Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 527 528: A True Prophecy

"Many witches and wizards possess remarkable talents in the realms of bangs, flashes, strange smells, and objects mysteriously disappearing..."

Professor Trelawney continued, her enormous glittering eyes moving from one anxious face to another.

"Yet they remain unable to pierce the veil that conceals the future.

"The Sight is a gift granted only to a chosen few.

"You, child—"

She suddenly pointed at Neville.

Neville nearly toppled off his cushion in surprise.

"How is your grandmother?"

"I think she's fine," Neville replied shyly. Though he was no longer quite as timid as he had once been, he still lacked confidence.

"If I were you, dear, I wouldn't be so certain."

The firelight reflected from Professor Trelawney's long emerald earrings as she spoke.

Neville stared blankly at Sean.

Sean's expression turned thoughtful.

Hermione, meanwhile, looked astonished by the professor's complete lack of tact.

Sean quietly considered the remark.

If that counted as a prophecy, it would eventually come true as well.

Later in the year, Neville's carelessness with the Gryffindor passwords would allow Sirius Black to enter the common room. His grandmother would be furious enough to send him a Howler.

Meanwhile, Professor Trelawney continued serenely.

"This year, we shall study the fundamental methods of Divination.

"During the first term, we shall focus on the interpretation of tea leaves. In the second term, we shall move on to palmistry.

"And by the way, my dear—"

She abruptly pointed at Parvati Patil.

"Beware a red-haired man."

Parvati immediately glanced toward Ron Weasley behind her and hurriedly shifted her chair farther away.

"Hey!" Ron protested under his breath.

In a non-magical world, Sean would have dismissed such statements as a classic fortune-teller's trick.

Offer a vague detail and let people connect the dots themselves.

Beware a boy marked by darkness.

The possibilities were endless—black hair, black eyes, black robes, even a surname containing the word "Black."

By using a broadly applicable detail and attaching it to some future event, almost anyone could pass themselves off as a prophet.

Psychologists called it suggestion.

Others called it cold reading.

But this was Hogwarts.

And at Hogwarts, prophecy was real.

Sean searched his memory.

The seemingly casual warning likely referred to more than one thing.

The most obvious interpretation involved Ron Weasley, the red-haired boy Parvati interacted with most frequently.

Soon, Ron's pet rat, Scabbers, would apparently be found dead—or so everyone would believe. In reality, the rat would merely shed some fur, leave blood behind, and disappear.

Parvati's pet would be terrified by the bloody evidence.

Indirectly, Ron would indeed bring trouble and distress into her life.

Of course, there was another red-haired man connected to the affair.

A red-haired man who happened to be disguised as a rat.

"In the summer term," Professor Trelawney continued, "we shall begin our study of crystal gazing—assuming, of course, that we have completed our work on fire omens.

"Unfortunately, classes will be interrupted in February due to a severe influenza outbreak. I myself shall lose my voice.

"And around Easter, one among us will leave forever."

A tense silence fell across the room.

The students exchanged nervous glances, but Professor Trelawney seemed entirely oblivious.

"My dear," she suddenly said to Lavender Brown, who was sitting closest to her and looked ready to faint, "would you pass me the large silver teacup on that shelf?"

Lavender visibly relaxed.

She rose, retrieved the oversized teacup, and placed it on the table before the professor.

"Thank you, dear.

"Oh, and by the way—the thing you fear most will happen on Friday, October sixteenth."

Lavender immediately turned pale.

That prediction, too, would come true.

On October sixteenth, she would receive devastating news from home.

Her beloved rabbit, Binky, would be killed by a fox—the very thing she feared most.

Professor Trelawney's gaze drifted lazily around the room.

Then it settled on Sean.

"You... you..."

Suddenly, she collapsed stiffly into her armchair.

Her eyes lost focus.

Her mouth hung open.

"What are you trying to say?"

Hermione shouted, her concern overcoming her fear.

Professor Trelawney didn't seem to hear.

Her eyes rolled strangely.

The students stared in alarm.

She looked less like a professor and more like someone suffering a seizure.

"Perhaps we should take her to the Hospital Wing..."

Neville suggested nervously, chewing on a fingernail.

Then she spoke again.

But the voice that emerged was not her own.

It was harsh.

Cold.

Unnatural.

"The ending that was never acknowledged... the path that has drifted from its ordained course...

"He remains cunning.

"He who came from the place where nothing was expected...

"The one who seeks to defy fate...

"Must beware...

"The Seventh..."

Her head dropped forward onto her chest.

A low rattling sound escaped her throat.

Then, just as suddenly, her head snapped upright.

"Oh dear," she murmured dreamily.

"So sorry, my children.

"It's terribly warm in here, you know...

"I believe I drifted off for a moment."

Sean stared at her.

Confused.

Because Professor Trelawney had just made a prophecy.

A real prophecy.

His quill reacted faster than his thoughts.

The moment she began speaking, it had automatically recorded every word.

Sean lowered his gaze to the parchment.

In the wizarding world, true prophecies were never meaningless.

And that state Trelawney had entered...

It seemed identical to the genuine prophetic trance spoken of in magical history.

He resolved to analyze every word after class.

"Oh..."

Professor Trelawney sat up properly.

Most of the students instinctively edged their chairs farther away from her.

"Now then, I would like you to pair up.

"Each pair should collect a teacup from the shelf and bring it to me. I shall fill them with tea.

"You will then drink until only the leaves remain.

"Swirl the leaves three times with your left hand, invert the cup onto the saucer, allow the final drops to drain away, and then exchange cups with your partner for interpretation.

"You may consult pages five and six of Unfogging the Future while analyzing the patterns.

"I shall circulate among you to offer guidance and assistance.

"Oh, dear—"

She suddenly grabbed Neville's arm before he could stand.

"After you've broken your first teacup, would you mind choosing one with a blue pattern?

"I'm terribly fond of the pink one."

Sure enough, only moments after Neville reached the shelf, the sharp crash of shattering porcelain echoed through the room.

Professor Trelawney immediately hurried over with a broom and dustpan.

"My dear," she said kindly, "if you wouldn't mind taking one of the blue ones this time... thank you."

Neville stared miserably at the broken remains.

Around him, several students began wondering whether Professor Trelawney had truly foreseen the accident—or whether she simply knew Neville Longbottom far too well.

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