The next day was marked as the first school term of the year. During breakfast, when the third-year course schedules were handed out, you compare it to Susan's. You did it twice with Delilah and Fiona, and the obvious difference had you frowning.
"I can't believe I'm the only one who took Divination," you grumble, squinting your eyes at your friends. "You traitors."
Delilah's fork stops in midair. "It sounds unbelievably boring." She pauses to take a nibble from the sausage on her fork. "And I don't believe in predictions."
You made a face. "You've seen flying broomsticks and talking plants, yet you don't believe in predicting the future?"
"Do you?" Questions Susan, who was taking Ancient Runes at nine o'clock.
"That's why I chose Divination," you said, taking a bite out of your toast before swallowing, "because if it's true, then I'll be able to predict the exact moment Periwinkle coughs up a hairball on my bed."
Delilah grins sheepishly. "He regrets it," she apologizes on behalf of her cat.
You would have complained more, but she's lucky her pet cat was adorable. That and you needed to finish breakfast early. The Divination class was held in the North Tower, which will take ten minutes to get to. Some students were already exiting the Great Hall, and you couldn't distinguish any of your Gryffindor friends from the crowd.
But that was fine. Great, even. For two years you've relied on others for directions. The castle was huge and, sure, you haven't exactly memorized the huge layout in a short span of three years, but locating the North Tower should come easy to you by now.
Right?
Before you can start doubting yourself, you were already shouldering your bag and leaving the Hufflepuff table.
"Good luck opening your third eye or whatever!" Delilah laughs gleefully with a wave.
You didn't bother responding to her teasing and marched out of the entrance hall. At least you still had other friends who took Divination, like Neville. The one thing you didn't understand is why Delilah bothered taking Muggle Studies with Fiona when she was a Muggle-born herself. Even you didn't take the subject. What else can you learn about Muggles? She could have at least taken Divination with you.
You went up what you thought was the third set of stairs you've come across. You bite the inside of your cheek while looking around, seeing two passages. One of them could potentially lead to the North Tower while the other will lead you to another corridor. And the latter wasn't something you can deal with when you've already wasted five minutes.
You're not lost, you're definitely not lost.
Throwing all caution to the wind, you decided on the left passage. You end up climbing two more staircases and emerge on an unfamiliar floor. That's when you finally stopped being in denial and accepted your situation with a heavy heart.
You're definitely lost.
You slump against the wall, fighting the urge to jump out the nearest window. Tardiness wasn't something that troubled you since you make sure to wake up early, but now that you're stuck in some part of the castle you didn't recognize, it's safe to assume you'll be the last one to arrive to class.
You continue to meander across the barren hallway, unsure if you were even going in the right direction. There's a lone painting of grass on the stone wall, but other than that there wasn't much else that grabbed your interest.
"FREEZE, INTRUDER!"
You yelped, clutching onto the strap of your bag and looking around wildly for the owner of the voice. It came in the form of a little knight suddenly appearing in the large portrait, wielding his sword and waving it around violently. He was struggling to point it at you. Moving paintings were just one of the many magical properties at Hogwarts. You wonder why his painting was the only one in this particular passage.
"Go back from once you came, you hoodlum!" He shouted, attempting once again to lift his weapon properly. As he was raising it, his back was bent by the sheer weight. It sank deep into the ground, the knight now trying to pull it out.
You suddenly thought of an idea. Didn't people in the paintings travel around sometimes?
You move closer to the large portrait. "Excuse me? I was wondering if you could tell me where the North Tower is located?"
"A quest!" Cried the knight, giving another ineffective tug at his sword. He seems to have entirely forgotten about his weapon after that. "Follow me, gentle lady, and we shall find this place across treacherous lands. Stay alert!"
He disappears into the edge of the painting and you had to follow the metallic ringing of his armor as he moved. You hurry after him up a flight of stairs, watching as he runs into a portrait of men at a round table. They jumped when the knight suddenly appears and he pushes two of them out of his way.
"Never lower your guard, dear friend, or else these ruffians will take advantage of your vulnerability. Charge!"
You watch on as he tackled a poor monk to the ground, unsure if you were able to intervene.
How were you supposed to prevent a fight from happening in a portrait anyway?
After the knight 'won' against the monk, he yells, "victory! He was no match for Sir Cadogan's prowess in the battlefield!" He laughs heartily before moving on.
"Er, Sir Cadogan?"
"Yes, comrade?"
You mutter an apology to a portrait of a lady when Sir Cadogan shoves past her. "Are you we nearly there?"
"Our quest is coming to an end!" Declares Sir Cadogan. "Quickly, comrade-in-arms, we must continue!"
"Right," you nod, smiling slightly. "Lead the way, good sir."
Sir Cadogan hops in delight.
By the time you were done following the knight up the spiraling stairs, you were out of breath and dizzy. You can hear an assembly of inaudible voices that came from the very top of the staircase.
"I must leave you here, gentle lady!" Sir Cadogan said, popping his head in a portrait. "Farewell! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"
"I will, Sir Cadogan," you promise, waving goodbye to the knight as he once again traverses through countless portraits.
You trudge up the last few steps and appear on a landing, just in time to see students climb a silvery ladder to a circular opening on the ceiling. You didn't have the leisure to feel relieved as you quickly followed after a Gryffindor who was already halfway up.
As soon as you reach the top, the sickeningly sweet smell of perfume hits your nose. The cavernous ceiling of the classroom stretches above you, the walls covered with towering shelves that held crystal balls, priceless porcelain teacups and kettles. Small, circular tables were scattered on one side of the room on elevated platforms, and most of them were already taken.
After snatching a random blue teacup from a nearby shelf, you sit with the first two people you recognize and plop down on the empty cushion with an apology. The kettle and their cups trembled at your movements.
"Can I sit with you two?" You whisper in the surprisingly quiet atmosphere, glancing between Dean and Neville. "I just got here."
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."