Nobody wanted to know the future.
It was a truth Caecilius had learned very early. They might not realize it themselves, but even the people who went to see a seer -especially the people who came to see the seer- didn't truly want to learn from a child Caecilius' age what their tomorrow was going to be like.
So why were they coming to him? That part was not making no sense to him. If it was not the future they wanted, what were these people truly seeking?
"If we do not count those trying to prove we are frauds, there are three kinds of people you will meet in your life," Mr. Lovegood – the seer helping him with mastering his Sight – said when Caecilius asked him. "And the answer to your question will depend of which group you're talking about."
"And what are are these groups?"
He smiled. "I'm afraid this is something you need to find yourself. So keep looking, Caecilius."
So Caecilius looked. The whole summer he was spending at the circus to pay his tuitions for Hogwarts, he looked at each person who wanted to have their future foretold by 'the Great Caecilius'. By the end of August, he thought he's mostly figured it out.
The first kind of people came to his circus tent for the same reason they went to see the circus' animals. He was just like that unicorn the ringmaster's trained to do several tricks. Perhaps his place was even lower than the unicorn's and even the acrobats' for he only was a one-trick pony. They wanted to escape their boringly ordinary life and wanted to be shocked, to believe for one instant some higher being was looking at them.
So Caecilius learned to smile and say they were very interesting when they were the most boring people he's ever met.
The second kind of people was mostly made of politicians, wealthy men and beautiful women. People who liked to show off they had succeeded in life and wanted now to insure sure their position would remain the same no matter what. And Caecilius hadn't helped feeling disgusted when he had realized that what these people were expecting was for him to tell them how perfect they were. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?
Not you, he couldn't help thinking every time he had to smile and give them the empty flatteries they were seeking. He hated liars, but if lies were what the client wanted, then Caecilius supposed he had no choice but to give them just that.
Now, the third kind of people, Caecilius had to admit he still had no idea what it could be made of and he doubted he'd find out before going back to Hogwarts. Still, two out of three was good enough, no?
Hearing somebody entering the tent he was in, Caecilius straightened on his chair and put his hands on the table in front of him.
"Welcome stranger," he said to the new client in a voice he's been told sounded mysterious and very seer-like. "I have been waiting for you and-"
A flash. In one potential future, the client was numbly looking at him; in a second future, he was rolling his eyes; in the third future, he was childishly crossing his arms.
He blinked to chase the visions he's just had. "-and I'm glad to see you've managed to go past your reluctance to come. Though I do believe the decision to have your future foretold was not entirely yours. Who was it that brought you here almost against your will, if I may ask you?"
The client, a blonde boy Caecilius' age, numbly looked at him, probably wondering how he could know so much.
The answer was, naturally, that he was a seer of great powers.
The client finally sighed. "My father. I keep telling me that's not necessary but he insisted."
He knowingly nodded. "And you're humouring him. Still, now that you're here, aren't you just a little curious? Don't you want to know what your life is going to be like?"
The client heavily sighed and went to sit on the chair in front of him. Now that he was closer, Caecilius could see the black robe he was wearing was made from high quality fabric. Still, even well-fitted clothes couldn't hide how thin he was and the black robe he was wearing was only accentuating his pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes.
He looked like he was going to faint right in front of him and Caecilius for moment wondered if he shouldn't call Mr. Lovegood for help.
There didn't seem to be any immediate future where the young man would do just that however so Caecilius supposed he was safe for now.
He took Mr. Lovegood's tarot cards and asked the other boy to pick five of them.
When it was finally time for Caecilius to reveal the cards, the first one he got was Death.
"It doesn't mean what you probably think it means," Caecilius hurriedly told the silent boy. "It's a symbol of endings but also one of beginnings. It doesn't- It doesn't have to mean death , you know?"
"Keep going."
The second and third cards he revealed were the Hangman and the Wheel of fortune. Martyrdom and inevitable fate.
Sometimes, Caecilius wanted to ask the Higher Being what he had done in a previous life to deserve this.
The boy impassively looked at the cards which seemed intent on telling him he was just doomed. He didn't say anything. He didn't move. It was as if the boy wasn't truly there, as if he has already left and had yet to realize he has accidentally left his body behind.
When Caecilius started revealing the fourth card, he had a flash.
In the first potential future he was seeing, the boy was bitterly smiling; in the second one he was crying.
When the boy saw the penultimate card was the Magician, he finally snorted.
"It's a good card," Caecilius told him.
"Is it really?" he asked with a bitter smile, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
"It is. It-It represents creation, desire, willpower."
But the other boy wasn't listening to his explanation and was looking at the card innocently lying between them with something akin to resentment.
It was clear the Magician meant something completely different to him, but what? What has the Magician done to this person to be so disliked? Considering his clothing, it was clear he wasn't a muggle so why? Why would a wizard dislike the very card that represented him?
Caecilius thought about it a moment. He supposed there could be other reasons he didn't know about, but in this instant, he could only think of one. A boy his age in poor health being dragged by his own father to get his future told by a seer...
"You're a squib, aren't you?"
The other boy flinched. "I don't- I don't like that word," he weakly said.
"My apologies."
But it was clear now that he was indeed a squib. And Caecilius felt he didn't even need to reveal what the last card was, for he now knew why these cards were here.
He curled his lips in disgust.
