yeah. You are a good Defence teacher, if you don't mind me saying. It suits you better than Divination." Talbott sent Harry a cheeky grin, recovering some of his confidence.

Harry waited patiently. Sometimes it was better to just let them talk.

"I came just before you appeared from that bowl—a Pensieve? I heard what Farley said. And you keep dropping these hints... I just wanted to tell you that I had nothing to do with Rowle's disappearance. We've laid off him this year, actually."

He raised his eyebrow.

"It's true! Well, maybe not from the very beginning, but we are busy with our N.E.W.T's, you know, and—and maybe wetookittoofar," Talbott mumbled, hiding his eyes.

"Pardon?"

"We realized we'd taken it too far. We thought he was this Death Eater in training, but maybe we were wrong." He put his hand through his red hair.

"What made you change your mind?"

"Mike and I met him this summer. He worked in the Muggle world, delivering pizza of all things. At first, we thought it was some kind of revenge plot, showing up on Mike's doorstep like that. We even spied on him for a while. But he really worked there. And he was friendly with Muggles. Much friendlier than with anyone in Hogwarts except Farley, I'd say." Talbott kept his gaze down, plucking at the thread from the upholstery of his chair.

"What about that incident before your first Defence lesson in September?" Harry asked. "And Mr. Farley mentioned that Mr. Rowle would often return covered in bruises throughout the year."

Talbott's ears reddened. "That fight was the last major one. It's true! I even said sorry! And Snape was a beast for a month after that!"

"Professor Snape." Oh, the irony.

"Anyway, that wasn't us." He finally looked up at Harry. "But I know he was getting in some trouble somewhere. I've met him once in October, looking all beaten up, barely conscious, some really weird bruises on his neck. That's when I apologized. Well, sort of. And a couple of times in November, he seemed to be totally out of it in Defence." At the mention of the subject, his face darkened.

"If you are suspecting somebody, even if it's a faculty member," Harry said carefully, "Please tell me about it. Your name doesn't have to leave this room if you don't want it to. But there is evidence to believe that Mr. Rowle didn't leave Hogwarts voluntarily. I don't want to scare you, but this may very well be a matter of life and death, Cal."

"He's not dead!" Talbott protested.

"How can you know that for sure?" Harry asked mildly.

"He's not dead. I know that. But I think something bad happened to him."

Hу waited.

"I'm like you, alright?" The boy blurted. "Well, maybe not exactly, but I can see things."

"See things?"

"When I touch someone or something that belongs to somebody, I would sometimes get flashes, glimpses of their past or future," Talbott rushed. "When I touched Rowle's watch today... I didn't see anything but I got this feeling. It was like—like I'm being suffocated, but not as if someone was choking me... Like I wanted to take a breath and couldn't. Just for a second, but I could feel it and I know it was him. I don't know if it was happening to him at that moment, or happened already, or will happen, or might happen. But I know he's alive."

Well, this explained a lot. Harry probably wouldn't believe Talbott if he hadn't seen him in Richardson's office, but the boy being a Seer might just be the only thing that made sense of that particular interaction.

"And I really saw that room in the crystal ball the other day. There were shelves with some books, a desk and spiral stairs," Talbott continued. "Though I don't know how accurate that was. For all my visions, the only time I managed to see anything in the ball before was back in our fourth year. I saw young Trelawney with Albus Dumbledore in a room in some inn or hotel or something."

Harry spluttered.

Talbott went bright red, misunderstanding his reaction.

"They were just talking! Though why would they be in a hotel room at all? Maybe that's why she has a drinking problem now?" he mused.

"I assure you, Albus Dumbledore was not in a relationship with Professor Trelawney at any point of her life," Harry said. He felt faintly sick.

That got him a dubious look.

Knowing how it felt when adults dismissed him, Harry added. "You probably saw her job interview." And didn't that sound way, way worse? "I mean I know for a fact Headmaster Dumbledore interviewed her in Hog Head because he didn't want to let strangers into the castle in the middle of the war." Well, it was the only rational reason Harry could come up with. With Dumbledore, however, you never knew.

