YoFranco
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HPHM 155
🕑 Added 2025-10-23 00:21:21 +0000 UTCN/A : Ugh, this chapter feels a little simple, I know. I don’t remember much from the book, and I’d rather not rely on the movie to write this arc (especially since it’s already gone in its own direction). Still, I’d like some parts to be a bit more faithful to the original material, so I’ll have to reread the book.
(And yes, before anyone says it’s not necessary… yes, it is.)
Hope you enjoy the chapter, haha!
Incense, Tea Leaves, and the Grim
The day classes began went by rather quickly. Literally.
While the new students were still getting used to their courses, the returning ones adapted with surprising ease. Within a week, everything had settled down—at least on the surface.
Although there was a bit of chaos among the more curious students, who started searching for adventures around the castle. All because of a rumor spreading about a secret competition: whoever discovered the hidden rooms and their exciting secrets would win a reward of 100 Galleons.
Of course, Harry and the others weren’t particularly interested. That is, until they ran into the Weasley twins, walking with expressions of deep despair while muttering random phrases like:
“Why isn’t it working anymore?”
“Looks like the map reset… what do we do now?”
“We have to find those places no matter what, or we’ll have to pay 100 Galleons.”
“At least we remember most of them…”
After that, they dashed off down the corridors, and every night a professor would eventually catch them and give them detention for breaking curfew. Though that part happened a bit later.
—
“They mentioned a map,” said Hermione with a hint of curiosity, glancing sideways at Harry. The twins had just run past them while she and Harry, returning from breakfast, walked toward the Ravenclaw common room.
Draco and Daphne hadn’t joined them. Daphne had something to take care of, and Draco—well, he was still in the middle of reverting to his normal body. Unlike when the enchantment was active, the process of changing back was much slower.
“Maybe they found the lost Marauder’s Map. Though it seems they’ll have to update it themselves now, with the castle being renovated… just like us.”
Harry looked down at the map in his hands. Unlike before, it was almost blank. The hallways and names were only faintly drawn, as if they needed to rediscover every corner of the school to make them reappear.
“Aren’t you going to ask for it? I mean, it was your father’s and his friends’, wasn’t it?” asked Hermione curiously as she opened the door to the Ravenclaw common room with ease, as if answering the riddle had been effortless.
“Nah, it’s fine. If the map’s meant to come to me, it will—when the time is right. I guess that’s just how destiny works,” Harry replied calmly.
“If you say so…” murmured Hermione, not insisting. She bent down slightly to pick something up from the floor, which caught Harry’s attention—as if he’d just noticed it for the first time that day.
“By the way…” Harry looked down, noticing the large, fluffy orange ball of fur in Hermione’s arms. It had a flat face and a tail that swayed lazily from side to side. “And that cat?” he asked with mild interest.
“His name’s Crookshanks. He showed up at my doorstep one day; he didn’t seem to have an owner… and honestly, it felt like he wanted to stay with me.”
Hermione smiled widely as she stroked her pet. The cat looked up at her for a moment, then let out a soft meow.
“Isn’t he adorable?” she asked proudly.
Harry studied the cat, their eyes meeting briefly. “Mmm… from a certain point of view, I suppose.”
Still, he leaned forward and gently patted Crookshanks’ head. The cat didn’t complain; on the contrary, he purred contentedly, accepting the gesture.
As they talked in the middle of the Ravenclaw common room, Daphne came running in.
“Ugh… sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find my wand,” she said casually, wiping away nonexistent sweat. Apparently, that had been the thing keeping her so busy that she hadn’t even joined them for breakfast.
“What? You lost your wand again? You know how important that is, and you still misplaced it. Don’t you remember what happened last year?” exclaimed Hermione immediately, so frustrated that her hair seemed to puff up even more.
“Well, technically I didn’t lose it… I just forgot where I left it,” Daphne defended herself.
“That’s the same thing!” Hermione snapped.
