8. Unfogging the Future

Albus had never understood why someone had thought it would be a good idea not to hand out presents for Easter but to hide them. The problem with that course of action seemed blatantly obvious to him. What if those gifts were so well hidden that they proved nearly impossible to find? And what if, consequently, they began to smell? Perhaps that was only a problem, though, when one of your colleagues was named Horace Slughorn.

Horace, apparently, had felt particularly puckish this year, or maybe the generous amount of mead had been to blame. During one of his Slug parties he had revealed a bunch of Easter eggs filled with different useful Potions he had prepared personally. He had then proceeded to hide those eggs all over the castle. It had sounded like a fun idea (and Albus was the last person to try and spoil Horace's fun). Unfortunately, Horace had proved a little too competitive and careless at the same time.

First, he had made his eggs unplottable, and then he had promptly forgotten where he had hidden them. Some had been found, but certainly not all, and one after the other his guests had given up the search. A couple of days later the castle had begun to smell.

Even worse, Albus was now detecting that smell in his own office. At first he thought he was imagining it because he had already spent the better part of the afternoon searching the castle for the little troublemakers. After several more minutes, however, he was quite certain that there had to be one in here as well.

"Oh, my dear Horace," Albus muttered and got up from behind his desk.

'Ovum revelio!' he thought with his wand in his hand as he stood to survey the room. Nothing happened, and he hadn't really thought it would. There was no reason why this one should be easier to find than the others, thanks to Horace's Unplottable Charm.

Heaving a sigh, Albus began to slowly pass his wand over every piece of furniture in his study, muttering a powerful Detection Spell.

Just when the fireplace grate began to glow and rattle, there was a knock on the door and Albus called "Enter" over the back of his shoulder. A large red egg came zooming out of the fireplace and the grate quickly jumped out of the way, allowing the egg to shoot up in the air. Albus pointed his wand at it and it burst into a kaleidoscope of butterflies that engulfed Miss McGonagall, who was now standing in the doorway.

Her eyes round with surprise, she said, "Uh, you wanted to see me, Professor? Or is this a bad time?"

"Oh no, this was just a little Easter egg mishap," Albus replied by way of an apology and explanation. "Please, do come in."

"They are very nice, sir," Miss McGonagall said, glancing up at the colourful insects.

"They really are, aren't they?" Albus agreed, rounding his desk to sit back down. "There must have been a Beautification Potion inside that egg."

Miss McGonagall walked towards the chair in front of his desk and sat down. "Or you just make very pretty butterflies, sir."

Albus laughed. "Be that as it may, I'm sure they would much rather be outside." He pointed his wand at the window behind him. It sprang open and one after the other the butterflies found their way out onto the grounds.

"How long will they last, Professor?" Miss McGonagall asked curiously.

"Every Transfiguration will wear off eventually. How long it lasts depends on the skill of the witch or wizard who performed it and the properties of the material that was transformed. So in this case, since both the egg and the potion inside of it were already deteriorating, they won't live very long, I'm afraid."

"But surely longer than if anyone else but you had created them," Miss McGonagall said.

Albus suppressed a smile. "Perhaps. That is a discussion better left for our next lesson. We wouldn't want to deprive your classmates of a chance to learn something, now would we?" She nodded, and Albus reached for a scroll of parchment that was already waiting on his desk. "I would like to talk to you about your choice in subjects that you wish to study here at Hogwarts next year." He glanced at the parchment where Miss McGonagall had marked that she wanted to take Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Divination, Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures. "Or rather, your lack of such a choice."

She didn't say anything, but she did squirm a little in her seat, clearly not surprised that this was what she had been asked to come here for. She had probably talked to her classmates and realised that no one but her had chosen all five subjects.

"You did read on the sign-up sheet that you should choose a minimum of two, but that it would be inadvisable to choose more than three?" Albus asked.

"It didn't say it was forbidden," Miss McGonagall defended herself.

"It isn't. Far be it from us to tell any student who wishes to learn that they cannot do so," Albus said. "However, to study simply for study's sake is not always the wisest course of action, nor the most sensible way to make use of our time. Muggle Studies for example…"

"I know people laugh about it, but it isn't any less important than any of the other subjects!" Miss McGonagall interrupted him fiercely.

Albus wasn't surprised that she felt strongly about this and so he decided to overlook her cutting him off like that. "One could even argue that it is in fact a lot more important than some of them," he nodded thoughtfully, which brought her up short. "It would do many Hogwarts students a lot of good to take this class. But given your pre-existing knowledge of the subject, I'm not sure you're one of them."

Not ready to back down just yet, she met his gaze squarely. "I thought it would be useful to learn more about Muggle–wizarding relations."

