Professor Trelawney stood frozen for a full minute before hurriedly waving for everyone to sit down.
Once the students had gathered around their small circular tables, she finally took a seat in a winged armchair by the fireplace, resting her hands on the armrests with her fingers interlocked before her stomach. Her eyes, magnified considerably by her glasses, swept across the young witches and wizards before her from left to right. Thanks to her previous prophecy made in front of the entire school, the students in the classroom were all gazing at her with a certain level of awe—at least for the time being.
"Welcome to Divination," Professor Trelawney said in her peculiar, airy voice. "I am Professor Trelawney. Perhaps you became acquainted with me at last term's End-of-Term Feast, or perhaps my prophecy that night has sparked a keen curiosity in you about this subject. However, I must warn you—Divination is the most elusive of all magical arts. If you do not possess the Sight, there is little I can teach you. And in this field, books will be of little help to you."
At her words, Harry glanced to his right at Hermione—only to find Ron grinning at her as well. Hermione, for her part, looked utterly dumbfounded. Judging from her stunned expression, Professor Trelawney's remarks had thoroughly unsettled the girl who made it a habit to memorize all her textbooks before term even began.
"Many witches and wizards, despite their talents in Transfiguration or other branches of magic, are unable to part the mists and glimpse the future," Professor Trelawney continued, pausing as her unusually large eyes roved over the students before finally settling on a square-jawed boy with a determined expression.
"You, boy," she suddenly addressed Neville. "How is your grandmother?"
Neville thought for a moment before nodding firmly.
"My dear, if I were you, I wouldn't be so certain," Professor Trelawney sighed, before picking up a book from the table before her. "This year, we will explore various foundational methods of Divination. This term, we will study tea leaf reading. Next term, we will delve into palmistry… Oh, and by the way, my dear,"—she abruptly turned to Parvati Patil—"beware of red-haired men."
Parvati shot a frightened glance at Ron.
"In the summer term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall study crystal-gazing—provided we have finished omens in fire. Unfortunately, in February, a severe flu outbreak will force the entire class to be suspended. As for myself, I will lose my voice due to the illness. And around Easter… one among us will leave forever."
The classroom fell into a tense silence.
"A—choo!"
Harry sneezed violently.
"Sorry, Professor. The scent in here is a bit overwhelming," Harry said, rubbing his nose. "Please, go on."
Professor Trelawney took a long, deliberate breath to regain her mystical aura before turning to Lavender Brown.
"My dear—" (Lavender flinched violently.) "Would you fetch me the largest teapot?"
Lavender looked visibly relieved. She stood up, retrieved a massive teapot from the shelf, and set it on the table before the professor.
"Thank you, my dear. Oh, and one more thing—the thing you fear most… will happen on Friday, October sixteenth."
Lavender started trembling.
After explaining the process, Professor Trelawney instructed the students to pair up and use Unfogging the Future to interpret each other's tea leaves. Harry was partnered with Hermione. As they flipped through the book, trying to decipher the tea leaves in each other's cups, Neville managed to knock over his cup for the second time.
Harry had always been curious about Divination. From what he knew, apart from the Nine-Ring Prognostication—which granted a limited ability to glimpse the immediate future by touching a willing subject—Divination generally worked by forming a connection with otherworldly entities (which, to put it bluntly, meant gods or beings of equivalent power) to receive prophetic insights. The Two-Ring Augury could predict whether an event would succeed within the next half-hour, while the Four-Ring Oracle could foresee events up to seven days in advance.
So, could Professor Trelawney's method truly establish a connection with such powerful otherworldly beings?
Hopeful, Harry carefully drank every last drop of his tea. Then, following Professor Trelawney's instructions, he swirled the remaining tea leaves around, drained the cup, and exchanged it with Hermione.
However, as he flipped through the book, attempting to interpret Hermione's tea leaves, he felt nothing—not even the faintest trace of an otherworldly presence. Instead, the heavily scented smoke in the classroom was making him drowsy.
Beside him, Hermione kept tilting Harry's teacup this way and that, squinting at the tea leaves from different angles, trying to find a recognizable symbol from the book. Judging by her furrowed brows, she wasn't having much success either.
Before long, their unusual behavior caught Professor Trelawney's attention. One of them was sitting perfectly still with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep—except no one could sit that straight while asleep. The other was fidgeting restlessly, as if she had an incurable case of the jitters.
"My dear, what are you two doing?" Professor Trelawney walked over, her tone tinged with disapproval.
"Professor, I was trying to sense the entity that grants us prophecies."
"Professor, I was attempting to interpret Harry's fate."
"My dear," Professor Trelawney said, casting a disapproving glance at Harry, "Divination is not a gift bestowed by the gods. It is an art that requires the cultivation of one's own abilities!"
Then she turned to Hermione.
"And as for you, my dear, tea leaf reading requires a tranquil mind. Your impatience will get you nowhere. Here, let me see…"
The room fell silent as Professor Trelawney stared into the teacup, slowly rotating it counterclockwise.
"Oh… a falcon… My dear, you have an enemy…"
"But isn't that common knowledge?" Hermione muttered loudly, earning an exasperated glare from Professor Trelawney. "Harry and You-Know-Who…"
Professor Trelawney did not respond. Her large eyes remained fixed on Harry's teacup as she continued to slowly rotate it in her hands.
"A heavy blow... A skull... A perilous future... My dear..."
