Aunt Petunia heard a brisk knock at the door and took a deep breath. She was horrified when she opened it and saw a thin woman with what appeared to be huge eyes behind round glasses. Though not wearing a wizarding robe, she was draped in an equally eccentric gauzy, spangled shawl. Around her neck she wore at least three strings of beads and each wrist had two clunky bracelets. Her bushy hair was pulled back by a red and orange scarf that clashed badly with her green blouse with puffy sleeves and her voluminous purple ankle-length skirt. Aunt Petunia had a vain hope that the woman was merely a vagabond looking for a handout.

"Good morning," said the woman in a soft voice. "I am Sybill Trelawney and was expecting to meet you and your family today."

Aunt Petunia took a deep breath. "Harry!"

Harry practically slid down the stairs. "Professor Trelawney? I didn't know you were a member of … I meant I didn't expect you here."

"I knew you did not, Mr. Potter," the Divinations teacher responded. "But it was foreordained in the stars that I be here this week."

Aunt Petunia looked around and saw with trepidation that the neighbor at number 7 Privet Drive was locking up her house. Afraid her neighbor would turn around any second and see this outlandish guest, she motioned urgently at the strange woman. "Very well, come in then. You room is at the top of the stairs to the right."

The Divinations teacher glided in. "You must have known how much I like to be above the earth. It enables me to see more clearly."

Harry cleared his throat. "Professor Trelawney is a seer, Aunt Petunia."

Aunt Petunia held out a brief moment of expectation. "I don't suppose you can tell us what numbers will be called on Saturday's Lotto."

"Of course I could, my dear," the Divinations teacher replied as she headed up the stairs. "But that would be unethical, and I know you wouldn't want that."

Harry kept himself from snorting.

"I will, of course, be needing quite a bit of privacy to keep my sight clear. I'm afraid you won't be seeing me much."

Aunt Petunia's hopes were raised again. "I'll be happy to send up your meals to room."

Professor Trelawney looked back for a moment. "That would be lovely," she replied with a slight smile.

Harry wondered how she was going to keep an eye on things from the guest room, but refrained from asking.

At the top of the stairs, the seer stopped short when she saw Dudley coming out of his room. She held up her hands. "Fascinating."

Dudley looked like he was about to bolt back into his room. "Sorry?"

Professor Trelawney slowly approached Dudley while he stood as if frozen. Only inches away from him she stopped, her hands sliding down in front of his face and chest. "Oh, my poor boy."

Harry feared Professor Trelawney was about to predict Dudley's soon demise.

"Your aura shows you are a troubled soul. Life had not been kind to you." The Divinations teacher wrung her hands together.

Harry snorted to himself. Dudley was about as spoiled as a person can be.

"But things will change," the seer continued. "You will take a journey, meet new people, and come back the richer for it."

Dudley blinked. "Ah, thanks, I think."

Professor Trelawney's tone became brusk. "Think nothing of it, my boy. Now, Mr. Potter, where is my room?"

When Harry returned from helping the professor get settled in her room, which primarily consisted of setting up at least seven incense burners and three crystal ball stands, Dudley was still at the top of the stairs. "You've got some strange teachers, Harry," he said.

Harry could only nod. "Yeah. She likes to predict the death of a student every year. She once predicted my death."

Dudley looked at the guest room and then back to Harry. "Good thing she was wrong."

Harry was startled. "Thanks, Dudley."

The next few days were quiet. Aunt Petunia sent Harry up four times a day with meals or tea, and several other times with sweets. She never saw her visitor downstairs.

"Say, Petunia," said Uncle Vernon at breakfast Friday morning. "Isn't this afternoon your turn to host the garden club group?"

Harry, who had been in the kitchen, brought out the coffee pot and refilled the cups before sitting down at the table. Guests were always a tricky subject. Dudley, happy Harry's company was staying upstairs, was entranced with the television and ignored the conversation.

Aunt Petunia nodded. "I was afraid I was going to have to cancel, but our visitor has been staying out of sight, and this is the last meeting before the vote."

Uncle Vernon took a last gulp of coffee and stood up. Giving his wife a peck on the cheek and his son a pat on his shoulder, he gathered up his things for work. "I know you'll be voted in, dear. After all, we have the best garden in the neighborhood."

Harry knew better than to expect any recognition.