"Very useful, indeed," Albus agreed. He had tried to talk to Armando about updating the syllabus on several occasions, but the headmaster had mostly laughed it off and told him to stick to his own department. "But the way it's currently taught at Hogwarts, Muggle Studies focuses rather on the history and daily lives of Muggles and how they compensate for not having any magic, which, having been born and raised in a Muggle village, you would already know."

"Oh," she said, finally dropping her gaze.

"Of course, it's up to you whether you wish to study the matter further, but I must impress upon you that the workload of five additional subjects would be quite substantial."

"You don't think I could do it?" she asked, looking up again quickly, almost accusatory.

Sometimes Albus wondered why the Sorting Hat had taken so long to make its decision. Miss McGonagall's temperament was as Gryffindor-ish as they came. "It's not about whether or not you can, it's about whether you need to," he replied calmly.

He gave her some time to think about that before he continued, "Which brings me to Divination."

"What's wrong with Divination?"

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it, nor will you ever hear me say that there is something wrong with any of the subjects taught at this school. They all have their own merits. However…" Albus paused, looking for the right way to put this without crossing any lines he shouldn't cross. "Divination is known to be an inexact science, which means it's quite far removed from Transfiguration, which, I think we can both agree, you have so far shown a rather uncanny knack for."

There was another short silence. "Have you studied Divination, Professor?" Miss McGonagall asked eventually.

"I have not," Albus admitted. "Which perhaps makes me the wrong person to give you advice on the matter. But I have been told that one needs a particular sensibility of mind and body for Divination, while Arithmancy applies a more rigorous and methodical approach when it comes to predicting the future, which is why I'm sure you'll do fine with the latter."

It was quite amusing to watch Miss McGonagall, who looked to be at war with herself. She seemed to believe him or at least value his opinion, but she was also still very curious to find out for herself.

"Tell you what. Why don't I talk to Professor Narramore and ask her if you could sit in on one of her lessons next week? That should give you a better idea of what you're dealing with," Albus suggested.

"Would you do that, Professor?" Miss McGonagall asked, taking an instant liking to the idea.

"It's no trouble," he assured her. In fact, it would be a whole lot more trouble if she insisted on taking all five subjects. But Albus saw no reason to tell her that just yet.

"It's all the way up there?"

Minerva stood at the foot of the North Tower and glanced dubiously up the stairs. It couldn't be as high up as the Astronomy Tower, but it still looked like a lot of stairs. And climbing up one tower to get to her lessons was bad enough, she wasn't anxious to make it two.

"I'm afraid so," said Professor Dumbledore, who had offered to show Minerva the way to her trial lesson in Divination. "It's not too late to change your mind. Professor Narramore is expecting you, but being our Divination teacher, I suppose she would have already foreseen that you would have a change of heart. Now that I think about it, that would be a rather brilliant way of testing the usefulness of this particular subject."

Minerva looked up at her teacher with a frown. He seemed to be enjoying himself. But the ramifications of this decision she had to make were too important for her to feel much like laughing. Which meant that she couldn't let a couple of stairs stop her. She squared her shoulders. "No, I'm going up."

"Have a good lesson then," Professor Dumbledore nodded.

"Aren't you coming, Professor?" Minerva asked, surprised.

"Oh no, Professor Narramore prefers me not to set foot in her classroom. Apparently, I'm not conducive to an open-minded and clairvoyant atmosphere." He chuckled.

Minerva stared at her Head of House. "What does that mean?"

Dumbledore smiled at her pleasantly. "Oh, I couldn't tell you. Only one way to find out." He pointed upwards.

"Right," Minerva said. With one last look back at the curious smile on Professor Dumbledore's lips, she started climbing.

It seemed to take twice as long as climbing the Astronomy Tower, but perhaps she was dragging her feet a little. Despite his assurances to the contrary, Professor Dumbledore didn't seem to take the matter of studying Divination very seriously, which made Minerva feel very strange about being here.

At least Professor Dumbledore had been kind enough to arrange for her to sit in on a Divination lesson with fellow Gryffindors. They were third-years, but she knew most of their names from hanging out in the common room, so she didn't feel completely out of place as they waited for class to begin. Minerva hadn't actually figured out where the classroom was exactly, but she was quickly enlightened when a circular trap door above their heads opened and a silvery ladder descended slowly. A brass plaque on the trap door said 'Foresee the Unforeseen.'

The other Gryffindors didn't hesitate to climb the ladder, clearly used to it. Minerva thought this was an overly dramatic way to start every class. She was the last to climb the ladder and emerged into the strangest classroom she had ever seen. It was crammed with small, circular tables, old armchairs and fat, little pouffes that looked terribly ugly. All the curtains were closed, even though it was a bright and sunny spring day. As a result it was uncomfortably warm and kind of smelly.