He knew how heartbroken some parents became when they realized their children were not like them. And he was aware there were many charlatans who were more than ready to exploit their grief for an easy sickle. Pretending to be a misunderstood Healer, they would swear they could cure their child from some imaginary illness. They just had to buy the potions they were selling and everything was going to be alright. And what if that potion did more harm than good? It wasn't as if they cared for anything but the money and by the time the scam was revealed, the fraud was long gone, the parents bankrupt and the child very often in terrible health when he wasn't outright dead .
"My-My grandmother was a seer," the squib slowly began explaining. "A particular sort of seer from what I understand, but a seer nonetheless. And-And when my mother was expecting, she told my parents I was going to be great at magic. That I-That I'd understand it better than anybody before me. So that's why my father thinks that if I..." He grimaced and looked away.
Caecilius took the Magician card between his fingers. "And that's why you're here, isn't it? You want me to tell you how to become a great wizard and help you fulfill the prediction your grandmother made."
A wince. "W-When you put it like that, it does sound silly. But it's not like that, we just- My-My father just wants me to be healthy."
"Do you really believe you are healthier now than you were before they started 'curing' you?"
Ignoring his client flinching and dropping his head, he looked at the card, wondering not for the first time how something so small could be the source of so much darkness.
Because it was clear to him now that that was the reason the other cards were screaming to him that the other boy was dying.
"Come on," he heard the boy muttering. "Cut the chase and just do what you're being paid for."
He blinked and looked at the young man in front of him. Tilting his head, he repeated, "What I'm being paid for?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
Except he did not. Caecilius was supposed to tell the future, though he was starting to think the future was the last thing people wanted him to say, and the boy and his father were somehow expecting him to magically find a remedy to turn non-wizards into wizards.
He was fourteen. He was fourteen and had yet to take his Ordinary Wizarding Levels. A seer of great powers he might be, he was no miracle worker.
He glanced at the boy who was still looking at his closed fists, jaw tense and repeatedly hitting the floor with his right foot.
"I know already what you're going to say so just get on with it and stop wasting my time."
It was only at this moment Caecilius realized that, in the boy's eyes, he wasn't unlike the many charlatans his father was forcing him to see. He was only a fake among the dozens he had most probably met and who were responsible for his weak health. He was a charlatan, and Caecilius was expected to keep the charade going and say everything was going to be fine if the other boy would just listen to him because he was supposed to be that desperate for a sickle.
His right eyebrow twitched in annoyance.
He was not a charlatan!
He was a seer. And maybe the people outside thought he was a fake, he knew the truth. He knew he was the real deal and he refused to be put in the same bin as these swindlers. He was a seer, the Higher Being has given him a mission and it didn't matter these profanes didn't want him to, he was going to fulfill it.
"You will never do magic."
The young man in front of him sharply raised his head.
"You're a squib," he stated. And maybe that was cruel of him to say it so bluntly, the other boy needed to understand. "The same way I cannot get rid of the powers the Higher Being has given me, you cannot change what you are. It's against nature, it's not possible. You're not one of these muggle sticks we were supposed to turn into a needle at Hogwarts, you're a boy. And I don't care what your so-called seer of grandmother said, you will never have a wand and you will never go to Hogwarts. You're dying. You, your father and all these fakes you've met are killing you in trying to make you something you're not meant to be. It will be a miracle if you were to survive this year, really."
It was clear the boy was stunned. He was owlishly blinking, as if he couldn't believe the boy in front of him has had the gall to mention the elephant in the room and just say how it truly was.
He couldn't help grimacing at the vision he got. In one potential future, the boy was sadly nodding; in another, he was leaving without a word; in the last one, he was bursting to tears.
Please, don't burst to tears, he mentally begged.
The other boy did not burst to tears.
Instead, he got up and violently flipped the table.
"Where are you going, Patrick?"
Mr. Evans was putting his long magician cloak on when he answered, "Out."
"I would have never guessed," Mrs. Evans dryly replied. "And where exactly is 'out' and why are your wearing the clothes you usually wear when you're at the theatre?"
The man didn't answer but realization slowly drew on her face. "Don't tell me you're going to see these perverts again."
That made him turn his head. "Perverts?"
"Have you seen how 'your friends' were looking at me when I first met them?"
He numbly looked at his wife shuddering and finally burst to laugh. "Excellent. That one was excellent, Maggie."
"It's the truth!" she snapped. "They're perverts and they're creepy!"
He grinned. "Even if I didn't want to go there, I'm afraid I must. There are a few loose ends I need to tie up and if I want to make sure Brutus isn't not come back screaming revenge at me, I will need their help."
Harry, who had been pretending not to listen to their conversation, sharply raised his head. "Brutus. You mean Greengrass, don't you?"
"I do. I told you the other day it was just possible somebody might consider getting Brutus out of his predicament," he started explaining. "If I've got enough dirt on him to make these people reconsider, I'm afraid a little squib like me does not have the influence to insure that information reaches them. Fortunately for us, I know several people who most certainly do. That's partly why I'm going to meet them and ask for a little help."
"Can I come?"
"Well..."
"He's coming with you," Mrs. Evans sharply said, tone breaking no argument.
"I was actually going to say he was welcome to follow me and that I actually expected no less." Seeing her glaring, he sighed. "I'm not going to do something stupid, Maggie, I swear."
