Chapter 35.

It happened exactly as Harry had seen it heartbeats before.

Adrenaline tunneled his vision until everything became Trelawney's hand reaching out to touch the golden sand. Ears ringing, heart racing, he could feel a ragged yell in his throat but he couldn't hear it. Again, he helplessly watched fingertips brush gold, watched her hand go slack. As her fingers caught the edge of the stone bowl and sand began to fly, he vaguely registered the sight of gold grains fading back to red carnelian—At some point, he must've yanked his hand out of the bowl to catch her.

He must've failed. Between one blink and the next, Trelawney was on the floor, face-down and covered in glittering red sand and Harry had an empty stone bowl in his hand. The suddenness of it felt unreal and perversely comical. A hysterical laugh began to bubble in his stinging throat only to die as a hand shoved him out of the way.

Harry stumbled, losing his grip as Professor Lyptus pushed past to loom over the girl. The stone bowl clunked heavily onto the floor.

"What happened?!" the professor asked frantically, brandishing her wand.

It felt like someone had reached into Harry's chest and squeezed. Did she think Harry had done something? "I don't—She touched it!" Harry cried, distraught as he looked to Professor Lyptus beseechingly. Beside him, the professor hovered over Trelawney, seemingly hesitant to touch her. "The sand! I told her not to."

The girl's hand twitched against the stone.

"I told her not to," he repeated more forcefully.

A sharp glance was the professor's only reply. She instead began casting spells Harry didn't recognize including one that vanished the sand. The sight of it reminded Harry of the sparkling grains still stuck to his sweaty palms—he wiped them off, feeling horribly guilty. The feeling continued to swell until he couldn't stand it anymore.

"What should I do?" he asked desperately. "Should I, I dunno, should I go get someone?"

Professor Lyptus shook her head. "No time. But that's a good… Expecto Patronum." Nothing happened. "Expecto Patronum." This time, she managed to conjure a few sad whisps of silvery light. "Oh come on, I don't have time for— Expecto Patronum!" At last, a silvery barn owl soared from the tip of her wand to land on her shoulder. "Finally! Now," she addressed the owl, "go to Madam Flemings first. Tell her Sybill Trelawney has collapsed in the North Tower after interacting with Harry Evan's magic. I don't know if it's safe to move her. Then go to Professor Dumbledore and the headmaster with the same message. Go."

The patronus flew off. The moment the owl passed through the stone floor, Lyptus turned to Harry. "Has this ever happened before?"

"What? No. No, never," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't even know I could make the sand gold until your class."

"I know," she said miserably. "I had to ask."

On the floor, Trelawney's hand continued to twitch.

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked. His voice sounded small.

"Madam Flemings will know more, I'm sure. You don't last as long as she has as the Hogwarts nurse without seeing your fair share of magical mishaps. Ah, look, there's her patronus now."

A silver bat flew over to perch on Lyptus' shoulder, opened its mouth, and began speaking.

Harry barely felt any surprise over the fact that the Patronus Charm could be used to send messages as the voice of the school nurse began instructing Professor Lyptus through diagnostic spells—he was too overwhelmed to feel much of anything other than anxiety and guilt right now. All he could do was watch as Lyptus continued to cast spells.

"Okay," she breathed after a particularly difficult-sounding spell. "It should be safe to move her. Mobilicorpus."

Trelawney's body rose from the ground, red sand glittering as it fell from her robes and hair. The girl's thick glasses fell too, clattering to the stone as, carefully, Professor Lyptus rotated her so she was no longer face-down.

Harry and Lyptus gasped as the girl's face was exposed.

Her eyes.

Behind cracked lids, Trelawney's eyes glowed with a soft golden light that rendered the thin skin covering it near see-through. Harry could see each branching red vein with disturbing detail. Between her eyelashes, he could see no iris or pupil; the entirety of her eyes were gold.

"Is that what I look like?" Harry asked wonderingly.

He didn't have to elaborate. "No," the professor said as she conjured a stretcher and lowered the girl onto it. "Your eyes burn much, much brighter, and are never closed like this." She sounded as vaguely disturbed as he felt.

Before Harry could think of a reply, the sound of approaching footsteps cut him off, and moments later, Professor Dumbledore popped his head through the trapdoor.

"What can I do?" he asked immediately.