The morning and early afternoon were spent in a hurricane of cleaning. Harry knew that with his professor taking a hands-off approach, and with his aunt working just as hard as he was, couldn't get out of helping all day. Even Dudley was drafted into moving furniture and rugs so that the floors could be cleaned, and to Harry's surprise he did so without complaint. At the last minute, Aunt Petunia fretted that the blue hydrangeas and cornflowers clashed with the cobalt blue vase they were in, so hurriedly switched them out for bright yellow canna lilies, which she felt also complemented the hand-blown lily pad design. She then spent an hour carefully arranging the flowers in the vase, making sure the side of each leaf was toward the front of the arrangement as she had been taught in the ikebana class she had taken.

By teatime the rooms were spotless. Aunt Petunia changed into clean clothes. After looking at it for several minutes, she decided her new petunia-decorated sweater would be perfect and put it on. Returning downstairs, she looked at the boys. "Popkin, I know you'll be bored by all our girl talk. Here's twenty pounds. Why don't you and your friends go the movies?" She turned to Harry. "As for you …" she paused.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said in resignation. "I'll go to my room and pretend I don't exist."

Aunt Petunia eyed him thoughtfully and shook her head. To Harry's surprise, she took out another pound. "Here. Find something to do."

With the boys out of the way, Aunt Petunia took one last look around. When the doorbell rang, she put a smile on her face as she opened the door. "Marian! How delightful to see you again! I can't wait to show you my prized asters! I purchased that special fertilizer you suggested and can't believe the difference that made."

"No trouble at all – as you know, I'm always eager to help out a fellow gardener." Marian responded as a second car arrived. Aunt Petunia waved at the two women as they started up the walk. "Sharon and Sara! Come in, come in. I have tea and sandwiches that we can start on as we wait for the others."

When a third car drove up, Sharon looked at her watch. "Jacqueline – exactly on time, as always." The others gave small laughs while Aunt Petunia smiled uncertainly.

Jacqueline viewed the front garden with a critical eye. "Hmm, nice composition. Complementary colors and heights. Variety, but it has coherence."

Aunt Petunia preened. "And this is just a small part of what I have to show you. The bigger plot is in the back. I'll show you after we've had some tea. I'm sure you're all a bit peckish."

As the four women took seats around the table, Aunt Petunia double checked that she had everything laid out properly. The tea had been steeped for just the right length of time, and lemon, milk, and sugar were within everyone's reach.

Being invited into the town garden club had long been her dream, but not being from the area made it difficult to be accepted despite her lovely garden. She knew she deserved it. Granted Harry had helped, but after all, he just followed her directions. Before he was home from school, she had fertilized, watered, and weeded until her back was sore.

When their property had been shortlisted for the All England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition last summer Aunt Petunia knew she was close to being voted in to the most prestigious wives' group in Little Whinging. She frowned. There was that little mix up when they had arrived at the finals to find the organizers claimed to have no record of them, but after she had pulled out their letter they were let into the dinner. She put those thoughts aside. Regardless of the past, she knew she was close to finally being accepted. She'd been given hints that today would just be a formality, but she would not risk anything not being perfect.

That funny little herbology witch she'd been concerned about when she'd arrived the week prior had actually made some slight improvements, she conceded.

She joined in the inconsequential chit-chat and felt herself relax. Everything was going perfectly. Her membership was in the bag.

Suddenly she heard a distant tinkling of bangles. She froze, hoping it was her imagination, but the sound came closer. No one else noticed until a figure appeared in the door.

"Hello," said an ethereal voice. "I knew I would find you here."

The four guests looked up in surprise and then at Aunt Petunia. "You have another guest? We can certainly come back another time."

Aunt Petunia's heart began to race. Everything was perfect today. Who knew what the weather would bring? A sudden storm could ruin her garden.

As she was trying to figure out what to say, Sara cocked her head. "Are you Romani?" Sharon kicked her under the table and whispered, "Don't be rude!" but Professor Trelawney had heard her.

"No, but we are kin, for they too are known as fortune-tellers. I'm a seer. I'm sure even you have heard of my great-great grandmother Cassandra Trelawney. I have been gifted with the Sight, which told me you would be here today and would need my skills to read your tea leaves." Jangling, she walked over to the empty seat at the table.