But Mrs. Evans kept glaring.
If nothing had actually happened to Mr. Evans, it had been clear to those under this roof that the man was officially in the doghouse for the stunt he's done. And Harry, being in Mrs Evans' eyes the sole reason she wasn't a widow, has been elected to be his handler whenever she couldn't spy on him and insure he wasn't going to do something stupid like blackmailing another wizard who wanted him dead.
On the plus side, that meant Harry got more food for breakfast.
"I want a full report when you come back," she declared when they were about to leave. Pointing a finger at Harry, she added, "Do not fail me."
Mr. Evans heavily sighed and closed the door.
"Alright, name your price. What do I need to bribe you with so she doesn't learn what I'm going to do?"
"Who are we meeting?"
"A few friends of mine." Leaving the Evans' home, he started talking, "I usually help them on certain matters and they're also good clients so I'm not only going to see him only for this. Still, I do need to make sure Brutus doesn't escape justice. We sometimes do a few things she definitely doesn't approve so it would be better if she were to never learn about that part.
"Is it illegal?" Harry asked.
Mr. Evans hesitated. "Not really?"
Considering the man was a squib earning his life by recreating well-known magic artefacts the muggle way and giving the middle finger to the statute of secrecy in front of hundreds of muggles, that meant yes.
"It's not illegal for me per sure. It's more- it's illegal for them ."
So they were criminals. Mr. Evans had connection in the wizarding underground world and they were going to meet the mafia and ask them to get rid of Greengrass.
Harry put his hands in his pockets and grabbed with his right hand his wand and with his left hand his pen knife. "What are they like?" he asked in a voice he wanted to sound cheerful.
Turning left, Mr. Evans considered his question a moment. "Have you ever heard of the parable of the blind wizards and the chimarea?" he finally asked him.
He drew back. "The blind wizards and the chimaera?" he repeated, wondering what had brought this on.
"That's a no then. A long time ago, three blind wizards heard that a chimaera had been brought to the village they lived in. Having never encountered such creature before and being all curious people, they all decided to go to the chimera and try to find out what a chimera was like by touch. After much inspection, the first one who had touched the chimera's body declared it was nothing but a goat; the second one however argued it after caressing its mane that it was a prideful lion. As for the last one who touched the tail, he argued this strange creature was a small dragon."
Harry frowned. "I think I've heard about this story. But it wasn't a chimera."
"It's possible. There are many variations where it was either a hippogriff or a griffin. Ultimately, the issue is resolved by the magical beast killing and sometimes even eating the fighting wizards. The morale of the story is that one probably shouldn't go petting dangerous creatures if they want to have a long life."
"Shouldn't it be something about perception?" Because if he remembered correctly, the story had been about how each blind man could only get a part of the picture and it was only if they had all listened to each other they could have known what the creature they were touching was really like.
"Also that." He winked. "Mind you, I've never really been convinced that was the most important part. Still, the people we're going to see have taken this story to heart so it's probably better you keep this in mind. Ah, here we are."
Harry turned his head and looked at the townhouse in front of him, not dissimilar to Grimmauld Place and the other buildings on the street. Gripping his wand even tighter, he prepared himself to defend them should the need arise.
Once they reached the threshold, Mr. Evans put his hands behind his back. Just as Harry was about to ask if they shouldn't knock to announce their presence, the door opened, revealing a woman in gypsy clothes.
Seeing Mr. Evans, her face brightened. "Time Keeper!" she said with a light French accent. "Blessed the Higher Being, you're not dead!"
Harry face-palmed.
"I confirm, I'm still alive," Mr. Evans pleasantly replied. "Why, have your cards told you I shouldn't be?"
"Oh no, no! Well, my cards told me somebody is not going to come today. As a previous reading had informed me you were to encounter a few difficulties at work I confess I jumped to conclusions just a little."
"Oh really," he deadpanned.
"I'm glad to see I misunderstood what they were telling me." Spotting Harry she paused an instant. After drawing back and blinking several times, she smiled at him. "And you must be the newcomer I saw in my crystal ball yesterday."
Harry nodded to himself. "And you're a seer."
"Irma Soleil," she introduced herself, "I teach Divination at Beauxbatons. Now where are my manners? Come in, come in. And what is your name? I have to admit that my crystal ball did not tell me."
"Harry's a distant relative of mine and a student of Mesmer's," Mr. Evans swiftly answered as they entered the deceptively ordinary townhouse.
"Ah yes, I remember! You were the one conversing with Trelawney when Mesmer invited us to Hogwarts for his All Hallows Eve party, weren't you?"
Harry blinked. "Does that mean you're a member of that guild of his, Professor?"
She burst to laugh. "Please, you are not my student. Just call me Madame Soleil. And you didn't tell him, Evans?"
Mr. Evans shrugged. "It must have slipped my mind." Seeing Harry frowning he explained, "Harry, this is the Divination guild's headquarters."
Harry had no idea why he was even surprised at this point.
If the outside of the Divination guild's headquarters was deceptively ordinary, the inside was anything but. In the hallway, several artifacts from different eras were coexisting despite all odds, some stranger than others like that painting which was nothing but colourful geometrical figures slowly turning onto themselves, that drawing of a rocket which had been hung or even the replica of a garden gnome standing on a table.