"I'm not sure what we're looking at here," Professor Lyptus admitted as Dumbledore climbed up and strode over to the stretcher. "Physically, she appears to be perfectly normal aside from an elevated heart rate, but…" She gestured helplessly, and catching sight of Trelawney's glowing eyes, the man's expression grew grim.

"I see," Dumbledore said gravely. "Madam Flemings is on the way, I assume?"

"Yes, along with the Headmaster," she said quickly. "They'll be here any moment, but that's not—Look." She waved the rest of the sentence away, seeming to swell with sudden determination. "You're Harry's guardian," she stated firmly.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply. Lyptus cut him off.

"Now, you know I have done my best not to pry into Harry's past and powers so far, for his sake, but this has become a matter of student safety, Albus. If there's something you two know—"

Harry's ears began to ring once more as he felt all the blood leave his face. Dumbledore's warnings from the summer not to tell anyone of his time travel seemed to swim in the air before him.

"—then I need to know it. Sybill's health depends—"

He could hear more steps on the stairs below now. That would be the headmaster or Madam Flemings. Or both.

What was he going to do? If they needed to know to help Trelawney, he couldn't hide this. But if he did tell them, the Ministry would very likely get involved. And he didn't want the Ministry to get involved.

Harry turned desperately to Dumbledore who didn't meet his gaze, too busy talking to Professor Lyptus. "I can assure you, Lazuli, Harry and I would never withhold—"

Harry felt his body move toward Trelawney. If he could just wake her up…

"—information. Harry, what are you—?"

He reached out his hand and touched her ankle. As he did, a shiver raked down his body and every hair stood on end.

"What's going on here?"

Harry turned to see Headmaster Dippet's head, his expression very serious as the man ascended the wooden ladder. He was followed closely by Madam Flemings.

"Headmaster!" Lyptus and Dumbledore said at the same time.

"It's Sybill Trelawney, sir," Professor Lyptus said, gesturing. "She's—"

"Agh!" "What the—!"

Surprised yells tore through the Divination classroom as the girl in question lurched suddenly upright on the conjured stretcher and began to cry only to—

Pop!

"OUCH!"

—fall into a heap on the floor once more as the stretcher vanished.

"Oh shit!" Professor Lyptus cried as Harry stumbled back in surprise. "I'm so sorry, Sybill!"

Trelawney didn't seem to hear her, but her crying had increased with such intensity it would've been more surprising if she had. As intense relief crashed over him, Harry found himself once again shunted to the side as the nurse rushed to help the girl. Trelawney was awake. Trelawney was alive.

Trelawney was being helped to her feet by Madam Flemings. "Careful now, it's okay," the nurse said quietly. "Could everyone please take a step back? Give her some space."

As he backed away, for a wild moment, Harry thought Trelawney was having a vision—she was shaking violently—but then her eyes opened. Dark green, rimmed with red from crying. Not gold. Relief washed over him again.

Holding the nurse's bare hand in her own, her teeth chattering, Trelawney began to speak. "I-I didn't m-mean to!" she hiccuped, sniffling as she shivered. "I didn't know! I d-didn't mean to!"

"We know, dear," Madam Flemings said soothingly. "This wasn't your fault."

"I-I didn't mean t-to," Trelawney repeated, and promptly burst into tears, inconsolable.

In the end, it was all they could get out of her and Madam Flemings declared that Trelawney needed to be moved to the Hospital Wing for observation.

"She's abnormally cold," the nurse noted to the Headmaster, conjuring a thick blanket. "I think some chocolate and rest would do her some good, though I still need to know what happened here to accurately predict her long-term symptoms."

"We'll get to the bottom of this, Madam," the Headmaster assured her. He waited until Flemings had ushered Trelawney out and down the ladder before turning on the rest of them. "Now what exactly happened here tonight? Who here is responsible for this?"

As the man eyed Harry suspiciously, Professor Lyptus spoke up. "It was a bought of accidental magic, Headmaster. Mr. Evans and I were running some geomagic experiments to unlock his prophetic potential. I should've been paying closer attention to Ms. Trelawney. I let her get too close. It's not Mr. Evans' fault."

Dippet sighed heavily, massaging at his temples. "Fantastic," he muttered. "And why was Ms. Trelawney present in the first place if you were working with Mr. Evans?"

Harry expected Professor Lyptus to wilt under his disapproval; instead, she pulled herself up and said, stiffly. "Both Mr. Evans and Ms. Trelawney show promise. I thought it best to nurture their talents together. I had hoped," here she looked at Harry, "that Mr. Evans would come to be something of a role model for the younger girl."

