Disclaimer: Dean Thomas belongs to JK Rowling.
Chapter 6: Sprout
Talons and Tea Leaves
Tuesday, March 19, 1996.
Amelia Bones looked over her notes from Percy Weasley and frowned. Most of them were things she already knew, although were a couple new notes about Potter's muggle relatives. And some rather pointed questions about the origin of the books. But his last question—had the dementors specifically targeted Harry Potter two years ago when they were supposed to be looking for Sirius Black? She didn't want to believe it, but after what she'd seen in these past weeks, and knowing they had sided with Voldemort in the last war…
In fact, looking at it that way, she had to wonder why they trusted the dementors guard the Death Eater prisoners in Azkaban at all. It had worked, obviously, but who was to say they wouldn't continue to side with the Death Eaters? Although knowing about the horcruxes, maybe they saw Voldemort as a kindred spirit who was nearly as soulless as they were. (Ugh, that was a gross thought.) Or maybe Voldemort was so powerful that he was the only one of the Death Eaters who could control them.
In any case, everything she was seeing was making her reevaluate Dumbledore's stance that the dementors should be removed from Azkaban, even moreso with the separate report from Fudge himself that the dementors had indeed tried to Kiss Harry Potter of all people on the hunt for Sirius Black. Honestly, that had probably brought Fudge closer to being sacked than any of his other messes, if he were still alive to face them.
Dumbledore's note was more substantive, but still didn't have much that was actionable. A vague statement that they needed to try harder to sway the werewolves away from Fenrir Greyback. A note saying, in essence, that she needed to keep an eye on Rufus lest he turn into too much of a politician. And a note that they were still investigating an unspecified and thankfully not short-term plan of Voldemort's to infiltrate Hogwarts.
She wrote him a note back telling he'd better finish that investigation sooner than later, then got to work for the day.
The students assembled in the Great Hall the next morning, and after breakfast, once again, Percy entered the Hall to join the teachers for another day of the book reading.
"I won't waste any time," Professor McGonagall said once the plates were cleared away. "We have a great deal to cover today. Professor Sprout, if you would begin?"
"Of course, Headmistress," Sprout said, and she picked up the book, turning to the marked page. "Chapter Six," she began. "Talons and Tea Leaves."
Harry remembered just what happened in that chapter and muttered, "Ugh, at least Trelawney isn't reading this chapter."
The chapter began not much better, though, as Malfoy and Parkinson were both mocking Harry for fainting before the dementors, but Fred and George soon revealed the rest of the story.
"'That little git,' he said calmly. 'He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?'
"'Nearly wet himself,' said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy."
At the Slytherin table, Malfoy turned red and tried to glare but he looked unsure of himself under the contemptuous looks of his fellow students, including some of the Slytherins. It wasn't as funny after everyone had heard the story from Harry's point of view yesterday.
Meanwhile, in the book, Ron was pointing out the impossibility of Hermione's overloaded class schedule, something that had the real Hermione looking nervously up at the High Table to see how the Ministry officials—and McGonagall for that matter—would react.
"'But look,' said Ron, laughing, 'see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And' —Ron leaned closer to the schedule, disbelieving— 'look—underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?'
"'Don't be silly,' said Hermione shortly. 'Of course I won't be in three classes at once.'"
Dean Thomas narrowed his eyes at Hermione suspiciously. He'd noticed Hermione behaving oddly in third year, though he'd had enough trouble to deal with at the time, what with the dementors and Black. He hoped this book would shed some more light on it.
There were some other muttered speculations around the Great Hall, especially from the older students, but Sprout continued on without incident. Regardless of her actual timetable, Hermione joined Harry and Ron for the one class of the three they shared: Divination—except they couldn't find the classroom. They eventually got separated from the rest of the group and had to enlist the somewhat unhinged portrait of Sir Cadogan to find it.
"'Yeah, we'll call you,' muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, 'if we ever need someone mental.'"