At that moment, Draco stepped out from a newly added section of the common room—one that had been built for the boys who had been temporarily turned into girls by the enchantment. Apparently, each had their own private room, which wasn’t entirely bad… aside from, well, being turned into a girl. Draco approached them calmly.
“Again?” he asked tiredly, as if the scene were part of his daily routine. He said no more, clearly not wanting to draw attention to where he had come from, though there was a small smile on his face—relieved to be back to normal.
“Save that for later; we should hurry or we’ll be late for Divination,” said Daphne, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. After all, during their first year they hadn’t taken that class, and during their second year at Beauxbatons they’d spent most of their time in clubs.
Unlike the French school, Hogwarts had no clubs but did offer elective subjects—among them, Divination, taught by Professor Sybill Trelawney. Another was Care of Magical Creatures, taught by Hagrid. Both subjects had caught the group’s attention, so they had enrolled in them. In fact, they were registered for nearly every subject available, only skipping those that conflicted with their schedules. If not for that, they would have signed up for everything.
“If we had a Time-Turner…” Harry sighed. “We could take all the subjects this year.”
“Are you insane?” Daphne exclaimed, horrified. “Do you have any idea how much homework we’ll have with just the ones we already picked? Only a masochist would take them all! And besides, using a Time-Turner doesn’t regenerate your body; you’d be losing years of your life—years!”
“Yes, yes, I get it,” said Harry, leaning back slightly as Daphne got a little too close.
“We’d better hurry,” said Hermione seriously, checking her pocket watch. She then set Crookshanks down on the floor. The cat rubbed against her leg one last time before hopping onto a nearby armchair and curling up comfortably.
“Wait,” said Draco, stopping them with a serious expression.
“What’s wrong?” they asked in unison.
“Did anyone wake up Luna and Astoria for their classes?”
All four of them froze instantly.
“Damn it, I forgot,” said Daphne, turning on her heel and sprinting toward the girls’ dormitory.
“Honestly…” muttered Hermione, slightly irritated. “They’re old enough; they don’t need someone to wake them up.”
Still, she walked quickly after Daphne—obviously to help her.
“She complains, but she’s one of the biggest enablers,” Draco said with a small smirk.
“I know,” admitted Harry, looking away… since he was guilty too.
…
Because of that small setback (a double one, to be exact), they arrived a little late to Divination class. It was located in one of the castle’s highest towers, accessible only by a steep, narrow staircase that spiraled upward to the very top.
When they finally entered, the group noticed that the classroom looked nothing like any other in Hogwarts. It was filled with perfumed smoke, dim lighting, embroidered tablecloths, and cushions scattered everywhere. Crystal balls and teacups covered the tables, and the air was so thick with incense that it felt more like a fortune-teller’s tent than a classroom.
In the center of that hazy atmosphere stood Professor Sybill Trelawney—a tall, thin woman with an ethereal voice and enormous glasses that magnified her eyes to almost comical proportions.
“At last you’ve arrived… we’ve been expecting you,” she said in an affected, mystical, and melodramatic tone, as if every word she spoke carried the weight of a grand revelation. All the students turned to look at the newcomers—and at Trelawney herself—as if she had truly foreseen their late arrival.
Harry, meanwhile, glanced toward the small desk beside her, where a crystal ball rested among other peculiar trinkets, along with what looked like the list of enrolled students. Of course, being a well-behaved student, he said nothing.
“We’re sorry, Professor; we had a small problem,” Hermione said quickly.
“That’s quite all right, dear. I had already foreseen it. Take your seats,” replied Trelawney in her dreamy voice, with that air of mystery suggesting that nothing could escape her third eye—real or imagined.
The four of them found empty seats near Neville and a Gryffindor named Seamus Finnigan. The professor waited for everyone to settle before beginning.
“Now then… welcome, my dears! Divination is the most mysterious branch of magic. Few possess the true gift; if you were not born with it, you will never have it.”
Her voice floated through the air as she waved her hands gracefully, as if weaving invisible spells with each word. Slowly, she glided forward until stopping right in front of Hermione.
“But before we begin… I must warn you that not all of you will survive the coming year,” she declared in a solemn, almost theatrical tone.
