Chapter 22: Omens

"Boy! Bring me those teacups from the shelf!"

With a bit of a harried look, Ron quickly complied, grabbing as many as he could with his hands, before remembering he had a wand and levitating the rest over to the professor's table. In private, Sybill Trelawney was a harsher taskmaster than one would expect given her public persona. Then again, what girl wasn't like that? Hermione, Ginny, and above all, his own mother.

Ron hadn't figured out how to keep them from going off on him, but he had gotten down how to handle it once they did. Prompt obedience.

"Here, Professor. That's all of them," Ron said as he took his seat.

Trelawney made a quick gasp. "Oh, dear boy, most terrible news…." The thick spectacles of the Divinations teacher tilted forward as she gazed sympathetically at Ronald Weasley. "It's the cracked moon," she said pointing towards where a crescent shaped clump of tea dregs were broken up by a jagged line within the cup in her hand. "A terrible fate awaits you. Beware the night. Dark forces hunt you, and ill-luck will strike you before the next new moon."

Then the pair drank from their respective teacups as if nothing had happened. A few seconds later, Trelawney simply said, "Your turn," between sips of her tea.

Ron nodded and he picked up an empty teacup of his own. Without a moment's hesitation, his hand coming up to his mouth, Ron pointed to the teacher. "I'm so sorry. Twin snakes leading to the cross." Ron shook his head. "A coming journey will lead to trials…and suffering." Ron sadly lowered his eyes.

"Good," Trelawney commented. "Just enough sincerity to go along with the prediction of doom. You really are quite a natural at this, must be a family trait. Your brothers Fred and George were also talented at delivering predictions, though fortunately no one would believe anything they ever predicted, and if anything they ever said came true, everyone would suspect one of their infamous pranks."

Ron's brows rose up in alarm. "You mean, they could be seers, too?"

Trelawney shook her head. "No, dear child, the burden is yours alone," she reassured. "They share your talent for the dramatic, but they lack your earnestness. And, of course, the Gift." Trelawney drank another sip of tea before ordering Ron to make another prediction from the tea leaves.

An hour and twenty cups of tea later, Professor Trelawney gave Ron a break.

"I can sense you have a question," she asked.

Ron frowned and nodded. When she wasn't pretending to be ditzy, the Divinations professor really did have an uncanny knack for knowing what a person was thinking. She had been teaching him about "cold reading" and how that fed into the sort of things to say when "divining", but he would almost suspect she could really read minds if he hadn't been trained in Occlumency.

"Yeah, I get why we need to 'Obscure', 'Obfuscate', and 'Orate' to temper belief and all that," Ron said, "but why follow all these books and stuff? Why not just make up whatever we want?"

Sybil Trelawney nodded, pleased that Ron understood the three O's of prediction she had taught him. He wasn't the brightest student she had ever taught, but he wasn't dull either. He'd get it. She pointed to all the different symbols in the book on the divinations chart. "What do all of these symbols have in common, Mr. Weasley?"

"You mean, besides most of them being dark and gloomy?"

"Yes, besides that." Trelawney waited for Ron to come up with an answer for a few seconds before offering it on her own. "They are all shapes that are easy to form in tea dregs, and easy for people to see. We want people to recognize what it is we are pointing to, that way when we speak of things they cannot see, they will more readily accept it."

Ron nodded his head, understanding beginning to dawn on him. He got that people believing his predictions made them more powerful, even if he didn't understand why or how. Crystal ball scrying he already understood, but was still working out how tessomancy, horoscopes, and tarot reading fit into things.

"Ok, so we want people to see the symbols we interpret to make them believe us more, but still leave room for interpretation and all that. And if I say the sun means you're going to be happy and you say the sun means we're all doomed, that would mess it all up," Ron said, answering his own question. "So, we need to all use the same meanings for the symbols. But then, why can't they just read the book and see what it means themselves?"

"Because, Mr. Weasley, they don't believe they can see the future, but that we can," the Professor replied. "So, while Forten's Principles of interpretation are important, the key to augury is not what the symbols mean, but the confidence with which you present them."

"Right." Ron nodded, before catching a crystal ball Trelawney tossed him.

"Now, boy, tell me how I'm going to die tomorrow," she ordered. "Then we're going to Madame Pudifoot's and we'll put your training to the test in public."

.

A man in a dress shirt with a sweater vest pulled over and a woman with neat shoulder-length hair wearing a fashionable peach colored Burberry blouse came to a stop just outside a shop decorated with pink cherry wood. The sign above it read "Madame Pudifoot's" and several delectable looking cakes could be seen through the large windows.

"Muggles?" a voice called from the doorway. A young man dressed in a pink robe that matched the color of the door frame moved towards the pair. "Off with you, there. This is an establishment for magic folk only," he said in a dismissive tone.

