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She rubbed her calf absent-mindedly, wincing as she touched a nasty bruise. "The modern world," she sighed, "is no place for prophets."
"Harder than Transfiguration? Really?" someone from Slytherin asked dubiously. Given her earlier collapse, their disbelief was not unfounded.
"Ha! Not even close," Trelawney scoffed. "If you don't believe me, go ask your Transfiguration professor what she got in Divination during her student days."
She said it with such pride that some students began to exchange stunned glances. Professor McGonagall had struggled with Divination?
"Well then, Professor," came a cheeky voice from a Gryffindor boy, red marks still visible on his neck from the earlier fray, "what did you score in Transfiguration, may I ask?"
It was quite clear,
This was a question Professor Trelawney had no desire to answer.
"That's not important," she said quickly, her gaze flickering. Her voice held the faintest edge of defensive pride. "Whatever it was, it must have been impressive, otherwise, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have invited me to teach at Hogwarts, now would he?"
"Hogwarts only recruits the most powerful witches and wizards," Professor Trelawney declared proudly, a touch of self-importance in her voice. "Why, Dumbledore even increased my salary by three portions this year. I daresay he fears I might be lured away by other esteemed institutions. There are precious few true Seers of my calibre left in this world." Her expression gleamed with self-satisfaction.
Yet despite her boastfulness, Professor Trelawney was also highly alert, as if ever bracing for unseen omens.
"Of course, I would never presume to compare myself to that man, Miss Grindelwald's grandfather," she added meaningfully, turning her gaze on Aurora. It was clear she had done her research on her students' backgrounds.
"You carry an extraordinary bloodline, my dear," Trelawney continued, her voice dropping to an awed whisper. "One can sense it in your very aura… such immense, unfathomable power sleeping within you. I daresay it may lie beyond the boundaries of traditional magic."
She stared intently at Aurora, her eyes lingering on the girl's mismatched irises for more than ten seconds. Her tone held reverence, but Aurora remained completely unmoved.
"Oh."
The German girl offered only a flat response. Her complexion was pale, and she sat back in her chair like someone gathering strength after a long journey.
Sensing her student had no interest in conversation, Professor Trelawney gracefully let the matter drop and began ushering the young witches and wizards toward the circular tables and velvet-draped chairs she'd arranged in the tower classroom.
"Today is a day for testing your talents. I must thank Professor Lockhart for the marvellous idea of this Divination trial class. It may spare you considerable confusion when selecting electives next year."
"If any of you lack the Sight," she warned gravely, "I advise you now to consider other subjects. I am not so easily deceived, and it is no small feat to earn passing marks from me."
Professor Trelawney spoke with theatrical seriousness as she handed out crystal balls to each student. She swept her translucent scarves behind her dramatically and glided to the front of the classroom.
"Traditionally, our first lesson would involve reading tea leaves… but this is merely an introduction. Today, I want to separate those who can see from those who merely hope to."
"Now… close your eyes, take a deep breath… clear your mind of clutter, and allow yourselves to be guided by the whispers of the unknown." Her voice dropped into a velvety lilt, like a witch beckoning souls through a fog-shrouded moor. She was certainly skilled at building atmosphere.
Of course…
The students who had witnessed her peculiar behaviour earlier weren't so easily taken in.
From the corner of the room, multicoloured smoke curled lazily from an ornate incense burner. Professor Trelawney paced silently through the swirling haze, gently coaxing her students to focus their minds on the crystal balls before them. Her riddling suggestions left many confused.
Most saw absolutely nothing. Ian included. His mind was blank save for idle thoughts of dinner, he'd missed treacle tart at lunch, and that was far more pressing than deciphering shadows in a foggy orb.
"You are not expected to divine the future outright," Trelawney said, gliding between tables like a whisper. "If your Inner Eye remains closed, visions will elude you. I simply ask that you glimpse something, however faint."
She began moving from student to student, pausing to murmur questions or issue cryptic praise.
"I… I saw darkness," one honest boy admitted, his voice unsure.
Professor Trelawney gave him a sorrowful shake of the head, as if she'd just pronounced his magical potential irredeemable.
Then,
"Oh! I see a golden glow… could it be the Golden Snitch?" another student exclaimed with theatrical awe. Whether it was genuine or feigned was anyone's guess.
"Very good! Very, very good!" Professor Trelawney cried, immediately bustling over to him. "Your Inner Eye is awakening! You are on the right path, your future in this art is bright indeed."