Pointing at the garden gnome, Harry asked their guide, "Where did you get these?"
"Oh, we made them," Madame Soleil answered. "It's sometimes easier to draw, paint or outright recreate what we Saw to get a better understanding of what it could mean. And sometimes we like what we Saw so much we put it there. This for example is an an idol muggles will one day worship."
"R-Right."
"Still, I cannot help wondering sometimes," turning her head to Mr. Evans she elaborated, "how many of these artists who say they got the idea of their creation in a dream realize they have the Sight?"
"I suppose they must be quite a few," Mr. Evans agreeably admitted. "Still, if the artist or the musician who has a vision merely recreates what he Saw or Heard, then where does the very thing he Saw truly come from? Who really composed Beethoven's fifth?"
The woman's easy smile stilled. "W-Well…" she spluttered. "T-The Higher Being…"
Mr. Evans smirked the rest of the visit.
When they finally reached the drawing room on the first floor, Harry couldn't help pausing at the sight of the people in the room. If their clothes were less extravagant than those the guild had worn the last time he had seen them, they were no mistaking they neither fitted the muggle world nor wizarding world of this time, as if the people wearing them didn't belong in either.
"Do you really believe they can help you with Greengrass?" Harry whispered Mr. Evans. "I mean, how could they?"
Mr. Evans hummed. "There are three types of people who go to see a seer," he began saying. "The first type wants to get the 'seer experience'; they want to believe some mystical power is at work if only for a moment. It's not unlike what is happening when I'm on stage, really. The second type now has quite a lot of influence and is willing to use whatever means to keep it." Seeing Harry frowning he explained further, "You have no idea how many politicians actually believe some higher being actually cares about them. Like, the people here will never tell me who is seeing whom, but I know for a fact several members of the Wizengamot, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the minister of magic himself regularly want to have their future foretold."
Harry incredulously looked at him. "Seriously?"
He nodded. "They do not look like it, but they have a lot of influence. They may rarely use it but a word whispered in the right ear or a dramatic vision at the proper moment can change a person's choices and in some cases entire policies. Trelawney for example stopped a war in the continent just because she told the emperor of Austria Hungary she's foreseen doom befalling on his empire if he were to declare war against a neighboring country."
Harry numbly looked at a man in a colourful Victorian dress adjusting his wig. "And these politicians will listen to them just because somebody from the divination guild said they got a vision?" he whispered.
"Well, not really," he amended. "The guild is but one player here. There's the Order of Astoria for example which also has a lot of influence and our politicians are ultimately free to do whatever they want. But at the very least, they're willing to listen to what they're saying behind the scenes."
Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, disturbed by what he's just learned. "How do you even know them? I mean… you're not a seer."
The man's emerald eyes shined in amusement. "Well… That's a rather funny story. It wasn't then but looking back, flipping that table was rather dramatic. It was so dramatic I decided I liked it and should probably do it again. So I did, several times. One day, I realized I liked it so much I should probably make a job out of it. And in case you haven't noticed, there is nobody more dramatic than a seer so I asked one to give me a few tips."
Harry incredulously chuckled.
The man checked his watch. "These days I come to test my sleight of hand on them, I give a few magic shows and sometimes I help them with a few mundane things. Also we play poker. Maggie hates gambling but I confess I enjoy betting a few sickes from time to time so don't tell her tonight is poker night, please."
Remembering something the man had once told him, he frowned, "Aren't seers forbidden to gamble?"
He winked. "As I said, what we're doing here is not completely legal."
The next person who entered the Divination guild's drawing room was a little girl.
She couldn't be older than six. With her long blonde hair and light blue dress, she looked like many children Harry would sometimes see playing in the street of the muggle side of London whenever he was going to work.
And yet it was this very appearance of normality that was setting her apart. In this strange place where everybody looked like they were making a point in looking as dramatic as possible, it was this utter lack of artifice that was making her the oddest person in the room.
The girl suddenly closed her ears and screamed while the windows and every teacup in the room shattered.
Harry startled as everybody rushed to her side.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," the little girl murmured as the seers brought her to a sofa and started fretting on her. "It just- It just got really loud for a moment."
"Oh, sweetheart..."
"I'm so sorry you've got to go through that..."
"Are you really sure you're alright? It seemed a little extreme."
"Do you want some hot cocoa?"
There was noise, as if somebody was hurriedly walking up the stairs. Finally a man in blue muggles clothes and wearing glasses, one lense red and the other blue, entered the drawing room.
Despite these strange glasses hiding his eyes, there was no doubt that the man was Harry's divination professor.
"I heard somebody screaming," Professor Mesmer agitatedly said. "What happened?"
"That was me," the little girl whispered as the man was pushing the other seers to get to her. "I-I'm sorry. I-I-"
But Professor Mesmer looked around, as if trying to assess the situation himself. When he finally spotted Harry and Mr. Evans, he left out a loud sigh. "Well, I suppose this answer that. She's fine," he assured the others. "I've seen it happen. It's quite frightening when it happens but there are no side-effect. Give her a few minutes and she will be back to her cheerful self."
He glanced in Harry's direction and the time-traveller understood.
Like the first time he had met Professor Mesmer and Cassandra Trelawney, Harry was responsible for what has just happened.
"Is she a seer?" he asked Mr. Evans in a whisper.