Then, with a prophetic air, she added, “And someone will leave this class forever before May.”
A murmur swept across the room. Some students looked uneasy—Neville, in particular, had gone pale as milk. Parvati and Lavender, on the other hand, seemed entranced, their eyes gleaming with fascination as if they dreamed of possessing the “gift” themselves. Hermione, meanwhile, frowned slightly.
“She seems like a fraud,” she whispered under her breath to Daphne, who was listening with interest, though more for amusement than belief.
Trelawney turned her head toward Hermione with a sharp look, making the girl think for an instant that she had been caught. But the professor merely drew in a slow, dramatic breath and continued.
“Today, we shall learn to read tea leaves,” she announced in her vaporous tone. Hermione let out a quiet sigh of relief, realizing she had escaped notice.
The professor began to instruct the students step by step:
Preparing the tea.
Each student was to fill their cup with hot water and tea leaves, stir three times, and drink until only the residue remained.
Turning the cup.
When only the leaves were left, they had to swirl the dregs three times, place the cup upside down on the saucer, then turn it back over to see what shape had formed.
Trelawney drifted gracefully between tables, her perfume of incense heavy in the air. Harry and Draco finished their strange little sequence, exchanging curious looks. It was Draco’s turn to interpret the shapes left in Harry’s cup.
“Hmm… looks like some kind of… dragon?” Draco said, tilting his head. “Maybe the tea’s warning us that Red will go on a rampage again.”
Harry chuckled. “Then we don’t need tea to tell the future. Red going out of control is already a given.”
Draco smirked, conceding the point, and the two of them laughed quietly. They didn’t need divination to see that coming.
Trelawney, who had noticed their laughter, approached with a slightly offended expression.
“Let me see, dear… allow me to read it myself,” she said softly, though her eyes betrayed a faint irritation. Draco, a little uneasy, handed her the cup without protest.
The professor took it delicately. For a brief moment, a strange gleam flashed across her glasses before she looked into the bottom of the cup. Then, all of a sudden, her eyes widened dramatically, she gasped, and the cup slipped from her trembling hands, shattering on the floor. Her face turned deathly pale as she stepped back.
“My dear boy… you have the Grim!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling as she stared at Harry with a mix of terror and awe.
Harry looked back at her silently, keeping his expression as neutral as possible.
He knew perfectly well what the Grim was; one of the old books in the Potter mansion mentioned it, along with its supposed meaning in divination.
“Oh no… looks like I’m in danger… again,” he said flatly, his voice completely monotone.
Draco, Hermione, and Daphne had to cover their mouths to stifle their laughter, while the rest of the class stared in horror, oblivious to the sarcasm.
Neville, nervous and shaken, dropped his own cup, the sudden noise startling Lavender, who screamed in fright. The rest of the class jumped, now staring at Harry as if he carried a curse.
Harry simply sighed.
Hermione, who had barely managed to suppress her laughter, looked toward the professor, who wasn’t doing anything to calm the panic. With a firm tone, she said,
“They’re just unfounded superstitions. There’s no reason to fear something that hasn’t even been proven real.”
Everyone turned to stare at her as Trelawney slowly stood up, looking deeply offended. She moved closer, her tone still gentle but dripping with condescension.
“Not everyone possesses the Inner Eye, dear. If you do not have it, there is nothing we can do.”
Hermione frowned even more, but before she could reply, the professor suddenly turned away dramatically.
“Well then, class is over for today. Put away your things and begin your descent. Do not miss the next lesson… if you wish to learn more about this dangerous yet fascinating world.”
At that very moment, just as she finished speaking, the castle bell rang—as if it had waited for her to deliver her final words.
Parvati and Lavender exchanged excited looks, as though they had just witnessed a divine revelation. Several other students seemed convinced that their professor truly possessed the power to see the future.
Harry and the others exchanged silent glances before standing up. Without a word, they began to descend the stairs, while the lingering scent of incense followed them, wrapping the tower in its enigmatic fragrance.
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