For a moment Minerva was on the verge of climbing right back down the ladder, but a voice floated towards her, stopping her in her tracks.

"Ah, you must be the student Professor Dumbledore told me about. The one who wishes to sample my class before deciding if it's worthy of her time."

Minerva froze. She hadn't realised that asking to sit in on a lesson like this might be somewhat offensive. She hadn't meant to be rude. Then again, she felt she had the right to make an informed decision.

Her response died on her tongue when she spotted Professor Narramore. Minerva had never paid much attention to her or seen her up close. She was huge. Wide enough to make Minerva wonder for how much longer she would still fit through that trap door. Her honey-coloured hair sat like a beehive on top of her head, giving her extra height as well. To add insult to injury, she was dressed in a very colourful mix between robes and a toga.

Misinterpreting Minerva's shocked silence as awe or perhaps fear, Professor Narramore said, "But, of course, you shouldn't be blamed for your ignorance. It's not your fault that the transcendent art of Divination is not given its due at this school, being only an elective." She paused as if giving them all a chance to voice their agreement, but no one did. Minerva still didn't know what to say. "Sit then, child, and listen, and you shall find that your whole future is right in front of you."

Well, yes, Minerva thought, she was here to figure out what her future might look like, but she rather hoped it would have nothing to do with a strange and stuffy room like this. Still, she sat at a table that was empty except for a white, round orb in its centre.

"Last week we started the very difficult and subtle practice of Crystal-gazing," Professor Narramore said to the whole class, mostly for Minerva's benefit, but some of the other students looked drowsy enough to have forgotten what they were here for. "I hope you have all done as I have told you and practised to clear your minds. Now pair up and begin."

Minerva was alone at her table and so Professor Narramore approached her. "Naturally, one wouldn't usually start studying Divination by attempting something this advanced, but it should tell us soon enough if you have the gift, my dear."

"What gift, Professor?" Minerva asked.

"The gift," Professor Narramore repeated dramatically, which didn't tell Minerva anything at all. "The gift to See." She nodded at the white orb in front of her.

"What exactly should I be seeing, Professor?" Minerva wondered.

"I couldn't possibly tell you that, my child."

Repeatedly being referred to as a child annoyed Minerva a great deal. She was thirteen, not three. Perhaps that was why her next question was rather direct. "But isn't that your job?"

Professor Narramore narrowed her eyes at her. "My job is to guide you, nothing more."

"So, you can't actually do it yourself?" Minerva asked before she could stop herself.

"Of course I can do it!" Narramore snapped. "But it's you who's supposed to learn how to do it, unless you've come here simply to waste my time."

"No, Professor, but you still haven't told me what to do!" Minerva protested.

"Relax your conscious mind and your external eyes and then gaze into the depth of the crystal ball! Let it show you your path."

Minerva looked at the ball, but she found it very hard to relax while Professor Narramore was glaring at her. She was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot from the warmth in the room that had only got worse with so many students crammed into it. The crystal ball wasn't very cooperative either. It hadn't changed one bit.

Sensing that Minerva wasn't making much headway, Professor Narramore continued with her instructions. "Take a deep breath to cleanse yourself and let go of everything that keeps you tied to the mundane!"

Wrinkling her nose, Minerva hesitated. The room hadn't exactly smelled good to begin with, but now that the sweat of so many bodies had begun to mingle with the incense in the air, it was quite sickening. "I'd really rather not, Professor."

"Don't be silly, girl! Take a breath and open your eye!"

"My eyes are already open, Professor," Minerva pointed out, confused.

"Your Inner Eye!" Professor Narramore explained, sounding exasperated, which Minerva thought was rather unfair.

She had no clue what an Inner Eye was supposed to be, but if she had one, it was completely unresponsive. Perhaps it had been smart enough to flee the room when it had the chance. Still staring at the crystal ball, Minerva could see nothing but swirling white fog. Unless Professor Narramore was looking for tomorrow's weather forecast, that wasn't very helpful.

"So?" the Divination teacher prompted her impatiently.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Professor," Minerva was forced to admit. "There's nothing there."

Professor Narramore sighed. "Nothing? Well, that's a disappointment. And they told me you were smart," she added mostly to herself, but everyone heard and everyone laughed.

"Smart enough to know that this is just a pretty piece of glass that could no longer tell me my future than any other inanimate object in this room!" Minerva said. Unlike her Inner Eye, her anger was very real.

"Oh, you poor thing, I fear I have to tell you that I've never met a student whose mind was as firmly closed and unwilling to learn as yours."

Unwilling to learn? She was the best student in her year! Had been for two years now. Minerva could hardly find the words to speak. She had never been this upset with a teacher before. "I am here to learn! I asked to take this class!" she said, standing up.