"Everybody here but us is," he whispered back.
If that was the case, Harry thought as he looked at Madame Soleil leaving the girl's side to bring her hot chocolate, then why had these three people reacted so strongly when the other seers haven't?
Professor Mesmer sat next to the girl, murmuring to her what Harry assumed to be reassurances. The girl nodded before raising her head to look at him and ask him something.
There was something very easy about how the two of them were behaving around each other, as if the two of them weren't just mere acquaintances.
"Are the two of them related?"
Mr. Evans hummed. "Her father taught him how to use his Sight when he was young. In these circles, they're as good as family."
It was only when Madame Soleil came back with a mug of hot cocoa that he left her side after a comforting pat on her hand.
"Is she really going to be alright?" Mr. Evans asked in concern once the man finally reached them.
The seer nodded. "Her powers are just manifesting but they're strong. As she's never experienced this before, she easily panics and sometimes has bursts of accidental magic as a result," he explained. "It can get dangerous if she's unsupervised but I confess I'm not particularly worried." His lips twitched. "Puberty however… I admit I'm not looking forward to that."
Mr. Evans nodded. "And are any of you going to fix these windows and teacups she's broken?"
Professor Mesmer blinked and looked in the direction of the windows. "They're broken?" he asked.
"They are. The teacups as well."
He sighed and pinched his nose as he took his wand with his free hand. With a large wave of his wand, he repaired all the damages the girl has caused.
"But enough about us, what about you? How did you figure out you needed to pick Mr. Potter at Kings' Cross? That part on how you figured the two of you were related wasn't very clear, I confess."
Harry painfully closed his eyes. "You knew."
"Of course I knew," he answered. "I'm a seer of great powers. Which reminds me..." He started searching in his pocket. "I've got to give you this back."
The other man seemed surprised. "What? Oh. Yes," he murmured once Professor Mesmer showed him a folded piece of paper. "Yes, I suppose this makes sense."
"Do you want some help with that?"
"No, no," he murmured as he opened the folded paper which was the size of a letter and appeared to be utterly black. "I think I've got it."
Harry frowned as Mr. Evans went to a table nearby, took the pen on it and started writing. And it took him a moment to realize what exactly the two men were doing.
"I thought you couldn't read something that had yet to be written." His first lesson had in fact been exactly on that.
"I'm a seer, so the rules are a little more flexible for me. Also, in case you've forgotten, I did, in fact, foresee what was about to be on the blackboard. The most important part to do this right is intent and Evans and I have decided a long time ago on we would do this little magic trick. Also, do you honestly believe I'm as short-sighted as you are and hadn't considered you had nowhere to go outside Hogwarts and something probably should be done?"
Harry stiffened.
"Luckily for you, somebody was already watching over you and I didn't have to do anything." He nodded in satisfaction. "Love when that happens."
Harry suddenly remembered the dove that had come during one of Professor Mesmer's lessons near the end of the school year. A white dove had brought the man an utterly empty letter, as if the person had forgotten to write anything or had yet to. And Mesmer at the sight of that empty missive had smiled, as if he's been handed the solution to a problem Harry hadn't known.
"Still, it must be said that you've got quite a lucky star, Mr. Potter."
Harry honestly didn't have one. After everything that had happened to him, he had stopped believing good things could happen to him for no reason. There had to be a catch, even if Harry couldn't find it. There had to be more than luck behind this strange turn of events.
Mr. Evans finally stopped writing and went back to them, his finished letter in hand. "There, done. Still, I know you like keeping some surprises but you could have had least warned me about that mess with Brutus."
The seer frowned and took the letter back. "I don't see anything about this 'Brutus' here. It's just you informing me that you've grabbed Mr. Potter and that the two of you are related."
Mr. Evans painfully closed his eyes.
After a flick of the wizard's wand, the letter self-combusted. "Why, what happened?"
"It's been a very long summer."
And Mr. Evans started explaining everything that had happened to them ever since Harry had come to London. The more the man was talking, the more the seer raised his eyebrows. And even though his strange glasses were completely hiding his eyes from view, Harry had no doubt the man was utterly baffled.
When Mr. Evans came to the part where Harry had broken the statute of secrecy, he finally turned to him, "What madness drove you to ask for the help of a muggle?"
"Inspector Granger's descendant is a good friend of mine," he explained. "And-"
"-and that in itself does not mean anything," he interrupted. "The fact that two people are related does not mean they are necessarily alike. He could have revealed the existence of magic to everybody and even helped that Auror to arrest you for what was at the time a perceived offense. You could have gotten in serious troubles. How could you even know that-"
"Mesmer," Mr. Evans cut in, "he knew."
"He got lucky," he fought back. "There's a difference between knowing and believing. Between trusting and hoping. He didn't have all the facts and everything could have-"
"You do realize that approach of yours would have killed me, don't you?"
Mesmer stilled.
Mr. Evans shrugged. "You would have probably found a way to make that detective stop putting his nose in our business and maybe you would have tried to help me. But I would have still tried to blackmail Brutus and this time nobody would have been there to attack him from behind. What Harry's done may not make sense to you, that doesn't mean there is none. You just... can't see it."
For a moment, the seer didn't do anything. He didn't speak, he didn't move, he didn't react at all. And no matter how hard Harry was trying to find a tell, his glasses' coloured lenses were completely hiding his eyes from view and it seemed impossible to know what the seer was thinking.
