Chapter- 65 : Greetings Part - 2
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Unlike what he'd told Filch, his appointment wasn't until lunch so Harry quite happily spent the intervening hour laying on his back on a conjured blanket on the grass, enjoying the sunshine and daydreaming behind a goofy smile.
Merlin, Divination was wonderful.
Tarot cards were marvels and the crystal ball was a godsend.
They had led him to Amanda.
Well, to be honest they had led him to the idea of a pensieve, which had led to a completely unrelated sequence of events which had led him to Amanda. Would it always be that roundabout a journey?
A miniscule frown marred his happy face.
He'd had one other directed vision, a single time when he'd gotten the crystal ball to answer to a question that he posed. It was kind of an important question: what immediate dangers he would face.
Could there be more to his vision of a snake and a goat than he'd suspected? Was he supposed to pursue this one like he'd done with the pensieve?
He was pretty sure they symbolised Voldemort and Dumbledore – it was the logical answer, after all – but paradoxically it was because of the certainty he felt that he began having doubts. Such straightforwardness was very different from the nebulous direction hinted at by the pensieve vision, not to mention that, as an answer, the concept of the two prominent figures was rather abstract.
It could hint at the people themselves, or their factions. It could mean they would target him directly or that he might be caught in the periphery of some other attack.
Or it could not mean Voldemort and Dumbledore at all, in which case he had no clue whatsoever.
Harry shook his head to clear it. He was not going to brood and mope on such a wonderful day. It took only the memory of the earth-shattering early morning hours to banish his frown and draw out his full smile again.
No, for now he would bask happily. There would be time to ponder the darkness later.
Harry basked so happily, in fact, that he ended up running a little late.
He was worried he wouldn't recognise the family he was supposed to meet among the Three Broomsticks' lunch crowd – their only contact had been by owl, after all – but Rosie waved him over and pointed him upstairs. Apparently the Hendersons had asked for a private room and were waiting there for him.
In front of the door he paused for a moment, breathing in deeply and straightening a few imaginary crinkles in his robes. This was to be his first real test as a Professor of Divination and he didn't want to screw it up.
A feather light touch confirmed that his wand was in the holster on his wrist and could be in his hand within moments. Should his ignorance be found out – a distinct possibility with his bipolar luck recently – he'd at least be able to defend himself if things got violent. That, at least, he felt confident about. Today, nothing could hurt him.
Firmly he rapped his knuckles on the hard wood.
"Come in, come in," a jovial voice invited and Harry obliged, stepping into the room and taking in his surroundings.
The room was organised as a cross between a conference room for business meetings and an indoor picnic area, complete with red and white chequered tablecloth spread out over the simple wooden table. On top sat a reed woven basket filled with pub food next to simple jug filled to the brim with something orange, probably pumpkin juice.
On one side of the table sat a boy next to a somewhat portly man in his early forties, an expanse of forehead showing he was in the early stages of losing a little of his short brown hair and the laugh lines around his brown eyes making clear that he didn't care one whit. There was, however, a hint of worry in those eyes now as he stood and rapidly approached Harry with an outstretched hand.
"Professor White, thank you so much for meeting us," he gushed. "I am Mortimer Henderson" - he waved to the boy on the next seat and impatiently gestured for him to come to his feet - "and this is my son, Brian."
Harry turned to look upon the son, a stocky fourteen year old that might make quite the beater someday. Brian dutifully ambled over and shook Harry's hand as well, but where his father was showing signs of hidden tension his eyes were dull as if he were bored and dismayed at having to meet a Professor during the summer holidays.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Henderson, Brian."
"Mortimer, please."
"Then I insist you call me Harry." He paused at the thought that this was one of his future students and added, "Though it's probably best for Brian not to develop bad habits."
Brian shrugged, as if he didn't care either way and Harry was left floundering until Mortimer waved everybody to their seats. Harry took his place on the other side of the table from the father and son duo and observed them.
"Pumpkin juice?" Mortimer offered.
"Please."
The man elbowed his son in the side and meaningfully looked at the topped-off jug. Brian's shoulders sank but he dutifully poured three goblets, sliding them along the table until everyone had something to drink. Mortimer took a big gulp immediately, but Harry merely nodded his head in thanks.
"Are you enjoying your summer holidays?" he asked instead.
Brian nodded stoically. "I was."
Harry had to stifle a chuckle at the teenage drama.
"My son is in the unenviable position of having discovered girls as a species and is in a spot of trouble at the moment." Mortimer explained with a dark growl. He turned to face his son and looked him sternly in the eye. "The next time you encounter the beautiful future lady of a noble house, what do you do?"
"Run away as fast as I can," Brian responded mechanically, as if he had to say this a thousand times before.
"Exactly," Mortimer said with satisfaction. "You'll learn that girls are trouble, my boy, but not half as much as their fathers."
Harry eyed the family antics with amusement.
"So, you're younger than I expected," Mortimer said, turning back to Harry. "You must be something special to be offered a Professorship at your age."
Harry shrugged. "The job offer was very flattering in that respect."
"I can see that. Well, hopefully you can help us," Mortimer said, before gesturing at the food. "But first, dig in."
The next few minutes were spent sampling the variety of specialities the Three Broomsticks was known for far and wide until Harry decided it was time they got to the point.
"What exactly is it that can I help you with?" he asked from over a bite of fish speared on his fork.
Mortimer swallowed and put down his cutlery. "As I wrote to you, Brian's mother and I are concerned. Twice now he has slipped into a trance and started spouting off gibberish that he doesn't remember after the fact. That sounds awfully familiar to that Trelawney woman in the papers so we want to know if he might be a Seer and if so, what to do about it."
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If you're eager to delve deeper into the story, consider joining my Patreon for exclusive content and early access to new chapters
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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
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