A brown-haired witch in Hogwarts robes came up behind them and glared at the pink robed wizard in a way that would have made Ron gulp if had witnessed it. Hermione Granger had heard the entire exchange and was not at all pleased.

"That's rubbish. These are my parents, and I assure you that I am just as magical as anyone on this street." Hermione's eyes flashed momentarily before turning briefly back towards her parents to mouth a silent apology and then turning her scowl back on the wizard blocking the doorway. "And I don't remember you outside this door the last time I was here. Weren't you a seventh year Hufflepuff just a couple years ago? Your name is Reginald something, isn't it?"

"Reginald Brownstone. And I just started working here for Aunt Gwen a month ago, but it's just until my prospects come in," he said with a sniff. "Anyway, this is nothing against Muggleborns, Granger, just this has always been a place for witches and wizards and not open to Muggles. So, it doesn't matter who you are, they can't—"

"Mr. Granger. Mrs. Granger," a deep, cultured voice interrupted. Everyone turned to see the well dressed, dark haired wizard who had just arrived. Sirius Black bowed a quarter ways down, giving more than just an incline of his head to Hermione's parents. "It is an honor to finally meet the parents of one of the best and brightest young witches I have ever had the pleasure to meet. You have raised a remarkable young lady, and I cannot tell you how much her friendship has meant to my godson."

A number of onlookers were now openly watching the exchange, noting the deepness of Sirius Black's bow and the great level of respect that act conferred. When it came to celebrities in the Wizarding world, it would take someone on the level of Albus Dumbledore, Viktor Krum, or Celestine Warbeck to outshine Sirius Black in the public eye. His notoriety as the first criminal to ever escape Azkaban had transformed into fame and respect for the wealthy aristocrat and Sirius had the flair and charm to sustain the sense of mystique that leant him a special gravitas in society.

And then Harry Potter called out, "Hermione!" and the young witch promptly rushed over to embrace the single most famous wizard in all of England, if not the world, as if they were the most intimate of friends. Which, of course, they were.

"Mr. Black," Hermione's father began, before correcting himself, "Or is it actually Lord Black? I'm not sure what the proper title is."

"Call me Sirius, please," the Black said smoothly. "Titles are for court rooms and vows, not for friends meeting for tea."

Madam Puddifoot came bursting out the front door of her establishment at that moment, calling, "Lord Black! Mr. Harry Potter! What an honor it is for you to come to my humble tea shop! Please, do come in!"

This was when Hermione took the opportunity to speak up. "We were just about to, Madam Puddifoot, when your greeter let us know that my parents and I weren't welcome."

Reginald, broken out of the temporary stupor the sudden arrivals of Sirius Black and Harry Potter had induced, now spoke up. "Of course, Aunt Gwen, the young witch is welcome, but I was just explaining that, unfortunately, her parents being Muggle and all, they would have to wait outside or go somewhere else."

Madam Puddifoot's happy, welcoming visage morphed into mortified embarrassment. She flicked her wand and a pink gag formed over her nephew's mouth. She shot him an incredulous look before turning back to the people standing outside her doorway. "Please pardon my nephew. While Madam Puddifoot's caters specifically to the magical population of Hogsmeade, I would never turn away the parents of a Hogwarts student or the guest of wizards such as you just because they were Muggles. Please accept my sincere apologies, Mr. and Mrs. Granger."

Hermione's mother was the one to speak up this time. "Think nothing of it. I know I'm looking forward to tasting those cakes of yours. Hermione has told me they are absolutely divine."

Madam Puddifoot was beaming at Hermione as she showed her guests in. Reginald would be getting a talking to about what constituted "the wrong sort" he was supposed to keep out before the afternoon was over.

Once settled, the small group chatted amiably for a few minutes about the Granger's dental practice, the business dealings Sirius was up to, and finally about Harry and Hermione's upcoming school year. Naturally, the conversation turned to the delicious confections and the marvelous magical teas once they were served before turning back to more personal topics. As the conversation wound down, Hermione gave a meaningful glance to Sirius, who responded with a polite nod.

Mr. Granger gave a meaningful nod of his own to his wife, who smiled back, before he addressed Sirius Black. "I really must thank you, Sirius. You've been a most gracious host. I don't know what it is my daughter has roped you into, but I hope it's not something that will put you out too much."

Sirius chuckled at his guests' perceptiveness. It seemed their attempts at subtlety had not gone unnoticed. "I see where Hermione gets her cleverness. You are right that we asked you here today for more than just a spot of tea, as enjoyable as this has been. There's a bit of serious business, and since I am the most Sirius person around, we thought I would the best one to broach the subject." Sirius's words were light and he smiled when he spoke, but the mood at the table turned suddenly chill.