"Trelawney delivered a real prophesy to him then, you know. I didn't hear it, but I could see that she did." Talbott let out a bitter laugh. "She is a complete fraud, but Grandmother always said she would deliver a real thing sometimes, very rarely, but then never actually remember doing it." Yes, Harry knew that better than anybody. "Lucky her."

"Lucky? Why?"

"I don't know how your Sight works, but I can't simply turn mine off. The visions appear when they appear, and I remember every second of them. My first kiss? I saw Alice Stephens going down the aisle to some guy who certainly wasn't me. On my third, I saw Arad—the girl I was kissing pining after Rowle across the library. That's when I decided to stop with snogging for a while." He made a face. "When I was seven, I saw at least four versions of my kneazle's gruesome death and had nightmares for years after that."

"Did it die?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking.

"No, I took every precaution to stop them from happening."

"See? Your gift has already brought you some good."

"But then I saw my sister breaking her leg, tried to stop it, and you know what? My actions were exactly what lead her to break it!"

"Self-fulfilling prophecy," Harry said with a nod. He knew a thing or two about those.

"Right. I don't want this gift," Talbott spat. "Why can't my Gran have it instead? She is an editor of The Third Eye, you know, and she is almost worse than Trelawney."

"Did she give you any advice?" Because Harry was certainly out of his depth here.

"She doesn't know. According to her, only women in our family have the Sight, so she doesn't even suspect anything. I don't want anyone to know. The only people who know are my sis and—" Talbott trailed off.

"And?" Harry prompted gently, already knowing the answer.

The boy set his jaw stubbornly, silent.

"It's someone from the faculty, right? Someone using your gift for their own benefit."

Sighing, Talbott nodded. "Professor Richardson," he said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. "He touched my hand when correcting my grip that first lesson this year, and I saw some guy sending the Cruciatus curse at his back in Hogsmeade. I thought about it over and over, but there was no way to prevent it without revealing myself. He is—he used to be my favourite teacher, so I decided to tell him. I'm a Gryffindor and not a coward!" He looked Harry defiantly, as if daring to say anything to the contrary. "Apparently, it worked, and Richardson got that guy arrested before he could do anything."

Harry made a note to find the attacker.

"And then he asked me to touch the Wimbourne Wasps's seeker shoe," Talbott continued. "I did it and I did see him winning that first time. Richardson was real happy. I guess he bet on them and won some money. So now he keeps bringing me all this Quidditch stuff, but it doesn't work that way. I can't see anything on demand. But he doesn't listen. And he gets madder and madder every time."

"I promise you I'll deal with Richardson as soon as we find Mr. Rowle. But for now—"

"I understand. You suspect him, right? He used to be vicious to Rowle. I thought it was funny at the time, but not anymore." He pursed his lips. "I don't expect you to deal with my problem with Richardson. He's got a lot of friends in high places. I just wanted to help you find Rowle."

"Whatever friends he's got, his reputation isn't as clean as he'd like everybody here to believe. Nor is he the only one with connections, if I say so. What he does to you is wrong, and he will not go unpunished for it. Actually, the next time he calls for you, I want you to warn me beforehand. Deal?"

Talbott grunted in consent, although he didn't seem convinced.

"You said you'd come to me on Sunday. What did you want to talk about then?"

"Er, I just—" Talbott fidgeted. "You know how Trelawney is a joke, right?"

Harry fought hard to restrain himself from nodding.

"And my Gran, she is—Well, she's not a drunk, for one, or crazy. Almost not crazy. But she is very much into all this Divination stuff, you know? Incense and shawls, speaking in riddles, and not going anywhere without her Tarot deck," Talbott said, taking to tugging the upholstery again. "Then there's Mr. Lenormand; he is Gran's friend and co-editor of her magazine. Ancient and completely bonkers. Dresses in lace and brocade and always smokes his pipe with some special plants he grows in his garden. Aurors bust him for them every year. I think he used to teach Divination at Hogwarts before Trelawney. And when I first saw you, well, no offence, but I thought you were like them." Pink spots appeared on his cheeks. "You know, with these New Age robes and stuff."

