𝙮𝙤𝙪 || 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Dean, although he looked surprised for a second, waves off your sudden appearance with a reassuring smile. He pours tea into your cup and instructs you to drink it as fast as possible. Neville shakes his head, muttering that it was fine. There was no more room for an idle chat when you hear a soft voice in front of all the tables.

"Welcome, my children."

A thin woman with curly hair sits on an armchair. Her eyes look twice as big behind her thick glasses, and the beads she wears around her neck remind you of Luna Lovegood's cork necklace. The professor was certainly giving off the same energy as her.

"In this room, you shall explore the noble art of Divination," she continues in that misty tone. "In this room, you shall discover if you possess the Sight!"

She makes a move to stand up and almost knocks down the small table in front of her. A few students stifle their laughter, but the professor was undeterred.

"I am Professor Trelawney. Together we shall cast ourselves into the future," Professor Trelawney smiles with raised arms. She was the only one enthusiastic about the subject. "This term, we shall be focusing on Tasseomancy, which is the art of reading tea leaves so, please, take the cup of the person sitting opposite you."

There were three of you present at one table. It was confusing for a short while before Dean figured it out. His cup was with you, you gave yours to Neville, and his cup was with Dean. You peer inside to see the dregs at the bottom of the empty cup.

"What do you see? The truth lies buried like a sentence deep within a book, waiting to be read. But first, you must broaden your minds." She climbs a step and places both her hands on Seamus' head, whose table was the nearest. "First, you must look beyond!"

She makes a grand gesture with her arm like a shooting star, and all heads turned to where she had been pointing. Which was nowhere in particular. Professor Trelawney was starting to sound like those self-proclaimed fortune-tellers that lurked in shady alleyways. But you were in no place to judge her this early into the lesson. Unlike those frauds, she probably has magic to prove that what she's saying is the truth.

Cups were clinking as everyone looked into it to 'read' the tea leaves, but you're not sure what to read in the first place. The dregs in Dean's cup were nothing but a dark clump and weren't discernible in any shape or form. You rifle through the pages of Unfogging The Future for guidance, ignoring the feeling of regret for having taken Divination as one of your electives.

Professor Trelawney points at Neville "You, boy!" She said with urgency. "Is your grandmother quite well?"

"I-I think so," Neville stutters, visibly anxious at the professor's question.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Give me the cup."

Dean hands Neville's cup over to Professor Trelawney, who looks inside for one second before she places it back on the table while shaking her head forebodingly.

"Pity."

Neville hastily takes the cup and inspects the inside while Dean consults with his copy of Unfogging The Future in confusion.

"You, girl!"

It had been so sudden that you flinched. Professor Trelawney's magnified eyes stare into yours as if she sees something you don't. You feel numerous eyes burn the back of your head because of the sudden attention, and you couldn't help but shrink in your seat.

"I feel your aura pulsing, resonating with the future," she claims, holding out her hand. "Give me the cup."

Neville shakily gives Professor Trelawney your teacup, still worried about her previous prediction about his grandmother. Her reading takes a moment longer than Neville's, with her tilting the cup from side to side. After she's done, she places it back on the table with a sort of knowing smile.

"Have you had any fortune with romance lately?"

Huh?

"Wha—I don't—what?" You sputter, perplexed.

You feel heat crawl up your neck when the gazes of the others seem to intensify. Neville glances between you and Professor Trelawney, his face a cross between nervousness and anticipation. Dean closes his book and listens with palpable interest. It was completely silent, everyone straining to hear your conversation.

Stop being nosey and read your own cups, please.

"It is unclear, but the air around you is thick with tension," she sighs and closes her eyes. "And yet, it will be difficult. Yes, very difficult..."

Cedric Diggory threatens to resurface in your mind's eye, but you dismiss that thought quickly and check your teacup, wondering what was inside that gave Professor Trelawney the impression that you were 'fortunate with romance'. You only see soggy brown remnants, completely unrelated to her prediction.

"Romance?" You snort doubtfully to Neville when Professor Trelawney walks away to consult another table. "Can you believe that, Nev?"

Neville was too busy gazing into his cup with newfound fascination, but he shakes his head at your words. He refused to look you in the eye, so you turn to Dean instead, who had an arm propped on the table with his chin resting in the palm of his hand. He was looking over Neville's shoulder, and when you follow his gaze, you see Seamus flipping the pages of his book.

"Very difficult indeed," Dean said with a grin.

You furrow your eyebrows. "What?"

"Nothing."