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Perhaps there was no Magical Auditor Smith overseeing Hogwarts' supply chain, but clearly, Trelawney spared no expense on "teaching materials" when she had the right incentive.
"To open your spiritual eye, dear children, awaken your Inner Sight," she declared grandly, waving her wand. The sandalwood smoke spiralling from the bronze censer curled into the shape of a green serpent, dancing briefly before dispersing.
"Let your third eye pierce the veil of fate, Mr. Frankie! Kindly stop drumming your wand against the crystal ball. That sort of noise may cause the goddess of fate to twist her ankle in her heels!"
She turned abruptly, chastising a student whose restless tapping had interrupted her flow.
"How do you know the goddess of fate wears high heels?" The boy asked, blinking in confusion. He seed rather fixated on the ntal image and suggested, sowhat boldly, that the goddess might just as well be male.
"Absolutely impossible!" Professor Trelawney replied with audible scorn. "Do you presu to know fate better than ? A most preposterous suggestion!"
Her disdain for the Ravenclaw student's imaginative speculation was apparent. With a disappointed glance at the entire house table, she pivoted and redirected her mystical energy toward a new target.
"Let's see what our Seers from Slytherin House have glimpsed, shall we?" she asked, already moving with anticipation.
"Train!"
The Slytherin boy she pointed to sat bolt upright, seizing the opportunity. "It's tearing through the Highlands, smoke everywhere! Headlamps like two blazing Mandrakes!"
He was so pleased with his vivid description that he fully expected to be showered in praise for his "unparalleled visionary instincts."
However, just as he began to bask in his imagined glory, "Crude visualisation."
Professor Trelawney looked thoroughly disappointed as she turned away, her sigh dramatic and disapproving. Her gaze landed on a red-haired girl.
"Chocolate pie. Raspberry sauce," The girl muttered dreamily. Her voice faltered as Professor Trelawney's mouth twitched at the corners, mainly because she'd just spotted a thread of drool trickling from the corner of the girl's mouth.
Frankly, it looked more like she was talking in her sleep than engaging in a serious prophetic exercise.
"This one must be from Hufflepuff," Trelawney muttered under her breath. Whether it was house bias or just her mood, she moved on in clear dissatisfaction.
Daphne, anwhile, had been quietly watching Trelawney, not out of reverence, but with calculated interest. In fact, she'd been mulling over the earlier exchange between the professor and Ian. As Trelawney approached her desk, Daphne gave a sly roll of her eyes and decided to test a little theory of her own.
"I see blood! A river of blood pouring across the Astronomy Tower! Markings scorched into the clouds! Soone is about to die, the shadow of the Reaper is about to engulf all of Hogwarts!"
Her words were rushed, panicked. And though she was only pretending to be shaken, her pallor from last term's malnourishnt added a ghostly credibility to her performance.
"Ah! A miracle unfolds before our eyes!" Professor Trelawney's bangles jingled with excitent as she clasped her hands. "This is pure essence, true prophecy! Slytherin shall gain five points!"
Yes, the professor clearly had a taste for theatrics.
In her excitent, she began praising Daphne effusively, utterly ignoring the untouched crystal ball still sitting unused on the girl's desk. Daphne, anwhile, quietly exhaled in relief.
Indeed… following his lead really does pay off, she thought, casting a sidelong glance at Ian, who sat only a few desks away, casually stirring the tea leaves in his porcelain cup.
The dark amber liquid rippled in the blue-glazed china, the leaves swirling in lazy arcs.
Ian brought the cup to his lips, taking a careful sip. His eyes, usually alert and calculating, were half-lidded, focused not on fortune-telling, but on the shapes the leaves ford, as if admiring abstract art rather than interpreting ons.
Hmm.
Truthfully, his eyes were simply tired.
It wasn't that he disbelieved in Divination, his experiences in the Twilight Realm, where he could consult with the spirits of long-gone masters, had proven otherwise. But even among those ancient wizards and witches, many had admitted Divination was a fickle and often fruitless pursuit.
Ian had already confird what he suspected: he possessed no talent for it. His internal magical slate, an enchanted feedback system, akin to a magically imbued Mirror of Progress used by advanced self-study students, had shown not a single ripple of improvent this entire class. In every other subject, even when half-distracted, so hint of knowledge passed through and was captured, leaving traces.
But not here.
In Divination, the slate remained inert, as though the very magic of fate refused to acknowledge him.
"Well, I'm no hexagonal prodigy," Ian mused silently, "but being a pentagon is good enough." He felt no particular disappointnt. Everyone had a blind spot or two.
And if one had to be weak in sothing, what better than the subject he found most impractical?
While Ian let his mind wander, Professor Trelawney approached another student, Aurora.
The girl with the silver-blonde hair sat before her crystal ball, eyes locked on the glassy orb. Within its depths, her reflection fragnted into seventeen pale moons.
It was as if she were peering into a stream of starlight, an endless river of glimring stars flowing across a night sky, each point shining with an air of hidden aning, like so grand tapestry woven from the threads of destiny.
But the mont Aurora tried to look deeper, to glimpse what lay behind the cosmic shimr, the image blurred, veiled in silver mist. The secrets remained hidden.
"Miss Grindelwald," Professor Trelawney said, her voice hushed with reverence, "tell , what visions dance across the threads of fate? What shimr of truth has touched your Inner Eye?"
There was a fanatic gleam in her eyes, her fervour thick in the air like incense.
Aurora looked up slowly, her expression unreadable. "I see you walking out of the castle gates… carrying a cardboard box. I presu it ans you've left Hogwarts."
Her tone was mild, detached. No emotion coloured her words, and her ethereal white eye flickered faintly as she finished.
The classroom fell into an eerie stillness. Even the chattering Gryffindors fell silent, heads turning to stare.
The hush was so complete, one could have heard a quill drop onto parchnt.
"Nonsense!" Professor Trelawney snapped, her face turning a blotchy shade of grey. Her voice wavered with fury. "Utter nonsense! I shall never leave Hogwarts! A true Seer does not misread the visions that touch their Inner Eye!"
The outburst startled several students. It was clear Aurora's words had touched a nerve, a deep, buried one.
"The very stones of Hogwarts are steeped in my prophecies! This castle cannot stand without !"
Having delivered this dramatic declaration, Professor Trelawney shot a fierce glare at Aurora and stord off in a swirl of shawls and indignation.
Aurora rely shrugged, unfazed by the reaction. Trelawney, on the other hand, was visibly shaken. Her entire body trembled, and she paced around the classroom several tis in growing agitation before coming to a halt beside Ian, the student she currently favoured most in her class.
Ian's earlier, ominous prophecy had won her over completely. Perhaps now, unsettled by Aurora's vision, she sought reassurance in the one student whose predictions had aligned with her own theatrical taste for doom.
(To Be Continued…)
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