Shame washed over him.

"Evidently, you were wrong," the Headmaster said shortly. "We'll be lucky if Ms. Trelawney's parents don't go to the Board over this. I will have to notify them, you know."

"I am aware."

Dippet sighed again before turning to address Harry this time. "A bought of accidental magic, you say? I remember hearing about you."

"Erm… Yessir."

"You're competing in the Tournament, yes?"

Harry blinked, confused. "...Yessir?"

"Should I expect to see an outburst like this then too?" he asked sternly.

What, Harry thought. "...No?"

"I should hope not," Headmaster Dippet frowned. "You are representing your House, young man."

As Harry blinked stupidly at the man, Dumbledore's voice rose up gently from beside him. "Headmaster," he said, "I think it would be best if we spoke without Harry about what happened here tonight. It is getting late, and he has classes in the morning."

Harry glanced over at the man gratefully.

"Oh, yes, alright," Dippet said irritably. "So long as there is no lasting damage, there's no harm done. Although," he directed himself at Professor Lyptus, "I think it would be best that we split up these little lessons from now on, don't you?"

"Yes, that would probably be for the best," the woman said, voice strained. "Go on, Harry."

He didn't need to be told twice.

Fortunately, Lazuli Lyptus had the good sense to wait for the headmaster to leave before turning on Albus.

"What on earth is going on with Harry Evans, Albus?" she cried. "And don't play me for a fool, I know there's something off here, I know it!"

Fondness rose in his chest as Albus took in her righteous anger. He expected nothing less from Lazuli. He suspected it was only her kind nature that had prevented her from tracking him down to demand answers weeks ago. "It is truly not my information to share," he began.

"It is if it's putting my students in danger, Albus Percival Wulfr—!"

"We'll be here all night," he interrupted gently.

"I need to know what's going on," she demanded. "I can't continue to stand by and watch as this boy struggles to understand a power he cannot control. I have my theories, and they're each worse and more improbable than the last."

"As I said, it is truly not my information to share, but—" he said, putting up a hand as she bristled, "I fear it is in Harry's best interest for me to explain. He needs another adult in his life besides myself. Lazuli, Harry Evans is not a Seer in the traditional sense."

"No shit, Albus," Lazuli snapped. "I figured that out within the first five minutes of meeting the kid." Of course she had. "If he is a born Seer, something has to have happened to his magic. Those golden eyes… It's just not natural."

"Quite right." How to explain this…

"I'm not even convinced this prophetic magic is even 'his' magic in the first place," she said exasperatedly. "We're not dealing with some sort of Obscurial situation, are we?"

Ariana… Grief clawed at him as it always did when Obscurials were mentioned before Albus shook it off. "No, no, nothing like that. Harry carries the pain and grief of his past, yes, but no. He is not an Obscurial."

Lazuli looked relieved. "Good. Good."

A moment passed in silence before Albus continued. "That being said, we will need to show the same discretion we would if Harry was indeed hosting an Obscurus."

"It's that bad?" Lazuli asked, concerned.

"Yes," he said simply. "I fear for his wellbeing should the Ministry find out what he is. I am confident they would take him. Orphaned and alone without true ties to the community… It would be all too easy."

As the meaning of his words settled in, grim resolve hardened Lazuli's features as he knew it would. He saw how she still ached for her first love, how she saw her in Harry's circumstances. She would not risk Harry's safety with loose lips.

"My loyalty is to my students first," Lazuli said, voice strong, "not the Ministry. So tell me, Albus. What is Harry, if not a Seer or an Obscurial?"

"Harry," he said, "is a Time Traveler."

"...He's a what!?"

Albus sighed, conjured up two squishy armchairs, and prepared himself for a long night.

The first words Tom said to Harry early at breakfast the next day was, "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?" Harry asked suspiciously as Tom slid onto the mostly empty bench at the Gryffindor table beside him. Harry had left the common room far earlier than normal, not wanting to talk to anyone. Unfortunately for Harry, Tom was an early riser.

"It's Trelawney," Tom revealed. "Apparently, she's in the Hospital Wing."

"What?" Harry gasped as Tom nodded knowingly. "How'd you hear that?!"

"Mary Brown told Druella Rosier told Virgil Dolohov told Malfoy, who obviously told essentially the entire common room," Tom said casually as he snatched a sausage off Harry's plate. He pointed it at Harry and said, seriously, "Never tell Abraxas anything."