"And stuff." Harry had an inkling where the conversation was going.

"But you are not!" the boy said hotly, punctuating his words with a wave of his head. "You don't do theatrics or roll your eyes dramatically, pretending to communicate with the spirit world. You are good at Defence and don't mention chakras outside the lessons. You are, well, normal and sane. And you even wore normal clothes both times I saw you return from outside of the castle. Of course," A sudden thought seemed to strike Talbott, and he looked at Harry calculatingly, "You might be only pretending to be a Seer to investigate Rowle's disappearance. Maybe if it had been Snape who went on rehab, you'd have stalked the dungeons in black robes and sneered at everybody over a cauldron."

Harry tried and almost failed not to laugh hysterically. He passed a hand over his face to get his thoughts together.

"I might not be best suited as a Divination instructor," He wasn't going to confirm anything, but he didn't want to lie to the boy who confided in him either. "But I know how it feels to want to be normal. For the longest time, it was my greatest ambition. I desperately wanted to just live a life of an ordinary wizard, but it was not to be because of the circumstances I didn't have any say at. People put their expectations on me, tried to harm me, use me. Some called me crazy, some called me an attention-seeking liar. I know firsthand how hard it is."

"How did you deal with it?" Talbott asked, leaning forward.

"There's no easy solution. As a wise man once said to me, we must choose between what's easy and what's right," said Harry. "Your gift doesn't mean that you have to become a stereotype of a crazy Seer. You don't have to surround yourself with crystal balls or ever read leaves in your teacup. But that doesn't mean that you have to build your identity around rejecting it either and hurt other people over your problems. This road will lead you nowhere. You are right about not telling just everybody and their crup about your Sight for now, but keeping it secret from all your friends and family will only hurt you in the end. Share your burden with someone you trust."

"What if my friends will make fun of me?" The boy asked in a small voice.

"Then they aren't really your friends."

"But—"

"Give them a chance. If you hide who you are from them, you wouldn't be able to trust them anyway, not fully, not where it matters. Have you even told them that you like Herbology?"

"I don't like Herbology!"

Harry raised his eyebrow.

"Well, maybe a bit. It helps me with my visions, you see."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Plants have enough inner magic so I can't see visions about their owner or something. But they don't have a Fate of their own either. I can touch them as much as I like and not be afraid to see into the past or future of a Mandrake or Devil's Snare. They are also kind of calming." Talbott shrugged.

Well, that explained another mystery. Maybe there was more to it, but Harry decided to believe the boy.

"You don't have to be embarrassed about that. Professor Longbottom is a war hero in addition to being a skilful Herbologist, and he has never been ashamed of liking plants." Unlike some other things. "And bullying is certainly not the answer to your insecurities. It was allowed to go on for way too long already," Harry added sternly.

"I know that," Talbott looked down again. "If—when you find Rowle, I wouldn't do that to him anymore."

"Not to him, not to anyone else."

He nodded solemnly. "I promise."

"Good."

"Can I touch you?" Talbott asked after a moment of hesitation. His blue eyes were shining with newfound intensity.

Harry considered this. The last thing he needed was another prophecy in his life, but it seemed to be really important to the boy for some reason. He offered his hand with a sigh. "Go on."

Talbott slowly touched it with his fingers, closing his hand around Harry's wrist before letting go of it as if it was on fire. His face went beet red.

"What is it?"

"Erm… It was… You were—" He opened and closed his mouth several times like a fish.

"Out with it, Cal. Whatever it is, I guarantee you I've had a worse prophecy made about me already."

"You were kissing Professor Snape!" Talbott blurted out. "Only you had green eyes for some reason."

Harry blushed as well. "Well, I hope this possible future development will stay between us."