Finally, he nodded. "My apologies," he said to Harry. "That was not my intention to imply you took the wrong decision. I only want to point out that you cannot expect this approach to work all the time." Turning to Mr. Evans, he added, "Still, if the situation you put yourself in was as dire as you say, I suppose Mr. Potter is not the only one with a lucky star here."
Mr. Evans lowly chuckled. "Are you considering joining the Order of Astoria, now?"
"No, I'm most definitely not. I'm just wondering… Hadn't Mr. Potter saved you, you would have died childless. Meaning that Mr. Potter would have never be born. So how could a descendant who would have never existed in the first place come to save you, do you think?"
The two men looked at each other a moment. Finally, Mr. Evans tried, "The Higher Being-"
The other man laughed.
There was something poking Harry's back.
Turning around, he blinked when he saw it was the little girl.
"Hello," she said, "who are you?"
Harry spluttered at her forwardness. "W-Well I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
She tilted her head. "You're sure? You look like Time Keeper, and Time Keeper's last name isn't Potter. Are you really sure you're not confused?"
Harry looked for help. Professor Mesmer and Mr. Evans after glancing at the girl went back to their conversation, leaving Harry alone to deal with her. "Yes, I'm pretty sure. And who- who are you exactly?"
The girl gave him a bright smile. "I'm Hogwarts' future divination professor!"
Harry felt a headache coming.
"You see," she started babbling, "in more or less twenty years, Caecilius will resign because he will be very, very scared that in light of what is going to happen-"
"Alice," Professor Mesmer interrupted, "what have we said about giving away spoilers?"
The girl pursued her lips and looked at the floor. "Not to," she mumbled.
"And what were you trying to do?"
"But you do it all the time!" she protested. Sharply raising her head she exclaimed, "Why can you and everybody else do it and I can't? That's-That's not fair!"
"Well, the others and I are grown-ups."
"I'm a grown-up too!"
"Even if you were, that is not how a witch should introduce herself. You were so busy trying to steal my job you haven't even given Mr. Potter your own name when you've forced him to give you his. That's rude, Alice. You've been raised better than that."
Alice flinched and looked at her feet. "Hello," she murmured, "my name is Alice Lovegood. Pleasure to meet you."
"Much better."
Harry paused and numbly looked at the blonde girl.
Distantly, he know that little girl didn't have to be Luna's great-grandmother. That person would normally get that name the day would marry. Still, she was at the very least a relative of hers. And maybe the wizarding world was a small world, it seemed like he couldn't help meeting his friends' family by pure accident.
But was it really an accident? Harry wasn't that lucky so how? How could this happen and what was the catch?
The little girl was now looking at him with big innocent blue eyes. "Play with me."
"Err-"
She gave him a sweet smile. "Pretty please? I'm learning tasso-tasso- I'm learning to see the future by reading tea leaves and we have very good tea here. Don't you wanna try it? I can be mother if you want."
"And I'm not… I'm not really into tea parties," he weakly tried.
She tilted her head. "Really? That's odd. That's very odd because in the future you're going to have many of them.
The girl all but jumped on his teacup once he was done drinking. Humming a somewhat familiar tune, she looked at the bottom of his teacup.
"I think I see a butterfly," Alice finally declared. She then frowned.
"The butterfly represents success," Harry tried to help the girl.
"I know that!" she snapped. "It's just... I can also see a green butterfly around you too so I'm just wondering… why?"
Harry blinked. "Do you now?"
It was true that the butterfly that seemed intent on not dying was still following him from time to time, but the animal had quietly stayed at the Evans' for once.
"I've got… well, I've got a green butterfly."
Her eyes widened. "You've got a butterfly as a pet?" she breathed. "Wicked! How did you manage that?" She blinked several times and declared, "It has to be a sign!"
Harry gave up. "A sign of what?" he humoured her.
"I don't know," Alice admitted. "B-But I know they are very important and- and… What what the name of that person whose name also meant butterfly again? It's on the tip on my tongue."
She paused and decided to stick her tongue, her blue eyes trying to look at it, as if the answer was actually there.
Harry's lips twitched. "What else do you see?"
The little girl stopped squinting. "It's not really seeing, you know? Some seers like Caecilius see, but it depends from person to person. Madame Soleil for example-"
"Sweetheart, you shouldn't bother Mr. Potter here."
The two of them jumped when Madame Soleil came behind Alice and took Harry's teacup.
"But-"
"I know you must find coming here very boring-"
"I don't!" the child protested.
"-and I'm sorry you don't have girls your age to play with but I do not believe a fine man like Mr. Potter here find tea parties to his tastes."
"But-"
"Do you want me to play with you, Alice?" Madame Soleil softly asked. "I can show you a very neat trick to make the teacups dance and-"
Harry mutely looked at Madame Soleil convincing little Alice she made a far better partner to play with. As the woman began charming the tea service, he suddenly realized something.
None of the people in the room has had any problem with him indulging the child until the girl had started talking about them.
Harry slowly got up and left the table, leaving the two playing.
He supposed that was to be expected, he reflected. If Harry didn't want anybody to discover how he knew the future, he supposed the same could be said about them. If what Mr. Evans had said about them was true, then there had to be numerous secrets they were keeping and didn't want strangers to discover.