Professor Narramore smiled at her pitifully. "Yes, and I'm glad you did. I knew, of course, that it would end this way, but I didn't have it in me not to give you a chance at least. Sadly, I must inform you that you're entirely unqualified for studying Divination, and I cannot permit you to start taking my classes next year."

Minerva stared at her for what might have been a whole minute. "You're saying that I'm not allowed to study Divination?"

"I am."

"But... you can't. Every student in Hogwarts has the right to choose every subject they want!" Just a couple of minutes ago Minerva had been quite certain that she didn't want to study Divination, but now that she was being told that she couldn't...

"Then you'll have to be the exception, because I forbid it. Now sit down and be quiet, so I can teach the students who actually stand a chance to learn something."

Professor Narramore turned away from her and, gritting her teeth, Minerva had to sit back down.

For the rest of the lesson she sat there, stewing in anger and humiliation. Her initial scepticism upon entering this room grew into a three-headed monster of utter disbelief, deep contempt and pure loathing.

When the bell rang, she shot out of her chair so fast, she was first to the ladder and had made her way back down to the foot of the North Tower before some of the other students had even finished packing up. She ran all the way to Professor Dumbledore's office and the door swung open to allow her entry before her fist had even touched it. In fact, it very nearly jumped off its hinges.

"She banned me!" Minerva yelled.

Professor Dumbledore looked up from a pile of student essays and blinked at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Professor Narramore banned me from attending her classes!" Minerva repeated heatedly.

Her Head of House opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it again, the expression on his face unreadable. Was it surprise? Anger? Exasperation? Amusement? Disbelief? All of the above?

Whatever it was, it wasn't helpful. "She can't do that, can she?" Minerva pressed.

When Dumbledore finally spoke, he said, "Would you please close the door? Gently," he added pointedly.

Minerva did as she was told and sat down.

"Now, what happened exactly?"

Reluctantly, Minerva told him all about that horrible lesson and Professor Dumbledore listened with an expression of polite interest and without interrupting her. When she got to the part where the only prediction the crystal ball had shown her was that they were about to get an unusual amount of fog for this time of year, Minerva saw Dumbledore's lips twitch.

"It's not funny, Professor!" she burst out.

"Your righteous indignation is understandable," Professor Dumbledore said, but he sounded a little weary. She should probably stop yelling at him. "Professor Narramore has a right to her opinion, and sounds to me as though you judged her every bit as harshly as she judged you."

Minerva opened her mouth to defend herself, but Dumbledore merely continued, "Nevertheless, Professor Narramore is a teacher and so it was highly inappropriate of her to voice her opinion like that and to discriminate against you. I will remind her of that, should you want to participate in her classes. But I believe the question remains. Do you wish to study Divination?"

"You would make sure I could take her class next year?" Minerva asked thoughtfully.

"Like I said, Hogwarts has never turned away a student who was willing to learn. I wouldn't be teaching here otherwise."

A vengeful little part of her wanted to take the bloody subject just to prove to Narramore that she could. But now that Professor Dumbledore had pledged his support and Minerva could picture him putting the Divination teacher in her place, her anger began to dissipate. As soon as it did, the voice of reason easily won out.

"No, I don't want to take Divination," she said resolutely. "The whole thing is a joke and Narramore is a crazy..."

"Professor Narramore," Dumbledore interrupted her, an unmistakable warning in his voice not to finish that sentence.

Minerva held her tongue and Dumbledore's expression brightened. "Well, that's settled then," he said and reached for the piece of parchment with her choice of electives to cross out Divination. Perhaps Minerva was imagining it, but he seemed to do it with a rather satisfied flick of his wand.

"I will also not be taking Care of Magical Creatures," Minerva told him.

"Oh?" Dumbledore said, raising an eyebrow.

"I heard what you said about Muggle Studies, Professor. But I did some reading and for some jobs it's at least preferable to have taken Muggle Studies at some point. And I don't think I will ever work with magical creatures," she explained.

Professor Dumbledore smiled at her. "Sounds to me as though you will handle your future just fine without crystal balls of any kind."

Relieved that he seemed to approve, Minerva leaned back in her chair.

"Are you still not happy with your choice?" Dumbledore asked after a moment of silence.

"No, I am. It's just..." She knew it was silly, arrogant even, but to be told by a teacher that she was no good at something, it still irked her.

Dumbledore read her thoughts with ease. "Do take heart. I've never had much of an Inner Eye either and I have yet to encounter a situation where some good old common sense and a little bit of guesswork failed to achieve the same end. Though, I suppose, it would be nice to know in advance if they'll be serving kipper for breakfast again tomorrow..."

Minerva laughed and she was slowly beginning to look forward to her third year and her new subjects.