"I'm not sure how much Hermione has really told you about the recent history of our world, or how much you know about what has happened recently, but there is a war brewing. There are wizards out there who would use magic to do harm to others, and unfortunately, some of them turn that ill intent on your kind," Sirius paused a second before correcting himself, "by that I mean, those without magic. I mean no disrespect, to either of you, but let me be frank here. Most of us think of Muggles sort of like you would think of someone who is blind or deaf. To us with magic, we can't really understand what it is to live without it as part of our life. Many of us greatly admire the great accomplishments you have made without the use of magic to do things for you. I hope this doesn't offend you."

Mrs. Granger shook her head. "No, no offence taken. To be honest, it's eye-opening to hear that kind of explanation. I had never thought of magic as being as important as sight or hearing, but I can imagine. So, what does this have to do with the war you were talking about?"

Sirius continued. "As I was saying, there are evil wizards and witches, and a group who specifically target Muggles, Muggle-born witches and wizards, or their families. They look on your lack of magic and don't see you as a fellow person, but as something less than they are. They view you more like a person would view an ape or a dog. Not only do they think nothing of hurting or killing non-magicals, but they resent having to share the world with you, having to hide our existence. Even worse, they hate the idea of magicals being born from non-magicals or inter-marrying. It is the worst kind of hate and intolerance.

"Around twenty-five years ago, things got as bad as they ever had. A terrible war broke out between those of us who believe in peace and tolerance and those who hated your kind. There were deaths. Many Muggles were killed, though you probably heard it in the news as IRA terrorism or accidents. We also lost a lot of people. Some of the finest witches and wizards I ever knew lost their lives."

Sirius sent a meaningful look at his godson, who was sitting there raptly listening to Sirius's explanation as if he had never before heard of Voldemort or the wizarding war. The Grangers, who had known that Harry had been orphaned, now found a deeper empathy for their daughter's best friend. It was one thing to know someone died for a good cause, and another to realize that the cause was your own protection.

Feeling the weight of everyone's attention turn to him, Harry found his voice. "Voldemort, the leader of the evil side, they call themselves 'Death Eaters', well, he's come back. He's starting the war again."

"Come back?" Mr. Granger asked. "From prison? Or some kind of magical exile?"

"From the dead," Hermione answered.

"You mean, magic can bring people back from the dead?" Ms. Granger asked, aghast.

Harry shook his head. "No. There's no magic that does that. He wasn't all the way dead."

"Just…mostly dead?" Mr. Granger asked. He couldn't help but add on, "Inconceivable!"

"It's serious," Hermione responded, before sighing and pointing over at Harry's godfather. "Which is why Mr. Black should explain."

Despite the grim subject, Sirius couldn't help at grinning at the Grangers' puns, but managed to school his features before continuing. "Unfortunately, both Harry and your daughter are going to be targets. We're going to keep them as safe as possible, and Hogwarts is probably safer than anywhere else in the Britain, but there is a danger. However, what we came here to discuss was not their safety, but rather yours. As parents of a prominent Muggle-born witch, sooner or later the two of you will probably be targeted by Death Eaters."

"Us?" Hermione's parents asked in unison before giving each other worried glances.

"Which is why," Harry said, putting his hand on top of Hermione's, "Sirius and I would like you to consider coming to live with us, at least temporarily. It's not as safe as Hogwarts, but—"

"YOU ARE IN GRAVE DANGER."

Everyone in the tea shop, including Harry and all those at their table turned at the sudden pronouncement. A few tables away, a familiar red headed, freckle-faced Hogwarts student was staring intently at a broken teacup.

"Ron?" Hermione asked.

"THE FINGERS OF THE DARK LORD SHALL SEEK THE SOURCE OF THE HIDDEN WEAPON. THE BLOOD OF CASSANDRA WILL SPILL AND THE MARK OF THE SERPENT WILL MAR THE STARS—"

Harry had to admit, Ron had gotten scary good at faking his predictions. If he hadn't known about Ron from the start, he might have wondered if there might have been something serious to this prophecy. As it was, he had to ask why he was he doing this.

"Boy!" the voice of Sybil Trelawney could be heard, as she rushed across the table to where Ron seemed to be fast fainting away. "Boy, you must tell me…hold your Inner Eye open another few seconds…do they get what they want from me? Do I betray the Light?"

Ron reached out a hand, gently touching the Divinations professor's face. "They may break your body…but your soul will not bend to them…" And then Ron finally slumped completely down, as if hit by a stunning spell.

Harry watched, mystified. That looked to him like it hadn't been scripted at all, and moistness that could be seen behind Trelawney's thick glasses made him have to wonder if she had even known what Ron was going to say ahead of time or not.