"Which unfortunately we did, and it was still a disaster," Ron answered himself at the table. Neville shivered slightly and nodded in agreement.
In any case, Professor Trelawney invited them up to her classroom, which could only be accessed through a trapdoor in the ceiling above them (although that wasn't too weird for Hogwarts, all things considered). If anything Trelawney herself was weirder, speaking to them out of the shadows with a lot of pomp and pageantry.
"A lot like muggle fortune-tellers, really," Hermione said.
"Muggles have fortune-tellers?" Neville said in surprise.
"Oh no, don't get her started," Lavender groaned before Hermione could respond. She and their other roommates had heard this spiel too many times already.
But she was too late "Yes, and they're about as accurate," Hermione said primly. "They say vague things that can be interpreted lots of different ways, and they use a lot of tricks like watching for body language to guess what people want to hear."
"Er, I'm not sure Trelawney tells people what they want to hear," said Neville.
"Yes. Well…she's more playing a part, I suppose," Hermione admitted.
"'By the way, my dear,' she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, 'beware a red-haired man.'
"Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her, and edged her chair away from him."
"Hey, that never happened, did it?" Ron pointed out when Parvati turned to stare at him at the table.
"Well, you were a git to Padma at the Yule Ball. That's close," she insisted.
Hermione smacked her forehead.
The class began with a glorified tea party leading into their first attempt at "unfogging the future." However, Harry's and Ron's attempts at reading tea leaves didn't go very well. Harry's initial impression ("a load of soggy brown stuff") was useless, and his second effort wasn't much better.
"'…so you're going to suffer but be very happy…'
"'You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me,' said Ron."
That drew laughs, but Hermione had a thought. "That'd probably be a good idea," she said. "If there's any validity to Divination at all, shouldn't we have an aptitude test to see who has the Sight so the people who don't don't waste their time in that class?" A few people nodded along. Even Lavender and Parvati looked thoughtful. Hermione made a note on her parchment.
And her conviction was only strengthened when Trelawney predicted Harry's death (after all, Harry was still alive and well) and told her that she had "very little receptivity" to the art.
Professor McGonagall was equally sceptical when the rather disturbed Divination class brought it up in Transfiguration. "'Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favourite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues—'" Professor Sprout stopped and coughed. "Yes, because that's not transparent at all, Minerva," she said.
Professor McGonagall blushed slightly, but Professor Trelawney put on a long-suffering tone and said, "Do not concern yourself, Pomona. It is the burden that all of us with the true Sight must bear. A prophet is never accepted in her home town."
Hermione started and blinked in surprise at that remark. "That…was disturbingly applicable," she said. Lavender opened her mouth to respond, but she held up a finger to stop her: "Not a word."
"'You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in.'" Almost everyone laughed at that.
After class, the Hermione in the book finally reached her limit and told them how much better her Arithmancy class was, then walked away.
"'What's she talking about?' he said to Harry. 'She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet.'"
Dean again stared at Hermione. Or had she? he thought. That had literally been their first class, and it wasn't like her to make things up like that, but she had apparently also been to Arithmancy. And he also remembered rumours of Hermione being in other places and classes that year where she couldn't possibly have been because she's been in his class. Suddenly, it hit him: "Bloody hell, you had a time machine, didn't you?"
"WHAT? NO!" Hermione cried in horror.
"Quiet! Quiet down!" McGonagall scolded from the High Table, and they dropped their voices, but Dean didn't let up.
"A time machine?" Natalie said in surprise.
"Well, it's the only thing that makes sense," Dean replied.
Hermione hissed as loudly as she dared: "No, I didn't—!"
"Hermione!" Harry stopped her. "They're gonna find out anyway." He motioned back up to the teachers.
She looked around at her classmates. Everyone was still staring at her. "But it's a secret," she bit out. "I'm still not allowed to talk about it."
Ron shook his head. "Not much point if it's in the book," he said practically.