"Sybill is – a distant relative staying with us for a few days," Aunt Petunia told the group. Forgetting she'd sent Harry out of the house, she turned to the seer and added desperately, "I think Harry needs you. Can you check on him now? We can talk after dinner."

"Nonsense, Petunia," interjected Marian. "Sybill, is it? Here's my cup. What do you see?"

The seer held up her hands. "No, no, no. This is not just a parlor trick. To get an accurate reading, you must follow the steps precisely. You asked for me to read your future but you were holding the cup in your right hand. Hold the cup in your left hand and ask again."

Marian scoffed. "Well, I really …"

"Come now, Marian," interrupted Jacqueline. "You didn't get upset when we told you that you were watering your orchids incorrectly."

Marian shook her head but transferred her cup to her left hand. "Now can you tell me what you see?"

Professor Trelawney's voice became more firm. "Now swirl the cup widdershins."

"Widder …?"

"Anticlockwise," advised Sharon.

"Yes, yes, that's it." The Divinations teacher watched her carefully. "Now take your saucer and put it on top. Now flip the cup over and let it sit there so all the contents of the cup can drain away."

There was silence at the table.

"Good, good. Now slowly turn the cup up from the right … that's it. Hand the saucer over to me." The seer carefully took the offered dish. She adjusted her huge glasses and bent so near the saucer that her hair grazed the table on either side. She began speaking to herself. "Hmm, I see you and a ship in the near future, and there's a heart along the same line. Clouds mar the journey." She looked up. "I foresee a journey by sea very soon which will bring or reignite romance. The cruise itself, however, will be beset by bad weather."

Susan shook her head. "Marian hates traveling by sea. You must not be seeing the future after all."

Marian cleared her throat. "Well, actually George and I just booked a short cruise today. I was going to tell you after this meeting."

"But Marian, we know you get seasick!" Sharon was shocked.

"It's a big ship, and George assured me he'd get me the proper medications. It's been a dream of his since the war to see the Mediterranean when it's peaceful and this might be his last chance. I couldn't deny him that."

Jacqueline cleared her throat. "Coincidence. Give me a try." She picked up her cup in her left hand. "Tell me my future." She covered her cup and turned it upside down.

When it had drained, she passed the saucer to Professor Trelawney, who muttered to herself as she examined the dregs. "Clearly a crown, and one surrounded by dots. A leaf clinging to the rim." The seer looked up. "I predict good luck in a business venture, with money coming in very soon."

Jacqueline smiled. "I certainly hope so! I had to take over the running of our annual bazaar at my church due to the incompetence of the previous person in charge and have only months to prepare."

"Oh, Jackie – you know you can count on me to help," offered Susan. Sharon and Marian nodded. Aunt Petunia, seeking to ingratiate herself, spoke up. "I'll be delighted to help out as much as you need! Just name it – I'll do it!"

"Thank you, all of you. I know you're all skillful," Jacqueline said as she looked around, her eyes pausing at Aunt Petunia, "and will make it a success."

Aunt Petunia smiled broadly and almost quivered in her resolve to prove herself to the group.

"Now me!" Sharon quickly gulped down the rest of her tea and prepared the saucer. Aunt Petunia crossed her fingers under the table and hoped this woman would give another positive reading.

The seer took the saucer. "Much different than the other two. I see triangles, squares and circles in the upper quadrant. Something of significance is going to happen, something that will affect the rest of your life. I see a coffin followed by a gun, but a car too."

"Surely you mean a gun followed by a coffin?" Susan broke in.

Professor Trelawney looked up from the saucer with a haughty look. "I'd expect that of someone who is not a seer. A gun merely foretells disharmony." She turned to Sharon. "I predict the death of a loved one, followed by disharmony. All will turn out well, though, for wealth will be coming your way."

Sharon looked troubled. "My Great Uncle Clarence is in hospice. His wife died some years ago and he has no children, so his considerable estate will probably be divided among seven nephews and nieces. One of the nephews has been in and out of jail and I know that though Uncle Clarence would prefer he get nothing, that he will contest the will for a share."

"It looks like you will succeed in keeping him from any inheritance, Sharon," Jacqueline pointed out with a smile. She turned to Susan. "Your turn, my dear."

Susan prepared her saucer and handed it over.

"Hmm, an hourglass and a ladder, and wavy lines in the direction of …" The seer looked up from her murmuring and glanced around as if to get her bearings. "I see you're planning a trip in the direction of London. Be very careful, my dear, for danger awaits."