Seeing Mr. Evans sitting at the table with the others, he walked in their direction. Leaning down, he asked "What should I-"
Mr. Evans shushed him. "We're getting to the good part."
"Are you sure?" a woman at the table breathed.
"Certain," a man with a blue turban gravelly nodded. "In the future, muggles will learn how to speak to birds."
"What?" Harry said.
"It started like this," Mr. Evans murmured. "In a century, give or take a few years, an acromulenta is going to weave a web so wide it will cover the entire world. And instead of being rightfully frightened, muggles will start surfing on it."
Harry stared.
"At this point, Madame Soleil had informed them before leaving the table that the amazons of old will ride again and now we're at the point when muggles start tweeting."
There was silence. Then Harry heard behind him little Alice whispering, "Muggles are terrifying."
Mr. Evans pointed at the empty chair on his right. "You should take a seat and enjoy the show. Trelawney is always late for the poker tournament so we've still got at least ten minutes of entertainment."
"Speaking of late," Professor Mesmer cut in. "I've got a portkey to take at eight o'clock. As I've got to bring Alice to her uncle first, would you please warn me when it's seven thirty?"
Mr. Evans took his fob watch and started playing with the crown. "Sure. Seven thirty, you say? That should be doable."
The man pocketed his watch and went back to listening the other seers' ramblings. Apparently, there was going to be an era when muggles will suddenly be crazy about windows and another when it would be apples.
Harry had to admit it took him a moment to realize he needed to put a capital on each brand to understand what they were on about.
It was like that story Mr. Evans had told him before coming here. Yes, Professor Mesmer had insisted on the importance of context but never before had Harry seen this problem so keenly.
Ultimately, these seers didn't have context. And they might try all they wanted to draw or recreate whatever they saw, they just couldn't get the whole picture. Even with their best efforts, some information would always get lost and what little scraps they got were just words that didn't mean anything.
The seers all broadly smiled when Cassandra Trelawney finally entered the room.
"So glad you could come," Madame Soleil greeted the woman. "Of course we knew you were going to but as you weren't there last week…"
"I do. Nevertheless, let me reassure you: the Higher Being's always intended me to come here, tonight," Cassandra Trelawney declared. "There might have been a couple obstacles on my path but there were not put there to stop me but merely to insure I came to you at the proper time and do what needs to be done without anymore tribulations to face."
Professor Mesmer, Mr. Evans and Harry snorted.
"Nevertheless, the Higher Being has informed me that to do what I came for, I will need the help of Mesmer."
The man tilted his head. "Do you now? In what way am I supposed to help you, Trelawney?"
"There is a letter an important person needs to receive," the blind woman informed him. "A very important letter and I need you to write it in my stead."
"Sure." Getting up, he summoned a piece of parchment and a quill. "What do you want me to write?" He asked as he went to her and posed the parchment on the table where Alice was still playing with her dancing teacups.
"Dear Sybill," the greatest seer of the century began reciting, "Congratulation on you obtaining the Divination position."
Harry choked on his own saliva.
It was a grinning Mesmer who finished writing the missive Trelawney wanted to send to her descendant. "I hope you don't mind if I add a little post-scriptum. I've always believed one should train his replacements early."
"Do what you have to."
Alice, who had stopped playing to watch what they were doing, was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Can I write something too when you're done, Caecilius?"
"You may. However, I want you to make a draft first."
"I won't say too much! I swear it!"
"Actually, I'm more worried about the mistakes. And remember: it needs to be vague enough dear Sybill can only figure out the meaning once it's happening."
Grabbing the parchment and pencil the man's just conjured, the girl began her task.
Harry was also smiling. Nevertheless, he felt like he needed to ask, "Isn't it dangerous? I mean, if she ever tells anybody she's got a message from you all..."
The man, who had started reading over Alice's shoulder, snorted. "Who's ever going to believe her?"
It took all Harry's efforts not to laugh. "Can I- Can I also write something?"
"I suppose you may add a few lines once Alice's done. Same rules."
Once the girl handed him the parchment, he took great care in telling his former divination professor to be very wary of pink toads.
"It'll make sense," he promised.
Once Professor Mesmer took the finished letter for safe-keeping, Trelawney sat with the other seers for their poker tournament.
The first thing she announced was that she was going to lose terribly.
"You always lose," Mr. Evans pointed out. "So that was an easy guess."
"Shouldn't we wait for our colleague?" Madame Soleil asked. "I mean it is possible-"
"He's not coming," Professor Mesmer answered." And he's not going to come back here."
That statement had been said with such conviction the other seers couldn't help frowning. "Is there something you know that we don't, Mesmer?"
The man closed his eyes and sighed. "From what I understand, he has decided during the holidays to go on a pilgrimage."
"A pilgrimage?" Madame Soleil incredulously exclaimed.
"To Saint Nicholas Monastery, apparently. He's just come back but… Well, we cannot say he hasn't been drawing back from the guild for months and we didn't know this was coming."
The people around the table all grimaced.
"So we're now one player short."
Madame Soleil frowned. "That just won't do," she murmured. "Surely there's something we can do to insure we remain nine on this table. There has to be somebody who can take his place here."
The seers all looked at each other. Finally they all turned to Harry.