Taken aback, Harry shook his head as if to say Wasn't planning on it.

"Good. Anyways-s," Tom drawled, biting the sausage and swallowing, "Trelawney. Let me guess, that was you?"

Harry felt the blood drain from his face for the second time in as many days.

Tom gasped delightedly as the truth painted itself across Harry's guilty features. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed gleefully, "It actually was!"

"Be quiet," Harry hissed.

"Harry, darling, I'm shocked," Tom grinned, hand to his chest like an old lady clutching her pearls. "I didn't know you had it in you!"

Face now heating, Harry scowled. "Stop smiling," he demanded. "It wasn't like that!"

"Sure it wasn't," Tom said, still smirking, and suddenly it was too much. Harry leaped to his feet. "Hey, where are you going? I was joking!"

"Yeah, well, it wasn't funny," he snapped, grabbing his bag.

Luckily, there weren't too many people in the Hall this early to watch as Harry stormed away from the Gryffindor table; those that were glanced away at the dark glares he shot at them. As Tom called after him, Harry found himself thinking that maybe if he was lucky, they'd spread rumors about this rather than Trelawney.

"Harry, wait up."

He ignored him until Tom's long legs made it impossible to do so as the Slytherin caught up to him and cut off his retreat. "Can you move?" Stupid long legs. "I don't want to talk to you right now," Harry sniffed, staring at the floor.

"Hey. Hey." Tom bent down a little to catch his eye, his hands landing gently on Harry's shoulders. "I'm sorry, alright? I really was joking—I didn't know you had anything to do with it. Tell me what happened?" He lowered his voice to ask, "You're not in trouble, right?"

"No," Harry said grudgingly, softening at his expression. "I don't think so."

"Well, that's good," Tom said. After a moment, he spoke again, coaxingly. "So… What happened?"

Exhaustion crashed over him as Harry recalled the evening before, and his hands came up to scrub at his eyes underneath his glasses. "It's a long story," Harry said eventually, eyeing a passing Ravenclaw girl pointedly.

Tom nodded, instantly understanding, and turned to lead them off to the nearest secret passageway. Once they were alone, it didn't take long before Harry broke down and told him everything that happened the night before. By the end of it, Tom's eyes were doing that feverish thing they did when he was intensely intrigued.

"You attuned to every sample?" Tom asked when Harry finally finished. "Every type of sand?"

"That's what you're taking away from this?!" Harry asked incredulously.

"That should be impossible!" he cried. "It's almost like—" A curious expression crossed his face as Tom cut himself off.

Harry ignored it. "I don't care if it should be possible or not, Tom. I could've really hurt her," he said miserably. The memories of his horrible dreams flickered behind his eyes. What if Trelawney had gone into a coma, like he apparently had? Would she get visions now like he did?

"But you didn't hurt her," Tom countered.

"We don't know that yet," Harry said, agitated.

"We could though."

"What?"

"We can go figure that out right now, Harry," Tom said. "C'mon. Let's go visit her at the Hospital Wing."

Harry started. "Right now?"

Tom nodded eagerly. "There's no better time. Classes don't start for another half an hour."

"But—"

"But what?" Tom interrupted. "You know you won't stop thinking about it until you see her."

It was true… "You just want to ask her questions," Harry accused.

"I promise I won't," Tom said, and Harry eyed him suspiciously. "Cross my heart and hope to die, dear."

"I don't believe you, but… Fine."

"You're cute when you suspect me of having ulterior motives," Tom flirted.

Despite his best efforts, Harry blushed. "Shut up, you. Let's go."

Madam Flemings wasn't surprised to see Harry when they entered the Hospital Wing five minutes later. "Mr. Evans," she said, "And Tom. It's good to see you both. You're here for Sybill, I'm sure."

"Is she okay?" Harry blurted.

"She's been doing just fine," the nurse reassured him. "A little shaken, but otherwise she'll make a full recovery."

"Good," he said, deeply relieved to hear it. "Good."

"Harry would like to talk to her, if that's alright, Madam," Tom said when Harry didn't add anything more.

"If she's okay with it, I see no harm," Flemings said kindly, gesturing toward the windows. "Sybill is right over there."

The three of them made their way over to the young girl, who sat up quickly as she recognized Harry. When she saw Tom behind him, she flushed and began fussing with her dressing gown.

