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The Room of Requirent.
Lucien leaned back in his chair and studied the boy sitting across from him. Harry couldn't sit still. His hands kept twisting together in his lap.
"What do you think you're actually good at?" Lucien asked quietly. "And what do you like?"
Harry had clearly thought about it already. He didn't hesitate.
"I'm good at Quidditch," he said, counting on his fingers. "Wood says I still need work, but my flying's solid. Potions too—I've put in the practice. And Defense Against the Dark Arts. I pick that up faster than anything else."
A flicker of doubt crossed his face on the last one, like he was worried he sounded arrogant.
Lucien just nodded and let him keep going.
"I like Quidditch the most," Harry continued. "Defense Against the Dark Arts too, but…"
He trailed off. Lately he'd noticed he learned the spells quicker than Ron or Hermione. It wasn't sothing he'd bragged about, but it was true.
Lucien saw it clearly. Harry had a raw instinct for danger that couldn't be taught. So people were just wired that way.
"Now that Care of Magical Creatures is set," Lucien said, "you're stuck between Divination and Ancient Runes?"
Harry pushed his glasses up, embarrassed. "Divination sounds easy, but you said it takes real talent. Either you've got it or you don't."
Lucien nodded. "That's how it works. True prophecy isn't sothing you can learn. A real Seer needs the Inner Eye. You're born with it or you're not."
His eyes drifted to the lightning scar on Harry's forehead, half-hidden under ssy black hair.
Prophecy.
Professor Trelawney's prophecy more than a decade ago had rewritten this boy's entire life. It nad the Chosen One and declared that only one of them—the savior or the Dark Lord—would survive.
That single foretelling was why Voldemort had hunted the Longbottoms and the Potters, trying to kill the child who was supposed to destroy him.
Lucien wondered if the prophecy itself had been part of what set everything in motion.
He could always sit in on Divination for the first two weeks and drop it if it was nonsense. He was curious what Trelawney would say to him anyway.
She was the real thing, but only in rare flashes. The rest of the ti she just spun vague nonsense to keep her job. Dumbledore kept her around because of those few true prophecies she'd actually made.
Harry kept talking, voice low. "Ancient Runes is supposed to be brutal. But you said it's the foundation for a lot of the harder magic. If I ever want to go deeper into anything… I'll probably need it, right?"
Lucien looked at him steadily.
"You're twelve," he said. "It's way too early to decide your whole future. At sixteen or eighteen you might wake up wanting sothing completely different—alchemy, magical creatures, even becoming an Auror. Every path needs different tools."
"Learn what you can now. Keep your options open. The classes you pick won't lock you in, but they'll give you more choices later when you actually know what you want."
Harry was quiet for a mont, thinking.
"So I should take Ancient Runes?"
Lucien smiled. "Take Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures. But try Divination too. You never know what might surprise you."
Harry felt a cold twist in his stomach.
Ever since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, surprises had never been the good kind.
First year: Quirrell and Voldemort.
Second year: the Basilisk.
He really, really hoped third year wouldn't bring anything worse.
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