"I…" she said, still looking around nervously. "Look, I'll ask Professor McGonagall this evening. I still don't know how this is going to work with the book reading…in fact, I don't even know if any of the teachers besides Dumbledore know the whole story. I told you this was a bad idea, Harry," she added sharply.
"Dumbledore agreed, didn't he?" Harry countered.
"Can we go back to how wizards have bloody time travel?" Dean interjected.
"No!" Hermione hissed. "I mean…not until I talk to McGonagall…" Dean looked like he was about to say something more, but she cut him off, more quietly this time: "And you can't go back very far, if that's what you're thinking."
Dean saw how much she was freaking out and reluctantly shut up. If it was explained later in the book, that would be enough. Meanwhile, in the story, they had moved on from Transfiguration to Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had hinted a couple of times that he had a great lesson planned for them, but it didn't start on a strong note, as he was disappointed that none of the class were able to open the Monster Book of Monsters.
"'Oh, how silly we've all been!' Malfoy sneered. 'We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!'
'"I—I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.' Hagrid was blushing furiously by now, so Professor Sprout tried to reassure him. "I think you've made great strides since you started teaching, Hagrid. But novelty books like those are rarely the best resources."
"Hippogriffs were above our grade level, though," Hermione muttered. "Especially to ride them."
Harry was the first to approach the Hippogriffs, and he got Buckbeak to bow to him with a bit of trouble. Hagrid then did indeed encourage him to ride the beast, which Harry was barely able to manage even with his experience on a broomstick, and it probably was a bad move, he thought in retrospect. But things really took a turn when Malfoy made an arse of himself. And Harry thought Malfoy somehow managed to sound even more insufferable in print after he got himself slashed by Buckbeak.
"He should have been given detention for acting so foolishly," Professor Bragnam said. "It's a nasty thing to do. I remember that case, and it wasn't the first time baiting an otherwise-peaceful animal to attack led to the animal being condemned."
"You couldn't do anything about it?" asked Professor Grubbly-Plank.
"Not my department—not full time, that is—and no, not with Lucius Malfoy throwing his weight around," he said with a sigh. "And like it or not, the law is cautious about animals that attack wizards, even if they are baited. It's just that the procedures were odd in that case."
In the book, Hagrid carried Malfoy up to the Infirmary.
"'D'you think he'll be alright?' said Hermione nervously.
"''Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second,' said Harry, who had had far worse injuries mended magically by the nurse."
Over at the Slytherin Table, Daphne Greengrass gave Malfoy an unimpressed look. "See, I told you you were being a git for wearing your arm in a sling all that time," she told him.
"Hey! That bloody beast nearly killed me!" Malfoy protested.
"Malfoy, just shut it," Pucey said. "Much as I hate to agree with Potter, you were fine by the end of the day, and everyone but Parkinson knew it." ("Oi!" protested Pansy.) "Flint let you carry on like that because it helped us at Quidditch, but it was even annoying to us. Plus, how thick do you have to be to insult a Hippogriff when you're in range of its claws?"
Malfoy tried to object, but he could tell he wasn't getting any sympathy except from his cronies.
In the story, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to visit Hagrid that evening, only to find him drunk and fearing he would be sacked immediately. And he didn't improve much when he stuck his head in the water barrel to try to sober up.
"Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Harry as though he'd only just realised he was there.
"'WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?' he roared, so suddenly that they jumped a foot in the air. 'YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN' YOU TWO! LETTIN' HIM!'
"Hagrid strode over to Harry, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the door.
"'C'mon!' Hagrid said angrily. 'I'm takin' yer all back up ter school, an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!'"
"Seems a little harsh," said Dean.
"It felt kind of paranoid," Harry agreed. "I mean, I did some dangerous stuff that year." His friends snorted. "But we were still in the grounds—and it was before curfew. If that wasn't safe, the castle wouldn't be much better. And Sirius did get in, you know."
"Mind, Hagrid was still drunk," Ron pointed out.
"I think he meant it, though."
"It's better that he played it safe, Harry," Hermione said. "If the rest of the year could have gone like that, it would've been an improvement."