With each word, her predictions grew graver. Finally, her eyes widened in shock, and she gasped sharply, stumbling backward before collapsing into the armchair behind her. "Oh, my dear child, my poor, dear child... No... It is better... not to say it... No... no..."
"What did you see, Professor?" Parvati asked eagerly. Everyone gathered around, their gazes darting between Harry and Professor Trelawney. The tense atmosphere pressed in on Harry, making him feel slightly suffocated.
"A terrible omen, my dear! I see doom in your teacup!" Trelawney cried out. Seeing Harry's continued look of confusion, her tone turned sorrowful. "A spectral, ghastly black dog wandering in the graveyard! My dear child, it is a harbinger of disaster! The worst of omens! A sign of death!"
"Oh, so it's a death omen," Harry said, his tension dissipating immediately, as if he had just learned that pumpkin juice wouldn't be served at lunch.
"Harry, this is serious!" Ron stared at him in horror. "My—my uncle Bilius once saw one, and then—and then he died within twenty-four hours!"
The entire class was staring at Harry—except for Hermione.
She stood up, book in hand, and walked behind Professor Trelawney to examine the teacup still clutched in her hands. "That doesn't look like a bad omen to me," Hermione said bluntly. "From my angle, it looks more like two interlocking circles, and according to the book, circles represent love, so..."
She glanced at Harry, then at her copy of Unfogging the Future, then back at Harry...
Ron looked at his best friend in astonishment, then shot him a thumbs-up in secret. "Two interlocking circles? Harry, are you about to—"
"Shut up!" Hermione snapped, exasperated.
"My dear, to be frank, your aura is quite weak. Perhaps divination is not your forte," Professor Trelawney said helplessly, looking at Hermione.
After class, everyone descended the stairs in silence. Having a classmate receive a prophecy of impending death was not exactly uplifting, and the uneasy mood lingered into Transfiguration.
That lesson, Professor McGonagall gave a detailed explanation of Animagi. After instructing the class to pay close attention to the markings around her eyes, she transformed into a tabby cat before their very eyes. Yet, aside from Harry, no one seemed particularly engaged.
"Honestly, what is the matter with you all today?" With a soft pop, the tabby cat reverted to Professor McGonagall. She stood at the front of the class, her emerald-green robes immaculate, her expression stern. "It's one thing for my transformation to go unappreciated, but if you all continue like this for the rest of the year, I fear that, except for Mr. Potter, the entire class will be repeating the year."
The students exchanged uneasy glances between McGonagall and Harry, but no one spoke.
Then Hermione raised her hand.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall acknowledged her with a nod.
"Professor, we just came from Divination class, and Professor Trelawney had us interpret each other's tea leaves, and then..."
"Ah, I see," McGonagall said, understanding at once. "So tell me, who is destined to die this year?"
The class held its breath, eyes widening in shock, before collectively turning to look at Harry, seated at the front.
McGonagall gestured for Hermione to sit down, then turned to Harry, who was seated on the opposite side of the room. "Mr. Potter, you should know that since Professor Sibyll Trelawney joined this school, she has predicted the death of a student every single year, and to date, not one of them has died. I am not one to speak ill of my colleagues, but..." She paused, taking a moment to collect herself before continuing, "I consider Divination to be the most imprecise branch of magic. While Professor Trelawney may indeed have a touch of the Sight, that does not mean every word she utters is a true prophecy. Do you understand?"
"So, Professor, does that mean the things written in the Divination books aren't necessarily true either?" Hermione asked, raising her hand again.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall said, choosing her words carefully, "in my experience, those who can genuinely foresee the future do not need to follow step-by-step instructions from a book. And those who cannot... well, books will be of very little help to them."
She clapped her hands together. "Now, regarding Professor Trelawney's prediction of Mr. Potter's untimely demise—Mr. Potter, I assure you, if you do indeed die as foretold, I will personally grant you a special exemption from turning in any homework. Provided, of course, that you do not come back to life."
Laughter rippled through the classroom. McGonagall's words had clearly lifted much of the tension brought on by Trelawney's dire predictions.
Still, a few students remained uneasy—Ron among them. He seemed deeply troubled by the idea of the ominous black dog.
"Ron, lighten up. Stop dwelling on nonsense," Hermione said during lunch, seated next to Harry. She looked over at Ron, who was still visibly distressed. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."
"But..." Ron hesitated for a long moment, then turned to Harry seriously. "Harry, tell me honestly—have you seen a big black dog anywhere recently?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron." Harry reached for a roasted rib. "Sirius's Animagus form is a big black dog. You saw him transform at my house last year, remember? If that were a death omen, we'd all be dead by now."
Ron was momentarily stunned.
"Honestly, compared to the subjects we study at the Research Institute, Divination, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies are completely useless," Hermione muttered, chewing on a piece of bread and propping her chin up with her hands. "Can you believe our Muggle Studies professor still thinks Muggles travel by horse-drawn carriages and steam trains? It's the 1990s! Humans have sent people to the moon, and yet some wizard actually believes Muggles still use carriages and steam trains for long-distance travel? Unbelievable."
"Speaking of the moon, Professor Mikhail mentioned last term that the Research Institute is working on something big—and they're close to succeeding," Harry mused, looking at Hermione. "Do you think they're planning to launch a satellite or something?"
As Harry and Hermione delved into a discussion about Muggle technology, Ron silently gnawed on his chicken leg, inwardly complaining, Can't we talk about magic instead? How am I supposed to join in on this?
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