"Hello, Sybill," Madam Flemings said. "You have some visitors if you're up for it."

"Harry," Trelawney said. "You came. And Tom."

"We wanted to make sure you were doing okay," Harry mumbled. He saw Tom nod deeply out of the corner of his eye.

"I'll leave you to it then?" Flemings asked the girl, already eyeing a Hufflepuff boy in the corner who appeared to be hiccuping bubbles.

"Yes, ma'am, thank you," Trelawney said.

"Of course, dear."

An awkward silence fell as the nurse bustled off. Tom broke it and his promise not to ask questions immediately. "How're you feeling, Sybill? Can I call you Sybill?"

The girl blushed again. Harry elbowed Tom in the ribs.

"That's okay," she said. "And I'm okay, too, thanks for asking."

"We're so glad to hear that."

"Tom…"

Tom ignored Harry. "Harry told me some of what happened—it sounded like it was really scary."

"It was awful," she whispered, her expression a weird mix of anxiety and excitement. It was clear her genuine fear of what had happened was at war with her elation over the prospect of handsome Tom Riddle being interested in what happened. "I saw my whole life flash before my eyes, just like they say you do."

Tom hummed sympathetically.

"Is that all you saw?" Harry asked quietly.

Trelawney glanced over at him nervously. "No."

"What did you see?" he asked.

Instead of answering, she began fidgeting with a corner of the bedsheets. When Harry went to ask her again, Tom stepped on his foot and shook his head minutely. Not yet, he seemed to be saying.

After a long moment, she spoke. "I'm sorry for doubting you."

The words shocked him. "What?" Harry gaped.

"I'm sorry. For when I said you weren't a Seer and stuff," she mumbled. "For acting like you were a bad Seer. When I touched that sand…" Her face grew haunted. "I saw my life spread out before me in thousands and thousands of golden strands. I've never Seen like that before."

Harry just stared at her.

"I shouldn't have doubted you. I'm sor—"

"No," Harry said immediately. "No. This isn't—You shouldn't be apologizing to me . This is stupid."

"No, I should—"

"No!" Harry snapped, voice much louder than he meant it. "No. I'm sorry, Trelawney. Don't apologize to me."

Trelawney looked thrown. "Um… Okay."

"I'm sorry."

"...It's okay," she said.

"Good." Harry felt irrationally angry. "Good."

After a pause, Tom made a show of checking the time. "Oh dear, it looks like we're going to have to cut this short if we want to make it to our classes."

"Yeah," Harry said, grateful for the out. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Oh, okay," Trelawney said.

"We'll see you."

"I hope you feel better soon, Sybill," Tom said as Harry grabbed his sleeve and steered them toward the door. "I'll stop by later if you're still here."

"The hell you will," Harry hissed.

"Darling…"

Harry waited until they were back in the corridor to round on him. "What was that?!" he yelled.

"I only asked her how she was feeling!"

"You—!" Harry ran his hands through his hair, grabbing at it angrily.

"Are you okay?"

"No! No, I'm not okay," he fumed. "Trelawney apologized to me!" Tom blinked, surprised, likely, at where his anger had directed itself. "This was all my fault! She had no business—"

"She was the one who touched the sand," Tom countered.

"I—!" Harry cut himself off furiously, glaring up into Tom's serious expression. Why did he have to be so—so reasonable? It knocked all the wind out of his blustering anger. "...Whatever," he muttered eventually. "We've got to go to class."

"Hold up," Tom started, but by then Harry had turned away. Reflexively, it seemed, Tom grabbed his hand.

As emotionally spent as he was, Harry braced himself for the sensation of the world splitting in two, for the sight of three golden figures; instead, the vision was a gentle thing, easy to dismiss.

"...What?"

Together, they looked down at their clasped hands, confused.

"I didn't…"

"You didn't get a vision," Tom said wonderingly. "Oh… Thank Merlin. "

He spoke like he'd come to a sudden realization and with so much relief that Harry couldn't help but ask. "What is it?"

"Your Sight," Tom said. "Your golden eyes… That power came from an outside source, didn't it?"

Harry felt frozen.

"They did," Tom decided, and again, there was relief in his voice.

"Why would that be a good thing?" Harry asked numbly.

"Do you know what an Obscurial is, Harry?" Harry shook his head. "Look it up and you'll see."

With that, Tom squeezed his hand and walked away.