At the sight of the seers all intently looking at him, Harry winced. "What?"
"Blessed the Higher Being," one of them murmured.
In front of Harry, Trelawney's white eyes were seemingly looking at the cards the woman's got.
"Alright, I've got to ask. If Trelawney is really blind, how on earth is she playing?"
"Something something the Higher Being," Mr. Evans muttered. "Now please shut up and focus on your own cards, I need to concentrate."
Harry spluttered. Finally, he checked his hand once more.
Full house.
He absent-mindedly played with his chips, considering what he should do. Granted, they had all agreed no money was going to be bet for the first game, but that didn't mean Harry wasn't going to take this seriously.
Finally he pushed his chips. "All in."
When it was time to reveal their cards, Harry realized he's got the best hand.
"Beginner's luck," somebody remarked.
That didn't Harry from taking the chips.
"Now that Mr. Potter here's got a taste of how we're playing here, perhaps we can add a few sickles on the table, don't you think?" Madame Soleil proposed. "Not much, maybe a sickle each."
"I'm in."
"Me too."
"Me three."
Harry hesitated. While he did have seventeen sickles on him, he had planned to give them to Phineas Nigellus Black and finally pay off his debt.
"It's just one sickle," Madame Soleil pointed out.
"… Just one sickle."
He got a royal flush. And it was with a wide grin that Harry took all the money.
He was rich again!
And he could have been even richer had he put his seventeen sickles, he realized.
When Harry looked at his third hand, he put all his money on the table.
He lost everything.
"Did you really believe you were going to win?" Mr. Evans asked as Madame Soleil took Harry's hard-earned money.
Harry tried not to weep. "I thought-"
"You thought what? That luck was on your side?" He snorted. "There's no such thing as luck when you play poker with a seer. So when there are seven of them..."
Harry warily looked at the people at the table. "What do you mean there's no such thing as luck?" he carefully asked.
Madame Soleil innocently smiled.
And Harry just knew. "You cheated?" he screamed.
"Everybody here is cheating, Harry."
"I am most certainly not cheating!" Trelawney protested.
"Which is probably why you're always losing," Mr. Evans pointed out. "You're facing genuine seers, Harry. Do you honestly believe nobody knew which hands you had beforehand and that you won by pure luck? No, they were just playing dumb so that they could get all your sickles."
Harry gapped.
"There's a very good reason why we are all strictly forbidden to bet," Professor Mesmer added. "We cheat, that's what we do. As we're all doing this, it is not forbidden but necessary if you don't want to lose all your savings. You've got to cheat if you want to survive here. It's the hidden rule everybody on this table just knows. And this is one you had to discover the hard way. So now that you've lost everything, please leave the table."
Mr. Evans checked his watch. "It's also time for you to go. If you don't want to miss your portkey you should leave now."
"Thank you. Alice," he called, "time to go home."
"Don't wanna."
"Alice," he warned.
"And where are you going exactly this time?" Beauxbatons Divination Professor asked him. "I thought your tour to Europe was over."
"He's going to see the Russian Love Machine," the six years old answered as she regretfully left the table she had been playing on.
The older man opened his mouth in shock. "That is so wrong, Alice. Don't-Don't say that ever again."
"Why?" Humming a strange tune, she declared, "I like it. It's very catchy."
"Just don't."
Harry was still mourning his fifteen sickles when he and Mr. Evans finally left the Divination guild's headquarters one hour later.
He had been greedy. He had wanted more than he had and now he had nothing. How was he going to deal with Phineas Nigellus Black when he was back to Hogwarts? He couldn't just say 'I lost everything in poker', could he? Now the man was going kick him out and he'd have no choice but to moonlight as a magician. And though the possibility didn't particularly bother him, how was he supposed-"
"Harry, catch."
Only his quick reflexes spent trying to catch the snitch allowed him to grab the small golden object Mr. Evans had tossed. Opening his hand, he noticed that was a galleon.
"Fifteen sickles equals a galleon," he explained. "As I've won enough tonight, it's yours if you keep your mouth shut and don't tell Maggie about my fondness for gambling."
"Deal."
Harry quickly put the galleon in his pocket. "How did you manage to win so much by the way? If everybody was cheating..."
"I was cheating too." He shrugged. "Not like them of course but sometimes they're focusing so much of what is going to happen they do not notice what is happening under their eyes. It's difficult but you can trick a seer. I've just spent enough time with them to know how."
"And how do you do it?"
"That's a secret. And no, I'm not going to tell you this one: this is not a secret that is mine to give."
Harry sighed and numbly nodded.
"But don't bet money if you cannot afford to lose it. I know they were goading you but that was still very stupid of you to let yourself be manipulated like this."
"I know. It's just-"
"It's just that they seem so harmless?" he finished. "Of course they do, they make a point in looking as harmless as possible. With gifts like theirs, you do not survive long if those around you start thinking just how dangerous you can be. They are able to literally get a glimpse of the future so why do you think they aren't more feared than Parselmouths?"
His lessons with Mesmer had taught him how to look as innocent as possible but he had to admit he hadn't considered the fact that the man himself and the other seers he's just met may not be as innocent as they first appeared.
Something in his face must have given away what he was thinking for Mr. Evans' face softened. "They are good people," he assured him. "They just… Let's just say there's a reason why I wouldn't want to have their gifts."