She held the crystal ball up for dramatic effect, although it remained as blank as ever. Nevertheless, she looked pleased enough to declare him the next Merlin.
"…Really?"
Ian squinted at his own crystal ball. No colours, no glow, nothing but the faint reflection of his face. He stared so hard he was beginning to see the blood vessels in his eyelids. Nothing remotely prophetic was happening.
Just then, Professor Trelawney arrived at his table.
"My child, what of you? Have you been touched by the mysteries yet?" she asked, voice syrupy with anticipation, clearly expecting another failure to lament.
"I saw… a colourful black," Ian replied, hastily dressing up the darkness he'd seen with a creative twist, certain he'd be lumped in with the earlier student and quietly dismissed.
But instead,
"Splendid! Simply splendid! Anything else?" Trelawney beamed at him as though he'd uttered some arcane secret. The young wizards around them blinked in astonishment.
"Colourful black"? What in Merlin's name was that supposed to mean?
"Truly a little professor!" one of Ian's younger Ravenclaw admirers blurted out, full of admiration. "Seeing truths beyond our comprehension!"
A murmur of impressed agreement rippled through the others.
"…"
Ian was numb.
He'd definitely fallen afoul of this class.
"That's right. I saw other things too," he added with a sudden smirk, responding to Trelawney's expectant look. He was more than ready now to demonstrate just how absurdly easy it was to impress her, with absolutely anything.
Of course.
There were certain tricks to handling this class.
"I saw a catastrophe, oh, a truly dreadful calamity." Yes, this was the tactic to dealing with Professor Trelawney: the more ominous and terrifying the vision, the more likely it was to earn her favour.
And sure enough,
Upon hearing the young wizard's vague and foreboding claim, Professor Trelawney's interest was instantly piqued.
"What sort of catastrophe, dear child?"
Her eyes gleamed with fascination.
"I don't think I ought to say," Ian replied, his tone grave. In truth, he hadn't come up with anything particularly alarming, so he leaned on the age-old tactic of letting people fear what they don't understand.
"Many visions and prophecies must indeed be spoken of with great care," said Professor Trelawney, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But I am different. If you tell me, no harm shall come. I promise you, it shall remain strictly between us."
The Divination professor was clearly hungry for secrets. But Ian, staying perfectly in character, hesitated for a beat before slowly shaking his head.
"I can't. It involves a world-altering event. In 1999, many of the wizarding world's foremost seers signed a binding secrecy charm concerning it."
"Though it's only 1991 now, I've seen glimpses of it, and I was among those who signed. Therefore, even now, I must respect that pact. My future self's oath extends backward. It's that grave, Professor. If anyone were to find out too soon... the entire world might unravel."
He hadn't the faintest clue what he was talking about. But he spoke with such solemnity that even he began to believe it. It was all to spark the professor's imagination and ensure that, just like last term, she'd be left wondering.
Young wizards held grudges, after all. And Ian still bore faint red marks on his neck from last semester's 'prophecy-induced incident.'
"This is most..." Professor Trelawney blinked, stunned by his reply. For a moment, she seemed on the verge of calling his bluff. Her brow furrowed, and she turned her attention sharply back to the crystal ball clasped in her hands.
A moment passed.
Then she gasped again, audibly.
"Extraordinary! Your magical gifts are beyond anything I've seen in decades! You're glimpsing secrets that lie far beyond ordinary prophecy, yes, this is no mortal foresight, but something altogether more cosmic in nature!"
"Mr. Prince, your bloodline must be utterly exceptional! Perhaps, perhaps your ancestors intermarried with divine spirits, or the Keepers of the Veil themselves! You could be destined to become a true Seer of the Ages!"
Professor Trelawney was so overcome with excitement that her shawls fluttered like banners as she gestured animatedly, all doubt cast aside. Instead of questioning Ian's ridiculous story, she now seemed determined to trace his ancestry right then and there.
"Er..." Ian glanced about nervously.
All around him, his classmates were staring, many of them wide-eyed, others smirking knowingly.
...
Those who truly understood the nature of this class, and of its professor, knew instantly,
After today, he was going to be the subject of endless new rumours.
His mixed-blood heritage, which had been relatively unremarkable until now, was likely to balloon into whispers of triple-ancestry, half-celestial blood, or even some vague connection to the Department of Mysteries.
(End of chapter)