Susan sat up. "Sam and I are going to London next month. I warned him the tire tread looks like it's getting very thin." She put her arms on the table. "If he won't buy new tires, I'll take the car in myself to get them replaced."

Sharon turned to Aunt Petunia. "Your turn!"

Aunt Petunia's eyes widened. "No, no – I don't believe it that … superstitious magic."

Professor Trelawney looked affronted. "Superstitious magic?" she sniffed. "With your nephew I'd think that of all the people here you'd know better."

"Your nephew? The one you said goes to …?"

Aunt Petunia interrupted Marian. "Of course I'd love a reading, Sybill." She gave an artificial laugh. "After all, I can't be the only one who declines to know the future." Their attention diverted, Aunt Petunia breathed a sigh of relief that Professor Trelawney would not hear that she had told the neighbors that Harry went to St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. She doubted the woman would remember, but it was better to be safe.

For a brief moment she wondered why she had ever told her neighbors that before focusing once again on her guests.

The Divinations teacher examined the saucer. "Hmm, snakes surround what is clearly a saw and a mountain range, yet further away …" She looked up. "I'm sorry, my dear, but you have many bad omens. Strangers bring trouble, for they are powerful enemies. However, the dagger shows you will receive help and that you will be going on a journey."

Aunt Petunia felt a frisson of fear. "And at the end of the journey?"

The seer pointed to the edge of the saucer. "This hammer shows you will be able to overcome the challenges." She cleared her throat. "My inner eye is exhausted. Forgive me, but I must return to my room to allow it to rejuvenate."

Aunt Petunia gave a sigh of relief as footsteps told her the odd woman had gone back upstairs. She looked around the table and gave a weak smile. "I'm …"

"That was absolutely brilliant, Petunia!" Marian interrupted. "Where did you find her? I have to book her for my next book club!"

"And she'd make a great addition to Richard's upcoming birthday party!" added Sharon.

"I'm sorry, but .. she, ah, came all the way from Scotland and is returning there at the end of the week," Aunt Petunia replied dazedly.

"Too bad," said Jacqueline. "She was marvelous. I didn't know you had it in you, Petunia."

Susan nodded. "To be honest, we all thought you were too much of a stick in the mud to have such fun ideas. After this afternoon, though, I can say you certainly have my vote!" The others nodded in agreement.

"Well, ah, thank you," Aunt Petunia said dazedly. "Would you like to see the back garden now?"

Aunt Petunia preened as the four admired her lush and pristine back garden. As she said goodbye to the women, she was sure she'd get an invitation to their club.

As the four walked to the curb, Marian was the recipient of suspicious looks. "Have you really booked a cruise?"

"Heavens, no! You won't catch me on something without solid land under me. We've actually booked a holiday in Switzerland. But you, Jacqueline – you've taken over the Christmas bazaar!"

Jacqueline snorted. "They asked me to, but I recommended Linda. I'm far too busy." She looked smug. "I got us a new helper today though – I wouldn't be surprised if Petunia doesn't end up doing all the grunt work for her. I assume with your great-uncle that you'll be far too busy to help out this year, Sharon."

"What great-uncle?" Sharon said innocently.

Susan sniggered. "So I wasn't the only one ah, exaggerating things."

"Oh, do tell!" Jacqueline insisted. "I wondered why your brand new car would require new tires."

"Did you watch Petunia at all?" Sharon tittered. "She was lapping up that old fraud like she believed every word."

"In fairness to her, though, her garden looked magnificent. I'd love to know how she got everything to bloom at the same time, from the summer snowflake to the rosebay willowherb."

Marion nodded thoughtfully. "The blossoms were so perfect it was like magic."

"Maybe that seer of hers cast a spell on them," laughed Susan.

"I'd love to get the name of her gardener. I'm sure I can convince him to work for me. I can certainly afford to pay a bit more than Petunia can," Marion said as took one last look back.

"So we'll let her in?" asked Jacqueline.

"Why not?" answered Sharon. "After all, someone has to do the work for the bazaar!"

That evening, Harry was confused when his aunt told his uncle at dinner how their unwelcome guest had actually been beneficial. He kept quiet and could only hope the next guest would keep his guardians just as happy.

I hope you had as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it. I look forward to reading your review.